Day Four: Islay to Oban

Port Askaig Islay; Wednesday 9:50am (summertime only). This is the only CalMac sailing of the week between the Southern Western Isles and the Northern Western Isles, arriving in Oban at 14:10. It is imperative that we catch this ferry or the rest of the holiday is doomed.

We are wakened before the alarm chimes at 6:30am by crashing waves across the shore at the front of the Hostel accompanied by a howling wind and heavy rain battering against our small window. Have we slept for three months and awoke in November? This isn’t summer, this is autumn giving way to winter. The blackness of the clouds makes it impossible to view the severity of the conditions but we need no metrological qualification to comprehend the task that awaits us.

We have to retrace our route from Monday back to Port Askaig; an allowance of two hours has been allocated to this task, again, on paper this looked ample. However today’s unseasonal weather conditions now make this a major challenge! Setting off at 7:30am we make excellent progress over the first 3 miles as the gale force wind behind us drives us north at great speed. The problems begin when the road veers on a easterly direction and the wind also changes direction; face on. This is where a person begins to doubt his/her own sanity. Cycling into a gale force wind we can confirm is only for the super fit, to cycle in such conditions laden down with panniers is impossible. The great Lance Armstrong would forsake his morning training run rather than brave these conditions. With no hope of cycling we dismount and decide to walk our way through the storm knowing that the road heads in a northerly direction three miles down the road. It is with subdued relief that we reach the turning point and remount our bikes for the final nine miles to the ferry terminal all the while being past at great speed by numerous cars as they make their comfortable way to the same destination.

We are firmly of the belief that there is no waterproof material thus far invented that could keep us dry this morning. Too further add to our woes the toilets and waiting area at the pier are under refurbishment as we seek out local shelter at a bus stop. Unable to change into dry clothes our body temperatures drop dramatically and it is a great relief when the ferry arrives on time to take us to Oban.

Once aboard and free of our soaked cycle wear we are constantly recognised by those fortunate to pass us en-route in their air conditioned cars. Settling in to the comfort and heat of the boat we sit back content in the knowledge that our cycling is finished for the day. Today’s adverse weather conditions make The Paps of Jura invisible as is almost anything below 100 feet. A tragic twist of fate for us as this is a renowned route for its breathtaking scenery along the western coast of Scotland. Stopping briefly at the Isle of Colonsay we push on through the Firth of Lorn passing Scarba, Luing and Easdale to the east and Mull on the west and onwards through the narrow Sound of Kerrera followed by a careful maneuver into Oban harbour.

The youth hostel in Oban is situated in a 19th century town house on the seafront with stunning views across Oban bay to the islands of Kerrera and Mull. Booking in to our grandiose location we quickly locate the launderette to wash and dry all the clothes that took such a soaking earlier in the day. As the clothes progress through the wash cycle we find a quiet hotel next door where we watch the mist begin to lift over the harbour as we indulge ourselves with an early evening aperitif.

Oban is a town in which we are familiar with, having visited there on two previous occasions this year. Our choice of eating establishment is also familiar to us as we return to an Indian restaurant we visited on our last excursion here.
A walk along the quayside afterwards helps to digest our mediocre fare before we settle into The Columba Hotel to watch Arsenal v Celtic on a large screen. Alas, a day that started in a miserable fashion for us both finishes in abject misery for Eric as Celtic are beaten 3 – 1.

Undeterred we trudge home to our separate dormitories to dream of adventures in the horizon and reflect upon challenges already conquered.

Day Three: Islays West Coast

Today is the only day not scheduled with an early morning appointment with a ferry. With this comforting knowledge we remain in our bunks while the less fortunate with their noisy children vacate their rooms and communal dining area. Getting out of bed and performing morning ablutions in such a small area requires strategic planning and foresight or collision is inevitable. With military precision we time our assaults on the bathroom to the second ensuring that one of us is solo in the room to dress without the chance of accidently injuring himself/herself against a nearby partitioned wall.

