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Travel StoriesThe Scottish Trip 2008 - By Ren Withnell
The Scottish Trip 2008 - Liverpool to Fort William
It’s May-time again. That means it’s time for what is slowly becoming a ritual, the annual Scottish trip.
It’s going to be slightly different this year. The lads from Rivington are going to do the usual mad-cap high-speed rides along the glorious roads, as ever. Me, I’m planning to go a little further afield and explore. And this year the gf is coming with me. The week planned for the trip is the only week this year her kids are off with their father so this is our only opportunity to go away together.
This year I’m hoping to go to John O’Groats. I’ve no special reason to go there, other than to say I’ve been to both ends of the island that I live on. I fancy riding along the A836 then the A838 whilst I’m up there as well. It’s a road I’ve heard bikers talk of from time to time so I may as well have a look for myself.
Well it’s Sunday morning on the 25th of May and I am loading the bike up at the gf’s house in Liverpool. My poor bike is now 17 years old, has 70,000 miles on the clock and is beginning to look and feel very tired. It looks even more tired as it sags under the weight of camping equipment, clothing and various other sundries. Of course being paranoid I double check the oil levels, the straps, the tank bag, the tyres, the lights…
My poor bike! She's not as young as she used to be these days and still she's expected to carry all this, and two riders. Bless
At least the weather is good. The sun is shining and it’s starting to warm up quite nicely. My first concern is how the bike is going to handle with all this weight on and a new front tyre. I’ve ridden the bike many times before loaded up like this but each time I still expect it to handle like a shopping trolley with a missing wheel. At slow speeds she wobbles and falls into corners and it takes a great deal of concentration to remain upright and control the weight. As soon as we are above 20mph it all falls into place apart front a slight shimmy at the front end under power. I feel quite good as we hit the motorway network and gather pace.
Motorway riding is really the only way to cover distance, but it is dull and tiresome. After half an hour I’m already developing a new game to try and keep me entertained. I’m looking at registration plates, calculating the numerical value of the letters using “A” as 1 through to “Z” as 26, and then multiplying the values. It’s certainly helping but even keeping my mind busy cannot mask the growing numbness in my buttocks. I’m actually quite surprised with myself as I manage to hang on right through to the Tebay services in the Lake District.
The rest of the motorway run up to Glasgow passes without incident save for my ass growing ever more painful. It is with great relief that we join the Glasgow motorway network. It would of course been even more of a relief if I had gone in the right direction. I know I’m aiming for a bridge, I’m just too lazy and tired to make the extra effort to recall which bridge I require. So I follow the signs for “Kincardine Bridge”. After 5 or 10 miles I notice the compass on the bike (affectionately known as “Scat Naff”) is telling me I’m going east…if my geography is anything to go by we should be heading west…surely! I pull off at the next junction and park up in a housing estate.
The compass on the bike. So called friends see it as a poor man's satellite navigation system, so now it's called "Scat Naff".
As I consult the map 2 Glaswegian chaps as me if I need help. They kindly point me in the right direction then tell me it’ll cost me a pound! I hope they are only joking and they seem like friendly fellows, but I don’t wait around for them to collect their charge, joking or not. It takes a while to get back on the motorway network and heading in the right direction, heading for the Erskine Bridge, not Kincardine. Of course now the motorway, which has been very quiet for 200 miles, is now choc-a-bloc.
After the Erskine Bridge the roads and the landscape finally change. After a brief ride through town we are now travelling on the Loch Lomond road, the A82. I recall how beautiful I thought this road was when I first came up here 4 years ago. Now it’s become almost familiar, which makes it somehow less impressive. Still it’s nice to feel the bike sweeping through corners and this seems to ease the numbness in my backside. The road is a busy road though and the traffic is slow as caravans and coaches struggle to navigate the tighter bends and tourists marvel at the soaring mountains.
We stop at the Green Welly in Tyndrum. It’s a popular tourist and biker spot and is run like a miniature motorway services for those heading into the highlands. Its tea-time now and we’ve already been on the road for about 7 hours including stops, so we decide to dine there. As ever I’m still dumbfounded at the price of meals these days but resign to pay in the face of hunger and fatigue.
