Thursday 30 June 2016 – Lybster to John O'Groats! Nearly there now!

At breakfast, our hostess Sandra talks to us about farming in the Caithness area, and how many farms are going to rack and ruin. She tells us that there's no money in farming now. Also much of the local industry and craftwork has disappeared; people are now employed by the big Tesco or Lidl which have opened up nearby.

Sandra cooks us a generous breakfast – Reg has a kipper, which he really enjoys. As we're leaving, she hands us some sandwiches for the journey – I think she's worried that we might get hungry before we find a shop. What a kind gesture.

Yesterday involved cycling up some tough hills, with panoramic views of splendid coastal scenery. Today our journey to John O'Groats is reasonably flat – at least, the hills we do meet are easy to cope with – but the scenery of the first part of our ride reminds us a little of the bleak tufted wastelands of the desert in Kazakhstan – only a bit greener. There's the odd house now and again, but often there are no buildings on the horizon at all. We are on the only country road that runs across this expanse of moorland. Every where we look there are sheep - they trot in front of us in the road and Reg says they are baa(r)ing our way (lol). As we get close they stare at us, then leap away at the last minute. There are wind turbines twirling away in the distance.

We know that there's a village called Watten on our route, once we leave the moorland. When we reach it we've already cycled 13 miles and I'm ready for – you guessed it – my cappuccino. I pop into the little Post Office to ask if there is a coffee shop in the village.

“I'm afraid not,” says the lady behind the counter. “This shop is all there is. We sell coffee and tea here though, from a machine.”

There are 2 wooden benches outside the store, so Reg and I make ourselves comfortable and relax for a few minutes drinking our tea and coffee. We have about another 17 miles to go to John O'Groats.

A man walks out of the Post Office, gets in his car, reverses, and hits the car behind him. He gets out to inspect the damage both to his car and the third party's. He looks very shamefaced.

“Do you know who that car belongs to?” he asks us. When we say no, he goes back into the post office, and comes out with the owner of the other car, who looks very stern. Luckily, there doesn't seem to be too much damage to either car. The man who caused the damage drives away, and the other driver stops to talk to us. He's able to raise an exasperated smile.

“It's just not my day today,” he muses. “My job's not going well at the moment, I dropped my sandwiches on the floor and had to make some more, and now this. I think I'd better just go home!”

“Oh dear, I am sorry,” is all I can think of to say. Having had a couple of car accidents myself, I sympathise with both drivers.

Fortified by tea and coffee we press on; in the next area the moorland is a bit less bleak, with a few more houses dotted here and there. We hope to reach John O'Groats before the swirling grey clouds above us turn into rain, but we don't manage it; we stop to don our waterproofs. We have had very little rain while we've been cycling during our whole trip, and consider ourselves extremely lucky.

We're now cycling with the sea on our left, and can see various islands. What is strange about today is that even as we near our destination, we don't see any roadsigns at all saying John O'Groats, to give us an indication that we're nearly there now. We think it's because we're approaching on a “B” road. As we get close I feel quite emotional – we've been a month on the road and have cycled 1000 miles.

As we reach the final junction the sign says, “Land's End – ¼”. We cycle down the last stretch to the sea and and we're there – at John O'Groats! We've done it! We made it! It feels surreal. We ask a lady if she will take some photos of us by the special signpost with various destinations and their mileages on it, including, of course Land's End. We hold up the towelling beer mat that the Cornish landlady gave us, which says “PROPER JOB” on it – and which she told us to include in a photo, when we got “to the other end.” I think I'm going to cry!

The tourist information office has a book “end to enders” can write in.

“But if you go to the cafe, they'll give you a certificate and you can write in their book.”

So this is what we do. Reg and I are each given a certificate, which the young woman behind the counter in the cafe fills in for us, and a medal – and we get to write in the book. We talk to 3 men who've also just completed Land's End to John O'Groats- though at about 80 miles a day, they completed the journey in 2 weeks.

We're glad we made it, and yes, we are proud we've done it. We never once thought of giving up, but it was a tough journey at times. On the other hand, long downhill coasting at 30 miles an hour was thrilling! We've seen quite a lot of the British countryside, and above all have met some wonderful people. Our lovely family and friends have sent emails, texts and whatsaps, encouraging us to keep going. Our little grandson (2 years 4 months) sent us a little video (with the help of his Mum, Marianne) on our penultimate, difficult day:

“Go Grandma, go! Go Grandad, go!” This really helped us up the hills, Arlie!! Yey!!

