On Saturday 4th September, we awoke in the dawn light at 5.30 am, munched on a flapjack and packed up the tent and everything else in half an hour. It’s amazing how quickly it can be done when needed! By 6am we were on the road and cycling bleary eyed the 4k to Castlebay. Mercifully no midges were waiting for us as Robbie collected the ticket and we queued up in front of the cars. An electric Tesla buzzed up to the front of the queue, electric cars having priority too, but was a little over-keen and told to circe back to the waiting area just behind.
We boarded without mishap, tied up and hurried up to the top deck to find good seats. This ferry was an older member of the fleet than the Stornoway one, so with less of a fine viewing area, but still comfortable enough for a snooze on the 6 hours to Oban. As we got underway, Hannah dozed while Robbie made up some muesli and then ordered a bacon sandwich from the canteen. We were soon out into the Sea of the Hebrides and a gentle swell lulled us both into a nap.
After a couple of hours, Coll and Tiree appeared on the starboard bow to the southeast, whilst the Small Isles of Rum, Eigg and Muck appeared to port and due east, with Mull dead ahead. Another hour and we entered the Sound of Mull, the land closing in around us. The colourful houses of Tobermory drifted past to the south, with a few sailing yachts out for a weekend cruise in gentle winds. Salen, Lochaline and Craignure passed by before we left Mull for the Firth of Lorn and the coast of Argyll.
At 12.30 we rounded the end of Kerrera island into Oban Bay and caught a glimpse of the town before hurrying below to reclaim our bikes. After all the cars had left, we rolled up the gangway and back onto British mainland: the first time in nearly 2 weeks, it felt much longer. Now 1pm we headed straight for the Oban Seafood shack 30 metres from the terminal, and queued up with our bikes for a seafood platter. As we waited, a waitress walked up and down the line handing out paper pots of fresh mussels. 10 minute later, we walked away with our platter and sat down on the harbourside to eat, a fiddler busking behind us in the pleasant September weather.
With 3 hours to wait until our Islay ferry, we wandered north with our bikes along the seafront. It was a busy Saturday but there was space to move and we passed chippies, a gelato-burger cafe, bars and hotels with people sat outside. It was a shame the A85 ran through the middle of it, but the traffic wasn’t enough to spoil the town. Eventually we came to some benches by the Oban Distillery, where Robbie bought beer and waited whilst Hannah bought some bike oil. Alas no post offices were open to allow us to send home some more gear, so we went to a wholefood store and then bought ice cream, sat on another bench.
3.30 came around quickly and we returned to the ferry terminal to collect tickets and fill water. Then onto the next ferry, with a few other cyclists, and back out into Oban Bay, still full of pleasure craft, boat tours to seal colonies and the Mull ferry buzzing back and forth. Now we turned southwest into the Sound of Kerrera and then the Firth of Lorn once more, skirting the Argyll coast with Mull only 5 km to the north. A much smaller ferry now, we sat on the top deck at the back, with direct access to the rear deck, a few other cyclists and families on board.
The 2.5 hours to Colonsay passed quickly, with good views of the Garvellachs and then Jura to the south. At 6pm, Robbie ordered a steak pie and chips, washed down with an Islay “Lord of the Isles” pale ale. Leaving Colonsay behind, Hannah followed up with a falafel burger and another beer as we turned south and into the Sound of Islay. The gap between Islay and Jura narrowed rapidly to just 1km, the Paps of Jura spectacular to the east. We passed the whitewashed buildings of the Bunnahabhain distillery on Islay and as dusk was drawing in, the lights of Port Askaig appeared. Some impressive parking from the ferry skipper in the astonishingly strong tide, and we were ashore. We chatted to a pair of female cyclists about the steep hill ahead, and a middle aged deckhand from Northern Island chipped in to say we wouldn’t know what had hit us.
On full stomachs, the hill was indeed steep and we walked up half of it, the two other cyclists shooting off impressively ahead of us. With no campsites within 2 hours of the ferry, we had decided to try our luck wild camping at Finlaggan visitor centre, the ancient seat of the MacDonalds, Lords of the Isles in the middle ages. Robbie thought that if we were challenged, his name might help avoid any serious repercussions. And besides we would arrive in the dark and leave early.
At the top of the 70 m hill we remounted and cycled the 3km southwest along the A846 now in the dark and soon arrived at the turn-off for Finlaggan. Cycling along the track to the visitor centre took us past a famrstead, and we expected guard dogs to jump out at us at any minute. But none appeared, no lights turned on or angry owners appeared, and we turned quietly into the visitor centre car-park, through an open gate to the grassy lawn of the centre. We went around the back of the building for shelter from the wind and road, and pitched up quickly. It was a beautiful starry night at the end of a long day, but one where we had made 125km progress south with only a few km of cycling. There was plenty of Scotland missed out, but being so close to home, it just meant more reasons to come back in future years to fill in some gaps.
