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Travel StoriesAcharacle Debacle
From Bad, To Worse, To Awful
Ride Date April 2026
By Bogger.
Message from Chris.
"Do you fancy a weekend away in Acharacle, on the banks of Loch Shiel, in Scotland, with the lads?"
I've never heard of Acharacle, but I have heard of Scotland. So the answer's yes, just send me the details. The lads by the way are a group of lads from the Preston/Longridge area, who have known each other since school and the early years of work. I'm sort of an interloper. I've known Chris and his two brothers for nearly twenty years. They're cracking lads, nuts, but in a nice way.
I see them infrequently but keep in touch. Over the past four or five years I've been invited and away with them a couple of times a year to Barnard Castle, on the 'Shed Runs' - where the theme is the bike has to be 250cc or under and to have cost under £200. If you make it there and back it's a bonus. It's a great weekend away.
The other twelve to fifteen lads who go on these runs I really don't know very well at all. But they are very welcoming and funny. But sadly I have trouble putting the correct name to a face due to the infrequency of meeting up with them. So the gang going to Acharacle are mostly the same mob from the shed runs. Happy days.
With it being April I was hoping the weather would be kind to us. Hmm.
I'd found Acharacle on the map. It's a long way there and back for a weekend away. It involves motorways, country roads, mountain roads and a ferry crossing. It's a long way from where I live. The most direct route is 331miles, one way. We didn't take the most direct route, obviously. That would be far too easy.
Ooh it's an adventure! Sorry I meant to say an endurance event.
I rang Chris leading up to the off and asked what everyone is riding up to Scotland on. My heart sank a little. Mostly they were on BMW boxer twins of varying capacity and a smattering of other large displacement motorbikes. I've actually got two BMWs myself. Sadly neither are MOT'd, taxed, or insured. Bugger. Not to worry, I'm sure my Honda SH350 scooter will keep up??
On the Friday of the weekend away I'm up at 4.30am. Good grief. The Scooter is all prepped and I've got a 5ltr can full of fuel just in case. I also take a smaller 1.5ltr 'fuel friend' also full of fuel. There are two, in my eyes, major disadvantages with the Honda SH350. One is the location of the fuel tank, under the seat and the actual capacity of the tank itself. A paltry 9.1 ltrs.
I'd done my usual Google mapping the route and mentally noted the Service stations on the motorway and A/B roads. I calculated I was good for at least 130miles on the scooter's brimmed tank. I've got two words to describe my calculation. Utter B****s. But, at least for now, I was in total ignorance!
We were all meeting in Longridge at 7.00-730am. When I arrived my heart sank a little when I spied all the massive BMW GSs and RTs. I may have bitten off more than the SH350 can chew? I was told not to worry they won't leave me behind. Bugger, should have gotten the 1200 Bee Em back on the road. I'm here now, I've committed to going, I'll just have to get on with it.
A brief plan is discussed. Get to Gretna green, re-group, re-fuel and get on our way again. Easy peasy. We trundle the short distance to the M6 at the Tickled Trout, around the roundabout and onto the Motorway slip road. At which point everyone wrenched open their respective throttles and all flew past me at a rate of knots. Obviously I did the same, but not with the same effect. For a mid sized scooter the SH350 is no slouch. But it most definitely is not a litre plus BMW. The words "don't worry we won't leave you behind" were still ringing in my ears.
I'm riding up the M6 reasonably fast to try and not fall massively behind. Obviously I'm not breaking any speed limits officer, honestly, Ahem. After a few miles, I cast an eye on the fuel consumption read out. OMG, 56mpg and that includes my bimble from home to Longridge. Will I even make it to Gretna? I back off a tiny bit in the vain hope of conserving some fuel.
Between Preston and Lancaster we were all slowed down by a major incident on the opposite carriageway. There were cars on their roof and others smashed up, littering the hard shoulder and carriageway. Obviously behind them was a humungous tailback. When you see the carnage it makes you take a little bit more notice of what's going on around you and concentrate a little bit harder. The ONLY advantage was this slowed everyone down due to the traffic build up and did wonders for my fuel consumption.
All of a sudden I've got four of the other lads around me and we are more or less sticking together. At Carlisle there are now roadworks on our side with speed restrictions. Again this is good for my economy. I may even make it to Gretna at this rate? A few miles before Gretna we pass three of the gang on the hard shoulder. By the time we saw them we had gone past, err still keeping to the speed limit M'Lud.