Feeling refreshed and somewhat financially lighter we set off for Rannoch Moor and Glencoe. This is where the fun begins! The road is a combination of enormous straights with vast views and slinking twisties that climb up and down and all around. I’m not pushing the bike at high speeds, just enjoying the scenery and feeling the bike’s tyres cutting into the tarmac as we sweep round another glorious curve. After the Loch Lomond road this one is surprisingly empty and a joy to behold.
Finally we make our way through Fort William and out towards Mallaig. We’ve been to the Loch Linnhe campsite before, 2 years ago. It’s just outside Corpach and on this fine dry and warm evening it’s good to be off the bike and setting up the tent. All is well except for the midges. The little biting devils are out in force and for every movement made to erect the tent there are 2 more movements to brush off my arms and my face. I can feel the itching starting and try to keep moving.
Ben Nevis, taken from the shores of Loch Linnhe. The weather is glorious and yet there are still patches of snow up there.
That evening we ride into town and catch up with the Rivington lads in a bar. They’ve had an eventful day with one bike falling over in the van and another deciding to flatten its battery. We don’t stop long and after a chippy supper we head back to the campsite. More midges, more bites and more scratching finds us both in bed. The gf falls straight to sleep. I lie next to her and as I wonder if I should get amorous or not, I fall asleep myself. I must be getting old.
The Scottish Trip 2008 - Liverpool to Fort William
The Scottish Trip 2008 - Fort William To Thurso
The Scottish Trip 2008 - Thurso To Ullapool
One of the best roads in the UK, Thurso To Ullapool, the A838. Stunning scenery, new friends, good food and happy days.
The Scottish Trip 2008 - Ullapool To Fort William
The Scottish Trip 2008 - Day Out To Oban
The Scottish Trip 2008 - Homeward Bound
The Scottish Trip 2008 - More Images
Reader's Comments
george and liz jack said :-
you could have stopped at our house on the way ...lol
the Scottish crew...xxxxxxxxx
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
Ren Withnell said :-
I thought you guys were in Perth. Perth isn't really on the way.
Drop me an email, ren@techsolus.co.uk. You can put us up sometime!
Cheers, Ren.
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
Bogger said :-
Five us did a similar trip on the Honda C90s in Sept 2008. I don't think we stopped laughing all the way there and back. We opted for B&Bs, so we did'nt have to lug all the camping gear with us. We actually stayed in back packing hostels which was really good value for money. Only £12-£18 pr night. I think ther will be more of us going on the 90s next year. Can't wait.
Bogger
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
Bob Hamilton said :-
My wife and I have dived Scapa Flow each year for about 20 years. A few years ago we decided to get the XS 750 out of the garage and ride to Orkney from our home in Liverpool, but keeping to the minor roads and certainly not using motorways. The diving kit was transported in the van with some of the other folks and the rest of the their kit.
The initial journey up to Glencoe seemed to take forever.Some of the minor roads resembled stuff that I ride when Trailriding and with petrol stations in very short supply, we were very lucky to get to our overnight stop. We were also very lucky to have got there just in time to eat. The meals at the bar stopped at 9.00pm
Next day we coasted down the hill to the petrol station and fuelled up. We then set off for Ullapool, where we again had some food. The West coast scenery is breathtaking, but again fuel was in very short supply.At one point my wife totally lost it and demanded to stop for a break---the road is certainly quite demanding. We were heading for our usual B&B in Scrabster, but were obviously going to be too late to get a meal at Scrabster, so stopped at Maryhills, which is close to Dounray. The B&B was a very welcome sight, I can tell you.
The journey home was via Stirling and the motorways-----boring!!!
I would do the trip again, but using the motorway up to Carlisle, or even farther North than that. I would also carry some spare fuel.
I might even take another day as it was a bit of an endurance test over just the two. But using the motorway for the initial part would really help.
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
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Travel StoriesThe Scottish Trip 2008 - By Ren Withnell