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Travel StoriesUllapool 2012 - By Ren Withnell
Ullapool 2012 - A Ride To Gairloch
I'm awake on my own this morning, there's no signs of life from IW's tent and it's far too early to disturb the gf, she'd kill me. I try to escape from the tent without disturbing her, she just opens a sleepy eye, tries to smile, rolls over and returns to the land of nod. It does not look too good outside, there's a heavy mist, what the Scots call a "Sea Haaa". It's a little cold too, not nippy but not the scorching temperature I'd hoped for. At this time, 0630, I'd best find something to do for the next hour or two otherwise I'm going to be bored.
Caravans and Campervans in the mist at the Ullapool campsite. This is a "Sea Haaa"
I grab my camera and take a walk around the town. Down on the harbour all is quiet. Boats of various sizes lie still in the mist out on water with barely a ripple. I walk down some steps to the loch's edge and look into the crystal clear liquid. There's nothing at all to interrupt my view of the sand, seaweed and stones beneath the surface. As I look around in all the quiet mist I get a spooky feeling.
Dead calm. The boats out in the harbour at Ullapool.
I walk around the houses and buildings inland. There's posh houses with trimmed gardens, bungalows, town houses and rather ugly pre-fab semi detached council houses. Some properties are smart and modern, some are regular and some are overgrown and ramshackle. There's a high school with playing fields. There's an estate just like any estate in the UK. There's a small sports centre with swimming pool. I could really be in any town, the difference is that many houses are painted white, common in the highlands, and that I can walk around the whole town in much less than an hour. This is a mini town.
It's what I don't see that makes this town feel remote, the things I take for granted back home. A motorcycle dealer, a large DIY store, a variety of food shops or big brand electrical retailers. There's a small computer shop near the small Tesco's. There's a newsagents or two. A garage. A very good outdoor shop. One could certainly live here, but there's little choice unless you're prepared to travel. As I walk I wonder to myself what the locals think. I ponder as to how often they like to or need to venture to the large city. I wonder if there's much crime here.
As I think and walk I head back towards the campsite. I spot the site and I notice the sun is trying it's best to make an appearance and the mist is lifting. I can now see the far side of the loch and the air is just that little bit warmer. There's hope for this day yet. As I scramble over a wire fence and slide down a kids slide to get back to the tent I wonder if my companions have woken up yet.
Much to my surprise they're both up! IW's complaining that the ferry woke him at some ungodly hour, I never heard a thing. The gf's busying herself with sorting the bed out, sorting the tent out and getting ready for a shower. I make another round of tea and between dressing, checking bikes, consulting maps and looking at the weather we all manage to get some more cornflakes into us. As each minute passes the sun gets a little warmer and the mist gets a little thinner. At one point I see a strange band of mist on the loch, the tops of the hills are perfectly clear, the surface of the loch is too, there's just a thick band hovering between I'd say 50 feet and 300 feet. Odd.
Loch Broom in the clearing mist.
Yesterday we went North. Today we're heading South, just a little. The plan is to go to Gairloch and back, I reckon it's a 50 mile trip each way so not too far and the road looks like it could be interesting. I can't decide what this weather's going to do, it looks like it's going to be a nice day but there's a big black clump of clouds loitering over the top of a mountian to the South and that's where we're heading. IW says those clouds were there at daft o-clock when he was awoken by the ferry. Perhaps that mountain is the mountain of gloom.
First stop, Tesco again for more sandwiches, drinks and crisps. Next, fuel. Then we're off. I'd not noticed the road itself as we'd ridden into Ullapool, I was focused on the scenery. This time I am looking at the road and IW is right, it's a cracking road. Fast, twisty and well surfaced, only spoiled by the fact that other road users are allowed to use it too, damn them. It seems each time a set of curves and corners comes into view there's a truck or a loathsome tourist traveling at 35mph and taking in the view. Tourists are a nuisance, I'm not a tourist, I'm...I'm....damn.
