This was the road to nowhere I found whilst walking around the hills of Harris. It was close to a tiny enclave called Meavaig, on the way back from Hushinish. This was the last of the sun for a few days, which was a shame as the island looked incredible under blue skies and fluffy white clouds.
I have visited Iceland a few times. This was from my most recent trip there, when I cycled round the island. This was one of the rare days when it did not rain. I was around 300km east of Reykjavik when I took this shot. The wind was with me that day and I covered over 100 miles.
This next shot was a couple of days out of Egilsstaðir, close to Hoffell if I recall correctly. Just a mile or two away from the road where I was cycling, was this the view I was treated to, of a glacier positioned on the edge of Vatnajökull National Park.
In the mountains of Peru, on the road to nowhere, I stood with a friend, surveying the eerie landscape in solitude. We ended up trekking up to 5000m and walking on the glacier you can see in the distance a couple of hours later, when the clouds cleared and the sun bathed the landscape.
I have fond memories of walking up to the glacier above, undaunted by altitude sickness or concerned with the cold. My companion had to remind me that a T shirt at that altitude and level of cold was not in keeping with an efficient circulation.
I will always have fond recollections of the mountains o South America, with Peru, Bolivia and Chile in particular. All were familiar but unique in their own special way.
Bizarrely, both images above is about the size of my negative (6cm x 12cm).
I miss the big country. The violence of the weather, the sheer size of the landscape. Most of all, I miss nature. Singapore is so many things but alas, not natural. Everything here is outlandish, larger than life. Perhaps the weather in this image I took in California a couple of years ago is also as prodigious in its own way as Singapore is.
Two hours after I took this image, the rain had washed the road out leaving all timorous motorists stranded. However, I was in the world’s best off road car; a rental Ford Mustang convertible, which ploughed through the rushing waters. Although it leaking into the footwells as the water level rose above the base door height, the car made it. I can still recall the sight of several scared drivers disappearing behind me in my rear view mirror, all huddled motionless in their pick up trucks.
Cycle ride from John O’Groats to Wick
Total mileage: 18
Terrain: Very fast cycle ride over quite flat terrain
Our last day saw us cover a small distance from John O’Groats to Wick, where I had booked a B&B for us. Pete had tried in vain to book a return rail trip from Wick to London, so we were forced to either catch a bus or cycle it! Fortunately for us, our landlady had been kind enough to accept three bike bags we had ordered via the Blackberry on the way up, once we knew we were not going to get a space on the train.
We arrived quite early in Wick as the terrain had been flat and easy to negotiate, which meant that we cycled the 18 miles at a very healthy space. We hung around in a café for a couple of hours until the tenants leaving our B&B checked out. Mrs McDonald, our landlady, still had to tidy the place up but we were able to leave our bikes and change clothes.
Wick is a pretty nasty town when all is said and done, with very little to do. We wondered around the very small town centre for a few hours until we were able to head back to the B&B. We all chilled for the rest of the day and watched crap TV programmes.
The following day, we had to check out early and wait until 4pm when our bus turned up. Carrying the packed down bicycles to the bus stop, about 1km away was absolutely exhausting. Far easier to cycle the damn things!
Our mammoth return journey included the following legs:
I was extremely happy to see Bryony at the bus stop. She took us all out for breakfast before poor Pete and Mary had to press on with their journey and catch a bus from London down to Weymouth and re-assemble their bikes there, before boarding the ferry back to Guernsey. From subsequent conversations, I can assure you that we were all very happy to be back home with all of its conveniences and comforts.
I cannot recommend this journey enough to anyone interested in cycling or seeing the country. Physically, it does have its challenges but that is not to say that it is not equally blessed with rich and rewarding experiences all along the way. Although I am and have been for quite some time, an ardent cyclist, I have been indoctrinated into the world of long distance cycling. I am determined to find a new challenge in for 2009. Perhaps Pete and Mary will join me, who knows?
In additional to all the images here and on Flickr, I have also uploaded many to my gallery on Alamy.com
Stock photography by Julien Buckley at Alamy
Total mileage: 50
Terrain: Long shallow climbs and downhills with a very pleasant warm, sunny afternoon
We bloody well did it!
After a pretty awful night at the Bettyhill camping ground, with all the local drunks and their kids making one hell of a noise, none of us were that sprightly the following morning. We only had a short distance to cycle today but the terrain was quite arduous and not too exciting.
The morning was cold and so we wrapped up as heavy clouds circled above us. None of us we particularly talkative even though we were were at the zenith of our ride. First stop of the day was in some tiny town for a comfort stop. The cold wind was chilling our moral and we all donned another layer. I had hoped that our final day on the bikes would be more pleasant.