Strangely our 5 mile journey from John O'Groats to our next B&B seems take forever. Will we get there before the ominous black clouds break into rain? Our hostess, who has 6 dogs and about the same number of cats, greets us with a cuppa, and a terrific downpour follows, clattering on the plastic roofed conservatory where we're sitting. We've just made it in time.

We sleep for 2 hours, and then prepare for the journey home by train. We travel by 3 different trains to Edinburgh tomorrow – Wick to Inverness, Inverness to Perth, Perth to Edinburgh. We stay in Edinburgh overnight; on Saturday it's a straight through train from Edinburgh to Bristol Parkway.

It might take us a little while to adjust to normal life!

Wednesday 29 June - Brora to Lybster

I'm very apprehensive about today, our penultimate day.  Now and again, Reg has warned me about it, so that I can prepare myself,

"There'll be some tough hills on our penultimate day of riding, including an arrow hill." 

An arrow hill is one that is almost perpendicular.  Our ride today is Scotland's answer to the hills of Devon and Cornwall, and to Shap, in the Lake District.

Nearly all of our ride today is along the A9, apart from the last few miles, which are on the A99. We are cycling on hills overlooking the North Sea on our right.  The scenery is spectacular, as if being compensation for the steepness of the climb.  For the first few miles, we're on gently undulating roads, in fact until we reach the village/small town of Helmsdale, about 11 miles into our journey.  A man smiles and waves to us as we approach.

"Hello!  Is there anywhere we can get a cup of coffee near here?"

The man directs us to a street just around the corner - not far off route so it's perfect for us.  I get an excellent really hot cappuccino.  Reg wants green tea with a slice of lemon; the coffee shop proprietor sends her husband to the little Spar down the road to get a lemon.  How's that for service?

Now, Kirsty, I hope you are reading this as it's about sandwiches!  We have some different sandwiches for a change today - the coffee shop lady makes them up for us.  I have brie and Reg has smoked mackerel with cucumber.  

We talk to the lady about where we're going.  She knows all about the arrow hill. 

"It's on a bend, watch out for lorries.  They tend to come out into the middle of the road to go up that hill, because it's so steep."  Great.

Fortified by a cappuccino and a green tea, plus the lovely breakfast at the Royal Marine Hotel, we're soon on our way.

The hills are steep, but I find I'm coping with them better than in Devon and Cornwall, and better than climbing up Shap.  I do need to stop every now and again for a drink and a couple of minutes break, but I don't have to push my bike up at all. Reg says he reckons it's because I'm getting fitter!

I almost don't realise that I've gone up the arrow hill because the arrow part of the hill is very short.  I do stop to take a breather after I've done that section though!

We stop after the first big hill, in a parking lay-by to take photos and have a break.  A couple who are already in the lay-by in their car smile and wave to us.  A few minutes later the lady gets out of the car with cakes in her hand,

"Would you like a chocolate eclair?"  she asks, proffering the said cakes.

Now I don't need to be asked a question like that twice, and am soon munching through a cake, thanking the woman profusely.  Reg doesn't have one- he only likes fruit cake and Cadbury's Mini Chocolate rolls.  I go across the road to take some photos- meanwhile Reg engages in conversation with the couple, who are from Birmingham, and who he thinks are brother and sister.  They are touring the north coast of Scotland by car.

Some where along our journey we see a road sign - "John O'Groats - 47 miles".  This is encouraging - the number of miles to John O'Groats is going down!

When we've gone up the two most difficult hills, we find a little area of grass with panoramic views over the North Sea, and enjoy our picnic.  Bliss! 

The rest of our journey today is hilly, but manageable.  As we near Lybster, where we are staying, we turn onto the A99.  For the first time ever we have a bit of difficulty finding our B&B.  Reg says he made a mistake in setting up the Sat Nav, not realising that the B&B is actually in Occumster near Lybster, not Lybster itself. Reg's planning with the Garmin and Sat Nav have been brilliant - he says he couldn't have done the  journey without them.

The B&B is along a lane; the house has magnificent sea views. We receive a warm welcome from our hostess, and the room is lovely.  I really didn't expect a bath tonight, but there is one!

"There's some muscle-soak bubble bath on the side," says our hostess. "I'm used to having cyclists here."

