Day Eight: Raasay to Glasgow

There are only two ferry sailings from the Isle of Raasay on a Sunday, the first is at 10am and the second is too late to contemplate if we are to catch our final boat of the journey, the 15:10 from Armadale 33 miles south of Sconser. After a couple of reluctant alfresco trips to the sole WC during the night Eric reloads on cold deterrents as we join our fellow guests in the packing process as everyone prepares for the morning trip back to Skye. This final 33 miles has been praying heavily in our thoughts these past few days, on paper the four and a half hours allocated to this stretch seemed ample. Now, with the effects of fatigue and influenza kicking in our confidence in completing the journey by bike is diminishing.

Almost immediately on departing the tiny ferry we are upon a long slow climb taking us over the Red Cuillins. Such is its length and incline we find that we have to dismount from our two wheeled chariots once again and push on by foot. It is a great relief kindled with renewed vigour that engulfs us as we reach the summit and take a final look back down the Glen and across to Raasay. We know from previous travels that this is the last major hill that we will encounter which makes the cycle down off it at breakneck speed all the more exhilarating.

The long downhill stretch and the feel good factor gained from it propels’ us on at exceptional speed and we cover the first 13 miles in just over an hour. Stopping at the first town of Broadford we are still unconvinced in our abilities of making it to Armadale in time to catch the ferry to the mainland and connecting rail service to Glasgow. Anxious of not making the only connection to the South on a Sunday we call in at a local shop and enquire about a Taxi company who would kindly take us and our cycles onwards to the final port. The time is 12 o’ clock and the kindly robust woman behind the counter on hearing about our time schedule and picking up on our growing lack of self esteem instructs us:

‘Away and dinnae be daft, ye’ve got bags of time, ye’ve only got 17 miles tae go’.

A motivational speech delivered straight from a drill sergeant’s book on how to rebuild confidence we speculate.

She is right of course and this kick up the backside is exactly what we need at this time. To take a taxi at this last stage would lessen our achievement on completing the tour. The kindly lady will never realise how much her stoicism influenced us on our final drive to complete the journey by bike, our meeting was indeed fortuitous.

Turing right after Broadford our spirits drop as we encounter a strong head on wind and we begin to doubt the robust ones confidence in our ability. For 10 miles we press on before the wind drops and our spirits begin to soar as we realise that our cycle termination point is going to be met with time to spare.

As we round the final bend and Armadale pier comes in to view we let loud loose with gasps of delight as the enormity of completion takes its hold. We have completed the final 17 miles in two hours and find that we have an hour to spare before the Mallaig ferry arrives from the mainland. Kicking up our heels at a pier side cafe we enjoy a celebration Pizza and watch the ferry make its way across the Sound of Sleet with a goofy smile that one only acquires in instances of self-satisfaction.

As we board our ninth ferry of the week we look back at the eleventh island visited and look forward to a train journey that is regarded by many as one of the most scenic in Britain. An epic route that will see us pass tiny villages, vast moors, towering mountains and historic glens, passing the white sands of Morar with the Atlantic waves rolling in. From there we go over the Glenfinnan viaduct to Fort William. After Fort William the cloud gathers in and daylight retreats and we are denied the scenic splendour of Rannoch Moor and all vistas south. As the train trundles through the receding light Eric’s cold symptoms reach contamination levels as he coughs and sneezes all the way back to Glasgow. Such is the ferocity of his influenza symptoms, we suspect that no one in the shared train compartment will escape his contagious explosions.

In the end, Queen Street Station in Glasgow could not come quick enough for us as the debilitating cold takes its full effect. However, the feeling of achievement gained from cycling 183 miles in a week through differing weather conditions and many hills acts as a panacea for the body and mind. A week that started with heavy rain finishes with a heavy cold. We have braved gales/severe head on winds and met some bizarre and extraordinary people. We have been welcomed and cold shouldered. We have eaten some of the best cuisine that Scotland has to offer and dined in one of the shabbiest. We have sailed in most of CalMacs sailing fleet and sampled a breakfast in them all. We have cycled through glens/mountains that we have only ever dreamed of and sailed through waters that we never thought possible. Most importantly we have completed a journey of self discovery, one that will live long in the memory and one that we will cherish as the ultimate meander.

Link to holiday video

The Road To The Isles

After walking 95 miles, the prevailing aches and pains felt on awakening today are not from Repetitive Strain Injury incurred over 7 days wading through mixed terrain. No, the intrepid threesome are suffering from a severe case of woolly headiness gained from the previous evenings over indulgent celebrations.

