Paddles, Pedals & Peaks Part II
Sunset over Skye, from Raasay.
The Eastern side of Raasay was empty. I didn’t see another soul for the next 5 hours, once I had paddled round the south-east corner. The wind soon softened as it nestled in behind me, giving me a nice nudge northward.
The sea was much calmer and took on an almost glassy appearance, with a crystal clear, green hue.
I found a nice beach for lunch and pulled in to unpack food and my HoverAir drone.
The sun was warm on my skin there wasn’t a soul about and the sea was sparkling. This was why I did this. This magical moment was mine, nobody else could see it but me.
East Raasay
Once refuelled with snacks, I had another nervous drone flight over the sea and got some lovely shots of my lunch spot before repacking the boat and setting off along the towering cliffs towards a stunning waterfall that just poured straight off the edge of Raasay.
It was magical, almost mythical and I honestly would not have wanted to be anywhere else at that moment in time.
A little further on, I hugged into the rocks a little as they were becoming geologically quite interesting and then…No way!
Only metres from my boat, staring right at me, with an urchin or something in his paws, was an Otter!
I froze.
‘He’ froze.
Idiotically, I went for my phone camera and quick as a flash, he was gone.
Why can’t we just sit and enjoy the moment ourselves without having to share it? Says she, writing this blog….
So, you’ll just have to believe me that I saw a wild otter – my first one – from my sea kayak.
Seals were a plenty, as usual and I did spot one sea eagle. Oystercatchers noisily screeched overhead pretty much all day.
I kept paddling northwards, having made the decision to camp on the northernmost tip of Raasay after a 6-hour paddle. This would give me time to set up camp before nightfall.
The wind started to pick up a bit as I got further north, and a sheltered in close to the cliffs to avoid the worst of the squalls.
As I finally rounded the corner which crossed in a channel between Raasay and Rona, I struggled to spot anywhere decent to camp. All the exits looked to involve scaling cliffs and there wasn’t much flat ground to pitch a tent. I carried on paddling. In my head somewhere I was certain the western side of Raasay had friendlier camping spots.
As I rounded the northwest corner, passing around Eilean Tigh, I spotted a stag up high on the boggy grassland above the cliffs. This was a very wild place.
As I turned south the terrain looked far friendlier and as I turned into a small bay, I spotted a gulley inlet with a grassy spot just above the beach that looked perfect for camping with a view. Being on the west side, I might even get a sunset too.
I pulled into the gulley and tied off my boat and set off up the beach to check out a camping spot. The beach, on closer inspection, was absolutely covered in lost fishing detritus and rubbish. Huge chunks of plastic flotsam and jetsam had been washed into the gulley and up onto the beach. I had absolutely no space whatsoever in my boat to even think about clearing it up and taking it away.
Years of working unpaid as a trustee and general dogsbody for the ocean cleanup charity Ghost Fishing UK, also being the fisheries liaison, winning the Fishing News Awards to boot, I knew exactly what I could do with all this stuff. But not now. There was nothing I could do now.
I found a perfect little spot up high, away from the boggier parts and it was almost flat, with some rocky outcrops that were perfect for setting up a little camp kitchen.
I set up my little tent in super quick time, made my bed and was grateful for the lack of wind, lack of midges and the warm, golden sun on my back.
Grateful for my lightweight but very strong Helinox chair, I sat back with a can of wine and waited for my dinner to boil on the stove.
Once fed it was time to take my drone up to higher ground and watch the sunset. I took the time to get to grips with flying it manually as well as the in-built settings. The footage was superb, but the 16-minute battery time is very limiting.
The sunset was superb and I enjoyed the solitude greatly. Heading back to camp, the sea started to sound a bit louder than before….
Tides!
I wasn’t sure what the tidal range was where I had stopped, but looking at the tide line, I clearly needed to move my boat, which was now afloat and tugging on its lanyard which was now underwater!
Disaster averted, I pulled my kayak well up the beach and settled down for the night.
I didn’t have a great sleep to be honest. The wind picked up slightly and my ‘not very tight’ tent pitching meant there was a lot of rustling and flapping going on.