When I phoned yesterday our hostess said that there was a local pub which served meals, in the village, just 10 minutes walk away. We ride our bikes; we don't want to get on our bikes again today, but we don't fancy walking either.  Reg says his bike is light as a feather without our heavy panniers!  Mine too.

We have a lovely meal; the waitress at the pub tells us that a lot of their custom consists of cyclists making for John O'Groats.  We chat to 4 people from New Zealand,who are about our age, who are touring Scotland, Ireland, Wales and England.

"Thank goodness we rode our bikes to the pub," I say to Reg, on our way home.  "No way is it a 10 minute walk.  More like half an hour.  It's taken us 10 minutes to ride."

John O'Groats tomorrow, all being well.  Nearly there now!! 







 

Tuesday 28 June 2016 - Evanton to Brora

Each  B&B or hotel we stay in has its advantages and disadvantages.  One advantage of all of them, as far as I'm concerned, is that I'm not camping.  Youth hostels, yes; although Reg didn't book hostels this time because he wanted to book everything on Booking.com.  This was (a) to have a consecutive record of all the bookings, so that it would be easy to refer to this "log" each day, and (b) if anything goes wrong so that we can't continue our journey, we can cancel at 24 hours notice, without having to pay.

The pub in Evanton fronts onto the main road through the town.  Traffic isn't a problem, but there's a bus stop outside.  In front of the bathroom there's a large picture window which looks straight out onto the road.  The passengers of the double decker buses which stop outside are at eye level with this window - which doesn't have frosted glass or nets.  The bedroom also has a picture window; luckily we are already up and dressed when without warning, the window cleaner's face appears at the glass.

The bed has a plastic sheet on it, directly underneath a fitted sheet which doesn't fit properly; it isn't long before you're sleeping on the plastic sheet.  The plus side of the pub is that the food is really good, and they get a gold star for doing our washing.

We're off again.  We call into the Co-op a couple of doors down for our sandwiches.  The woman serving in the Co-op is really friendly - she spoke to us yesterday about our trip and wishes us all the best for our journey.

"Thank you,  It's really nice to be served by someone cheerful,"  I say.

 Reg says there should be a coffee stop in Invergordon, about 8 or 9 miles away, but as sometimes happens, our route doesn't actually take us into the town.  The wind is behind us all the way today and it's amazing the difference it makes to our speed.  Also, although there are hills, they aren't long or difficult.

We're coming up to a little town called Tain.  The cycle route seems to take us around the town yet again, but we've cycled 16 miles and I'm ready for my cappuccino.  We decide to go off route and go down a walkway which points to the town centre.  Before we get there we come across what looks like a castle.  It's called the Mansfield Castle Hotel and it serves coffee!  We're able to park our bikes outside the lounge window where we can see them, sink into a sofa and enjoy a cappuccino and green tea.  It's not just the coffee/tea that gives us a boost - it's the chance to relax for half an hour which recharges our batteries.  The hotel receptionist chats to us about the EU referendum result, and how it might affect her family here, as they are Bulgarian.

It starts to rain while we have coffee; it's good to be able to put our waterproofs on in the dry, instead of having to struggle with them under a tree.

We're cycling on thee A9 now, with a large expanse of estuary some distance away on our right.  There a bridge in the distance, the Dornock Firth Bridge, which crosses the estuary.

"We'll be going across that bridge in a minute," says Reg.

On our way to the bridge we see a road sign giving distances to various places.  One of the places is

"John O'Groats  85 miles".  We take a photo.  Well, maybe we're not "nearly there now" but not too far away!

The Dornock Firth Bridge is not as windy as the Kessock Bridge, which we crossed a couple of days ago.  We cycle on with the wind behind us, wanting to get a good mileage under our belt before we stop for our picnic lunch. We don't pass through any towns at all until towards the end of today's journey, but we come across a petrol filling station with a restaurant attached.  Reg suggests we have our cooked meal now, and our picnic tonight in our room, so this is what we do. Again, we can park our bikes where we can see them.  It's stopped raining! A woman is walking past Reg just as he says,

"I'll take my trousers off when we get inside."  The woman looks around; well, she doesn't know he means his waterproofs!

