Shetland ponies and otter spotting

Hi, welcome to Shetland, here's an umbrella. Somebody cue the rain and the wind.
Unfortunately the ferry that brought us to Lerwick, the capitol city of Shetland Island, sped all night, meaning it arrived on time, to drop us onto the freezing docks. The unfortunateness was owing to the time of day - 7.30 in the morning - that we had to embrace a day of Shetland weather that even the locals commented on as being very cold and unseasonal. So we crept along like Shetland ponies, trying to keep our bums pointing into the rain.
We checked into the Lerwick Hostel a.s.a.p, showered and had ourselves a hearty bowl of porridge.
The rest of the day was spent following the trail of finding a boat to Norway. It was a tough trail to follow, leading us into just about every building on the dock. The general gist of things was that our best bet would be with one of the private yachts that might be heading that way. But speaking to the yachties the story was bleak. Nobody was sailing anywhere until Wednesday at the earliest due to the wind. Even the tour boats were being cancelled.

On Saturday the 6th, we had a lazy morning but were motivated when we saw a few people having a roll on the bowling green across the road. We went to see if we could join them for a few ends and were indeed welcome. We had a good chat to all the local boys (figuring the more people we talked to about catching a boat, the better the odds of someone knowing something), and we were happy to learn that we had just been rolling on the most northerly bowling green in the world.
After this warm up the active day continued with a plan to ride north east to some big bays, to see if we could spot any otters. We bought lunch on the way out of town, planning to stop and eat when we found a nice view point. We ended up eating in a bus shelter because there was no place that looked at all enticing, and we could see a hefty shower rolling towards us.
Following this shower were several more showers, coming in intervals of about 10 minutes. Not knowing how evenly spaced out the bus stops were, we decided to turn tail, returning to Lerwick via Scalloway on the west coast.
This new path seemed to move us away from the worst of the weather, and brought us to a paddock on top a hill with half a dozen Shetland Ponies grazing. Friendly ponies they were to, and most came running across for a head scratching session which ended in all of us sharing an apple, a really special moment.


The Sunday was spent in last ditch efforts to get ourselves passage to Norway, but to no avail. So at the end of the day the decision was made to fly from Shetland to Bergen as quickly as possible. This option was chosen as it would have us moving again quickly, and hopefully finding some better weather.
The weather here today was again awful, with the wind not abating.

Monday was an action day again. First we booked our tickets to fly the next day. We called both the airlines we were flying with (yes, 2 airlines for a 90 minute direct flight) and the airport in Shetland to find out the exact details of our baggage allowance and if they could supply bike boxes. The most worrying aspect was that nobody could guarantee our bikes would go on the small plane, and that they would be on standby.
We also discovered that they didn't have anything to put our bikes in, so then it was running around town, this time looking for bike boxes, and when that failed, to all the stores that might have some old cardboard laying around. By the end of this we had visited every business in Lerwick.
In the late afternoon we had come down to our last chance to try and spot an otter, so regardless of the weather we headed out on the bikes with cameras at the ready. We cut across the golf course to the head of a bay that an otter spotter expert had told us might be a chance. The wind was blowing into our faces so the little creatures wouldn't be able to smell us coming, and although we saw lots of evidence of otter activities, we didn't get to see any that night.
Back at the hostel we relaxed with a few beers chatting to a friendly Sri Lankan fella, then went and packed for the next day. To make sure we came in under the weight restrictions we decided to leave most of our food and books behind.

The next morning we were up and onto the airport bus by 6, as it was going to take a fair while to get the bikes ready to fly. We had been at the airport for about half an hour and made a huge mess all over the floor with cardboard, discarded cardboard, foam packing and packing tape expanding away from us in all directions. Then one of the staff who had been watching us for that half hour wandered over and asked if we just didn't want to use one of their bags!!! Grrr, and then Nadia went to confirm if our bikes would fit on the plane with us, and was asked if she had pre booked them on the flight!!!!! These were the same people we were talking to the day before who had said no to everything.
But in the end all was good - the bikes were loaded on, we were a bit over the weight allowance but the friendly lady let us get away with it, we caught the plane, we headed to Norway, Scandinavia.
And that was the end of Shetland, the end of Scotland. The end of the first leg of our trip, and hope abounding, the end of the terrible weather.

Orkney Islands

Four and a half days was enough time for us to see some sights and have delights on 3 of the Orkney Islands, of which there are '70 or so' according to the Visit Orkney website. These islands are located just off the northern mainland of Scotland.

