This is the remaining trip details that barsteward and myself did last year.
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"Good night in the pub, met a couple of bikers that had just come back from Skye and couldn't stop raving about it..and then it was bed. Knackered but excited by the thought of a full days riding up the West Coast, in the morning.
cont'd....[/quote] ".......................................blah, blah blah. Night night Les
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Well, it was a long time ago when I wrote that.
So, here's what happened next....
Next morning we were up bright and early. I had packed a disposable BBQ which cooked us a nice few bacon sarnies. Fekk the midges were out early too.
What utter bastids they are. Don't they ever sleep?
Right then, fed and watered we're ready for the off.
"West Coast then Barsteward?"
"Err yea. I've set me Garmin so we head east alongside Loch Ness"
"What?...nah, it's t'other way"
"Err, no Tim, it's east....to Inverness"
"Inverness?
What the fook we going there for? It's the opposite way to where we wanna go""Err, it's not really as I have an MOT booked in at a bike shop in Inverness for 9 , so stop fookin whinging and let's crack on eh?"
"An MOT for fooks sakes? You kidding right?
"Err, no...it ran out and I forgot"
Strewth !
So, a lovely gentle ride along Loch Ness and into Inverness to the bike dealers for his MOT.
FAIL...fookin rear tyre split. So it was just as well we
called as we could have been in the shite right. I mean just as well he called as HE could have been right in the shite couldn't he, Kimosabe?
After fuelling up we were finally on our way, the mist had started to clear and the drizzle over that side also dried up as we headed North West and started climbing.
Cracking ride up and over to Ullapool. What a fookin fast road in fantastic ( what we could see of it) scenery. Fook was it fast and the road surface was soooo grippy.
The guys at the bike shop said they get through no end of tyres as the surfaces over the north west are so abrasive.
Down into Ullapool we dropped missing a few scenic places I'd hoped to visit on the way, but the riding was just so good we couldn't have it both ways.
After a coffee break in Ullapool and a chat to a Spanish guy, his girlfriend and his mate who were "doing" Scotland in 5 days including ridng up through Spain and back, we set off north along the west coast. However, within a mile we'd stopped agin for some bloody photos. Just can't help it up there.
The weather had turned a bit grim, not too bad for riding, but cold and grey with spitting bloody rain but still the roads and riding here was somethiung else. Just mile after mile of giggling sweepers and laff out loud twisties amidst frame after frame of stunning mountain scenery.
Here we are approaching Lochinver
Can't find any pics of Lochinver but it's a beautiful coastal village at the end of the road. Nowt after that !
At Lochinver we sampled a couple of venison burgers on the sea front. These were the real McCoy and would have broken a bone if dropped on ya foot.
The weather had brightened and warmed up now and so we headed north again, unfortunately missing out the narrow coastal road and choosing the fast bend after bend road !
North to Kylesku and Laxford Bridge and the scenery became more and more remote.
Setting ourselves up for a bit of filluming and pics, we took it in turns to go ahead and set the camera/recorder up for whoever had stayed behind.
Not very successful really and also almost fooked up Big Style. Barsteward had gone ahead to pick a nice spot to film me. I came around a corner to see a small bay ahead approached by some wonderful fast sweepers that tightened up. barsteward was up on a hill to my left. nailing it, I flick flacked through the bends, keeping my speed up and forgetting that the next bend I knew not where it fookin well went. Fortunately as I crossed onto the wrong side of a blind left hand bend, slamming my brakes on in preference to launching myself off a small cliff into the sea, the car and campervan coming the other way had not reached where I was just yet ! The word knobsac without a "k" came to mind
Calming down we carried on north, heading for Durness near Cape Wrath. Barsteward had dropped back a bit due to taking pics, whilst I carried on.
Up, up and up and then over the crest of a valley which dropped down and down and down to Durness on the North West tip of the Scottish coast.
When I got to the crest. the view before me and around mejust took my breath away. I had my Dogcam recording and on playback can hear myself saying "Oh my God.....Fffffffffffekkin hell" I stopped to take it all in. The vastness of the mountains. I think it was Foinavon(sp?) to my right...somewhere up in the sky.
The glaciated vally was fekkin HUGE, the peaks shrouded in cloud , not a soul about and it was fekkin scary. Scary as fook. If I was that way inclined I would say that it was almost spiritual. Barsteward soon joined me and also was taken by the place. Ity felt like we were at the edge of the world. Breathtaking.
It had started raining again so we headed down to the Kyle ofDurness where it cleared up .
Stopping here there and everybloodywhere to take in the scenery and pics, we made slow progress from Durness along the north coast following the road around Loch Eribol.
Give it a rest Les !
We were getting tired now so stopped for a break. This was when both numpties realised we hadn't fuelled up since Inverness and were just about running on empty! It was also late afternoon and after consulting Garmin we headed to Kyle of Tongue where petrol was awaiting us! Except it fekkin wasn't.
With time going quicker than it fekkin should, we pressed on to Tongue, and as we approached the rain had started to worsen.
