Highland and Island 200
It’s been a long while since I did any decent cycling, so the idea of spending 3 days riding around the West Coast of Scotland was both exciting and just a little daunting. I had no idea if my fitness was up to it, and if a host of injuries which had plagued me for 18months were going to rear their heads and spoil it. In the end I needn’t have worried, no matter what happens, the West Coast of Scotland is a part of the world which is always pretty special.
The route, badly planned, poorly laid out, flawed and untested, was a 3(ish) day loop from Oban to Kinlochleven via Loch Etive, then on to Loch Sheil via Fort William and the WHW, and eventually to Loch Aline and a few ferries and bit of road to get home. We’d do as much as we could off road, and if possible try and fit the Cona Glen into the mix. Somehow I’d convinced Jim to join me again on this trip. We’re well suited, being horribly rude just as the other is at their lowest ebb as a form of cruel motivation. A kind of self-perpetuating schadenfreude machine.
We left the Cotswolds at about 8pm on Wed 27th and at 2am found a quiet layby next to Loch Lomond to sleep in the back of the car. It was cramped and uncomfortable, but saved getting the tent wet before we’d even started, and it encouraged us to get moving early on Thursday morning.
The weather forecast on Thursday morning had flipped overnight from a bit wet and windy, to a full on storm (Storm Brian… Brian?… Really?). So instead of starting in Oban we hot footed it to Connel, parked at the station and gave ourselves an extra 45mins of half decent weather.
The road along the north of Loch Etive (when there isn’t a quarry truck rattling past) is quiet, peaceful and a gentle way to start a ride. At Bonawe it turns into a land rover track, first threading through the quarry, then undulating along the shore, with stunning views of the loch and mountains opposite. We stopped on a small headland opposite Glennoe, made some coffee and enjoyed the fleeting sunshine and the absence of Brian. He was late.
The track all the way to Cadderlie bothy and for a further 4-5km is good easy riding and we made fast work of it. Perhaps pushing on a bit as we expected the weather to break at any point.
In the forest close to Barrs Pier the good road heads southeast, and our track northeast. It rapidly turned from saturated land rover tracks (with impossibly deep puddles for their length and breadth) into single track. The going was still good, with the riding a smidge more technical but not hard. Closer to Glen Etive the track deteriorates, with a series of short, sharp, loose climbs, and lots of undergrowth. It was here we encountered our first Deer Keds. We didn’t know the proper name at that point, so they got nicknamed c*** bugs. Not big or clever, but entirely appropriate for the ridiculously persistent little b*stards.
About 1.5km from the road at the head of the loch, the path vanishes into a bog. It took a preposterously long time to drag and haul our bikes through the mire to reach the jetty and collapse onto solid ground.
The road up Glen Etive is tarmacked, smooth and beautiful. It’s worth noting that about 500m along there’s a house on the left selling cans of Coke; if you ask nicely the lady will get cold ones from the fridge. A total blessing as Brian was still hiding behind a hill somewhere and it was pretty warm. It’s a 20km climb from the loch up to the northwest corner of Rannoch Moor, and while it’s not very difficult, it is sustained, and after pushing on along Etive and the trial of the bog of eternal stench, we were happy to reach the top.
From there, it was onto the WHW, up the Devil’s Staircase (tedious and hard work) and the long descent into Kinlochleven. Here Jim left me totally for dead on the rocky stuff (all of the stuff, if truth be told) as my fully rigid xc type whippet beat me up all the way down.
Dinner, midges, bed.
In the night it rained a bit, but Brian was mysteriously avoiding us. The morning dawned with sunshine and showers; the forecast set fair until early afternoon.
Making the most of the good weather, we stocked up at Co-Op and hauled our bikes up the first drag of the WHW out of Kinlochleven towards Fort William. A few walkers overtook us as we sweated our way up, but pretty soon the route levels out and the riding is straightforward and enjoyable all the way to Fort William.
We entered Fort William with Brian (better late than never I suppose) hot on our heels, and settled down to pork and stuffing rolls, cups of coffee and the bliss of sitting in a chair. Chair are under-rated in my experience.
This turned out to be a rookie error. I’d incorrectly remembered the ferry timetable, thinking they went every hour. Which they kind of do, up until about 12:30pm. After that it’s 4pm. We sat down to eat our rolls, 100m from the ferry, at about 12:25pm. Damnit.
With the weather now utterly foul, we had no choice but to ride the A830 13km to Craigag Lodge. We stopped briefly at a tired looking clay pigeon hut, taking shelter and wringing out our wet things, before heading into the wind and the long track on the south of Loch Sheil. Uneventful, but very pretty and exceedingly wet.
Reaching Polloch at about 17:00 we were thinking about finding a bivi spot, but the old coffin route over to Stontian was close by, and looked doable before nightfall. We’d been told it was just about ridable in the opposite direction, but it was generally an unknown and we knew we were taking a chance on having t find a spot halfway up the mountain (not really a problem). The track starts as a stiff push up a wet mossy path through the trees. After a couple of km it levels out to a decent path following a stream, this is presumably just to lure the unsuspecting into a false sense of security, as shortly afterwards it turns into a 45deg bog. I know a little about soil mechanics, and I can safely say that a 45deg bog is impossible. But there in front of us was just that. 3km to the top of hauling, swearing, sweating, deer keds, midges, bog, rain and absolute saturation. As the light was fading we reached the top, stopping only long enough to remind ourselves that we were a fair way from civilisation, it was getting dark and this was a bad place to screw up. So, naturally, I screwed up. My front tyre parted company from my rim, the bike stopped dead and I was flung over the bars into yet another near vertical bog. Eventually I stopped sliding. Trailside repairs complete (and covered in tube sealant) we set off again. Half was rideable, half was too deep. At 8pm we crawled into the campsite in Strontian and collapsed. Both of us utterly soaked to the bone.
The following morning dawned wet and windy. The climb on the road from Strontian to Loch Aline is steep and long. In the rain it’s a slightly depressing slog, but with the top gained it’s simple road riding all the way to the ferry. We were going to cut out the road in a number of sections, but after bog-gate the previous afternoon, we knew that it was just going to be near impossible to ride, and so we elected to avoid it.
At Loch Aline ferry, the lady in the café, unprompted, gave me a towel.
A couple of ferries later we were in Oban, with a simple (if slightly lethal) road ride back to the car. Then back to Oban for beer and dinner.
It was a lot of fun. I’d definitely do it again, though I’d check the ferries and try to go when it hasn’t been one of the wettest summers on record and not in the teeth of a storm.
230km ridden
3755m climbed
2.5days
Photos here:
https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/ ... sp=sharing