We were undisturbed overnight and were up at 7am to pack up in case of any early morning arrivals at the Finlaggan visitor centre. A sign board told us of how Finlaggan was the meeting point of the council of Hebridean Lords between 1329 and 1493, to settle disputes, discuss rulings and pass laws.
We left our bikes and wandered down to the lake within which standing stones stood upon an island, usually accessible by boardwalk but currently closed for repairs.
In the cool blustery cloud, the whole site felt very atmospheric, and we could easily imagine ancient lords holding parliament here.
We returned to our bikes past a field of highland cattle who watched us curiously. A lone car pulled up with a tourist driver, who on seeing the visitor center was closed, soon moved on. We were on the road by 9.30 am after a light breakfast and no coffee.
After returning to the main road, we cycled back west for 2km and then turned north on a minor road to Buhnahabhain, spectacular views west across the Sound of Islay to Jura.
It being a Sunday, we knew that most distilleries would be shut, but our map app suggested that Buhnahabhain might offer some refreshment.
We arrived outside the distillery at 9.45, and were delighted to see people moving about inside the shop and an opening time of 10am written on the door. We entertained ourselves with an inspection of the oak barrels and a giant deckchair. Then went inside at precisely 10.01.
The proprietor of the shop asked if we were booked on a tour, and when we said not asked if we wanted to join the 10.30 slot. Having not yet had any coffee, it felt too early for whisky, and we declined, satisfying ourselve with 3 miniatures instead, as well as a quick look around the site from the outside.
At 11am we returned south uphill towards Port Askaig. We stopped at a small loch on the way, popped out the stove and made coffee at a fishing jetty, with brunch.
With 3 hours to go until our ferry to Kennacraig on the Mull of Kintyre, we ambled slowly back to the main road, turned left for 500m and then took a detour on a track south to the aptly named Lily Loch, whose surface was covered in Lilies. After some tea and snacks here, we turned northeast through the Dunlossit estate, the track hemmed in with deer fencing and deciduous woodland.
Near the house, we met a local tenant walking her dog, who told us a little about the laird and the Isle of Jura, including stories of celebrities arriving by helicopter for decadent parties and weddings.
We returned to Port Askaig at 2pm, had a pint in the hotel’s beer garden and some food, and boarded the ferry on time. The tide was racing down the sound and the skill of the ferry skippers was something to behold, entering and leaving the port: we could see the Jura ferry powering diagonally to get straight across the Sound. The wind too howled down the water and we were very happy not to be cycling into it.
It was the same ferry as from Oban to Islay and after a light lunch Robbie ordered jacket potato and tuna with a local Islay Asles Finlaggan IPA. Hannah followed on with macaroni cheese and the 2 hours to Kennacraig passed quickly.
With limited camping options on Kintyre (without a notable detour), we hoped to cross the peninsula in an hour and make the 6.30 ferry to Arran. A 127m climb stood in the way, but well fed, we decided to go for it. As we left the ferry at Kennacraig we met another pair of cyclists aiming to do the same after a long weekend trip to Islay from Derby.
We set off and quickly overtook them, pedalling uphill once again on full stomachs in the evening. The climb was steady but on a quiet road with good views and not unpleasant. We made it to Claonaig ferry terminal just as a shower of rain began, and took shelter in a bus stop. The other cyclists arrived five minutes later, and kindly shared with us a couple of whisky miniatures. We boarded the ferry 10 minutes later and touched ground on Arran at Lochranza at 7pm.
We cycled southeast past the castle and soon arrived at the Lochranza campsite.
We checked in and were bemused to see numerous signs warning of aggressive deer, and that no open food or waste should be left in tents under any circumstances. The only wildlife we saw in the evening were midges, who were back with a vengeance, and we bedded down early to escape them and guard our belongings from deer.
No deer invasions in the night, on Monday morning, we showered, breakfasted rapidly dodging midges with head nets on, and packed up the tent as quickly as possible, before dashing over the road to the Arran distillery.
After a look around the displays, we returned to our bikes outside and Robbie decided now was as good a time as any to change rear brake pads.
The midges and rain held off long enough to do so efficiently, and we set off west initially for quick look around the outside of Lochranza castle, the low clouds blocking all views of the high mountains around but maintaining a dramatic atmosphere.
Leaving Lochranza behind, we set off southwest along the coast road along the Kilbrannan Sound. We were impressed with the beautiful terraced houses along the roadside, shingle beaches and hedges thick with brambles. At noon, we stopped for a good helping of blackberries now ripe and delicious in early September.
Half an hour later we stopped at the wonderful Pirnmill Grocery Store for tasty supplies, including excellent mackerel pate, and chatted to another cycling couple outside on electric bikes who lived in the Cotswolds but loved Arran, and we could understand why.