After the 90 minute ferry ride from Thurso to Stromness on Orkney Island (known as the mainland by the locals) we had a nice lunch on the side of the harbour and strolled through the 'dead on a Sunday' town. Our next ferry took us away from the world's drunkest locals (bank holiday weekend) and a bit back to the south to the island of Hoy. Once unloaded onto Hoy at the vacant pier, a gentle cycle between the mountains brought us onto the south side of the island where we had a nice view of Thurso back on the real mainland of Scotland.
This night was spent in the most beautiful campsite that we came across in Scotland - we pitched our tent in the yard of a stone bothy, surrounded by a roughly built, waist high stone wall. The bothy was on the grassy area just above the rock strewn beach. There was a nice living area inside the bothy, with room for a few to sleep on the rock bench seats that ran along most of the walls. It also had a separate toilet and dishes area.
We shared this crystal clear night with 4 others - a French couple, and 2 Welsh fella's who were here to climb The Old Man Of Hoy, a world famous rock stack off the western end of Hoy Island.

The morning of Monday, the first of June had us salivating at the dawning of another perfect day for us to enjoy and use to its fullest. On days like this, for folk lucky enough to be starting them from within the 'ripstop' confines of a tent, or a swag, you really do wonder why not everybody is waking up the same way, and why some choose to never do this, and why on earth would anybody want to live in a city, and who really needs anymore than what we've managed to fit on our bikes (which does include a computer, so are we really missing out?), and why can't people camp wherever they want if it's just for a night or 2, and why do people with no attachment to 'their' land more than mowing the lawn every Sunday, claim it as their own and make it private???

Anyway, we hiked to The Old Man Of Hoy and were treated to some inspiring views of the rock bathed in light, and the 2 welshies preparing to climb. They had told us the night before that it's a 5 pitch climb, and the difficulty level translated into the Australian ranking system, would be somewhere between 17 and 20.
We sat and watched whilst playing with the bumble bees until the end of their first pitch, then moseyed back over the cliffs, through the crofter's town on Rackwick, and back to the bothy for lunch.
After returning to the Orkney mainland we pedaled our way up the western side of the island to Skaill Bay to camp.

We had been told that Marwick Head was a likely place to see some puffins, so that was our main objective for the next day. But it quickly became our second stop, as whilst en route we called in to one of the many workshops of talented local craft merchants. This one happened to be the residence/workshop/shop front of a husband and wife silversmith team. In this shop Nadia found thee ring that she had been searching for (no mum, settle down), with beautiful inlaid Celtic designs. And as her birthday was fast approaching, and as it isn't too easy to hide a present from a tent mate and cycle partner, that was purchased, happy birthday was said and everyone was happy.
Arriving at the Marwick Head car park we locked the bikes and powered up the cliffs, surprised to be making up half of the number of people on the cliffs on this slightly overcast morning.
Initial sightings of seabirds were of razorbills, kittiwakes, and a goodly number of fulmars. The shy little puffin kept himself hidden for a few minutes extra, before poking his beautifully, multi-coloured beak out of a small gap between some rocks. This was later followed by the head, and his sad looking expression. Ohh, so cute, with a mix of shy and helplessness thrown in.
This puffin, and the others we were to see, was a little bit smaller than a fairy penguin, was made up mainly of beak and feet, and could fly as well and as far as the conditions required.
Further along on top of the cliffs proper there was a sizable memorial for Lord Kitchener - a decent chap from the war days who seems to have found time to do a lot of good deeds along the way.
Heading towards the NW corner of the mainland we visited another silversmith before enjoying an ice-cream in Birsay. We then headed for a ferry at Tingwall, winding our way across the north coast. At one stage we were stopped while the local farmers moved their cattle along the road to a different paddock. Their method was as simple as tying a rope across the road and as the cattle neared it they turned without even challenging the flimsy barrier. This day being the perfect day that it was, when we arrived at the ferry we rolled straight on and the ferry rolled out to Rousay island, a half hour ferry ride to the north.
Once on Rousay we started a loop of the island straight away looking for campsites as we went. We called into the local pub and discovered that the monthly trivia night happened to fall on this exact night. Perfect. Whilst there we were given a car by one of the locals and told to go and check out possible campsites for the coming night. The man (an ex-camp host in the Northern Territory) didn't even feel the need to tell us his name so he remains nameless to us. Once returning the vehicle and setting up camp we asked the neighbours if we could camp in their paddock. This was answered with 'It's not my paddock' and 'Would you like to come in for a home-brew?' To which we said 'YES PLEASE!' As a result we were late to trivia, but as it turned out we were no threat at all with running away with a victory. This perfect day was finished off with an Orkney Fudge Sundae, delicious.

