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Travel StoriesThe Scottish Trip 2008 - By Ren Withnell
The Scottish Trip 2008 - Fort William To Thurso
Of course I’m awake at 0500, with sunlight in my eyes and pins and needles in my arm. Camping is never the comfiest way to sleep. I know the gf will kill me if I wake her so I toss and turn for a while then fall back to sleep. By 0700 though I’m up and about, fighting off the midges and preparing to decamp and get on the way. I’m noisy enough to “accidently” wake the gf and get her on her way. It takes another hour and a half to decamp, pack, do one’s ablutions and load up the bike.
The next part of our trip will hopefully take us up to Thurso, not too far from John O’Groats. As we wobble out of the campsite I’m quite excited about going further north than I’ve ever been before. The bike feels good as we ride along the A82 which follows Loch Ness up to Inverness. The road is not a fast one but it moves along nicely. It seems in Scotland that every road is never far from water. Round each turn is a Loch nestling beneath jagged and steep hills.
Following the A82 to the A9 is easy enough. Outside Inverness we cross one of the more impressive countless bridges and head further north now than I’ve ever been before! A sign warns us that the A9 is closed though. I don’t believe it until at a roundabout the exit I want is coned off with a few navvies stood there propping up their Transit van. There are no diversion signs though. The road is closed…tough…sort yourselves out is the message here obviously. I consult the map and find a suitable detour through the town of Dingwall. Judging by the traffic in Dingwall it seems everyone else is doing the same.
Finally we rejoin the A9 and soon pull off to a small local services that provide tea and petrol. After our refreshments as we stand next to the bike we get talking to 2 bikers from Norway. It seems they are here firstly for a tour of Scotland, then off to the TT races at the Isle of Man for a week, then on for a tour of Ireland, 5 weeks in total. The gf asks where they get the time from to do this. It seems the men are retired. Blimey! They both look like they are in their late 40’s, not like pensioners. Either the climate preserves the Norwegians very well or the pension schemes are fantastic and start very early. Lucky devils.
The scenery is changing along this road. We’ve definitely left the Highlands now and the countryside is pleasant rolling hills with arable farmland. The views are perfectly nice and rural, yet after the grandiose mountains we’ve left behind it is actually an anticlimax. One thing I am impressed with is the colour of the sea today. It’s a really dark, almost royal, blue. Against the light blue sky it makes quite an impression. The A9 leading towards Thurso seems quite dull. I’m not sure if this is due to the road or my fatigue.
A view from the A9 with the sea in the distance. The gf tells me the yellow bush that is in abundance in Scotland is called Broom. The things you can learn when you are stupid enough to ask...
Considering Thurso is one of the most northerly towns on the mainland it is a remarkably average place. There is a small Tesco, a handful of small versions of otherwise familiar shops, a town hall and most things you’d expect in any town, albeit in a miniature format. I guess it is the main town in the area, but considering the area is only sparsely populated nothing needs to be large here. We sit in the small café at Tesco's, drinking tea and talking to the lady behind the counter. She informs us where the campsite is and we find out she’s from the Manchester area.
The campsite is quite strange, in a nice way. The ladies sitting outside the reception take a very affordable £7 from us and tell us the campsite is run by the local council. There is a toilet and shower block, as you would expect, and a large empty hall for the use of. We are welcome to sit and eat and socialise in the hall and watch the TV in there. There’s even a kettle, we have to provide the cups and our own tea though. It proves difficult setting the tent up in the wind blowing in from the sea but soon enough we are sat in the hall drinking tea, with the whole hall to ourselves. We decide to go to John O’Groats this evening rather than tomorrow morning. It’s already quite late as we follow the A836 out to the end of the mainland.
The campsite at Thurso. The tent is next to the hall that anyone can use as shelter whilst eating and socialising.
It’s a strange place is John O’Groats. It’s generally known as being the far end of the mainland and for no other reason. That’s because there is no other reason for it to be known. There’s nothing much there. A visitor centre, toilets, a few “I’ve been to John O’Groats” memorabilia shops and a chap in a hut who mans the sign that tells you that you made it to John O’Groats. I’d heard to get your picture taken at the official signpost you would be charged! Of course being a mean and tight-fisted Yorkshire man I’m not going to pay. When we arrive the place is almost empty, save for some gentleman proudly waving his boots whilst he has his picture taken, presumably he’s walked end to end. When he hops off I park my bike as close to the sign as I can on the bus turning circle and get the camera out quickly. Phew! Another few quid saved.
Me at John O'Groats. You have to take this picture just to proove that you been.
It’s quite a surprise that in the late evening whilst we are there for about 20 minutes, 2 more cyclists and another walker arrive, all having done the Land’s End to John O’Groats trip. I always thought this was a rare and special trip but it seems everyone is doing it these days. If you plan to go to John O’Groats one day, go to say you’ve been, that’s all. There’s no other reason to go, believe me.
On the way back we collect a chippy tea and eat this back at the hall. I get talking to another 2 cyclists at the campsite, they’ve done the end to end, taking about 10 days. We retire for the night, and as we do we note that although it’s close to midnight it’s not really dark, dusky and dim, but not dark. Another thing we note is the lack of midges. The wind certainly keeps them at bay and the campsite receptionist did mention that the midges here are not as prolific or vicious.
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Travel StoriesThe Scottish Trip 2008 - By Ren Withnell