After a good lunch, we continued south for 10km now into a notable headwind, and with intermittent showers. At Auchencar we turned off the road for 500m to a cafe for tea and flapjacks sitting under cover outside. Robbie was amazed to see two colleagues from work cycling away as we arrived, on holiday for a few days.
After tea, we continued south to Blackwaterfoot, crossing streams lined with woodland and fields grazed by highland cattle. The early autumn feel grew stronger as we also saw leaves turning yellow on some of the maple trees nearby.
At 4.30 we finally arrived near the south of the island at the Lagg Distillery, sadly closed on Mondays, but a good stop for a snack.
10 minutes later we passed a vegetable honesty box and a beautiful pub down at the bottom of the Kilmory stream. We sadly passed it by, knowing that a sizeable hill lay between us and the next camping spot at Kildonan.
It was tough going up to 160m on the edge of Kilbride Hill but a shot of whisky helped us make it, and at 5.30 we were rewarded with views south to the “spreading dyke” geological formations Robbie remembered from a field trip here in first year of undergraduate studies.
Tired but happy, we cruised mostly downhill to the turn-off for Kildonan, steeply downhill to the coast and along for 1km to the Seal Shore campsite. Thankfully they had space for us and we pitched up with good views down to the water. A motorhome camper kindly welcomed us with two cups of tea. Sadly the Kildonan Hotel was shut on Mondays so we set to cooking tomato sardine pasta in the rain.
After dinner, the rain cleared to be replaced by mist and we saw the Pladda island lighthouse flashing through the gloom a mile offshore.
Tuesday morning dawned cloudy but dry with a promise of warm sun later. We woke at 8 and as Robbie dressed, he noticed a suspicious black spot on his upper thigh. Closer inspection with camera phone clearly revealed the back end of a tick. Hannah was dispatched to find tick removal apparatus urgently, encouraged by Robbie further when the tick could be seen clearly wiggling its legs in glee.
Too small for the tick remover, it came out eventually with some tweesers. More enjoyable excitement followed soon after when we heard cries of an otter spotted just offshore. We rushed out of the tent to see a little shape ducking in and out of the water, and occasionally just lie on its back for a while.
After yesterday’s exertions, the excitement of the tick, and with a shorter day ahead of us, we had a leisurely start, and were packed up by 11.30. A 100 metre climb warmed up our legs back to the coastal road, followed by a descent down into Whiting Bay, with it’s rocky beach and little putting green. A timber merchant provided a good source of meths at one end. Another climb out of the village up to 79m as we turned inland and then along the side of a wooded slope. A flash of red and we both caught sight of our first red squirrel by the side of the road.
We descended steadily through the wood and then turned sharply right and northeast down into Lamlash Bay. Lamlash’s pretty stretch of coarse pink sand backed by a large green made the perfect spot for lunch with views across to Holy Island. As we ate, the stubborn layer of cloud gradually cleared to blue sky and a predicted glorious afternoon.
After a quick lunch we set off once more around the rest of the bay and then northwest for our last climb of the day up and over to Brodick. The road through woods was busier now and we were glad to reach the high point of 114 metres, turn north and cruise down into Brodick, Arran’s largest town. After a supply-stop at Co-op opposite the ferry terminal, we followed now Route 73 along the coast the length of the town, then inland west along Glen Rosa water, and turned off north up the valley to the informal camping ground of the same name, a large bowl of grass bordered by woodland on the slopes to the west and gorse scrub along the river itself to the east.
The weather now warm, we got the tent up rapidly, and took a bag with us for a short hike up the valley to investigate a “Blue Pool” said to be excellent for a bathe on a hot day. It was an easy stroll gently uphill, the wood to our left soon replaced by moorland and views up towards Beinn Tarsuinn to the left, the foot of Goatfell ahead of us to the right.
Half way along we were treated to seeing an adder sunbathing on the path, letting it glide away before carrying on up the last km past Glen Rosa waterfall and eventually the Blue Pool.
The pool did not disappoint, and we arrived to find a few other hikers already enjoying the stop. We were also encouraged into the water by gathering clouds of midges, even at 4pm, and stripping off quickly to our bathing gear, we both plunged into the cool water. Getting out was a tad harder but some smooth rocks downstream made a fun little slide down to a suitable exit rock.
After taking a few videos for some other swimmers jumping in, we dressed rapidly and set off briskly back down the valley. Back at the campsite, a gentle breeze made sitting by the river to read possible for half an hour, before cooking dinner of smoked salmon leek macaroni with boursin, though by this stage headnest were essential, and eating was best undertaken on the hoof up and down the green.
As evening drew on mist in the valley bottom and clear skies above made for a stunning end to a magnificent day and we went a for a short walk up valley to get a few photos. Otter, red squirrel, adder, waterfall, plunge pool, misty mountain valleys and glorious sun. Even with the midges, our second day on Arran would be hard to beat anywhere in the world!
Pedalling_Patagonia 