Nice writeup and pictures, Colin. Saw that bridge 3 hrs ago on the way to catching the ferry to Uist. If my hols are half as good as yours seem to have been, I.'ll be a happy man.
The forecast is for at least another week of this good weather - have fun on your holiday!
Colin and Carrie go mad in the Highlands! (Part 2)
We managed to blag full-day dog-sitting for Wednesday and Friday and were determined to make the most of both days. So ... Wed 3rd September - Tour of the Isle of Mull!
I am not yet fit enough to ride quickly over long distances and we planned to do an 87 mile circuit of Mull on this ride so I wanted the maximum amount of time to do it in. That meant catching the first ferry from Oban to Mull, leaving at around 07:45, and coming back on the last ferry at 19:00.
I got my stuff together but somehow forgot to eat any breakfast. (I think it was too early to have worked up an appetite.) I remembered just after Carrie arrived from her campsite to pick me up. (No tent for me - I was staying in 4-star accommodation nearby with my sisters!) I grabbed a couple of bananas from the fruit bowl to eat on the way.
We arrived in Oban at 07:15 and bought our tickets. After that, it was a case of hanging about and waiting to be sent on board our ferry.
I have
somehow managed to get to the ripe old age of 58 without ever sailing on the sea before. I remember a boat trip down the Thames as a child, and one across Derwent Water as an adult, but I don't remember any other trips in boats/ships. I was pretty excited about this one!
At long last we were sent down into the bowels of the ferry where we tied up our bikes and we then climbed up onto the deck to check out the action.
The first thing to do was to get photographic evidence of how much I am looking like my late father as I get older. It does my head in a bit to be looking older in my photos than the old boy was in most of the photos I have of him! Well, here's the best of the bunch. Compare and contrast with the 50 year old version of me in my current avatar photo, above left (which will be changed at some point soon for a suitably decrepit one!).
We were given the routine safety announcement, which for some reason reduced Carrie to fits of giggles. Maybe it was me muttering silly responses in a fake Scottish accent ...
PA system: "
Noo in case of a wee problem, the ship's whistle will be sounded 7 times ..."
Colin : "
But if ye lose count and cannae be shoore whether it was 6 blasts or 7, just stay where ye are until a crew member comes along and then ask them how many blasts it was. If nae crew member turns up, or your feet end up under water, or ye start to slide off the deck, it would be best to assume a count of 7 and take emergency action!"
Ha ha. Anyway ... we stayed on deck as we backed out of port, but soon the combination of chilly winds and smoking passengers drove us back into the cafeteria. I decided that I wasn't feeling at all hungry, but it would make sense to try and eat something so I bought myself a scone and jam, plus a coffee. For some reason, I did not have my usual appetite. This would come back to haunt me later!
The 45 minute journey was quite fun and seemed to pass much quicker than that. Soon we were disembarking at Craignure, on Mull.
Conditions were still grey, chilly, and damp. I began to worry that not carrying a proper waterproof might turn out to be a bad decision, but the forecast had been very positive. Only light showers before 10:00, and lovely conditions later.
We headed south, and it started raining. Super! Nothing to do now, but carry on, but if there were too much of this then I would be in trouble because I was not dressed for really poor weather. Fortunately it was not long before the showers stopped.
As we rode south we started to see some rugged mountains in the distance. For some reason, I hadn't realised that Mull was as lumpy as it is, so it came as a shock to see towering peaks with an evil-looking mist swirling about them!
We began to climb the hilly road over Glen More, below Mull's lone 'Munro', Ben More.
Suddenly, a text message popped up on my phone. I was surprised because I assumed that there would be no signal up there. I ignored it. Then another message arrived. I decided that I had better check in case my sisters were having problems back on the mainland ...
bromptonfb:
Fancy a brew? I'll be in Hebden 11:30ish.
Wrong day, my CC pal!
ColinJ:
Would do, but am 6 miles into an 87 mile circuit of the Isle of Mull!
Pause, then another SMS came in ....
bromptonfb:
Haha!
As we descended from Glen More, I started to become aware that I was not feeling at all well. I don't mean '
keeling over suddenly and dying from blood clots' type of unwell, more of a '
Oh no, what have I eaten?' kind of unwell.