The four of us pull of at Gretna to join the others at 'The Old Toll Bar Cafe'. But not before we had refuelled. I took ages refuelling, trying to get the tank completely and utterly brimmed. After a brew, a cake and nattering for far too long it's time to get going again.
The guy that's broken down on his 1.7ltr MT-01 has a battery issue. They have managed to get it going but are heading back to Carlisle to source a battery. Apparently we are to meet them at Moffat. Just before we set off I get a couple of comments about how well the SH goes. It does. But it's got 30hp Not 100 plus horsepower. I gird my loins for the onslaught.
I'm told that we are now off the Motorway and are going to head up the B7076, which runs parallel and but a stones throw from the motorway. All I could think was why? We've got hundreds of miles still to do and the last stop was an hour and a half. But it's not my gig, so I keep quiet and just try to keep up. Which is not a problem on the B road.
At Moffat we pull onto the main high street and phone calls are made to the MT-01 crew. No reply. We head out of Moffat and stop at the first car park, again to make phone calls. We're off our bikes and awaiting a reply. I contemplate putting some fuel into the Scooter. Nah, it'll be fine, it's only gone down one bar on the fuel gauge. Hang on Bogger, give your head a wobble! I fully refuel from my 1.5ltr fuel can. This was a wise decision, for once.
After another twenty minute wait, we're once again on our way. We rejoin the B7076 which leads us the forty three miles to, I think It was Larkhall. This is just South of Glasgow where we hop onto the M74. To be fair the B7076 is a cracking road to ride and it did wonders for my fuel consumption The SH was now hitting the dizzy heights of 60mpg. Result!
However it's now 1.20pm, it's Friday, it's Glasgow, and the traffic is building. We're trying to stick together a best as possible, but with such a large group it's difficult and dangerous to even try. We've all been given instruction to head to and go over the Erskine bridge. I'm with the leading group as we negotiate the seemingly never ending roadworks on the M74/M8.
We all get through unscathed, regroup and ride over the Erskine bridge as one. I'm asked how I'm doing for fuel? OK at present, but where are we likely to stop? The Green Welly stop apparently. I nod my approval. The SH can do that. Just. I'd also noticed a considerable drop in temperature since Glasgow. I was glad I'd left my waterproofs on since setting off early this morning. It hadn't been too warm early on. It was even colder now. Not biting cold, just cold.
We all carry on and are soon riding along the banks of Loch Lomond. The scenery was getting much better. The only downside was the amount of traffic. Progress was sedate to say the least. Overtaking was just not possible. The number of buses and vans clogging up the tiny, twisting A82 was ridiculous.
We finally all made it to the Green Welly Stop, some sixty miles further North of Glasgow. It had just gone 3.00pm. I calculated that hopefully we should arrive in Acharacle around 5.00pm. Most of us refuel. My fuel warning light had been flashing for the last twelve miles. The scooter had averaged since Gretna about 66mpg. My litre and a half fuel container was empty and I chose not to refill it as I had another five liters with me. Happy days? Really? Well it felt like it at the time.
We climbed out from the Green Welly stop, upwards towards Glencoe. The higher we go the colder it gets. There's still snow atop of the mountains. It was bleak, desolate, cold and beautiful all at the same time. Unfortunately the volume of traffic had hardly eased at all. There were a few stretches where you could overtake, but not many and again progress was moderately slow, in the most part. There were also a number of major road works as well which really didn't help.
After Glencoe we drop down and over the Ballachulish bridge and onto the ferry crossing at Corran. A mile before the Ferry is another petrol station. The lads who'd not filled up at the Green Welly wanted to brim their tanks. I'd only lost a couple of bars on the fuel gauge and had the spare gallon. No problem, it's not too far to go now. Have you noticed I keep saying no problem?!!
We get to Corran and only wait a couple of minutes for the ferry to dock and we all pile aboard. The ferry was chokka with cars, vans, and us lot. I did notice a bit of a kerfuffle right at the back of the ferry and what appeared to be a bike being pushed aboard. I wrongly assumed that someone has slipped on the boarding platform and taken a tumble.