We continue on the A9 with a huge estuary/firth on our right - it's called Loch Fleet.  This is a really stunning ride.  We see a sign which says watch out for otters, but unfortunately we don't see any.  I'm really enjoying the ride today because it's not difficult cycling - having the wind behind us makes a huge difference.  I see a statue on a hill to the left and Reg says,

"That's the Duke of Sutherland."  The 1st Duke of Sutherland was a significant figure in the Scottish Highlands for his involvement in the "Highland Clearances." , when thousands of crofters were forcibly removed from the land to allow a greater number of sheep to graze.  Apparently, the Highland clearances, which destroyed so many people's lives, was the Duke's wife's idea. Of course.

We stop in the small town of Golspie, about 6 miles from Brora, where we'll be staying tonight, as I spot a sign for toilets.  Reg gets talking to another man about our trip.  I think how glad I am that I've just used the loo, as a coach draws up and the passengers all head for the toilets.

We're now in Sutherland, in the northern Highlands.  Our hotel for tonight is the Royal Marine Hotel, in Brora.  It's posh, as it was the only one Reg could get in the area; it's been a hotel since 1913.   It has a putting green, beauty salon, swimming pool and jaccuzzi, non of which we have the time, energy, or swimming costume to use. Trousers (not shorts) must be worn in the dining room.

Our room is huge, and is a period piece - this hotel is steeped in history.  Through one window you can see the sea.

No plastic sheet on this bed.

Monday 27 June 2016 - Evanton (Rest Day)

Rest day.

Sunday 26 June 2016 -Tomatin to Evanton

There are problems with wifi at this guest house,and it's taking Reg ages to download The Independent, as we sit at the breakfast table.

“That's probably what's stopping me getting into my router,” says our host, and she isn't saying it in a joking sort of way. I remember her defensive attitude about not providing an evening meal when I phoned up yesterday. Also, in our room is a notepad with about 3 sheets on it, on which our host has written,

“...use what you need, but please leave the rest.” This isn't a cheap B&B, and it isn't the most welcoming either. We have stayed in a huge variety of accommodation on this trip; it's the attitude of the host, or if a hotel, the management, that makes all the difference.

Four French guests from Normandy are also having breakfast. They cannot believe that we are cycling the length of the country. One lady in particular says:

“But you have your car as well, right?”

“No, just our bikes.”

“You have electric bikes?”

“No.”

“But you,” she says, looking at me, and smiling,” You're driving, right?”

“No, I'm cycling too.”

“You're joking, right?”

“No,” I smile good-naturedly, “I am cycling too.”

In many ways I can understand why people should be surprised that I am undertaking this venture, whereas they don't bat an eyelid at Reg doing it. I'm not the most physically-flexible or physically able of people (if I'm sitting on the floor, it's no mean feat for me to get up again.) In fact I myself wondered if I'd be able to do this – and there are still 3 more cycling days to go. We hope to get to John O'Groats on Thursday!

It's a lovely, warm sunny day today, though rain is forecast this afternoon. We are cycling on a very quiet road with the smell of pine trees in the air. Suddenly we spot a red squirrel! Scotland is one of their natural habitats – I'm not sure how or if Scotland has managed to keep out grey squirrels. A young deer leaps gracefully through the woodlands which line the road. The road at this point is fairly flat – which all adds up to cycling bliss!

We've already cycled 16 miles,and no sign of anywhere to have coffee.  However, we're coming up to a Tesco superstore near Inverness, with a Dobbies garden centre/coffee shop/restaurant attached. We decide to stop for a coffee break – but what to do about our bikes? We need them to be within sight; it would be too difficult to unload all our panniers.

“I'll go and find out where exactly the restaurant is,” says Reg. After about 15 minutes, Reg returns with a big smile on his face.

“We have the manager's permission to wheel our bikes through the store. We can put them outside the window of the restaurant, where we can see them.”

Time and again I admire Reg for not being afraid to ask. “Those that don't ask, don't get,” as my Dad used to say.

We enjoy our break, then buy sandwiches and crisps in Tesco's, to eat when we're further along the way. We're staying in a pub tonight and know we can get an evening meal.

Our route skirts around Inverness, and soon we are crossing Kessock Bridge, over the Moray Firth, and cycling through The Black Isle, an area of land jutting out between the Moray Firth and Cromarty Firth. The Kessock Bridge is the windiest bridge I've ever cycled across, and this is a calm day, with hardly a breeze moving the trees. There are warnings of strong side winds as you make your way across the bridge. Wow! I'd hate to cycle across on a windy day.