Breakfast complete we mount our bikes and revel in the lightweight of our chariots minus the panniers. Pressing on to Islay’s Atlantic coast we turn left after Bruichladdich on to the B8016 to our first stop at Scotland’s most westerly distillery. The distillery is situated on the western side of Islay, near the small town of Kilchoman. The distillery began production in June 2005 and was the first to be built on the island of Islay in 124 years. The distillery uses barley grown on site at Rockside Farm and malted at the distillery. The converted farm cum distillery houses an impressive visitor centre and diner where Emma samples her first Cullen Skink (a thick Scottish soup made of smoked haddock, potatoes and onions).

A couple of miles west of the distillery lies some of Islay's most beautiful coastal scenery, namely Machir and Saligo Bay. The road to the coast takes us to the top of a little hill where we get magnificent views over Loch Indaal and Loch Gruinart with the mountains of Mull in the distance. Following a rough single track road downhill we reach Machir Bay. The wind and light conditions on the beach are relentless in their diversity and we spend a happy hour absorbing its many mood swings.

Three miles to the north of Machir Bay lies Saligo Bay. The bay is accessible through a gate west of Loch Gorm. Passing an old military bunker we cross dunes riddled with numerous rabbit holes and descend to reach the breathtaking beach. Saligo Bay offers one of the most beautiful light conditions according to some photographers and is a favorite spot for people to watch and photograph an Atlantic Sunset. From this point 3000 miles due west is the coast line of North America and only water in between.

On our return to Port Charlotte we stop to capture an old red phone box situated miles from any form of civilization. Bizarrely we find that the phone box only accepts credit cards as payment, we ponder over the anger that must rise within an individual who, having traveled 5 miles to access this box finds that he/she has left his/her credit card at home. Has BT forgotten about this lonely box or has Ofcom forced them to keep alive a local emergency lifeline? We strongly suspect the latter.

Part of our holiday plan is to reward ourselves each evening with a gourmet meal followed by a rich dessert. Accommodation and transport around the Islands has been pre-paid and frugal in its conception. To compensate for our frugality we aim to enjoy the best that each stopover has to offer in the way of culinary delights. Tonight we bypass the overpriced and overrated Port Charlotte Hotel and wander along the main street to the towns other eatery The Lochindaal Hotel.

As mentioned in our Trip Advisor review this place badly needs some TLC. Too many, this is the sort of establishment that you would walk in to and walk straight out of i.e. stained covered carpet, nicotine walls, windowless toilet, dirty upholstery and a token drunk at the end of the bar. As we enter the premises and assess the surroundings the drunk at the end of the bar offers us a cheery welcome and then proceeds to step behind the bar and serve us a drink. He informs us that the Landlord is busy as he quickly pours our drinks and introduces himself. My gawd what have we stepped in to here we wonder! A bottle of Red Eye poured liberally from the bartenders hand accompanied by a piano player playing an out of tune honky-tonk piano would not be out of place in this saloon!

As the landlord returns and we settle down with our drinks we find the welcome from our hosts to be genuine and informative. On enquiring about some food the landlord informs us that this is the chef’s night off: but not too worry as he will put us something together should we wish. This kindly gesture results in the drunk resuming his title of temporary barman as other locals enter the bar and introduce themselves. As the night proceeds we find that many of the locals work in the Bruichladdich distillery and are not averse to sampling its produce thus providing us with anecdotes and hospitality that its expensive rival would bottle and sell if they knew the ingredients.

Amongst the many nuggets of information passed on to us by the locals is the news of gale warnings threatening to hit Islay’s shores the following morning. Returning to the hostel through the white streets we hope the forecasters have got it wrong as any possible disruption of the Wednesday ferry to Oban will result in the remainder of the holiday being abandoned.

Day Two: Arran to Islay

The early morning sun breaking above Lochranza brings a welcome orange tinge to the surroundings around Loch Ranza and the Castle directly adjacent to our front door as we take in the early morning vista. The rain ravaged glens of yesterday are coming alive and embracing a welcome respite from the precipitation that has been oh so familiar to them this summer.

Breakfast is served in the Ministers old study room and we are seated next to a fabulous bay window overlooking the tranquil bay. As we make quick work of the hearty breakfast we begin to threat at not making a thanksgiving prayer pre-breakfast in such pious surroundings.