We get some overtaking done and we manage to have a little play. It's not long before I find the turning for Gairloch and the road starts to rise up and up out of the trees and into what is now a sunny, clear and warming day. We've barely started on the road before I gasp at another one of Scotland's marvels and find the inevitable parking for the viewing point. We're afforded a view up the valley that traps Loch Broom in the distance. As we gawp and take pictures another couple arrive in a pickup 4x4 and gawp along with us. They're staying near Gairloch and much like ourselves are here to look around. I like their big black mean looking truck, but right now my bike seems the best option on this sunny day.
Looking up the stunning valley. God's own country, it really is.
And so it is! The road is proving to be a peach, it's also more suited to my riding style. IW and several of my other friends are at their best on long fast roads with high speed bends. Their brains seem to be able to process the onslaught of information and can overcome the fear of leaning the bike over when everything else is a blur. I can't. I spent the first 8 years of my riding career on sub 250cc machines with a maximum speed of 70. I spent the next 12 years riding sub 60bhp machines. The Fazer, which I've owned for about 3 years, is the first bike I've had that will easily exceed 100mph. I've never learned to ride fast, but I can sure move along a twisty road like this.
I've got my eye in too. I've gained trust in the new Maxxis tyres, I've got a handle on the handling and I've remembered that to keep the 600 in the power I need to keep the motor howling like a banshee. Drop a gear or two, slow into the bend...steady throttle till I can see the exit...assess for dangers and the next bend...then crack the throttle and power out! Easy over the crest keeping left...assess and process the road...power power...brake hard for the corner...slow in...assess...power out! I'm flying along and curving, twisting and sweeping from left to right, right to left, up and down, over and along.
Whenever there's a straight I open the throttle wide and the motor wails it's haunting melody, then I take my eye off the road for a moment and close the throttle immediately. It's all far too pretty, too picturesque to pass by in a blur. I'm torn, torn between the need for man made speed and the desire to marvel at how nature makes man's achievements seem so small and irrelevant. This carries on for 20 or 30 miles, only broken occasionally by a small hamlet or a farmer waiting to pull out of a side road, these we pass by at respectable, safe speeds. There's no need to upset the locals is there.
By the time Gairloch comes into view I'm buzzing. Most of it is excitement and thrill, some of it is fear and relief. I'm not a speed merchant, anyone who reads my drivel will know that. So when I do get some speed up I don't really know how to cope with it. I even manage to feel guilty at having fun, I really need to have a word with myself. Gairloch is another small harbour town complete with the obligatory quirky tourist cafe.
The bikes, hot and tinkling after a hard ride to Gairloch.
This cafe seems to be themed around mountains, climbing, traveling and outdoors. There's books filled with stories of cyclists crossing continents and the drinks have adventurous names. There is of course the expected array of tartan covered notebooks and highland themed badges. I pay little attention to it all and request a nice cup of tea from the gf whilst I visit the toilet. As I wait outside the sun is now getting very warm, reports from back home indicate the weather's wet down there so for once I seem to be in the best place.
We drink our drinks and eat our Tesco sandwiches and the sun beats down. When we're ready to leave IW decides he's going to go his own way and meet us back at the site later. That's fine, the gf and I will have a look around. I guess IW want's to get some more high speed playtime in, after all it's a great day and we're heading back South tomorrow. It'll give the gf and I some space too.
We can see from the vantage point of the cafe car park a beach across the bay, but try as we might we can't seem to locate a road to it. There's a couple of people on it so there must be access, it doesn't matter, we just start on the amazing road back. This time I remain focused on the road, I've seen the scenery. It's a little easier without IW behind me, I'm less concerned about making a fool of myself or keeping an eye out for him. Oh it's so good this road, it truly is. I daresay this is possibly the hardest I've ridden with the gf in the 7 years I've known her. Not a peep from her, no squeeze of fear, no kidney punches or even a flinch.
The new Maxxis rear tyre takes a pounding and handles it very well. So does the gf...