The cycle track on The Black Isle is superb – black tarmac, no ridges or potholes. The track runs beside a busy A road for much of the way. Gradually the summer blue sky melts into ominous grey clouds, and it starts to rain. We're looking for somewhere dry to eat our sandwiches; near a place called Tore, Reg spots a grassy bank under a huge tree which looks ideal, and we're able to have our lunch in the dry. Reg is very pleased with himself.

“Did you like sitting under that tree? Was it a good place to stop?”

Once again we struggle with our waterproofs and we're now on the last leg of today's journey. There's a long,long stretch of downhill to a little town called Dingwall, then uphill for about 1½ miles. As we cycle along the top of the ridge there's a magnificent view of the Cromarty Firth, the stretch of water which surrounds one side of The Black Isle. Another long downhill, followed by a short climb, and we've reached our destination – Evanton.

There's always a sense of exhilaration, mixed with relief, when we arrive at our accommodaton. We have a large room, with red pillowcases, and red and grey towels. No bath tonight, unfortunately!

Saturday 25 June – Newtonmore to Tomatin

At breakfast we speak to an older lady who's been on the Trans-Siberian Railway. We tell her that in 2012 we travelled from Bristol to Singapore by train. We discover that she visited Urumqi in Northern China, as we did. We tell her about the lovely Francis, the Chinese student we met there, who showed us around, and the Chinese school children who rushed up to us in the museum, wanting our autographs – the David and Victoria Beckham experience.

We pack up our panniers and are off again. Our host offered packed lunches, which will save us stopping at the little supermarket. It has obviously rained overnight, but is dry at the moment, and sunshine is trying to break through. After a few minutes though I have to stop to put on my coat – it's quite chilly,

We're in the heart of the highlands now, and it's absolutely beautiful, When off the main roads, there's a peace and majesty about the mountains surrounding us. There are splashes of bright yellow gorse everywhere, gurgling mountain streams, lochs and rivers, and sometimes, big clusters of purple and mauve lupins, and occasionally hollyhocks. Now and again there are clumps of purple heather. Of everywhere we've been on this trip, I think the highlands have impressed us the most.

We stop at one particular loch to take photos. There is a little stone-built monument, with a wreath of long-dead flowers beside it. The plaque gives the names of 3 young men who died in the lake in 1981. A reminder that this scenery is dangerous as well as beautiful.

Our host tells that we would be able to get a coffee in Kingcraig, which is the perfect coffee distance of 9 miles, but it will take us a couple of miles off-route. We decide to press on to Aviemore, a distance of 16 miles. Surprisingly, although we're in the Highlands, it's not difficult riding today. There are hills, but they aren't steep. The wind is behind us and we're soon in Aviemore.

This is adventure sports country. We see signs for white water rafting, hill walking, and canyoning (some sort of caving?). In this small town there are gift shops for tourists, and shops selling sports gear and outdoor clothing (as well as other clothes shops). There's a post office, a fish and chip shop, a convenience store, a bike shop, several charity shops – and 3 or 4 coffee shops.

We have our cappuccino and green tea and read our kindles for a while. We decide to phone tonight's guest house as Reg is worried that there won't be anywhere nearby to have food. Sure enough, our hostess confirms that the nearest pub is several miles away.

“I can't cook tonight, I'm sorry. I cook every other night of the week. Saturday's my day off.” She sounds very defensive.

“That's fine,” I say. “We aren't expecting you to cook. We can have something to eat along the way.”

We aren't really ready for food yet, but unless the next town, Carrbridge, has all day food, they may have finished serving by the time we arrive – Carrbridge is an hour and a half's cycling away. We decide to have fish and chips in Aviemore, and the freshly cooked haddock is delicious. While we are eating, the rain buckets down – but the skies are clear again by the time we are ready to move on again.

Reg has altered the route slightly today, slicing about 3 miles off its length. Our destination is about 16 miles away. There is some climbing, but a long downhill stretch of 3 – 4 miles to Tomatin, where we are staying.

A few miles on from Aviemore we meet 2 young Frenchmen who are touring on recumbent bikes -the ones where your legs stretch out in front of you and you're very low to the ground. They've come from St Malo, arrived in Portsmouth, cycled to Manchester, caught the train to Edinburgh, and are cycling to Inverness then Glasgow, where they will catch the ferry to Ireland and tour around Ireland. After that it'll be Ireland to Wales and South West England, and then the ferry from Plymouth back to Roscoff. Very impressive, since they are camping and have all their gear with them. They are (unusually) doing about the same mileage as us – approximately 40 miles a day.