The land began to flatted out as we passed Bighouse. There was an inlet that took us a mile or so inland but overall, nothing particularly taxing. The spledour of the previous days Highland ride was all but gone. The land had fewer features but was very so slightly more urdan, although this is perhaps not the correct way to describe such wilderness.
As we pushed on throgh Raey, the golf course was a welcome expanse of green with the backdrop of the Scottish north coast. The only other point of interest was the bizzare power station we passed. The focal point was a hugh white sphere that looked as though it had been plucked straight from a Star Trek episode.
We stopped briefly in Thurso for some provisions and a couple of bottles of Cava. Rather than push on to Wick, we decided to camp at John O’Groats as this seemed the most fitting end point to our cross country endeavour.
Upon leaving Thurso, the road was occasionally adorned with a sign post denoting the distance to John O’Gorats, as in the photo above. The last twenty miles flew by. All three of us were utterly transfixed on completing the task. We were fortunate enough to have a marked change in the weather, which had us stripped down as the heat rose. Before long, we were hammering along at a healthy 18mph, only moments away from he end.
We eventually rocked up at John O’Groats as it clung to the last remnants of sunshine. All behind us was shrouded in cloud. However, the sun shone on us for the rest of the day whilst we had our photograph taken under the sign post and set up camp in the field next door. We all got pretty hammered on the Cava immediately after calling all our friends and families to inform them that we had made it to the end point successfully. Loads of people congratulated us including a rather large contingent of motorcyclists.
We had a hearty meal in the evening and watched the beautiful sunset over the North Sea. So, what’s our next challenge then guys?
Total mileage: 43
Terrain: Coldest day with lots of hill climbing with sustained periods of rain
A short day and a bit of an anti-climax after the previous day’s cycle. Breakfast was a simple affair in the hostel. The room stank of 4 large, pissed French blokes. Neither Pete nor I made any attempt to be quiet as they had been crashing around the previous night, completed steaming, when they returned to the dorm. Not sure where they went but there were a few bottles of Jack Daniels littered on teh floor of the room.
The temperature had dropped a few degrees and the wind was progressively more severe as the day pressed on. Today marked a change in direction for us. We stopped heading north and started heading east. The road ahead hugged the coastline closely as we navigated around Loch Eriboll, a 16km long sea loch. Apparently, it had been used for centuries as a deep water anchorage as it is safe from the often stormy seas of Cape Wrath and the Pentland Firth. On our round route, we passed some bronze age remains including a wheelhouse in great condition.
On our way back up towards the north coast and Hellam, the hills started to raise more sharply around the water’s edge. As we reached the apex, the relentless winds of the previous day returned to pummel our easterly journey.
This was very much the make up for the rest of the day; stunning scenery, step hills and unceasingly resistant winds. The temperatures continued to dropped as we all wrapped up. By the time we reached Tongue, our spirits were at a low ebb. Perfect timing as it turned out for some lunch. We stopped in the town’s only hotel, which happened to sport a decent restaurant. Three courses of hot food and accompanying beverages later and once again, the cockels of our hearts were warned.
We estimated that to reach John O’Groats would have been a long stretch and that to cut the last day’s cycle down to a mere 10 miles from Thurso to JOG would have been a real anti-climax. Therefore, the best alternative was for us to stop in a town called Bettyhill. The town itself was non-descript. In our ferver to find a decent spot for the evening, we managed to choose the lesser of the two camping sights. As you can tell from the image above, this was not the most solubrious of campsites. Indeed, I think on reflection, it was perhaps the most grim campsite we stayed at, a most fitting last night!
Not everything about Bettyhill was a disaster. Once we were able to navigate our way successfully to the local beach, a trial in itself, we were treated to a glorious sunset. The skies were peppered with a few clouds but we all remained optimistic that our final day would be one blessed with sunshine. I think Pete and Mary were really lucky to have one another on this trip. Sharing an adventre like this, no matter how trying or run of the mill, is something that shared will be a momeory for life. I was definitely happy that Pete and Mary were on teh trip. It really reminded me of the great times we had experienced together when we met on the Inca Trail, en route to Machu Picchu or diving in the Caribbean off the north coast of Colombia.
Total mileage: 45
Terrain: Very tough day with sustained hill climbing and strong headwinds
Today was awesome in so many ways. Firstly, the weather was magnificent, with wall to wall sunshine. Considering it was the north of Scotland, the temperature was comfortably in the twenties, probably the warmest day we had whilst cycling in Scotland. Then there was the landscape, which was superb. Best of all, there was very little traffic on the road, so it meant conditions were perfect for cyclists.
