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Travel StoriesCamping In Scotland 2006 - By Ren Withnell
Camping In Scotland 2006 - Mallaig And Strontian
I awake at 5am again, I lie there and listen to the incessant birdsong again, drift in and out of sleep again and at 8am I give up and get up. Going to bed early is all very well and good, but it means I wake early too. The gf is of course still sleeping and I have to make a suitable amount of “accidental” noise to stir her. After the ablutions and a handful of bacon rashers purchased from the shop and cooked in the billy can we are up and dressed. We decide to stay here again tonight so the gf pays for another night. I consult the map and decide to go to Mallaig. I’ve been there before, last year, and the road is good and the town is pretty. I also know the one and only fuel stop is costly so we fill up in Fort William before we depart.
The road is good. I’m not in the mood for speed but I’m still shifting along above the speed limit. What is surprising is the rest of the traffic is also moving swiftly. The distance between towns in Scotland always seems to be about 40 miles. This necessitates faster travel otherwise going to the next village would take all day. The locals know this and make no bones about “getting on with it”. The only slow traffic is the tourist, slowing down for fear of well marked corners, looking at the fabulous scenery and arguing about directions.
We stop at the monument to “Bonny Prince Charlie”. The gf struggles to get a good picture of it, she can’t get the image “straight”. It seems the land must slope gently giving the impression of either the tower leaning, or the ground being out of line. Whilst she struggles with this I strike up a conversation with a German couple also on a bike. They are touring Scotland as we are but they have chosen the more comfortable resting to be found at the countless B and B’s. Between my broken German and their broken English we get by.
The Bonny Prince Charlie Monument. Don't worry my love, it looks straight to me.
Back on the road we are soon in Mallaig. It’s a small fishing town with not much more than a harbour, a handful of shops and cafes and an industrial estate that services the harbour. The weather is looking good so far, the sun is working its way out from between light clouds. The gf is still cold though. She’s been complaining about being cold since we started, it’s a girl thing I guess. It’s quite a beautiful day and she’s cold. I take her into a café and force her to buy me food in return for allowing her to warm up. And the food is not cheap here, £11.20 for a snack and a brew, staggering!
We wander around a little more, as I walk ahead along the harbour jetty, she calls out to me “John?” I stop and ponder for a little moment. My name is Ren, John is her ex-husband. Perhaps it was not her, perhaps she’s not finished her sentence or perhaps there is some other explanation. I turn around and the look on her face tells me she’s definitely made a big boo-boo. Frankly I don’t care. Hell, I’ve done it often enough in the past and anyhow it’s of no consequence. With my history I’ve taken to calling anyone female by generic terms such as sweetheart and love. It’s patronising I agree, but far less dangerous than getting their name wrong.
I tease her for a while, and laugh at her as she hangs her head in shame. I get all serious for a moment to assure her it’s all ok and just fine, then revert back to teasing her because it’s much more fun. After we calm down we sit on a wall overlooking the sea. The gf is trying to get a picture of a seagull in flight but they don’t seem to want to oblige by flying in the right direction on cue. On the road in we had seen a bay full of beautiful white sand so I promise to try and find a way to it on the way back.
I find a way down to the white sands around Arisaig. The sun is out and shining brilliantly even though there is a cool wind blowing. I park the bike and I find I’m overwhelmed to strip down to my shorts and sit on the sand for a short moment whilst the gf takes a picture or two. We try to create the illusion of a sandy beach in the Mediterranean on a perfect summer’s day. Of course I’m freezing so I quickly redress and soon enough we are back on the road.
Sunbathing on the white sand. I am really getting that fat?
We wind our way back to Fort William but I want to explore. I spot a sign to Strontian and choose to follow this. 2 lanes soon shrink to one and become very twisting and winding. The occasional traffic on this road must be local, as soon as I catch up to a car they kindly pull into a passing place and allow me past, great! I notice that I am being followed, by a pickup truck. I return the local kindness by letting him past, wondering who would dare to catch up and pass a biker. This chap obviously knows the road very well, and can certainly handle his truck too. I can keep pace with him but I’m fighting and wrestling the bike hard into every bend, gassing out of corners and braking before the next. It is a pleasure and a delight to follow someone who can drive quickly, yet safely.
It seems to be quite some time before we get into Strontian. All the maps show it, it’s well signposted and seemingly well known. But it is tiny. You need to rethink the concept of size in Scotland. A place this size would not even get mention on a Manchester map, small towns still matter here. Yet the distance I have covered with only minimal signs of human habitation would easily cover the whole of the Manchester A to Z. Distances are much greater, town are much smaller.
The Tourist Information Centre lady kindly tells me I am best to catch the Corran Ferry if I wish to return to Fort William. There is a road I can follow but she tells me it’s a “bad road”. I like ferries, like them, love them, I have not been on holiday unless there is a ferry involved. The road to Ardgour is 14 miles long, but with 2 lanes. I would like to say I am stuck behind a builders van, but when the said van is travelling at 75mph I am more than happy to sit behind it and follow. The don’t mess about these locals do they.
The ferry runs every half hour, and we have timed it perfectly. As soon as we stop, it sets off from the opposite shore to make the 3 minute crossing. Before long I hand over a meagre £1.50 and we set sail back across. My only frustration is I cannot see the water because I am positioned next to the conning tower. Humbug.
The Corran Ferry. It's not a holday if there's not a ferry involved
Another 8 miles of road takes us back into Fort William. It’s definitely tea-time by the rumbling in my stomach so I throw the bike into a convenient side road and set off on foot round the town. There are plenty of pubs serving meals but the costs are high, and the food on this trip is already the biggest expense. We spot a quirky place selling jacket potatoes with a variety of fillings and other suitable simple meals, with prices that seem sensible. It is manned by an enthusiastic chap whom we later learn also runs the internet café and the launderette. Don’t you just hate successful, keen, dynamic and thrusting blokes? Jealousy will get me nowhere.
Back at the campsite it is another slow night that involves a shower, a walk along the shore of Loch Linnhe, talking and the consideration of what we should do next. We go to bed early again, which means I’ll be waking early again too.
Camping In Scotland 2006 - Bolton to Dumfries
Camping In Scotland 2006 - Dumfries to Fort William
Camping In Scotland 2006 - Mallaig And Strontian
Camping In Scotland 2006 - Fort William to St Andrews
Join the BAT team as the saunter across Scotland from Fort William to St Andrews.
Camping In Scotland 2006 - St Andrews to Langholm
Camping In Scotland 2006 - Langholm to Windermere
Camping In Scotland 2006 - Homeward Bound
Reader's Comments
Ian said :-
I was wondering because i hate the hemmed in feeling of campsites. Are you allowed to camp in mallaig anywhere that doesnt use a site?.
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
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Travel StoriesCamping In Scotland 2006 - By Ren Withnell