What’s the story in Balamory?

There can be few more beautiful towns in Scotland, perhaps anywhere, than Tobermory. It even has a great name. And it sits squarely in OS map 47, which I wasn’t in, or even next to, having left Coll and map 46 by the only sensible option, the Calmac ferry to Oban.

I needed to take another ferry out of Oban, and there are several choices available. One was the easy option of getting a later ferry over to Craignure, the main port for the Isle of Mull, and then cycling west. But that would feel wrong, because it would take me through map 49 first and then through map 48 to reach the eastern fringes of map 47 proper. Moreover, it seemed to me like a missed opportunity. There is another, slightly longer way, allowing a more top-down approach, and it was something I had always wanted to do.

The long, thin, low lying island of Lismore sits above Oban at the entrance to Loch Linnhe and the Great Glen. It was an important place in early christian times and the adopted home of St Moluag, an Irish Pict, who – along with the more famous St Columba – was spreading the good news across Scotland. If it was good enough for him, then I should visit, too. I could take a ferry there in just over an hour from now, and then get another one – a small passenger ferry – from the top of Lismore, just a few miles further on, to Port Appin. This would not only be an interesting stepping stone in itself; but it would also cut out a lengthy stretch of main road heading north from Oban towards Fort William. I just needed to be sure that the last ferry was running to Port Appin at 8.15pm. On the schedule on-line it showed it as bookable only, so as a precaution I had called the ferry operator. Twice. There were issues of translation if I’m honest and I was afraid that I might get stuck without accommodation on Lismore island. But it all worked out. The on-line schedule is, apparently, out of date anyway. This late ferry always runs in the summer. Right.

The first ferry took almost an hour and gave stunning views east over the water towards a mountain scape beyond Loch Etive that I only knew included the distinctive Ben Cruachan. But there were many more summits on view that evening. When I landed on Lismore, I climbed to the main road running up the spine of the narrow island. Here I discovered three important things: first, this is a beautiful, lush island; second, it has stunning mountain views, across water, in every direction; and third, its one and only cafe – which is excellent, by the way – stays open late on a Monday evening (again, not the information provided on-line) and has a lovely outdoor sun terrace where these amazing views can be savoured over a local beer. So that made things even better. But, really, are we to believe nothing we read on the internet these days?

The second, much smaller ferry took just 10 minutes and I was the only passenger. By now I was feeling pretty blown away by the combination of weather and scenery. You could clearly see (I was told in the cafe) the whole of the mountains of Glencoe, and even, to the north, Ben Nevis. Which all made sense when I remembered where I was. How had I missed this all my life? It was to die for.

I stayed overnight a few miles out of Port Appin and started out this morning, another good weather day, on national cycle route 78, the Caledonian Way, in the direction of Fort William. It was equally fine scenery, looking west across Loch Linnhe towards Ardgour. The cycle track was also of a very high standard, and I thoroughly recommend it.

As lunch time approached, I arrived at the Corran Ferry and a long line of waiting cars. This ferry carries passengers and bicycles for free, and there was no waiting for us. I arrived as the ferry docked and was seamlessly dispatched to the much quieter far side and Ardgour. A sign welcomed me in Gaelic to Ardnamurchan, and another led me, in English, to the Nomad cafe, which was based in a pretty caravan in a pub car park, and served excellent food. This timely interruption to my progress was the first of 3 open cafes today on my route to Tobermory, and I did the decent thing in all three cases. That is the minimum I required over 68 miles of hilly riding; but I was always mindful of the time. The last ferry of the day over the Sound of Mull from Kilchoan, at the end of the Ardnamurchan peninsula, to Tobermory, left at 6.40pm. I wasn’t in a rush; but I had to keep moving. I prefer not to have to do this; it is so much better not to have to chase ferry times. But I made it with time to spare and was able to enjoy a truly beautiful ride.

The route took me up empty roads along a classic U shaped valley and through a mountain pass from Ardgour to the village of Strontian, which sits near the end of beautiful Loch Sunart, a long finger of sea water that protrudes many miles inland between tall mountains. Strontian gave its name to the element Strontium after it was discovered here in minerals from the local lead mines in the late 18th century. From here onwards, for more than twenty miles, I followed the lush, wooded north shore of Loch Sunart, pausing at a jetty in the small, pretty village of Salen, where yachts were moored in the sun. It was all pretty idyllic. After a stiff climb to avoid a headland and vertical cliffs, I was presented with a sudden and awe-inspiring view of Rum, Eigg and Skye, all at once, and surprisingly close up. Amazing. I saw more of Eigg from here today than I did when I actually visited! The end of the road is finally reached in the most westerly village in mainland Britain, Kilchoan, which looks south across the Sound of Mull towards – but not at – Tobermory, the main settlement in Mull, hidden in its own naturally sheltered bay.

Kilchoan is the only place with any services for many miles. I was struck by the state of its tiny petrol station, over the road from the village shop. My first impression was that it had ceased to operate. There are three very old pumps in an advanced state of decay, and the forecourt was roped off. But, on closer inspection, I saw from the hand written notes stuck on the pumps, that it still functions when the shop is open. For insurance reasons (and I suspect possibly safety reasons) these antique pumps, still just clinging to life, are not self-service!

And so, after a bracing 40 minute ferry journey, I arrived in Tobermory. I have only been once before; but I always felt a soft spot for this place. It may be the iconic colourfully painted buildings that ring the bay. It is certainly hard not to like. But I think it goes back earlier. Tobermory was my favourite womble on BBC childrens’ television when I was young. The name, and the idea, seems to have stuck. Anyway, it was gorgeous this evening. And even better, the distillery shop was still open when I arrived. The man inside (from Barnsley) was easy to win over and I enjoyed two free drams of the 12 year old and the Ledaig 10 year old. Both are really very good. So I bought a small whisky glass for £5 to return the favour. It makes a change from another tea-towel.

Then it was fish and chips in the sun and a hilly ride over hairpin bends to the small but lovely village of Dervaig, where I am staying tonight. I will explore tomorrow. Tonight I simply showered and went to the pub! Which was a pretty perfect end to a pretty perfect day of cycling. I just don’t think it gets much better.