Wednesday started with stronger winds and overcast skies. Our first cold day in Orkney. After packing up it was only a short 10 minute ride to 'the most important archaeological mile in the UK', as they told it. We wandered along old ruined homes and farms including a 24 chambered burial mound. Within the mound they found 9 whole skeletons and the remains of up to 25 people. Today the mound is enclosed in a modern building to protect it. After spending some time here we decided we had seen our fair share in old ruined buildings. Back on the road we enjoyed a short downhill into a fierce headwind before turning to unfortunately see the ridiculously and unnecessary steep climb up the north side of the island. Needless to say, we pushed. Halfway up, one of the men from the quiz who we'd met the night before, stopped in an ambulance to have a chat before motoring in a very low gear the rest of the way up the hill. At the top we had a magnificent view toward some of Orkney's other islands before launching into a fast downhill where we both set new maximum speeds, and would have been even faster if we didn't stop at the milk bar on the way down to have some lunch. We once again timed the ferry perfectly and rolled on just in time for a return trip to the mainland. Now on the north eastern side of the island we headed south and ended up near the famous Standing Stones of Stenness for the evening. There are a few chunks of this island that are World Heritage listed, because many many years ago somebody decided it was a nice place to build a house. Then a few years (give or take a century) later they got bored and stood some sizeable slabs of rock up on their ends. Well, the palaver that has caused in the last century is quite impressive. Maybe these ancient folk would be proud to know that their kitchens and standing stones are keeping a healthy amount of people employed today. And if you listen to these storytellers you'll be told that it wasn't just one ancient peoples, but the Picts, the Celts, the Vikings (not necessarily in that order, and this might not be a fully comprehensive list)...

We woke up to a damp tent, but nothing too serious as it dried before we left off for the day. This was the first rain we had seen in Orkney and we thought it perfect that it arrived during the night, and not while trying to pack in the morning. First thing we went and saw the Standing Stones close up. It was a little strange because they were sitting in a paddock with sheep, surrounded by farmland. Now this is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, something boasted about by locals and advertised everywhere in Orkney, but upon arrival seems like Wobbies World compared to Disneyland. Don't get me wrong, it is impressive that centuries ago they managed to somehow stand the 6 metre slabs of rock up on their ends, but after all the hype we expected some sort of development surrounding the sites. I guess it is a good thing though, that the Stenness Stones and Ring of Brodgar remain where they are without ice-cream and souvenir vans.
The weather got better as the day went by and we continued towards Kirkwall via Scapa Flow, famous for the scuttled German fleet of WWI. In town we had some time to kill so we wandered around town checking out the craft stores and also St Magnus Cathedral, built in 1137. Dodging the rain we then gutsed ourselves on pizza before boarding the night ferry to sail to Lerwick, Shetland.

The last of the mainland

The North, as everyone knows it over here, is a beautiful place, although mostly under appreciated by one and all Scotsman. On a not-so-bad day here, we only passed one car parked at a starting point for a walk.

Our journey from Lairg to Tongue on the north coast was made by following the one road for the entire day. There aren't many roads in The North.

With a nice tail wind and hills undulating through differing degrees of gentleness, we cruised along at a cracking 17.5k.p.h, our best yet. We also reached our finishing point of Tongue at 3p.m, so it was off to the pub for a hot chocolate and caramel slice.

The town of Tongue doesn't contain much - a pub & hotel, a general store and a service station/convenience store - but for what ever reason the ladies of Braemar had mentioned how much they love Tongue (especially Miriam), and strongly recommended a visit. So visit we did, and enjoy Tongue we did. Not for the service at the pub, but for the great weather that Tongue bestowed upon our trip. Just before arriving in Tongue, the clouds lifted on what had been a very dreary day and gave us a beautiful sunlit afternoon to relax and throw the frisbee. And this weather was to continue.

 

The next morning the sun was out and so were the cyclists, with several passing us before we had finished packing. Although none seemed to be carrying any tents or sleeping bags.. cheats. Once we were away it was a beautiful down hill run to the very bottom of our first massive up hill of the day. This hill claimed Nadia as a walker, as the next few would claim me also. There didn't seem to be any need for that sort of steepness. All that was at the bottom of each coastal valley was a sleepy little village with a beautiful river leading to a deserted beach, and a shop if lucky. A simple bridge would have been ample to protect the locals from all the tourist vehicles rolling through, and would have saved us a lot of time and effort.