After wishing our enchanting landlady our farewells we cycle the short distance along the shore road to Lochranza pier where we board the 30 minute crossing to Claonaig on the east coast of the Kintyre peninsula. Seeing Arran disappear in to the distance from this departure point is a truly wondrous sight. The northern hills which were covered in low rain filled clouds yesterday are now visible through sun dissected scatterings of cumulus.

Looking over to the Kintyre peninsular we notice a backbone of high land running down its spine and we realise that we have another hill to surmount if we are to catch our next ferry from Kennacraig on its western coast.

We have factored a 90 minute allowance for this 5 mile trip from Claonaig to Kennacraig. On paper at the time of its conception this seemed like an ample allowance. The reality of climbing hills weighted down with panniers and the constant breaks to capture still and moving images have not been accounted for and we find that we have to cycle down off the hill at great speed to capture our ferry with 20 minutes to spare. This 20 minute window turns out to be fortuitous as the ferry closes all its doors 15 minutes prior to departure and before we can catch our breath we are aboard and sailing towards Port Askaig on the Isle of Islay.

En route to Islay the ferry first sails down West Loch Tarbert. As it emerges from the loch the Paps of Jura spring into view, and then command the horizon, as they do throughout our stay on Islay.

To the east there are striking views across the low-lying island of Gigha, to the Kintyre peninsula: and across both Gigha and Kintyre to the still more distant mountains on Arran.

Port Askaig lies at the north end of the island via the Sound of Islay with close-up views of the southern end of Jura. As we arrive in port 2 hours after our departure another steep incline exiting the harbour catches our eye as we begin our preparations for our 15 mile cycle south to Port Charlotte; the best-preserved and most attractive village on Islay.

The Isle of Islay has around 3200 inhabitants, covers an area of 600 square kilometres and has an impressive 130 miles of coastline. Islay is famous for its malt whiskeys and has eight working distilleries on the island making the malt whisky industry one of the most important sources of income for the island.

Three miles short of Port Charlotte we pass through the small town of Bruichladdich on the shores of Loch Indaal which is dominated by its distillery. As we pass we notice an imposing copper still sitting proudly in its front yard with a letter from ‘Bruichladdich’ singularly embossed on 13 whiskey barrels underneath it. Bizarrely, protruding from the still there appears to be the lower limbs of a male hanging from the open end of the still. We find at a later date that this is a joke at the expense of the Americans and their errm, defense policies.

Apparently the distillery was monitored by the US Defense Threat Reduction Agency during the Iraq war on the grounds that the distilling equipment could be used to make chemical weapons. The distillery maintains a series of webcams and learned of the surveillance after a US agent informed them that one had broken down! Aware of the absurdity of the situation the workforce decided to expose the Americans over exuberant surveillance techniques by sticking these dummy limbs at the end of the still to mimic the eventual destination of a weapons inspector should our American cousins decide to send one over.

As we round the coast to Port Charlotte we are immediately struck by the blinding whitewashed residencies in the village. The village was founded by Walter Frederick Campbell in 1828 and named after his mother. The village was built to provide housing facilities for the folk who worked in the Lochindaal Distillery, which opened in 1829, and was also known as Port Charlotte and Rhinns Distillery. The first licensee was Colin Campbell, but he owned the distillery for only two years and many owners followed him. The distillery closed in 1929 but its buildings still remain and some are now in use by the Youth Hostel in which we will be stopping for the next two evenings.

We quickly settle in to our bijou room which is tastefully furnished with one bunk bed and a sink before making our way to the renowned Port Charlotte Hotel. This is a Hotel that often appears in all the tourist guides and Sunday brochures and we make haste in expectation of fine cuisine.

Ohh dear, such was the service we received we felt obliged to write the following report in Trip Advisor:

Port Charlotte Hotel Review

As mentioned, the meals and desserts were of a very good quality but we found that the barman’s surly manner completely killed the mood of the place for anyone who had not over indulged in the many Islay whiskies that he was selling at Gleneagles prices. Over lubrication of the local tincture is not on our agenda as we decide to soak up the ambience of the waves crashing against shingle and rocky shoreline; the whitewashed houses highlighted by moonlight guiding us back to our cell and sleep.

