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Travel StoriesThe Scottish Trip 2008 - By Ren Withnell
The Scottish Trip 2008 - Thurso To Ullapool
Again I’m awake early. I’m actually quite comfortable but the fresh sea air and the daylight streaming through the material of the tent all conspire to galvanise me into action. The wind is rattling the tent a little but when I step out in my shorts it’s not that cold. That said, the large grey clouds in the sky do not look so promising. The showers are basic but perfectly functional and it’s very nice to sit in the hall whilst collecting my thoughts and finishing the drying process.
I have with me a petrol powered camping stove along with a billy can and some cutlery. So far it’s been a bit of a heavy and pointless addition to the already overloaded bike, something of a white elephant. However whilst the gf gets a shower and dresses I walk the short distance to the Lidl across the road. I spot some porridge and milk and decide that will be breakfast. Making porridge on a stove should be very simple, but between us we still manage to make it hard work. The porridge is overly sweet with the addition of too much sugar but does serve to fill our bellies for the morning.
The view from outside the tent in the morning. Big skies, big seas and a big empty campsite.
With the bike loaded up we head off for what I am hoping is going to be the highlight of the trip, the A836 then A838 north cost road. Fuel up here is expensive, 8 or 9 pence per litre more than at home. The miserly Yorkshire man in me is gutted. Initially the road is something of a disappointment too. The scenery is plain and the coast is close but out of sight. My heart sinks a little at the thought of another 150 miles of this as we head to Ullapool.
I need not have worried. The road gets narrower and narrower until it becomes single track with passing places. It’s also quite empty, save for the odd passing biker coming from the other direction. Along the single track the corners tighten, the hills steepen and the bike feels fantastic as it gracefully slices a radius and lightens over the crest of another ridge. Here and there the view opens up to reveal perfect crescent shaped golden sandy beaches at the foot of steep grassy slopes. The beaches are inaccessible and empty and the waves wash ashore alone.
Along the road lonely croft houses stand against the elements, tiny hamlets shelter in valleys beneath the road and old tractors rust patiently in empty farmyards. Occasionally we catch up with a truck or car, as soon as we are spotted they kindly pull into a passing place and wave us past. I wave a thank you and bless the good grace of the locals.
A view looking over the Kyle of Tongue. The only problem with this road is that you keep on having to stop and soak up the scenery.
I’m not a fast rider by any stretch of the imagination. So it comes as something of a surprise when I catch up with 3 bikers. I pass each one in turn and carry on sweeping my curves. About 3 miles further on I have to stop, the views are just too good to pass by. As I get off the 3 bikers pull in behind me. Then a helmeted voice yells “You’re from Horwich!” For goodness sake, I’m 600 miles from home and even on the remotest road in Scotland I’ve been found! It transpires the 3 bikers live in my home town and I know them, in passing, from Rivington.
Of course we chat and I find out they too are heading for Ullapool and have made a similar trip to ourselves. It was good to meet some familiar faces, and also strangely disappointing. I’d would of course like to think of myself as the great adventurer, travelling to far flung places as yet undiscovered by the bikers of the North West. Nope, I’m just another biker bod making a trip that’s been done countless times before. Urgh, is there nothing left for the wannabe adventurer who doesn’t actually want to take on a real adventure? I guess not.
The road takes us further along and we stop at a small café, all alone save for a few chickens wandering about. A small lady serves us both with tea and toast then disappears into a back room whilst we consume and chat. I’m really starting to enjoy myself now. I know we’ve got plenty of time to cover the remaining mileage to Ullapool, the road is good, the weather is clearing and this tea and toast is just right.
Back on the road we pass through more hamlets and tiny towns, more single track road and take in a stop for pictures at Ardvreck Castle. The road widens out to 2 lanes again for the most part then we crest a hill and see below us a cluster of the white painted houses and a harbour. This must be Ullapool.
Ardvreck castle. Judging by the number of castles and fortifications in this area you have to assume the history is quite violent.
Ullapool is really nice. Lots of tiny bungalows and houses on narrow streets, a handful of shops, a small harbour with a massive ferry terminal and a campsite that is easy to find. It’s quite strange to find such a small place. Ullapool is a place I’ve heard of many times, it’s a major port for the Outer Hebrides, the local centre for the outlying towns and I was expecting a large coastal town full of tourist trappings and arcades. Apart from the campsite and a number of Bed and Breakfast stops there is very little sign of tourism. Well, that and the large contingent of bikers milling around.
At the campsite I spot the bikers from my home town. We pitch nearby and exchange stories of our journey, our bikes and the weather. I don’t actually know these gentleman all that well. They are familiar faces from the local biker haunt and I’ve said hello a few times in the past. This evening though we are talking like old buddies and as we talk of motorcycle add-ons and the ghastly price of fuel, the gf’s eyes are glazing over with boredom.
Eventually hunger calls and the lads head into town for tea. The gf and myself wander down the harbour front and look at a few menus. Having looked around we decide to go for a curry at the small Indian restaurant that is literally outside the entrance to the campsite. Taking on a curry in a strange place can be very scary. Curry houses can vary in quality from the bloody awful to the simply delightful. In fear of this we both order a simple Tikka Massala and wait with baited breath to see what emerges.
The food is spot on! We sit there happily stuffed then pay the friendly waiter and leave. We take a walk around the small harbour town and talk of architecture, motorhomes, long journeys and what we’d like from life. As we sit on the harbour wall I get a nice warm feeling inside. I like Ullapool. It’s small and friendly yet has provided just what we need for the night. The campsite is good, the food is good, the town is pretty and all is well in my world.
Ullapool Harbour Front. Good food, good camping and a distinct lack of midges tonight make this a happy place to be.
Whilst the gf prepares for bed I sit and talk to the lads for a while longer then retire to bed again. There are no midges around tonight, the wind is up. It’s nice to snuggle down with the gf and sleep is not long in coming.
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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.
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Reader's Comments
Andy Dutch said :-
Love to read your story of you highland trip, I am from Bury area near Manchester and intend on doing a mammoth 1500 mile trip of the north and west highlands this summer in August.Reading your story fills me with anticipation, cant wait.
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
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Travel StoriesThe Scottish Trip 2008 - By Ren Withnell