Apart from the huffing and puffing, the day brought us some nice views over the Atlantic ocean, a wind farm, a decommissioned nuclear power site and the 'flow country' which we figured meant flat, featureless plateaus.

By the end of all this we had ridden 70km for the day, and had made it to Thurso - the surf capital of Scotland, and it was flatter than Sandy Point on a flat day. We were informed though that a month before O'neill had held a competition there in 20ft. surf.

In Thurso we gave ourselves a rest day and gave the bikes a well earned 'happy 500km!' service at the local bike shop. We were camping at the Thurso Caravan Park and it would be leading most, if not all, in the 'caravan park with the best view award'. From our tent we could see down onto the main town beach, the town itself, Dunnet Head (the most northerly point of mainland Scotland) and off in the distance we could see some of the Orkney Islands, and just make out The Old Man Of Hoy (a massive pillar of rock).

 

Our day off was spent figuring out ferries, catching up on emails and still trying to find a way of getting from Shetland to Norway on the cheap. And the good weather continued to shine down upon us. We even got burnt on the bike ride to Thurso.

Nessie hunting, then north

Day 4 started by tricking us. Just like the Richmond Tigers it promised much, but gave little. We woke to sunshine filtering through the tree tops, which were waving gently to and fro in the breeze. Our trees must have been much shorter than all the other trees because as soon as we got back onto the road we were faced with a fair gale blowing straight up from the south.

Such a ferocious beast of a wind must surely have been called up by some other worldly creature, and looking to the loch, through the shadow of the pines.. there be monsters in this loch they call Ness?, or just the play of the white water and the mind of a man too eager to believe in such childish folly. Oh, but woe to those who can't believe, says I.

So up hill we walked, and down hill we actually had to pedal the wind was so strong. This continued until at lunch we pulled into the biggest town on the loch, Fort Augustus. Hot soup and lunch saw the spirits of the party buoyed, and by rounding the southern end of Loch Ness we had turned this terrible wind in our favour. Everything on the western side of Loch Ness looks a bit more the way I had expected it. On the east side the road was tiny and the cars were few, with tourism seeming to be a few years away. The West side gave us a 2 lane road and the traffic that you would expect at what has to be Scotland's most iconic landmark. Also on the west side the hills were more gentle. In the session after lunch we were averaging over 15km/p/h. We also started to see some other bike tourists for the first time, and they all seemed to be carrying a lot less than us.

Along the way we saw the ruins of Urquhart Castle, and even a tiny rainbow appeared over the loch.

That night was spent in the woods of Drumnadrochit, on the bank of a little burn. We were 'wild camping' just off a walking path that proved popular with the locals, but everyone that walked past that evening were very cheery with their hello's.

After a delicious curry and pasta dinner we went for a walk ourselves, and then I sat down by the stream to do the day's journal. It's light enough at night to read until 10.30 with no torch.

A brilliant morning session brought us into Inverness where we did a bit of shopping. Nadia was needing a new sleep mat after hers decided to un-attach itself from the inside out the night before. At each town we come to with an information centre, we try to get info on ferries from Shetland to Scandinavia, but nobody knows what's happening for sure.

The afternoon ride had us heading to Contin. It rained for a while, but not too much.

As we were passing through a small town, we passed a fella walking the other way, all kitted out in what looked like WW2 gear, and carrying a flag over his shoulder. Asking him of his journey, he told us he was hiking the entire John 'O Groats to Lands End track, to raise money for the 'Help For The Heroes' charity, which raises money for soldiers injured in action.

At Contin we had a beautiful campsite, and even felt energetic enough to throw the frisbee for a while. Gave the bikes a good looking over and discovered slight kinks in both our back wheels, which is fair enough with the weight we're putting on them.

On day 6 was weather was summer'ish for the first time, I was even riding in just my bike shorts! The tailwind continued and had us averaging 16km/p/h for the day. Thankfully we passed a town with a bike shop so I could get a spoke tightening tool. With this we decided to make today a shorter day, and stopping to ask a local lady (who has a daughter living in Caufield) about decent camping options, we pulled into the Glen Aldie forest at 4p.m, got camp set up, hooked the iPod up to the speakers, and got to work on the bikes.

This night and the night before was our soft introduction to midgees, the famous Scottish insect. There weren't that many of them, but they were very apt at being really annoying. Now the bite doesn't hurt much, and the resulting welt is insignificant and not overly itchy, but they're just so bloody annoying, with a tendency to fly straight into your open eye. Even in they're early season low numbers, it was enough to drive me to becoming the ultimate tourist, and donning a midgee net/hat combo - the ones that make us laugh at central Australia tourists.