Very close to Inchnadamph on the shores of Loch Assynt is Ardvreck Castle and some other ruins. We stopped here whilst I ran off to grab from shots. I was so caught up in the moment that I forgot the time. Before long, the Mary had decided to head off and take the day at her own pace as I was taking so long. This opened up the day to a different type of cycling. Instead of working in a pack as we had done for most of the journey, we were working as separate units. Pete hung back to tell me that Mary had gone off ahead, so we cycled in tandem initially.
The hills started getting gradually more serious, especially as we turned right up the A894. The climb was intense in the heat. In the absence of Mary, we did the typical boy approach to any challenge and started to try and cycle up the hills at full speed. This was a mistake as I ended up consuming a lot of my water on the 2 mile climb, which was not great as I and only done about 8 miles so far.
After a period of climbing, we made it to the top of the first climb. In front of us was one of the finest roads I have ever seen. It snaked down and around the hill side, way off into the distance. Mountains abutted the road, with an occasional loch. The weather was spot on making this perhaps the most perfect piece of cycling on the whole trip.
As there was so much beautiful scenery for me to photograph, I kept stopping to take shots. Pete eventually headed off ahead as I was taking my time. This gave me the opportunity to thrown on some tunes as there was little traffic to fear.
The cycling was amazing, truly epic. Occasionally, I had to negotiate the road with coaches or motor homes heading in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, the narrow roads meant that passing was perilous, especially when the drivers in the most part tended to continue driving along the centre of the road. On one occasion, I had to swerve off the road to avoid being hit by a bus, hurtling along without any regard.
The only other fly in the ointment was the wind. The climbs were steep and definitely the toughest of the trip but at least the hill off shelter from the wind. Most cyclists will admit one of the benefits of a hill is the decent on the other side. I felt slightly robbed of this perk by the fact that the relentless southerly wind. The wind was fierce and depleted any momentum I managed to gather whilst climbing the hills. So, in effect, one had to cycle just as hard to decent as one did ascending.
We all hooked up just before lunch in Scourie. Shovelling down large mouthfuls of energy foods, we all felt better as the tired muscles were replenished with rest. Again, we separated on the way north but by the Kyle of Durness, we reformed and cycled the remaining 5 miles. Although today was one of the shortest days of the ride, it was perhaps one of the most challenging. Durness is a small outpost of a town, at the North West end of Scotland. The guesthouse was empty when we arrived but the co-habitants were all congenial. The small local shop had some fresh vegetables Pete used to cook with, always a pleasure after a hard day in the saddle. The day would have been perfect had it not been for four smelly, half-pissed, snoring Frenchmen…
Total mileage: 57
Terrain: Tough cycling in the Scottish highlands
After a hearty breakfast, we started on what would turn out to be a day of mixed weather and glorious scenery. The initial part of the trip took us along the A835 to through Garbat and then along the west coast of Loch Glascarnoch. At this stage, the weather closed in and the rain began to fall… again! The temperature started to drop, making riding conditions uncomfortable to say the least.
The saving grace of the morning was the incredible scenery however. From lochs to forests, the road had very little traffic and was festooned with glorious landscape. As fortune would have it, the sun began to shine as we made it to the coastal loch of Broom. Although we had to climb for a few miles, we were blessed with gorgeous views of Ullapool and the coastline.
Lunch was a hearty helping of burger and chips for me, food of champions. Mary and Pete had some fish, wich would more than likely have been the healthier option. Just to make up for it, we all had ice cream for desert.
After scoffing this all down, we went shopping to stock up for the days ahead as there were unlkikely to be any major supermarkets until we arrived in Thurso, and that was a long way off still.
The sun continued to shine as we started the long and arduious climb north west out of Ullapool. However, the landscape just became more and more impressive. Turquoise sea lapped again white sandy beeches as we cycled through Ardmair and headed back inland. From this point on, the highlands rose majestically to progressively loftier peaks. The clouds grew denser the further we cycled away from the coast. The evening light would have been ideallic had it not been for the persistent attacks from the countless midges that were everywhere.
Heading north again on teh A837, we passed Loch Awe and onwards towards Loch Assynt. Just shy of the loch lay Inchnadamph and our hostel for the evening. The place was pretty amazing, with internet connection, large kitchen and dinning hall and a great laundry. We were all soaked from a downpour during the final miles of the day’s ride. However, with full panniers of supplies, we did not want for a good meal as Pete whipped us up a great meal.
I would definitely recommend anyone heading up to the north west coast of Scotland to stay at the Inchnadamph YHA if they are after a place to stay. The only requirement seemed to be that for men, they all sport half decent facial fuzz.
All Terrain Photography 