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Travel StoriesThe Scottish Trip 2008 - By Ren Withnell
The Scottish Trip 2008 - Day Out To Oban
I don’t sleep much. I’ve had a sore throat for a few days and now I feel like I’ve got hayfever. I suspect I’m having an allergic reaction to all the midge bites I’ve endured. During the night I become delirious and get waking nightmares of being trapped in the tent, unable to breathe or escape for fear of being bitten to death. I’m sweating and yet cold. During a waking moment I try to assure myself no-one has ever died from a midge bite, but what about countless midge bites? I toss and turn and wonder what we should do. I hate to give up but I hate to be miserable. I’ll not be beaten by a tiny little fly but what about 10 million tiny little flies? This is stupid, it can’t be that bad surely? I get up and go to the loo, only to be eaten at every step of the short trip. My legs are sore, my hands are sore, my forehead is almost blistered.
We decamp as quickly as we can. This still takes too long. I’ve pulled my scarf over my whole face now and I’m peering through the material, trying to avoid the bites. Every time I de-mask to see what I’m doing I’m bitten again and again. The gf is suffering too and we both feel awful.
It is a huge relief as we ride into Fort William. We stop at Morrisons to eat breakfast and regroup. Now we are in town and away from the wee beasties it all seems like some kind of surreal nightmare. If it wasn’t for my face, all swelled up, red and lumpy, I would have thought it was just a dream. I look at myself in a mirror and realise why people are looking at me oddly. I look like I’ve got some terrible disease or skin condition.
We’ve only been away 4 nights, the original plan was for 6. It’s a definite agreement that we are not even going to attempt another night camping, not here at least. We could head south and camp there? We could just go home. That sounds quite attractive actually, a nice warm and familiar bed, our own bath and the familiar comforts of our own place. But it would mean an end to the holiday. Or we could BnB. We consult the finances and decide on 1 night of BnB, then home early due to a lack of funds to make it 2 nights.
Last year I came to Scotland with the Rivington lads and stopped at a splendid BnB on the road into Fort William. Since the lads are back they are stopping at the same BnB as last year I decide to go there first. Both Joe and Jane recognise me and greet me like a long lost friend. I ask about a room and they have a double spare so that is sorted immediately. As I turn the sunlight must have caught my forehead and they are both amazed at how badly bitten I am. I feel so much better already, there’s room at the inn, we are out of midge hell and the sun is starting to warm the atmosphere nicely.
The BnB where we are going to stay tonight. A friendly welcome, a comfy bed and no bloodsucking midges.
Click here for more details
The room is not ready yet so we leave most of the camping gear round the back of the BnB and ride off for Oban. We are definitely back in civilisation now as the roads are still perfect but the traffic is much heavier. The road to Oban winds along with ease as the sun comes out and the sea lochs wind their way southwards. It seems a lifetime away when I was in the tent, tossing and turning, sweating and shivering. All seems well with the world, even the bike seems glad to be relieved of it’s excess load.
Oban is different to Fort William. Fort William is not a resort town, there are tourist things there but it’s more functional rather than touristy. Oban is not pretentious like Blackpool but it does have it’s arcades and tat shops. Oban is a harbour town too with ferries to the Hebrides and other Islands. Oban is rather what I expected Ullapool to be like. We sit for an hour on the harbour wall, watching as boats and dinghies come and go, children feed seagulls and speak German and coach loads of OAP’s pass by. I almost fall asleep as my body tries to catch up on last night, but I can’t relax as I’m wondering if the gf is bored or not yet.
Oban harbour and sea front. The sun is shining and we are quite relaxed. If only these bites on my forehead were not so itchy.
Back at the bike we are accosted by a bore. I’ve met Bandit bores and BMW bores before, middle aged or older men who know every detail and subtlety about their chosen bike. I’ve never before met an NTV bore though. The man proceeds to tell me about his 1992 NTV and it’s exhaust issue, the differences between the K and L models and how I should prepare for something or another to wear out. He also seems particularly keen to tell the gf about how much he knows. Somehow I doubt the gf is either impressed or interested. It’s good for her to meet someone like this, it makes me look so much better.