Day One: Glasgow to Arran (Tour of Western Isles)

At last, the meander of the year for us has arrived, a jaunt that has been weeks in its construction and taken months of training. A journey that has required foresight in its planning and one that has caused numerous bumps and bruises in its preparation, an adventure that requires adherence to strict time parameters and a resolve to conquer all the irregularities that the Scottish weather conditions can muster. A holiday that will bring a daily challenge of energy, strength and determination and one we hope will be rich in reward as we tour the scenic splendour of Scotland’s western isles by bike and boat.

On day one we take the train from Glasgow to Ardrossan on the Clyde coast where we will take our first CalMac ferry to Brodick in Arran and cycle north to Lochranza to our first overnight stop.

Day Two will see us take the short hop by ferry to Claonaig where we cycle over the Mull of Kintyre to board the ferry for Port Askaig on Islay and then cycle south to Port Charlotte.

Day Three will be a rest day on Islay in which we intend to discover its sandy west coast.

Day Four sees us return to Port Askaig to catch the ferry to Oban via The Isle of Colonsay and access to the Outer Hebrides.

Day Five, we board the ferry to Isle of Barra stopping at Coll and Tiree en-route and then circumnavigate the island.

Day Six and we take the ferry from Barra to Lochboilsdale on South Uist and than cycle through South Uist, Benbecula and North Uist to Lochmaddy.

Day Seven and we cross between Lochmaddy and Uig on the Isle of Skye and cycle south to Sconser and another ferry to the Isle of Raasay lying to the east of Skye.

Day Eight is our final day which takes us back on to Skye and a cycle south to the port of Armadale where we board our final ferry to Mallaig on the mainland and a train home to Glasgow.

Standing majestically at the northwest edge of Europe, these far flung islands offer a rich diversity of landscapes and species, arts, crafts and music: the islands have an abundance of beautiful habitats... peaceful, unspoilt and natural. Fresh water and sea lochs unsurpassable in their beauty and abundance provide a great resource for fishermen and bird life alike; an oasis of calm in a chaotic world.

Cycling through Glasgow’s mean streets on a Sunday morning is not for the faint hearted as we pass various groups of males and females struggling to identify there whereabouts and time of day as they stagger about blinded by alcohol and false bravado. The sight of two people with heavily laden bikes so early in the morning seems to fuel their booze sozzled brains with amusement, they, of course see no amusement in being in a near state of undress while being unable to put together two coherent sentences. Can we really be leaving all this behind ;-)

The 8:40 am train to Ardrossan has a mixed bag of passengers, some of whom are suffering badly from the Saturday night excess and some like us who are going to Arran to explore its delights. Our pre-plan for this part of the holiday was to take our time and break ourselves in to our new bikes gradually as we travel north from Brodick to Lochranza. Unfortunately the weather as we look across from Ardrossan does not look promising. Low threatening clouds close in on us as we alight from the ferry and the sky opens up in torrential fashion. Stopping to make a minor adjustment to Eric’s seat we press on undeterred on the 14 mile road which is becoming increasingly busy by the use of Sunday morning churchgoers.

Passing through the small coastal villages of Corrie and Sannox we stop to capture the mooring posts on their harbours which have been painted to look like sheep, they look so life like from a distance that you feel compelled to go out and check there authenticity.

The hill that rears before us at 11 miles comes as a surprise as we were anticipating a leisurely coastal stroll on our first day. As we struggle with our gear recognition on our new bikes we take great pride in reaching the top of a two mile hill and take great exhilaration as we freewheel at great speed all the way down into Lochranza.

Lochranza is the most northernly sited of Arran's villages and is located in the north-western corner of the island. The village is set on the shore of Loch Ranza, a small sea loch. Lochranza itself lays along both sides of the loch it is named after, though the main focus of activity is on the south western side. The mouth of the loch on this side is home to the ferry slipway, and as you progress along the shore from here you pass a string of cottages, hotels and guest houses and the village hall. Dominating the small village is the stunning Lochranza Castle which sits proudly on a curved shingle spit in the bay. Opposite the castle lies our overnight stop; Castle Kirk guest house which as the name suggests was the old castles church at one time and has now been transformed in to a time preserved B&B and art gallery.

