The day started relatively well. It didn’t rain for the first ten whole minutes of our ride. We thought the weather might be on the up at last. But barely had we left the outskirts of Fort William when the heavens opened and we were – once again – soaked. The eight hours our kit had spent in the drying room last night was wasted, it was as wet as when we had put it in there the night before.
Then came the first mistake of the day. We decided to follow the Caledonian Canal towpath for a while. As those of you who have read this blog for a while will know, we have a fondness for canals.
However on this occasion it proved to be a mistake. We had followed the path on the wrong side of the canal and after a few hundred yards it deteriorated into a muddy track before ending up in someone’s driveway. About turn and back to the road. We picked up the B8004 instead which would have been a lovely ride along the side of the hill with fantastic views of the Nevis Range. Would have been, had not been for the rain and the low black clouds which obscured our view. I was by this time developing a stiff neck from peering out from under my long peaked cap and hood. My vision was mainly restricted to viewing the road just in front of my front tyre through a narrow slit of about six inches wide by three inches high, and all this majestic scenery was therefore rather wasted. #
At Gairlochy locks we decided to stick to the road rather than risk the cycle path through the Great Glen as we knew it was not paved and we feared it would be muddy. Second mistake of the day. We toiled up the hill to the Commando Monument,
which is in a wonderful situation at the top of the hill by Spean Bridge overlooking the mountains. At this point the rain had turned to hail coming in horizontally and the wind was gusting at up to 60 miles per hour. We looked doubtfully at the A82, which had no verge or path. Four huge lorries hurtled past us one after the other. “That’s it Routes” said Mick, who had taken to calling me this, ever since the Kirkstone Path debacle, “there’s no way I’m cycling down there in this wind it would be suicide”. I had to agree, and we headed back down the road to Gailochy locks, the way we had come. By now we were freezing and as the rain got heavier we sheltered in a disused church for a while before heading back to the Great Glen Way, the forest path we had eschewed half an hour earlier. In fact it wasn’t too bad and the pines gave some shelter from the wind and rain. The Great Glen is really impressive, a huge rift between the two landmasses which make up Scotland. Incredible to think that once the north of this rift was part of the North American continent whilst the land to the south was part of the same land mass as Norway. Seven miles along the track we came to Leven where we stopped for lunch in the very welcoming boat cafe.
The road by now appeared to be quieter and we interspersed spells on it with spells on the canal towpath, rather more successfully this time. At Fort Augustus we stopped for a quick pint of Black Cuillin at The Bothy pub/restaurant, stocked up on supplies and headed on up to the Loch Ness Youth hostel. By now we had been soaked for many hours and tempers were getting frayed. Outside the shop Mick had trouble with his pannier bag which was refusing to do as it was told and stay on the bike. “If you had a face” he told the bag angrily “I would smash your face in”. I suppose it was lucky for the bag it was faceless and it escaped unharmed. From here it was a ten mile run to the hostel, and we were glad to get there, perched on the edge of Loch Ness.
Stats:
Miles 49
Beer: 1
Route here
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