One trick I had learned though was making sure cold wasn’t a factor. I put fresh drinking water into a Nalgene bottle and boiled it to make a hot water bottle. The water could then be used the next day for drinking or cooking. I also found that my fleece sleeping bag liner was annoying and not actually that warm.
However, if I put my sleeping bag inside the liner……it was much warmer!
The stars were incredible and the moon was bright. The whole experience was perfect.
The morning sunrise had already happened by the time I materialised from my tent. I’m usually an early riser when I’m on an adventure but the thing was….I was in the middle of nowhere, on a remote Scottish Island, nobody cared what I did, the weather forecast was good, there were plenty of ferries back to Skye and I only needed to head back to Locharron to have a crack at a climb I’d had my eye on for a while.
I decided to snooze in my tent for a while until the heat of the sun chased me out. I had a moochy breakfast and manage to pack the boat again remarkably quickly, grateful that it hadn’t sailed away during the night on the tide. I set off into glassy calm waters and it wasn’t long before I heard the ‘whoosh’ sound of a breaching dolphin. I turned around just in time to see a black fin slice through the water, then a few more times before it was gone.
It was utterly magical and every kayaker’s dream.
It was about a 4-hour paddle back to the ferry slipway and despite the wind pushing me from behind, it was hard going as it picked up the back of my boat which likes to spin very easily despite having a skeg.
I was tired after 50 kilometres of paddling and my hands were sore, sporting a few blisters and hot spots. I was quite hungry and loaded my car quickly before heading to a very popular pizza joint on the way back through Skye.
Back at The Wee Campsite, I was treated to more glorious weather and friendly neighbours. Despite perfectly calm paddling conditions, my mind was only on one thing – Bealach na Bà
The Bealach na Bà is widely regarded as one of the hardest and most iconic road climbs in Britain.
It can be approached from either Tornopress/Locharron – my preference - or Applecross which is the shorter, but steeper ascent.
From Locharron to the summit and back, it is a 42km round trip comprising:
Tornapress on the A896, just south of Lochcarron - Summit of Bealach na Bà.
• Distance: 8.4 km
• Elevation gain: 628 m
• Average gradient: 7.4%
It kicks up near the top at around 20% which is brutal for me.
I wasn’t sure I could do it and expected to have to walk some of the climb. But I would give it my best shot. I do have a habit of taking on things that are just too hard for me, just to see how it goes…
Soon after leaving Locharron, I was met with a punchy climb that zapped my legs straight away. This wasn’t a good start! But then the scenery unfolded and in glorious sunshine with blue skies I whizzed down hairpin bends, through pine forests on superb roads and with incredible views of ancient volcanic outcrops and the sparkling sea. I kept stopping to fly my HoverAir drone to try and capture these moments. Once they are gone, they are gone.
As I approached the main climb, it was getting a little busier. Most of the cars and all the motorcyclists were kind and the only issue really was offensively large campervans. They took up the entire width of the road with no room to pass at all, unless at a designated passing place.
The trouble is, they are half asleep and when I pulled over to let them by, they didn’t pass quickly enough. The problem I had was the climb was getting so steep that if I stopped, I couldn’t get going again. So, I kept pedalling, slowly, and they missed their opportunity – with an engine – to pass when the chance came and went.
It was getting stupidly hot and I ended up stripping off my jersey, running out of places to put things as my HoverAir was hogging my pockets.
As the road ramped up, a campervan was stupidly close to my backside.
I was worried that if I wobbled or came unstuck as the road was getting gnarly, that he would just run straight over me, he was that close.
Reluctantly I stepped off the bike. Again, the idiot made the slowest most stupid pass and then immediately ran into a car coming down the other way. Neither of them could pass each other. I stood and watched as these idiots with vehicles far too wide for the road and incapable of reversing between them, mucked about until eventually the car reversed back into the perfectly good passing spot he’d ignored and they squeezed by one another.
Now I had a problem.
It was about 15% incline and I couldn’t get back on and going again. I can’t track stand and it takes me a few seconds to clip in at the best of times. That’s no good when you must put power down from the outset just to stay upright.