Waking up in the tent the next morning was the start of our wettest morning yet. It rained solid for 2 hours whilst we moped about trying to hide everything under the pine trees. The weather plays such a big part in the mood of the camper, and the timing of the rain is a factor also - rain during the day, eh, not too bad. But rain when trying to pack up camp, ugh, horrible, everything's wet when you pack, and wet and cold that night when you set up camp again.

So we slowly packed up and I'd guess it was about 24 seconds after strapping the last bag to the bike, it stopped raining for the first time that day. It then didn't rain again until we arrived at camp and started to unpack and get camp ready. Nay bother this night though, because after 7 days of 'wild' camping we were treating ourselves to an official campground, with showers and laundry facilities. This campsite was on the southern end of Loch Shin in a town called Lairg. On the way to Lairg during the day we went through Tain and along the southern shore of the Firth of Dornoch, then followed the river Shin, including at a stop at the Falls of Shin.

Camping in a town for the first time also presented us with a chance to head to a pub. We didn't. We cooked and fell asleep.

Now at Loch Shin we are truly into northern Scotland, one of the remotest areas in Europe.

trip blog 1

Dragging all the gear out to the front of the house in sunny Braemar weather was the easiest part of day 1. Following was the full packing of the gear (including throwing out even more of our excess belongings (that didn't really seem all that excess only a few weeks ago, but a bike can only take so much) ), the final goodbyes, and the first wobbly pedals taking us away from our highland life of the last 6 months.

And even after all the months of planning and talking, it still came down to waiting until the last minute for the postie to bring a memory stick for the new camera.
The postie was late for the first time. So we left.
Thanks Guy for thinking of us on your holiday aswell, much appreciated.
Luckily leaving Braemar there is a nice gentle down hill, so off we rolled, clipping into our cleats and enjoying the ease of it all - sun over our shoulders, wind in our hair, the country side gently rolling by. The next 2 years of our lives were going to be a breeze, if the first 9 miles were any indication.
But then something changed. Namely the gradient. The road from Crathie goes up, up into the Cairngorms, up to The Lecht Ski Centre, and then probably up some more. We knew this road was going to be hard, but the hills are what we came to Scotland for. Out of all the hills that day, we had to get off and push only a half dozen times or so.

We had been going for about half an hour that first day when a car came roaring up from behind with a dog hanging out one window and the driver hanging out the other, with tongues hanging out of both of them. It was Aileen with our memory stick. Gotta love Braemar. It's sort of like Sandy Point in size, and even similar weather, but the locals here are actually spotted out and about and enjoying their little part of the world. I know more people in Braemar after 6 months than all my summers at Sandy Point.

The first day we clocked up 43km, making it up to the ski centre, and just down the other side, to camp beside a stream, near an old mine. Dinner on the new stove, then into bed, and that was day 1 of 500, or so.

The next day we were up and away by 10.00, which seems to be our unofficial starting time.
It will quicken when my packing improves, and the weather improves also.
We started day 2 riding in a light drizzle. Our aim was to cut across country towards Loch Ness and although we were showered upon it was a very pleasant day with beautiful undulating countryside that seemed easy in comparison to day 1.
We managed to avoid big towns such as Aviemore by cutting through smaller places like Boat of Garten. We thought we'd try the 'off road' option on the bike path thinking that it meant 'away from the highway' but it also meant 'away from even sealed surfaces', taking us across a property including deep rutted 4WD tracks. AND it wasn't even a shortcut, we actually went 1.5 miles FURTHER!
After that little adventure we passed Slochd (we thought it quite amusing) followed by Slochd Summit. Shortly after that we reached 100km, woohoo! Once cruising down Slochd Summit we started looking for campsites and ended up just near Moy in the woods with the sun setting on the far hills.
Day 3 brought us to the shores of Loch Ness. It was a tough day with short sharp climbs on the single lane along the eastern side of the loch. The views were beautiful but for some reason all the little shops and cafes (that could've sold us ice creams) were closed in the middle of the day, a Saturday which you would think is prime tourist time.
The day ended with some lovely photos having been taken, but also with rain pelting down and us having to hide beneath the pine trees to erect our tent. Needless to say we hid and ate biccies for dinner in our sleeping bags!

After a few days on the road the moods were varied. Happy and then irritated. Hills and headwinds are something to get used to. But so much to look forward to also. We haven't gone far at all yet, but already seeing new corners of the world.

Map of the trip so far, thanks to bikely.com

Braemar to Loch Ness

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