Undeterred we surface from our alcohol induced slumber at an early hour, as we intend to travel along the ‘Road to the Isles’ which will take us along the main A830 road from Fort William to Mallaig. A route steeped in history where Bonnie Prince Charlie found safety and security and is also renowned for its spectacular scenery.
Our first stop along the route is at Glenfinnan. It was here in on Monday 19 August 1745 a small rowing boat landed at the north end of Loch Shiel and ‘Bonnie Prince Charlie’ came ashore and met his escort of 50 MacDonalds before retiring to a nearby barn to await the response to letters he had sent to possible supporters all over the Highlands. Another 150 MacDonalds were quickly on the scene, but for some time it seemed that Bonnie Prince Charlie was going to have to challenge for his father's right to the thrones of Scotland and England with just 200 men. Then pipes were heard approaching from the north. It was up to 1000 men of the Clan Cameron belatedly followed by three hundred Macdonnells who had been delayed by a successful skirmish with Government troops near today's Spean Bridge, and from here the beginnings of the Jacobite Rising were born. It was to end though in bloody failure at Culloden on 16 April 1746, less than eight months later. In its aftermath the Highland way of life that had existed for hundreds of years was swept away by brutality, suppression and self interest. Public executions of those loyal to the Jacobite cause impressed upon the Scottish people the need to toe the line, and the lands of the Jacobite chiefs were forfeited and a determined effort was made to end the clan system once and for all.

By 1815 the Jacobite threat had receded sufficiently into history to allow the erection at Glenfinnan of a monument to mark the raising of the standard, paid for by the wealthy descendant of a Jacobite. This is a stone tower surmounted by a statue of a kilted highlander (not the prince himself as is often thought).

Sitting adjacent to the monument lays Glenfinnan Viaduct which is 416 yards long and made up of 21 arches, the tallest of which is 100ft high. What is less obvious from a distance is that the viaduct is also curved, leading the track round the head of the River Finnan valley. The Viaduct is more recognizable today for the flying car sequence in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

From here we travel on to the end of the Road to the Isles to the quaint fishing village of Mallaig which is also the main ferry terminus for Skye and is also the main hopping off point for those wanting to catch a ferry to the islands of Rum, Eigg and Muck. Alas, Mallaig in March is a rather desolate place as the town prepares itself for the influx of tourists at Easter and beyond. However, as the sun puts in a welcome appearance we manage to capture a scenic panorama of this famous harbour.

On our return to Fort William we detour slightly off the A830 to visit the Silver Sands of Morar, made famous through countless calendars, were the setting for the beach scenes in the classic film 'Local Hero' were captured. There are a whole series of beaches lying to the west of the old road between Arisaig and Morar with the islands of Eigg and Rum in the distance. To our astonishment we find the Silver Sands bathed in brilliant sunshine and bereft of human activity as we rejoice in its solitude. For the brief hour or so we share on the beach, we could with a little imagination be on a secluded beach in The Bahamas, albeit in near zero temperatures.

Wind and Rain Along 'The Way'

As Emma nears the completion of the grueling 95 mile West Highland Way from the central lowlands to the remote highlands of Scotland we arrange to meet up at Blackwater Bunkhouse in Kinlochleven, the penultimate overnight stop along the way.
The path uses many ancient roads, including Drovers’ roads, military roads and old coaching roads and is traditionally walked from south to north and passes through a wide range of different terrains, ranging from lowland moors, through dense woodland and rolling hills, to high mountainous regions. On her journey she has teamed up with an old work colleague (Bill Lowe) and his friend (Lawrence Barclay), both of whom aim to raise money for Macmillan Cancer Support by completing the walk.

We meet up initially on Saturday evening at the comfortable bunkhouse in Kinlochleven before setting off early on Sunday morning for the final 14 mile slog to Fort William and completion (see guide map above).

Leaving Kinlochleven the military road climbs steeply out of Loch Leven valley to about 250m and continues to rise, though not as steeply, to the summit of the Lairigmor, just over 300m. After Lairigmor the mountains close in, and the valley and decimated trees are all that you see stretching out in front as we try to take in the vistas through the head on wind and unrelenting showers. Eventually the path enters the enclosed comfort of a forest and we welcome its cover. After a 2 mile climb through the forest we arrive at an opening in the tree canvas which introduces us to our first glimpse of Fort William, which is sitting enticingly in a south westerly direction at the end of a very long downhill forest road through Glen Nevis with the majestic Ben Nevis looming large in our near horizon.

As the end is reached at Fort William the triumphant threesome are captured on celluloid for posterity (see above) before a night of well deserved relaxation in the comfort of the towns finest hostelries accompanied by numerous fine Scottish beers and whisky.