Fort Augustus to Duror

Yesterday was a disastrous day as far as this journey goes. There is very little choice of roads in Scotland, and so I was forced to take the A82 from Fort Augustus towards Oban. This began pleasantly enough, making a steady speed of eight miles an hour. I watched a bridge opening for a yacht travelling up the Caledonian canal (the canal links the east and west coast, and has clearly involved some intriguing engineering). Arriving in Fort William, I swopped my unforgiving Brooks saddle, for a gel one. This proved to be a bad move. Firstly, it put my weight more squarely above the front axle. I'm certain that's why I subsequently lost seven spokes; one of which broke as I was going down hill, flying out at a ninety degree angle, causing a mighty racket as it clattered against the forks. That's now nine spokes I've lost. Secondly, because the saddle was set two-three inches higher than the Brooks saddle, it meant I could no longer easily reach for the back step when dismounting. As is was raining and slippery anyway, this resulted in two undignified falls. Thirdly, the additional height of the saddle meant I could no longer reach the pedals comfortably, which has left the muscles behind my ankles stretched and achey. In addition to all of this, the road from Fort William to Ballachulish, has to be the worst road I have ever been on. It's a narrow winding A road, used by huge lorries, coaches, endless camper vans, caravans, and bikers. I still got cheers and waves, but I also got some pretty unsavoury abuse. On top of all of that, the lace of one of my shoes, normally restrained by velcro, got caught up in the pedal. Fortunately the lace ripped apart before throwing me off the bike. It was great to get over Ballachulish bridge and take the cycle track along the old railway line, its banks lined with verdant ferns and purple rhododendrons. There was a delicious smell of wild garlic. Oyster catchers, calling loudly, chased each other along the shore line.

I'm now sitting in a bedroom of the old railway station in Duror, overlooking Loch Linnhi, on a beautiful still sunny morning. Outside numerous birds are chirping. The view is stunning, with hills of Glas Bhennn, Creach Bhennin, and Benn Na Cille on the other side of the loch. Seals, porpoises and otters may frequently be seen in the loch's waters, hunting the rich sea life and run of salmon. And last night has to have been the most still and peaceful night I have ever experienced. I am staying with Joey, the commodeer of the royal highland's yacht club and his wife Verna. Joey had a career in the RAF and used to fly lightning jets. Verna spent a good part of her working life farming Highland cattle. Yesterday evening, in what used to be the gentleman's waiting area of the station, I sat and drank a huge gin and tonic in front of a mighty wood burner. As I was so tired anyway, I literally started to see double! We then enjoyed a spaghetti bolognese supper, followed by ice cream and apple pie, in what used to be the women's waiting area of the station. Our conversation once again brought home how precarious life can be and the need to embrace life in all its fullness now.

As a complete aside, I ought to say something about midges, present on the West coast from May to September. If you have never experienced them, then you're highly fortunate. They can drive you to distraction, biting every exposed bit of skin. Joey showed me a couple of midge traps he has in his garden yesterday. These are highly effective. And as midges are territorial, staying in a particular area, the traps leave the garden relatively midge free. They work by emitting carbon dioxide and a sweaty smell, which is exactly what attracts them to you or I. Joey showed me the contents of one emptied trap and I was shocked. There was literally a bucket of them, just from one day's collection.

So what to do now? I can't possibly ride any distance on a wheel with so many broken spokes. And this afternoon, I'm informed, heavy rain is forecast for twenty four hours. I am told the owner of the cycle shop in Oban may be able to make spokes, so that's where I'll be headed today. I'm also aware I may be able to get some sent to me from London, and I still have a few spares left at home. This forces me to have to stop for a day or two, which is probably no bad thing. My body needs the rest.