As we reach Poolewe and slow down for the tiny village, I look at the clock on the bike and time is very much on our side. There's a small turning to the left so I take that and follow the single track road. I'm taking a break from the speed, calming myself down and trying not to feel guilty again. This is proper single track, nothing more than a thin skimming of tarmac over what would really be a farm track, I wish I had my old SLR 650 right now. We ride slowly down the lane with hardy grassland to one side and the sea waters of Loch Ewe on the other. Places like this feel that bit more adventurous.
On this road this is a veritable city.
Places marked on my map like Naast and Inverasdale prove to be nothing more than a few houses spread out across the harsh land. Finally Cove comes and goes with nothing more than post box and a turning to a few houses. The road carries on a mile or so more, getting coarser and rougher until it ends in a rough gravel patch of land. Even here, seemingly far from anything, there's a car parked up that looks in good order so it's not been abandoned. As we dismount and look around the gf also spots a tent behind some rocks!
I've heard that you can camp anywhere in Scotland, though I'm sure it's not as simple as that. It's a nice thought, thinking "I've had enough...I'll camp here..." but then what do you do for water, toilet and washing facilities and can you be certain the sheep won't munch on your tent? With that we head off back in the direction of our comparatively luxurious campsite.
That is indeed a tent in the centre of the picture. No signs of the occupants, I guess they're exploring somewhere.
A little further along the main road I pull off again into the small harbour town of Aultbea and park up by the harbour wall. This is another sleepy place with a small rusty trawler being worked upon by one man alone. There's a dog that takes interest in us but seems to bear no malice, just curiosity and a broken old lorry that's being used as some kind of storage space. On the flat shallow muddy shoreline of the bay in the distance a man hurls a ball into the water and his dog excitedly around to retrieve it time and again.
Behind us there's a solitary house from which a woman appears and calls to her dogs. She spends a while casting her own small ball about for them and they run wildly after it. One's getting on a little, his mind is as keen and competitive as ever but his body can't quite keep up. She talks to us briefly about him then leaves us alone. As I sit there I sympathise with the dog. I'm only 40 but I'm aware that my body is just starting to show the very first signs of slowing down even though my mind is not. When I think of IW who had a heart attack 2 years ago, another friend more recently, of others I know and of myself, I'm reminded I'm not immortal or indestructible. With that in mind I light another smoke...doh!
The trawler and a small boat at the sleepy harbour in Aultbea.
Back on the main road I up the speed again. Twisting, turning, taking flight at one point and ripping rubber I'm loving it. Around the bend...power...lean it in...power...climb the hill...power...OH SH**!!!!!!
As I climb a small hill with a sharp crest, the road is cut between the rocks. This is a standard two lane road, one lane in each direction and I'm positioned pretty much central in my left hand lane. I'm off the gas a little as I'm unsure where the road goes after the crest but I'm still carrying a fair lick of speed. 20 yards before the crest a car appears...two thirds into my lane! In one instant movement I'm on the front then back brake whilst my left thumb is pushing the horn switch deep into the clutch lever. The blue Ford Focus hesitates a moment as the lady driver moves her head and sees me. I wait..there's a clunk form the rear...back brake locked..release...reapply...consider aiming for the spare few feet of road I have left between her and the barrier...wonder if with this much braking I can steer...about to ease the brakes...she moves!
With my heart in my mouth and the gf sliding hard into my back I release the brakes and carry on. O...M...F...G...what the hell was she thinking? Maybe she was distracted by the radio or the passenger in the car? Maybe she's a tourist and was looking at the scenery and not the road? Maybe she's a complete and utter muppet? I don't know. I ride slowly for a few yards, check all is well with how the bike feels, consider my options then press on, hard. I'm not letting that spoil what has otherwise been a great afternoon. I stop for a moment a mile or two later, just to check how the gf is. She suggests that stupid woman might be one of them idiot advanced drivers who are taught to run wide into bends to get a better view. We both know "advanced drivers" or riders, we both have low opinions of them.