As we make the five minute crossing there seems to be a lot of activity with some of our lot and the ferry crew. Is there going to be a punch up? No punch up but large oil containers are being brought up from below deck?? The ferry is too busy to get to know what's going on. No matter, we're already on the other side. Everybody rides off the ferry apart from one lad who shall remain nameless. He's pushing his bike off with the help of a couple of others.
In a nutshell, at the last petrol fill up, he didn't fill up with petrol, but put a whole tank of diesel in. DOH. With the fuel in the carbs and pipe it managed, just, to get him to the ferry. We've got containers to drain the fuel into but no pipe to do it with. We luckily scavenge some hosepipe out of an adjacent skip and start to syphon out fuel. This being done by a committee of five people.
After about twenty minutes of sucking, sloshing and swearing, it's announced that the tank is empty. A few of us raised our suspicions that it wasn't. There didn't seem enough fuel in the container. No. It's sorted. Being a nice bloke I offered up my gallon of fuel for the cause. We couldn't (the committee) even get a gallon in the there. He who shall remain nameless tried to start the bike. Yeah right.
Some bright spark, not me, said let's tow it and it might start then, as it's got some petrol in it!!!! Back into the skip and we pulled out a very worn ratchet strap. Two bikes are conjoined by said strap and they set off down the deserted road and around the corner. After a dogs age, and with no sight of them I wondered if, by come miracle, the bike had started and he was on his way to Acharacle? Leaving us waiting for someone who was not going to return.
Just around the first corner, just out of our sight, are the two bikes. The one at the back is not running, obviously. I pull up alongside the stricken bike to enquire of the situation. Just as I get there and stop for some reason the nameless rider inexplicably topples over onto me and sends me crashing to the ground with him and his bike on top of me. FFS. No, double FFS. I've only had the scooter two and a half weeks.
You couldn't write it. But behold, I just did.
Helping hands get us to our feet and I'm speechless, amongst other emotions. Both of us were fine, luckily. Someone asked if the scooter was OK. To be honest I really, really, REALLY didn't want to look at it. I only checked when I got back home.
Another hour was then spent re-draining the fuel tank. Properly this time. Someone else offered up another gallon of fuel and the bike finally coughed back into life. It was running like a sick pig, with plumes of grey smoke billowing out the back. Hoo bloody ray! Let's get to the Hotel. I, for one, need a drink.
Thankfully it wasn't too far to the Hotel. We set off along the A861. Along the banks of Loch Sunnart, through Strontian and Salen and we arrived at the Loch Shiel Hotel at 6.50pm. Knackered, frustrated, and some 341 miles from home. Chris had block booked all ten rooms in the Hotel. We buddied up with someone and set about unpacking our gear. After a couple of drinks in the bar and a meal it was time for bed and hopefully a good night's sleep.
It's not always good on the road. Share your debacle - click here.
From Bad, To Worse, To Awful
Bogger has an almost new SH350. And some friends, mostly on litre plus bikes. And a long ride ahead. There's buffoonery, worries, and finally good old incompetence to ensure Bogger has the best of times.
Reader's Comments
Upt'North ¹ said :-
Lovely part of wee bonny Jockland but I will never see it with Bogger.
Just sayin.
Upt.
25/08/2026 13:00:15 UTC
Ian Soady¹ said :-
I wonder why I've never fancied touring in a group?
25/08/2026 14:45:20 UTC
Louis said :-
It was a top trip & Bogger was a legend for making the trip on his bike & a very competent drinking buddy.
25/08/2026 17:35:12 UTC
Bogger said :-
Thanks very much it's appreciated.
Bogger
25/08/2026 17:47:55 UTC
Ren - The Ed¹ said :-
Ian - think of all the jolly japes you've missed not riding in groups. Those happy hours wasted waiting for someone who's broken down, run out of fuel, put in diesel, got themselves lost, or still hasn't mastered cornering. The joyous arguments about which route we SHOULD have taken and why did you all leave me at that junction. The frustration of the one that stops every 5 miles for a ciggie break and the one that rides 180 miles without ever stopping.
Group riding is far far far from perfect. But. It depends on the group. If you can find the right folks to ride with who don't scare you to death or bore you to death, who share a collective enjoyment of certain kinds of roads and destinations, who don't rub you up the wrong way - it can be a wonderful experience too.
Bogger will look back on this journey and smile... when the trauma has passed and the nightmares subside and the therapy starts to help.
25/08/2026 18:17:35 UTC
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