We say our goodbyes, and they go on ahead, but we catch them up later and overtake them; then later they catch up with us while we are having a cup of tea by the side of the cycle track.

We love the 3 or 4 miles of downhill riding before we get to our guest house! The final leg of our journey is surprisingly on a private road which goes through a distillery!

Our room is comfortable but our hostess warns us to keep our windows closed as they've had trouble with midges, especially in damp weather. Ah! Our first experience of Scotland's famous midges!

There's a bath – we enjoy a relaxing soak, then later eat a picnic tea. It's great not to have to go out again to get something to eat,

Friday 24 June - Blair Atholl to Newtonmore

Breakfast in the Atholl Arms is in the vast dining room.  It's the usual serve-yourself cereals, fruit juice, cooked breakfast if you want it, or here there's a choice of kippers instead, and Reg has that.  We always have at least a small cooked breakfast, as it sets us up for the day.

When we're leaving, we chat for a minute to a hotel employee.  He helped us take all our panniers to our room when we arrived.

"I'm a panel-beater by trade," he tells us. "I did that for 27 years. But it gets to you in the end.... all the fumes.  It's a lonely job.  Here, I'm meeting people all the time."

"This is a very old-fashioned place, like something out of the 1940's"  I say. I'm remembering the very old letter in a glass case on the wall, dated 1940, requesting a room booking.

"Yes, but that's what people want, it's what they come here for.  A stay in an old-fashioned Scottish country hotel."

Reg and I think - yes, it is nice, but for us, not the best value for money.  We just needed somewhere to stay in this area.  And this hotel is our most expensive yet.

There's a tiny convenience store around the back of the hotel, and we buy our sandwiches from the glum-faced man behind the counter - then we're on our way!  Reg warns me that there won't be a coffee stop today - we're on B roads and cycle tracks this morning.  It's not just the coffee I miss - it's the opportunity to have a short break and recharge our batteries.

The early part of the journey goes well.  We are gently making our way uphill, but it's not too arduous.  There's a majesty about the hills around us, and the feeling of space and openness.  Whenever there is lovely scenery, Reg and I tend to have a little dialogue which goes something like this:

Me:  "This is nice."

Reg:  "This is wonderful!  This is beautiful!"  (Or words to that effect).


 Soon it starts to rain quite heavily. We go through the rigmarole of putting our waterproofs on, and shelter under some trees for a while, before deciding to cycle on.

The rain doesn't last that long, but we're on a difficult up-and-down cycle track, the wind is against us, and it's hard going.  Some cyclists pass us on the main road, a dual carriageway; the cycle track runs close to the road.

"They've got the right idea,"  I tell Reg.  Because the cycle track is so difficult at this point, we decide we will try the main 'A' road for a while.  It is easier cycling, but feels unsafe with huge lorries careering  past us. We reach a sign which says, "Welcome to the Highlands" and stop to take some photos.  By the time we stop for our picnic lunch though, at 2 pm, we seem to have made very little progress - we've only cycled 17 miles in 3 hours and didn't even have a coffee stop! And we have 18 more miles to go.  I'm feeling very disillusioned, but Reg cheers me up.  He can see all the gradients for the journey on Ride With GPS, an app on his phone.

"Don't worry, this afternoon will be different.  It's mostly downhill."

As we're leaving the little picnic area by the side of the road, a Canadian who is parked nearby stops to ask about footpaths for walkers in the hills we see in front of us.  We have quite a chat about our different journeys - he and his wife have visited southern Ireland, now Scotland, but not England - "That's for next time," he says.

After lunch we return to the cycle track, and although there's quite a lot of shingle on the tarmac, the track is much improved, and we return to it.  Reg was right.  The afternoon's cycling is mostly downhill - it's bliss! When we're just a couple of miles from our guest house, we see a cafe and are tempted to stop for a cuppa. The sky is looking very dark however; we decide to press on to try to beat the rain.

The guest house, "Coig Na Shee" is absolutely beautiful.  Our bikes are put in the garage.   Our room is spacious and comfortable - and, yes, you've guessed it - there's a bath!

As we settle in, the heavens open, and it rains until early evening.

"We were so lucky," we say to each other.

When, later on, we walk the 10 minutes to the local hotel/pub for food, everything is fresh and sweet-smelling after the rain.