Although still early in the day we attempt to gain early entry to our accommodation as the rain has soaked us through and we are keen to gain some shelter to change our clothes. Our early arrival catches our landlady unaware as we wait patiently as she gasses on relentlessly to a friend on the phone oblivious to our presence downstairs waiting to be booked in. Coming off the phone she immediately suggests that we should give her all our wet clothes which she duly washes and dries for us. This is a thoughtful gesture that we are grateful to take her up on, as we prepare ourselves for an evening dinner in the nearby Lochranza Hotel.

As we stroll along in the early evening for our meal the torrential rain has subsided and the locals are out counting the damage and clearing blocked drains while hordes of Red Deer feed in gardens oblivious to the homeowners concerns. An extraordinary coexistence which seems to suit all concerned and one that adds to the fairytale feel of this quaint little idyll.

The Cobbler

Convinced that Spring has truly arrived after the Baltic conditions encountered on Beinn Odhar last week, we are relived to find high cloud cover above our climb for today; Ben Arthur or The Cobbler as it is known colloquially.
The Cobbler is just short of a Munro but is still one of Scotland's most spectacular mountains due to the unusual skyline and fabulous views. One of a group of mountains known as 'The Arrochar Alps' The Cobbler was the happy hunting ground of many of Scotland's early climbers and climbing clubs.

Arriving at the car park west of Arrochar at 12:30pm we struggle to find a parking space, which reflects the mountains popularity and proximity to the heavily populated central belt. Crossing over the A83 we start our ascent up the gentle zigzags as a beautiful vista of Loch Long and Arrochar open up below us. As we pass a small reservoir the three peaks of The Cobbler become visible with the figure of the 'crooked shoe maker' - the Cobbler, clearly distinguishable on the right hand peak (see photo). The next mile or so gives gentle relief over welcoming terrain after the endless zigzag climb out of Loch Long. At the foot of the final climb the path offers two varied routes, the easy way is to carry on to the right and follow the path around the back of the hill and ascent the final summit via the many well placed stone steps up the side of the hill. Or, alternatively you can veer left and head straight up the front of the final summit which entails climbing over various ill placed rocks and potential leg breaks for the unwary.

We take the wooses’ route and climb round the back of the hill and look on in amusement at the number of climbers descending down from the surrounding peaks in ant like fashion to the aforementioned car park. As we clear the numerous thigh building stone steps we sweep round to see the jagged summit populated by numerous parents, children and dogs giving the dangerous summit a surreal vision of a family day out. As we ascend the final ridge views to the south open up to Loch Long, Gareloch, the Firth of Clyde, Bute, Arran and the Atlantic beyond. To the east are views over Arrochar to Loch Lomond, Ben Lomond and as far as the Lake of Menteith in the hazy distance. To the west views open up on a clear day of the isles of Jura and Islay. Views to the north take in a huge swath of the highlands with many well known peaks which would only be identifiable to us with the help of map & compass.

To truly capture the summit it is required that you access the centre peak. To achieve this, the climber has to pass through a small opening in the rock which leads to a narrow ledge facing a 150 ft vertigo inspiring drop. Once on the ledge an awkward sloping ramp leads to a final step onto the flat summit rock - on which few choose to stand upright. (The large rock on the left of panoramic above). Again the wooses’ option is chosen by us as we watch various brave (foolhardy) individuals’ display their high levels of testosterone.

On capturing our photographic panoramic and a brave effort by Eric to surmount his own personal precipice (see photo) we return via the bolder strewn path down the front of the mountain, which may be shorter in length but is no shorter in time to descend as the various obstacles in the path ensure and uncomfortable and time consuming effort to achieve flat ground.
As we return to the car park six hours after departure we find that it has emptied and bizarrely we realise that we are alone for the first time today.