West Coast
After ten days on various islands of the Hebrides, Inner and Outer, the mainland accepted us back. In Ullapool, the coastal metropolis with its iconic waterfront and the whitewash painted houses, we stopped for a last meal of fish-n-chips / haggis-n-chips before heading north on the North Coast 500 in search of a pitch for the night.
Little did we know at that point how long it would take us find a decent site to camp. With little to no wind at all -- definitely below the six km/h threshold that keeps the midges at bay -- the road north turned into one long hunting ground for bugs of all kind. Midges, horseflies, mosquitos, blow flies -- all the nasties of the Scottish bogs had ganged up on us. Initially we were confident we'd find a pitch inside the first ten to twenty kilometers, even passing on the campsite just outside Ullapool. Only on Loch Lurgainn we felt the first inkling of a breeze but it had died down when we reached Loch Bad a' Ghaill which had seemed a good candidate for a camping spot. At least we managed to take a short swim in that loch before the bugs could skin us further. Past the lakes on the west coast there was a little more wind, as expected, however the rocky ground and cliffs weren't suitable for camping. In the end we had crossed half of the Coigach peninsula before we found a halfway decent pitch a few kilometers south of Lochinver. That place was on a causeway crossing a bay in the sea, just wide enough to accommodate the tiny tent, but it was quiet and less midge ridden than the interior we just managed to escape.
The next day we had breakfast in Lochinver at the waterfront, saying goodbye to Scotland's west coast. Par for the course on the coastal road, getting to Lochinver required some climbing again, as did the road away from the coast for Loch Assynt. These first two dozen kilometers amounted for more than half of the elevation gain of the day, but past the lake the roads got markedly easier.
Crossing Over
After a visit to the ruins of Ardvreck castle on Loch Assynt we followed the road for the length of the lake and then took the less busy A837 to Lairg. The coastal part of the route was originally only planned as a kind of "stretch goal" in case we'd arrive on the mainland with some extra days left in our schedule. It worked out perfectly as the A837, a typical Scottish single track road with passing places, is the kind of quiet backcountry road that is ideal for bike touring. The scenery it passes through is an absolute treat to the eyes and it is fasciating to observe how vegetation changes with increasing distance to the sea. With its vast pine forests and drawn out, smooth river valleys the contrast to the coast with its steep, hostile rocks is striking.
Thanks to a rare tailwind pushing us on from the west we had an easy ride to Lairg where got a pitch at a campsite near Loch Shin, a large freshwater reservoir. Initially we were excited about the campsite with its idyllic pond and a cozy games shed, but soon changed our minds when it became apparent that it was a paradise for the midges as well.
However we then discovered something worse even than those biting bugs: at some point during the day, most likely a picnic in one of those stunning valleys, we picked up dozens of ticks. The were all over our legs and clothes. And they were all tiny, probably still larvae from one nest we were unfortunate to step in, and thus incredibly hard to spot. Some had already bitten while others were crawling around. We spent the rest of the evening searching every square centimeter of our skin, our clothes, and the tent for these abominations. Let's just hope our quick response is effective against the ungodly diseases ticks tend to spread.
The Black Isle
From Lairg we joined the Eurovelo 12 and let gravity pull us down all the way to the east coast which we met at the Kyle of Sutherland. In the picturesque town of Tain we stopped for lunch. Our sandwiches were under constant threat from a thieving seagull that kept roaming the tables for leftovers. Indeed we were back at the sea.
The Cromarty ferry is a bit elusive. Not operated by Calmac it doesn't have a real schedule or even website, just a note on Facebook, of all, saying there's a sailing each way every twenty to thirty minutes. All in all it seems more like a community effort than a commercial transport service. Not surprising then that the tiny boat would barely fit two cars. There was plenty of space for our bicycles however so we got on board and enjoyed the panorama of retired offshore drilling platforms rusting away in the Cromarty Firth.
On the other side the rain got worse. We cursed the Met Office while we climbed the last hill that stood between us and our destination for the day, the camp site in Fortrose. Another opportunity for me to pitch the tent in "downpour mode", outer hull first on the footprint, adding in the inner layer while shielded from the rain. The rain did not subside during the night, unfortunately.
In the morning we rolled down the peninsula that extends into the Moray Firth from Fortrose to the lighthouse at its tip. Supposedly this is Scotland's prime dolphin spotting site but there weren't any of the creatures hanging out there at low tide so we missed that opportunity.
Inverness, and Into the Cairngorms
Approaching Inverness from Kessock one crosses the bridge over the Moray Firth before joining the Ness River at its mouth. Our planned lunch stop at the castle fell through as the hill is closed for reconstruction work so we headed on to Loch Ness. From its northernmost tip the lake looks calm and clear, but not really inviting to swim.
There's better lakes for that in the region! For instance Loch Duntelchaig, located just a few kilometers to the south on a quiet backcounty road through thick forests and patches of heather. By the road we spotted a phenomenal campsite overlooking the south end of the lake. Partly overgrown by trees it sported a pebble beach and some rocks that served as furniture. Midges did not haunt us here despite the lack of wind and rain in the afternoon. It was almost completely quiet there throughout the night apart from a few frogs messing about on the shore. That spot really approaches the ideal campsite.
gps tracks
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