Day 6 - Lots Of Green And Grey

It was a warm but noisy night in the mixed dormitory of 12. The overweight Asian (probably Korean) in the bunk immediately above me tossed and turned until about 12.30am, then snored like a warthog until he woke himself up and then made a peculiar moaning sound until he started to snore again. I finally got to sleep around 2.30am.

I woke up at 7am but didn’t get out of bed until 8am. During that time, I interrogated the weather forecast and saw that it was high winds for today and tomorrow, then solid rain for the next few days. I decided that I would not head into the Isle of Skye, but instead I would complete the traditional North Coast 500 route, then head home. Skye can wait for another day, hopefully in a camper van, which in my opinion is the perfect vehicle for this trip.

I then searched petrol stations, which is the biggest thing playing on my mind. Apart from in Durness, the next petrol station is in Scourie, some 25 miles away. After that it is Ullapool which I’m not sure I could make. It may seem like I’m unduly worrying, but I also read that parts of this region of Scotland are the most uninhabited areas in the whole of Europe.

I had a tin of rice pudding for my breakfast and 3 large mugs of coffees. I chatted with the very laidback hostel manager who said I could stay and use the facilities as long as I liked. He confirmed that the petrol pump in Scourie was working yesterday. Fingers crossed.

I used the time at the hostel to decide what if any additional detours I wanted to make off the NC500 route and typed various locations into my SatNav. I loaded up my motorcycle and drove out of the hostel at 10.25am.

I drove the mile along the road to the petrol pump and hallelujah it was working. While I waited in the queue to fill up, the heavens opened and my jeans were saturated within seconds, but I was too happy to care. I squeezed just over 6 litres of unleaded into the fuel tank.

I stopped at Durness Village Hall where there is a slightly bizarre memorial to John Lennon that attracts a few diehard Beatles fans. He used to visit his aunt Lizzie who lived in Durness on family holidays and his memories later went into the song ‘In My Life’.

I then took a ride out to Balnakeil Bay to see the brilliant Mediterranean turquoise sea. Apparently it only turns turquoise on sunny days, which wasn’t today, but it still looked like a stunning beach.

I then followed the A838 road south from Durness towards Scourie sweeping through the Highlands at their apparent starkest with rocks piled on rocks, bog and water, and a bare stony coastline that looks increasingly inhospitable. I cruised along the coastline with my eyes glued to the shore looking for otters. They remained elusive.

At Scourie I located the village fuel pump and decided to not give up the opportunity to fill up with fuel. I managed to squeeze 2.48 litres into the tank.

I continued down the A894 into the Assynt region, which is described as having an epic, almost cinematic quality. Its landscape does not consist of mountain ranges, but of extraordinary peaks which rise individually from the moorland.

I crossed the bridge at Kylesku, then turned off on to the scenic B869 coast road. The testing road hugged the indented shoreline with coastal views and superb beaches. I passed through the villages of Drumbeg, Clachtoll and Achmelvich.

It was a tiring ride and eventually I arrived at the small town of Lochinver, which is famous for its pies. I stopped and visited the Lochinver Larder for a couple of their pastry delights. The shop was heaving with tourists and it took quite a while just to get served. I finally ordered a savoury steak and ale pie and a sweet apple and blackcurrant pie. I had to pay extra to have them heated up. I ate the 2 deliciously deep filled pies, which cost me an eye watering £13.90 to take away, which I had on an outside table. It would have cost more to eat inside.

Suitably refreshed, I headed towards my hostel for the night. The road took me up a fairly fast steep hill with what I saw to be a nice view of a river on the right hand side. I made the ill-judged decision to pull over to the opposite side of the road. I struggled to remove my gloves whilst squeezing hard on my brake. I managed to take my photo (that probably wasn’t worth the effort), then my engine cut out as I struggled even more to put my gloves back on. As cars raced too close for comfort past, I tried and tried to start my engine but nothing happened. I was cursing my stupidity, because I was now stuck against the raised verge and it was too dangerous, if not impossible anyway, to move my bike. It was after about 5 minutes of panic that I had the ‘lightbulb moment’ that I had accidentally pressed the big red switch to ‘Engine Cut Off’. Once rectified, my bike roared back into life, much to my relief.

I continued alongside Loch Assynt passing the picturesque toothy remains of Ardveck Castle, a MacLeod stronghold from 1597 that fell to the Seaforth Mackenzies after a siege in 1691. Less than a mile further along I turned into Inchnadamph Explorers Lodge, my hostel for night.

A group of eight amusing middle aged Scots who are also staying at the hostel provided me with my early evening entertainment in the dining room while I write my blog . It was like a real life ‘Two Doors Down’.

I watched the second half of the football on my iPad, showered then read my book in the lounge. Whilst reading, a Scottish lad who seemed to be a guide for an older Indian man, discussed their onward travel/tour plans. They were looking at some fancy weather website and making alternative arrangements because heavy rain and strong winds are due to hit the west coast of Scotland on Monday afternoon. I made my mind up to regrettably start to head home early on Monday morning.

I went to bed around 10pm and researched my route for tomorrow and where I would stay before prematurely ending my trip.

Song of the Day - Green and Grey by New Model Army.Read more