I tried clipping both feet in and pushing off the barrier, but the tarmac fell away, crumbling into potholes so I had nothing to ride on, being that close to the edge.
I was stuck. Because of those idiot drivers. There was nothing I could do but wait for help. No way was I going to walk and allow them to ruin my day, try as they might.
Eventually another camper van came down the hill. I flagged him down. He probably wasn’t my best choice. Let’s just say the size of his gut suggested he probably wasn’t going to be much good at running uphill to push me away…. but I’d ask.
He agreed to help, stepping out of his camper on a 15% hill, forgetting to apply the handbrake…
I clipped in and he got the hang of it. Pedalling like fury with one foot I managed to get my second shoe in and with one last push from him, I was away. The effort of setting off almost finished me, but I had to keep going now. Anyone else who came up behind me would have to just sodding well wait.
Once past the steepest section the hairpins at the top became far more forgiving and were actually very pleasant. A guy in a car shouted nice encouragement “Almost there!!” and the road gradually flattened off as I reached the summit, complete with bragging pole and stickers.
I’d done it. Not perfectly, not how I wanted, but I’d done it.
Lesson learned though – go super early in the morning before the camper vans wake up.
My HoverAir battery gave up just before the descent, which was probably a blessing as it wouldn’t have been able to keep up anyway.
I flew down the descent all the way back to sea level on a complete high.
I’m probably the worst climber in the world – but God, I love it so much!
Next stop was Inverness for the Loch Ness Etape, just 48 hours later. This was going to feel like a doddle compared to Bealach na Bà. However, there was a climb in it that I’d been warned about. It has bagpipes at the top, apparently…
I settled into my van in a car park close to the event start, which was 05:30 in the morning!
The beauty of the Loch ness Etape is that it is a closed road event, hence the silly early start. Despite over 6,000 cyclists all coming into Inverness spending money, local folk still complain about the inconvenience of not being able to drive on roads early on a Sunday morning. Fortunately, the Etape is so well organised that there was very little disruption and most riders were finished by midday.
I set off and soon found a nice couple, Mandi and Duncan, who were going at a consistent, perfect pace for me. I dropped in and drafted them and we ended up having a chinwag.
It wasn’t long before I picked up my own wheel hogger. I didn’t mind, I just felt the need to warn him I wasn’t really a cyclist and to be careful if I went for a jelly baby, as anything could happen! I soon dropped him.
The climb at the bottom end of Loch Ness was punchy. My legs felt it immediately after my antics on Bealach na Bà. I was starting to regret my life choices.
Batman and Robin came past me on a tandem. Lots of folk raised money for the chosen charity, Macmillan Cancer Support. I got a charity place and threw in £150 of my own cash. I didn’t feel I could ask for sponsorship for a ride everyone already knew I could do.
It was all good fun and I was pleased that I didn’t walk at all, unlike some guys I saw.
The climbing goes on quite a bit and when you think it is over, there is still more to come. I think it was the only time in my life when I was desperate to hear bagpipes!
They came eventually. Thousands of cyclists stopped for food, water, loo, a rest, photos…I was treating this as Ironman training and had enough gels and jelly babies to go unsupported. I never stopped or used the aid stations.
The descent that followed was insane. A few of us got our heads down and flew. My personal safety at this point just went straight out the window. I was having the time of my life. Why had I waited so long to learn to ride a bike?!
I rolled into Inverness 4 hours and 30 minutes after the start, having ridden 105km with 1,172 metres of climbing. It was my fastest 100km to date, despite the climbing and having been up BNB two days before. I was very proud of myself and didn’t even feel ‘that’ broken afterwards. But I was very cold and very hungry. My feet were frozen during the entire ride and the last-minute decision to wear a winter jacket was a good one. I should have worn overshoes as well. Lesson learned…
I packed up camp the next day and set off home, doing my usual call on Geoff Crossley in the Dales on the way home.
No sooner had a landed in my house then unpacking, repacking frenzy began again, because someone in her wisdom had organised a cave diving trip into Wookey Hole Chamber 24….Will I never learn?!