If we were talking about the Starship Enterprise, I would say that the warp core containment fields were in danger of collapse. That is, the upper and lower containment fields. Simultaneously. Oh, deep joy!
Fortunately, I didn't have another 87 miles of undulating riding to do. Unfortunately, I
did have another
68 miles of undulating riding to do ...
I felt like turning round, riding back up over Glen More, and heading for an earlier ferry home. No, no, we cyclists are made of sterner stuff. We don't let nausea and impending squits put us off, not even when we are going to end up miles from anywhere, without a phone signal and a ferry deadline to worry about -
onward!
Maybe the illness was my excuse? Maybe it was the fact that I had only got about 3 hours sleep before getting up to do this ride? Whatever the reason was, what I did next redefined
'stupid'!
Carrie and I came to the junction at the end of Loch Beg. This was the only junction that we really had to think about. We were doing a clockwise tour round Mull and we basically needed to follow one road, keeping the sea to our left. Carrie asked whether to turn right, with the sea loch on our left, or left, with the sea loch on our right. So, of course, I said we should head left. That's left, right? No - it was left,
wrong!
(For once, I had not bothered putting the route on my GPS. It was so simple that even a total fool could remember it ... D'oh!)
We headed off down that road which is actually the one that goes down to the crossing to Iona. On the way we encountered a man in a fluorescent jacket clutching a walkie talkie. He asked us ever so nicely if we would mind stopping for a few minutes because a film crew were shooting a scene down the road and we would be riding into the middle of it if we continued. We waited until the walkie talkie crackled into life and the all-clear was given.
My ghastly guts were getting ghastlier by the minute! I kept trying to eat but the only thing I could stomach was the odd small piece of chocolate. I couldn't even stand to drink more than a tiny sip once in a while. I have no idea what caused those problems - when I got back to the holiday site later I checked with my family and they were all ok, despite having eaten the same meals as me the day before.
I had been getting more and more uneasy about the large expanse of sea to our right. I couldn't quite explain away what it was, given that it should not be there. In the end, I had to bow to the inevitable and admit that we had gone the wrong way back at that junction. We had gone 12.5 miles down an undulating road and we would have to turn and go all the way back up it again. I think the phrase "
Oh Drat!" was used a couple of times!
We were at the village of Bunessan and stopped there for refreshments. Or rather - Carrie had refreshments, while I spent 10 minutes ensconced in a public toilet desperately seeking relief and failing to find any. My innards felt like they wanted to explode at any minute, but the damn things resolutely refused to do so when granted the opportunity! As for the other end ... the slightest hint of food was enough to make me feel like hurling. I began to wonder whether it might be wiser just to stick a finger down my throat and make it happen, but decided not to because to lose what little food and drink I had managed to swallow could have been disastrous.
We headed back towards the junction and I soon realised that I was teetering on the brink of bonking. I had to slow to a crawl and stand for the slightest rise in the road, and that road was far from flat.
TBH - the ride became a bit of a nightmare for me. I have not felt that bad on a bike for years (except for one ride in 2012 when I was unaware that I was seriously ill).
It was a great shame, because the scenery was fantastic, but I was in no fit state to enjoy it. I felt guilty for slowing Carrie down. She is superfit and was having to ride at less than 10 mph to wait for me.
Things went from bad to worse and 5 or 6 times I had to dismount and lie down at the side of the road to regain enough strength to continue! Motorists and other cyclists were slowing down to ask if I were ok!
I limped on. It had been clear that we could not do the full loop. I knew that there was a shortcut across the isalnd to Salen, and then we could head south to catch the return ferry from Craignure.
We finally got back with about 80 minutes to wait for the ferry. I got a sweet coffee down, and then a bar of chocolate and they perked me up a little.
We got off the ferry in Oban at 19:45 and rode back to our van, finally getting back to my accommodation at sunset. All I could face eating was 2 slices of toast and some scrambled eggs.
I had a quick bath, then went to bed early. I started shivering and had to put extra layers on to keep warm in bed. That was a sure sign of how low my energy reserves were. I normally feel too warm rather than too cold.
A lovely island, but a tough 74 mile day on it for me! I hoped for better things on our 3rd ride of the holiday, the century ride from Fort William, planned for Friday.