After such a wonderful and warm day, what may I ask is that big black could doing up there ahead? It looks very ominous, I hear thunder. After the thunder I hear a familiar tap on my visor, a raindrop. One tap becomes two then three. As inevitable as death and taxes, and just as depressing, comes the rain. I can see from the road that it has been very hard rain, I think we're just catching the last of a passing storm. We get 20 miles of light rain on a very wet road but by the time we arrive back in Ullapool the road is dry. There's a few damp patches here and there in town and at the site but I think most of it passed us by.
IW's already back. It seems he was ahead of us and caught the very worst of the rain. And where were his waterproofs? They were in my top box, my trusty but much derided top box. He's had a damn good soaking and it jolly well serves him right. I'll never ride further than the end of my street without waterpoofs in my trusty top box. That said, neither the gf or myself have escaped without dampness. I know my jacket's past it's best and the sleeves now leak, well the gf's jacket has leaked on the sleeves too. She plans to find a cheap overjacket sometime tomorrow to solve the problem, I'm just resigned to it these days.
Chippy again for tea tonight, we really can't be bothered to think of anything more original and no-one seems to want to take me up on my offer of a tin of soup or a tin of ravioli. The weather's cleared up fine again and there's a group of young pipers and traditional Scottish dancers performing in the car park for the ferry. We can hear them in the distance as we eat or chips by the harbour then they briefly pass us by as they march off into town somewhere.
I know it's cheating, but we are sampling the local food.
This is our last night in Ullapool, there's been some discussion as to where we go next on the way home. It's too far to ride home in one day, there's a part of me that wants to stop another night and make it a long ride home, but I think it's too much. We head off to a cafe come bar that promises live music, but there's no sign of activity when we arrive, it must be later on. We get something to drink and sit down. I raise the subject of tomorrow's forthcoming trip.
The original plan had been to return to Beinglas where we stopped and got eaten to death by midges on the way up, Monday night. IW reckons we should return, better the devil you know and he's quite right to point out that wherever we go around that area the wee beasties will be out. I don't really fancy it, I'd rather see what else is available, maybe head a little further east or maybe even get past Glasgow. It means a longer trip tomorrow but a shorter run on Saturday. We don't argue but there is a sense of disagreement between us. The gf casts her vote, with a firm "no" to Beinglas.
With that I consult my map and IW and I settle upon heading for Stirling and see what happens there. We don't stay in the pub long enough to see if any live music materialises, we head back to the campsite and back to the shoreline. The gf's really into skimming stones and spends an age sending them out into the loch with varying degrees of success, but she's doing quite well overall. I have to stop her eventually, I have visions of her waking with a sore and stiff arm in the morning she's been at it that long.
Look at the wrist action, watch the stone fly and bounce...now come on love...enough is enough...
The sunset this evening is perfect. Yesterday's was good, today in the orange glow the loch looks like it's on fire and there's even a small rowing boat crossing the loch to complete what even a luddite like myself can see this is a perfect photo opportunity. Of course the gf and IW both capture some stunning images, all I achieve is average. I'll stick with computers and bodging bikes I think. It's bedtime again and the midges are biting now too. I'm glad to be in the comfort of the tent, I'm also glad the gf and I are not plastered across the front of a blue Ford Focus.
Ullapool 2012 - Prologue
Ullapool 2012 - Bolton to Inverarnan
Ullapool 2012 - Inverarnan to Ullapool
Ullapool 2012 - The Lochinver and Drumbeg Loop
Ullapool 2012 - A Ride To Gairloch
Just another one of those fabulous and beautiful rides around The Highlands. The weather isn't so bad either.
Ullapool 2012 - UIlapool To Callander
Ullapool 2012 - Callander To Bolton
The motorcycle ride from callander to bolton and what happened on the journey
Ullapool 2012 - Epilogue and More Pictures
The end of my travel story to ullapool and some more pictures of the area
Ullapool 2012 - Even More Pictures
Pictures from my motorcycle trip to Ullapool. Scotland is a beautiful place and we even had great weather.
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Travel StoriesUllapool 2012 - By Ren Withnell