NC500 - The conversion of men
I awoke at 03:30 am. I'm wide awake. Daylight is streaming through the bedroom window. We're still heading north and if we're not careful will soon be in the land of the midnight sun.
At breakfast the French couple are not to be seen. I assume that they're still sleeping, now with spare rolls of Tesco toilet paper wedged in their ears after suffering the 'Guns of Navarone - the loud bits' film loop being played all night in the room next door. The landlady was good to me; she did a service wash last night and handed me a bag of clean dry clothing this morning. I said I would leave her a little something in the room as a thank you. It's a good job I checked the loo before departure as the mummified chicken had somehow resurrected itself, flown the coop and crash landed with a splat on the toilet wall. Not the best thank you to leave behind.
I'm still buggering about with this blog so I'm late meeting London Alan. He's ready and eager for the off parked by the side of the road. 'It's a rubbish hotel' he says... 'there's no way i'm gonna give them a review on Booking.com.' He's right. It would not matter if you gave the best ever crapiness review as ANY accommodation is few and far between in this neck of the world. Whatever state of crap ness a place is in, it's going to be full of desperate travellers every night in this part of the world and at this time of the year.
It's a beautiful day. High cirrus clouds with bright sun and a cool southerly wind. Perfect. We rob the local Tesco of all its Fig Rolls and Tunnocks Caramel Bars. I'm on a mission NOT to lose any weight. Alan isn't carbo loading so looks tired at the end of every day. Where he's getting the energy from I don't know. However he's looking to have a six pack for his holiday in the Med next month. I reckon he's got to cycle to China and back to reach that objective.
It's a long and immediate climb out of Ullapool. I'm in a section of road I always remember riding along over 10 years ago on the motorbike whilst taking a smooth, perfect left hand bend in perfect weather at neigh on a gazillion mph. The image of it is imprinted in core memory. Today I ride the same section at 3mph, uphill, with the crap nav threatening to stop recording, it says 'cos I'm going so slow'.
The scenery is stunning. London Alan is gushing like a drain with who-hoos! and laughs. He's forgotten about the pain in his legs, arse, neck, knees, bike chain, mudguard, pedals, headstock etc and is giggling like a 5 year old running aroud in a field of daisies chasing butterflies. He's a different man. Everything so far has been a rollercoaster of a ride. Physically and emotionally. We chat about how 4 days ago all he wanted to do was to take an axe to his 'I've been sold a pup' non-touring bike, thrown its mangled remains in the nearest and deepest loch and gone home. I chat with several other folk today, many on bikes, one with a big engine telling them about where we've been and where we are going to go. 'We've been riding for 9 days and have 4 more to go' I say. London Alan tells me he heard that particular conversation, especially the only 4 more to go bit. Only 4 more to go? I see a pawl of sadness come across him like a kid being told it's time to go back to school next week. 'Awww..' he say's. 'I've got everything on the bike that I need. I could just keep on going...'
Finally something has clicked. Today, I have a new convert in my hands. I suspect London Alan is gonna do more of this cycling malarkey in the years to come.
Good. He's thoroughly in to it. As a result I'm happy too. Even though today's ride is only 38 miles we've ridden close to 4000ft of ascent. Pretty dam decent for proper oak cask aged non-racing snakes.
That's a good note on which to stop writing. Let me just show you some beautiful pictures from today's ride. Here you go...
Ciao for now...
At breakfast the French couple are not to be seen. I assume that they're still sleeping, now with spare rolls of Tesco toilet paper wedged in their ears after suffering the 'Guns of Navarone - the loud bits' film loop being played all night in the room next door. The landlady was good to me; she did a service wash last night and handed me a bag of clean dry clothing this morning. I said I would leave her a little something in the room as a thank you. It's a good job I checked the loo before departure as the mummified chicken had somehow resurrected itself, flown the coop and crash landed with a splat on the toilet wall. Not the best thank you to leave behind.
I'm still buggering about with this blog so I'm late meeting London Alan. He's ready and eager for the off parked by the side of the road. 'It's a rubbish hotel' he says... 'there's no way i'm gonna give them a review on Booking.com.' He's right. It would not matter if you gave the best ever crapiness review as ANY accommodation is few and far between in this neck of the world. Whatever state of crap ness a place is in, it's going to be full of desperate travellers every night in this part of the world and at this time of the year.
It's a beautiful day. High cirrus clouds with bright sun and a cool southerly wind. Perfect. We rob the local Tesco of all its Fig Rolls and Tunnocks Caramel Bars. I'm on a mission NOT to lose any weight. Alan isn't carbo loading so looks tired at the end of every day. Where he's getting the energy from I don't know. However he's looking to have a six pack for his holiday in the Med next month. I reckon he's got to cycle to China and back to reach that objective.
It's a long and immediate climb out of Ullapool. I'm in a section of road I always remember riding along over 10 years ago on the motorbike whilst taking a smooth, perfect left hand bend in perfect weather at neigh on a gazillion mph. The image of it is imprinted in core memory. Today I ride the same section at 3mph, uphill, with the crap nav threatening to stop recording, it says 'cos I'm going so slow'.
The scenery is stunning. London Alan is gushing like a drain with who-hoos! and laughs. He's forgotten about the pain in his legs, arse, neck, knees, bike chain, mudguard, pedals, headstock etc and is giggling like a 5 year old running aroud in a field of daisies chasing butterflies. He's a different man. Everything so far has been a rollercoaster of a ride. Physically and emotionally. We chat about how 4 days ago all he wanted to do was to take an axe to his 'I've been sold a pup' non-touring bike, thrown its mangled remains in the nearest and deepest loch and gone home. I chat with several other folk today, many on bikes, one with a big engine telling them about where we've been and where we are going to go. 'We've been riding for 9 days and have 4 more to go' I say. London Alan tells me he heard that particular conversation, especially the only 4 more to go bit. Only 4 more to go? I see a pawl of sadness come across him like a kid being told it's time to go back to school next week. 'Awww..' he say's. 'I've got everything on the bike that I need. I could just keep on going...'
Finally something has clicked. Today, I have a new convert in my hands. I suspect London Alan is gonna do more of this cycling malarkey in the years to come.
Good. He's thoroughly in to it. As a result I'm happy too. Even though today's ride is only 38 miles we've ridden close to 4000ft of ascent. Pretty dam decent for proper oak cask aged non-racing snakes.
That's a good note on which to stop writing. Let me just show you some beautiful pictures from today's ride. Here you go...
Ciao for now...
Fantastic views!
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