We jump on the bike as fast as we can and make our excuses as quick as we can. Our next stop is on the return trip. Castle Stalker stands on a small promontory into Loch Linnhe, overlooked by its associated café where we stop for a drink and sticky cakes. As I park I notice 2 matching Moto-Guzzi bikes. The plates are German and as we dump our gear I spot a couple who are probably the owners.
I’m normally very shy with strangers but somehow I strike up a conversation with them. They are a husband and wife team, they’ve trailered the bikes here and are now using them to look about and enjoy the Scottish scenery. Whilst the gf disappears with her camera I sit with them and talk of petrol prices, the roads where they live and their thoughts about the UK. We actually talk for quite some time and when they leave I give them my business card. They offer to put us up in Germany some time, that would be wonderful but perhaps they were just being polite. Imagine that, me, my bike and the gf travelling across Germany…
Castle Stalker as seen from the the Castle Stalker Cafe. The gf does take a good picture doesn't she.
I’m almost sad to see them go. I finish my brew as they rumble gently into the distance then we head off ourselves. It’s not far back to Fort William so I decide to take a detour to Kinlochleven, just off the beaten track. Wow! What a great idea! It only adds about 20 miles to the journey but what an amazing 20 miles it is. From the Glencoe road it’s 5 miles of tight twists and turns resplendent with glorious views over the loch and glimpses of a small village, white-painted in the valley at the end of the Loch. I don’t go to fast just yet, the road has been resurfaced and has not quite bedded in and I don’t want a scary slide.
The village of Kinlochleven is small and very tidy. It has the cutest little school and a mixture of old and modern houses that sit together in harmony. It only takes 2 minutes to pass through then the road gets funky again. This is the last day we’ll be here and throughout the whole trip my riding has been sensible and controlled, but now I let the red mist come down.
Those of you who know about bikes will know that a 1991 NTV 600 Revere, now with 71,800 miles on the clock, is not exactly the fastest and best handling bike in the world. I don’t care. I’m flying here, I’m in my zone, the bike is perfect, the road is perfect, the weather is perfect and I’ve got 10 miles to myself. Over the crest, compress the suspension and curve the corner, apex, power power power, brake brake, lean, power, flick, lean, power, brake… It’s not very often things come together, but when it does it’s very good. The gf waits for a straight to adjust herself so she’s not sliding around quite so much, power, lean, power, brake brake brake!
I’m buzzing as we reach the end of the road. At the junction I lift my visor and ask the gf “Did ya like that?” It seems she did, but she quite rightly points out that may have been a beautiful road and we’ve missed it. As I ride back I reflect that actually I’m glad I’ve been riding at sensible speeds and taken the time to see the country and not simply pass through it. It’s good to blast once in a while but it would be a total waste of time and money to use Scotland as a racetrack.
Back at the BnB we settle into the room and get changed. Much as the wannabe adventurer in me says I like camping and the great outdoors, I have to admit it’s so nice to have a proper bed to lie on, fresh towels, privacy and no bleeding midges to eat my forehead. The Rivington lads arrive and seem hardly surprised to see me there. Nor are they surprised when we inform them we are staying for the night. One of them does comment that my forehead may possibly be saying something rude in Braille though.
That evening the gf and I join the lads in town for another curry. This time the curry is perfectly acceptable but not very tasty or inspiring. It’s also quite expensive, but I think the drinking habits of a couple of the lads are not helping. The lads carry on drinking but the gf and I take the 1 and a half mile walk back to the BnB. The midges are out along the road, but not in the numbers we saw last night and it’s fairly easy to keep them at bay.
Oh it’s good to be in a proper bed! It must be warm too, the gf has taken off 1 of her 3 jumpers…it could be my lucky night tonight. Why are women always cold?
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Travel StoriesThe Scottish Trip 2008 - By Ren Withnell