Scotland

Scotland

As I sit here in soggy London, lamenting the fact I haven't been for a decent ride in weeks due to the endless rain and general bloody horribleness of the weather,  my mind keeps drifting back to last (2016) summer's trip to Scotland.

Neither myself nor my wondrous, and long suffering, co pilot Linda had been to Scotland before, and with the rave reviews the magical roads had been receiving in the biking press we decided that we would complete our journey through the four nations of the union.

One thing we were wary of was the weather, but our run through Ireland had bolstered our confidence in our thaumaturgic Rukka touring kits (one of the best investments we have made) ability to repulse even the most hammering rain. Even so the height of  the warm weather was deemed the best time to go.

I am not a big mile rider, and two up don't like to exceed 200 miles in a day. The exhaustion of riding a heavy bike any further ruins the fun of wandering around when you arrive. So we hit upon the plan of heading to the Peak District town of Bakewell as our first point of call. This would get us away from the madness of the M1, I road that engenders in the most sensible driver utter blood lust, avoid the major towns and cities on the way, and give us a chance to  sample its famous pudding.

Bakewell is a pretty town of beautiful old sandstone buildings, but everything closes early so if it's your destination get in before dinner. We managed to find a Chinese take away and retired to our rather charming room in the court yard of the Rutland Arms Hotel.

The morning greeted us with drizzle that followed us as we headed northeast to Newcastle to visit some old friends. The roads would have been perfect for a slow morning ride as we travelled through the rolling landscape of the Peak District National Park but the rain began to get heavier as we proceeded, turning spiteful as we reached the motorway. As we neared our destination we were forced out of the inside lane by vast pools of standing water and the dread of high speed aquaplaning.

In typical fashion the downpour ceased the moment we arrived at our destination. However a new conundrum presented itself, we weren't sure we were at the right house, and no one was in. A brief attempt to call drew the conclusion that the fitness loon we had come to visit was probably out for a run and hadn't taken his phone with him. 

Not sure of if we were in the right place we repaired to a nearby hotel thinking to call a bit later. Seconds after we'd got into our room we got the call that our host was on his way and had, indeed, been out for a jog.

An evening of catching up, Chinese food and solid advice on where to visit later we rose and headed for our first port of call Hadrian's Wall.

Birdoswald Roman Fort is well worth the visit and the rolling hills and country roads up to it are a fantastic day trip.

Despite warnings of it's tourist trapness our next stop was Gretna Green.  Yes it is, but go. It has a slocky charm that will put on the rose tinted glasses. The hotels are reasonably priced and the food was great.

The tourist trail continued on to Loch Lomond with its trend bar restaurants and boat trips it felt a little too beaten track until you get out on the water, the drama and spectacle of the lake is incredible.

The Loch side roads are breath taking, or would be if you weren't constantly watching the heavy traffic. See them early or you will miss out.

As we had booked our only accommodation of the trip that evening and had to press on to get there we were rushed through the unbelievable grandeur that is Glencoe. The clouds literally sat on the mountain tops. This route is a must even with the endless tail backs of tourist buses as you wind through the U shaped valley it is journey like nothing I have ever experienced anywhere. The fact we couldn't stop to photograph it was the trips only regret of the trip.  

After a slightly worrying journey across endless heather topped hills down a tiny country path as the tank dropped lower and lower, we arrived at the Foyers Bay Country House. Late for dinner our host drove us to the pub for dinner! We got back to the hotel afterwards and spent hours sitting in the huge bay window staring at the incredible vista of Loch Ness.

Loch Ness is the ultimate tartan tourist spot but is a must see if you haven't been, do the boat trip, and definitely do the  Loch Ness Centre & Exhibition. 

Urquhart Castle, on the Loch cruise is a must and, even with hordes, a magnificent afternoon.

Once again the road along the Loch side would have been a truly incredible ride (on the pillion it was, according to the missus), if it hadn't been for the tail to tip traffic all the way round. If you're going to ride it do it early.

From here we followed the knowledge we had been given, and headed to Ullapool.  This is the west coast riding that the magazines have been raving about. The roads roll in gentle bends endless, open and car free. 

The town itself is tiny, picturesque and the perfect place to end a days riding. 

The pinnacle of the adventure however, as so often happens on a bike trip, came out of nowhere. For years I've wanted to see a Red Squirrel. Drifting through a beautiful day and an incredible forest we stopped in to use the facilities at a Scottish National Trust site and 10 feet off the visitor centres porch were two of them!

   

Although this place ranked pretty high too.

Scotland is somewhere you should put on your bike trip map. The tourist spots are tourist packed but stunning, the open roads of the west coast are amazing, and the people brilliant.