Oban to Taynuilt

Do try an oak smoked kipper, a silver darling, if you're in Scotland. The one I had for breakfast was delicious, with firm flesh and a subtle smoked flavour; nothing like the ones that can be purchased vacuum packed and artificially coloured from large supermarkets. I ate it with scrambled egg, overlooking Oban harbour, before catching the first bus back to Duror.

I am enormously grateful to Allan for storing my bike in his workshop, and for the many mugs of tea. Allan and his French wife Martine, create beautiful mosaic paths and patios from local stone, and are involved in making or repairing footpaths in the mountains. I didn't get to meet Martine, as she was away working, but I was impressed by the way the couple had chosen to live in Duror. Their work as cow herders having come to an end in the Swiss Alps, and still wanting to live in a mountainous area, they literally just stuck a pin in map of Scotland at random. Allan and I had some interesting conversations about how in so many areas of life, standardisation, such as in education, can stifle creativity and initiative.

The spokes, to my great relief, arrived mid-morning. Many thanks to Matthew Trott from the league of ordinary riders for supplying them for free. I set to repairing the wheel, hanging the bike from a beam so I could check how true the wheel was. There is quite an art to truing a wheel, tightening or loosening spokes on either side of any 'buckle.' I was interested in my friend Ross's idea that the conversations we have with significant people in our lives are perhaps a little like spokes. Do we not say I just 'spoke' to him or her? Such conversations keep our lives turning, and maybe we need to make minor adjustments, or even replace a spoke altogether, when our lives are not running 'true.'.

With a few minor adjustments, and after a huge plate of pasta and a vegetable stew, I was back on the road. And the weather? It was heavy and torrential rain, all the way from Duror to Connel, a ride on the penny of over two hours. But the 78 cycle route, that goes from Ballachuish to Oban, following the Caledonian Way, more than made up for that. It is undoubtedly the best off-road cycle track I have been on. It twists and turns, as it passes through buttercup meadows; alongside the shores of Loch Linnhe and Loch Creran, with spectacular views of mountains in the distance; through pine forests and more established woods of oak, birch, beech, and hazel; between rocky outcrops with colourful rhododendrons, foxgloves, and wild flowers; past remote castles, like Castle Stalker, perched on an isolated outcrop of rock; and over impressive bridges, such as the huge cantilever bridge in Connel. I saw Canadian geese, and my first ever otter, delighting in the way it so playfully and elegantly swished through the water. At one point, I somehow lost my way off the track, finding myself walking though a huge caravan park, the caravans set symmetrically overlooking the loch. Loud pop music blared from a young couple's car, and there was the smell of cigarette smoke drifting in the air. I was being attacked by midges, and was greatly relieved when I eventually found my way out of the maze of camper vans and caravans.

The rain eventually cleared, and the sun broke through, transforming the landscape, bringing it to life with vibrant colour. The cycle alongside Loch Etive towards my destination, Taynuilt, was magical, on a quiet road bordered by fields of Highland cows with long horns and shaggy coats; and by high hills and mountains. There were views all the way down the valley to Mull. I made frequent stops, filling my lungs with the cool air, imbibing the wonderful sense of peace and space, and listening to the beauty of birdsong, such as that of the lone song-thrush, on a tree stump.

I am staying with Twig and Carol. Twig built his own house in the hills above Taynuilt. For many years he ran his own sawmill. He now, amongst other things, sails boats for customers. Carol works in a plant centre and is also an aspiring artist. Again, I am very grateful to the generosity of local people.

Tomorrow I have a decision to make; either a relatively short ride over the Pass of Brander to Inverarary, or a much longer, all day ride to Dunoon. The road to Dunoon involves a frustrating ride around the far end of Loch Fyne, something like a twelve mile loop, when the actual distance across the water is a stone's throw (if your very good at stone throwing that is). In Dunoon, I will catch a ferry across to Gourock. Much will depend on the weather.