Day 18 – part 2

It is a sign of how hard yesterday’s ride really was that I gave up trying to write about it last night. It’s the first time in 18 days that I needed to sleep more than I needed to finish the daily blog. I’m a night owl and I can usually keep going as long as it takes, often well past midnight, and especially if I was out cycling in the long, late evening sunlight. Counting back, I have done significant after dinner rides no fewer than 8 times so far on this trip. And they have been some of the best parts of the journey. It allows you to fit a lot into a single day, if you need to. The light is often quite magical. And you go to bed feeling less full. But it does push back the remaining tasks well into the late evening.

So now I am well rested, it falls to me to finish the day’s events. Leaving Broadford, the road mostly follows the water’s edge, with the famous Cuillin mountains ahead and to the left, and the hilly but mostly empty island of Raasay over the water a short distance to the right. There was one big climb in the 16 miles to Slighachan. That was wind assisted, as the road had to turn back on itself. But the rest was varying degrees of battle against the westerly wind. There was often a degree of shelter; but when the coastline was exposed you had the full force, and a few gusts made the bike wobble. But it stayed dry and the scenery was undeniably magnificent, never more so than the full on view up to the jagged peaks of the Black Cuillin from the head of Loch Sligachan, where the landmark Sligachan Hotel dominates the roadside. I felt a compulsion to stop. I was last here about 9 years ago on a cycling trip with my son, Jude, and nephew, Thomas, when they were teenagers. It was time. 

I decided to have my pint first and then take the customary photo of the mountains from the old bridge afterwards. It was after 4.30pm and they were gearing up for a busy dinner time, but food would not be available until 5pm. Most tables were already reserved; but I found one close to the bar in the corner just big enough for me. It is a popular spot with tourists and walkers and they have the most amazing whisky bar, with literally hundreds of single malts on offer. It is quite a sight. I need to come back and stay. For several nights. I also like to support small breweries, and enjoyed my pint of Cuillin Session, brewed on the premises. It was good judgement to be inside at this point, because suddenly the heavens opened in the most unmissable way. It rained violently, biblically, for about 10 minutes, and I gave myself a pat on the back for choosing beer over cycling. If I had been outside in this, halfway to Portree with no shelter, well, I’m truly not sure what I would have done. It scared me to even think about it. Timing really was everything right now. And then some.

When sunshine once more appeared at the window, I supped up and ventured outside. Ahead it was a newly washed scene of bright colour. I turned my head to the right to see the Cuillins, ready to size up my photo. They had gone. Completely disappeared. Someone had taken away these huge mountains and replaced them with a wall of jet black sky, the like of which I have rarely seen. Hoping this was all heading where I had just been, I jumped on my bike and pedalled for all I was worth. If you want to see this classic view, I recommend Google images. It won’t be in my pictures, sorry!

The 9 miles to Portree felt like they were mostly downhill and they slid away easily. As you approached the small town, its sheltered south-easterly facing harbour came into view, brightly lit in the sunshine, High above it was the unmistakeable backdrop of the Quiraing ridge, with The Needle pinnacle thrusting itself improbably 120 feet into the sky. To the right were high sea cliffs. You can certainly see what brings people here from far and wide. It is a shame, then, that so many of these visitors were struggling to find a place for dinner. I had already decided it would be fish and chips for me. Even that required a 30 minute wait, such was the pressure on the local hospitality industry. Most of the many restaurants and hotels had signs up saying bookings only. The others had long queues outside their doors. I felt for these people. I am not one of the world’s most planned people and I enjoy spontaneity. But I also like eating. Booking ahead has seemed to be essential just about everywhere I have been in this part of Scotland. You learn pretty fast.

A rainbow framed the harbour as I hoovered up my chips, keen to make inroads into the last 24 miles. They turned out to be the least pretty of the day, and also the wettest. Don’t misunderstand me, I had my sunglasses on against the bright sun for more than half of the time.  I also had them on to keep the hail out of my eyes for about 5 minutes. I was about 20 minutes short of my destination near the end of the Waternish peninsula when the second and final rain storm arrived. I had just slogged up a long, drawn out hill and was descending swiftly towards the Waternish turn when it got suddenly worse. Thank goodness the road was wide and empty. I was rendered almost blind by the onslaught. All I could do was look down at the tarmac as I struggled to bring myself to a controlled stop. Turning back away from the wind and rain, my vision restored, I saw that I had just passed the road I needed to take. I also saw a bus shelter on the corner. This was no time for bravery. 

I went inside and found 3 unusual items: a folding wooden chair, a plant pot on a wooden table with hydrangeas in it; and a large plastic trunk painted with the letters “Food share for use by local residents”. I sat there for a few minutes until the rain had passed. Then I rode the last 6 miles or so along a tiny road that made its way up the Waternish peninsula, with ever more dramatic views opening up, looking back towards the cliffs of Duirnish and the small islands in between. Catherine, my lovely host for 3 nights, was waiting for me. I must have looked a sight. She showed me into my own annex and left me to get a shower and a warm drink. My large room looks out directly onto the view and it is quite stunning. Catherine said that her last guests, 2 Americans, had simply stayed in for 3 days and looked at it. I was sorely tempted to do the same. But, weather permitting, I have other business. On Saturday, I am booked on a trip to visit St Kilda!