Found what was the "petrol station" a seemingly derelict single pump outside a wooden "general store" of a shack. nevertheless it was a petrol pump. I jumped off the bike and looked at the handwritten sign on the pump. The words read out in slow motion.
"No F-U-E-L U-N-T-I-L W-E-D-N-E-S-D-A-Y !!!! It was only fekkin Monday !! By now it was quarter to five in the afternoon and my reserve light had been on since I stopped fekkin counting miles. Where's the next fuel? I go into the shop...pissed wet through, dressed in motorcycle gear, looking very stressed and obviously not there to enquire at the price of loose tea and fekkin
fillets. The shop was like summat out of the League of Gentlemen. Empty shelves, one fekkin carrot in the veg trays and one fekkin cabbage stood politely waiting for the ignorant Scottish Lurch like twat of a shopkeeper to give a couple of walkers fine detailsof some of the lovely walks around the Kyle.
"Fekks sakes" I accidentally coughed out loud .
"I'll be with you in a minute Sir"
"No, all I want is for you to tell me where I can get petrol NOW"
"Why didn't you say?"
Coont.
"You need to ride to Betty hill about 12 miles east along the coast, but look sharp, he closes at 5 !!!!
Fekk, it's 10 to 5, pissing down with rain and we've got to preserve fuel by nailing it up hill and down dale !
Off we set, nailing it up the hills and then me freewheeling down the other side with the engine off. "
No Barsteward FFS's, don't fekkin stop for me, I'm fekkin freewheeling ya knobsac.... just keep going"
.It was 5 past 5 as we came around the corner to see another corner shop with a tatty pump ( 2 actually I think)
Was it too late? had it shut at 5? Had it fook as like.
I nearly kissed the big lump of a shopkeeper as he offered me a warm drink whilst we waited to fuel up
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"We were told you'd close at 5"
"Who told you that?"
"The shopkeeper in Tongue"
"Ha, that lying coont. Bet he told you he'd ran out of petrol cos he'd been so busy too"
"Yea, actually he did"
"He hasn't got any petrol cos the coont doesn't pay his bills that's why"
Fuelled up,and after thanking him very much, we set off the rain having set in proper. Barsteward had hankered that we get to John O Groats, but at this time of day we knew it was just too far.So we turned and headed back along the coast a bit
then due south along the B871, a lovely lonely road better appreciated in drier, brighter times. agood stretch of it though was extremely hardwork. The road surface was scary as fook, loose stuff, big grit, little grit, lots of grit, cow shite , just bloody awful.We stopped to take a pic and noticed a small sign. "Thank you for partaking in this multi-road surface trial. !
Still good fun though. from Altnaharra we headed towards Lairg . After Lairg I think we took a right instead of a left and started climbing uphill again. With the rain that bad we stopped to take stock under some trees and on a beautiful bridge.
No sooner that we were off the bikes and pulling our soaking gloves off, than we were attacked by steroid enlarged fookin midges.
Just fekkin millions of the coonts and in a downpour too.; How can they do that?...and why for fooks sakes?
Gritting our teeth we soldiered on, by now this was definitely not any fun whatsover. The roads were dodgy too, Barsteward having a very nasty moment on a patch of new to old. ( Tip: always check that the bloke who put you a new tyre on earlier in the day has put the correct fekkin pressure in too! doh)
Eventually we hit the A9, which with all the traffic and rain was quite frightening.
By 9 we were riding up the side of Loch Ness a road not to be enjoyed at this time of night.
Finally arrived back at base in Fort Augustus for 9.15. Took ages to get the gloves off they were so fekkin wet.
Quick dry and change and then a few beers before Deep sleep time.
Cracking days riding but as wet as fook and can't see us drying our kit by tomorrow.
Tomorrow comes and yes, our kit is not dry. But it doesn't matter cos we look out of the window to see that it is pissing down with rain like I have never seen before.Just straight as a die stair-rods.
.....and we get kicked out of the accomodation in an hour !
There is only one thing worse than pissing yasself in bed and that's putting on wet motorcycling gear. Nothing short of tortuous.
Packed and dressed the first 15 miles or so were a nightmare. Already soaked we were getting "soakinger" and I didn't know for how long we could keep this up. BUT, then it started to clear up Once the rain stopped on the visor it became less tiresome, until by the time we got to the Commando Memorial things were looking good.
Put the fekkin camera down Les for Christs sake
From then on, the weather brightened and the riding started to pick up. Honest !
Approaching Fort William..
Stopping for coffee at the bottom of Glen Coe ....
we had a cracking blatt up Glen Coe, across Rannoch Moor and down to Loch Lomond for a final coffee and pics
Heading south of Glasgow on the M74 we caught up and rode a good few miles with a couple of bikers....the
Spaniards we'd met in Ullapool ! Waving goodbye we let the Birds fly us home. Great couple of days but ya really need more time for Scotland
.....especially if ya bike's booked in for a fookin MOT while ya up there !!!!!
away 
