FINALLY, PART 4, the last part !
Sorry it's been so late coming. At least ya got summink to read at this time of year, Read and drool !
( deleted a couple of irreverent posts inc my own for some continuity OK)
Now, where were we? Oh yes. Stopped at the Glen Shiel garage for refreshments after an absolutely wonderful ride down.
Bird in the garage asked where we were off to and mentioned that the Ratigan Pass up behind the garage was a good road if we had some time. "Thanks, we'll save that one for later " we said. ( I was later to regret remembering her advice)
Onwards down the glorious A87 we rode, towards Kyle of Lochalsh and our first night stop in a hamlet called Balamacara, stopping at Eilean Donan Castle,
......somewhere I've always wanted to see, for about 30 fekkin seconds as by now Jono was in "evening meal mode". Arrived at our cottage digs about 8.30 only to find no-one in..... Front door wide open and a note on the table with two room keys. "Bikers, please make yourselves at home, we are out at the moment. See you later" !LOL
Quick shower and change and a half mile gentle walk down to the local for a bar meal and a couple of pints. A glorious evening and a wonderful way to finish a brilliant first day.
Next day it was wall to wall sunshine again, with not a cloud in the sky. "This is going to be hot" we all said and sure enough, at 9.15 an old couple we'd been chatting to, got to their car next to our bikes to find the thermometer reading 32 degrees!
Jono aint looking forward to putting his gear on!
So, day two started with a climb out of Balmacara on a single track road, up and over and down to the beautiful village of Plockton, the bay looking like summink from the Caribbean with the palms swaying in the distance.
Over to Stromeferry and then up to a viewing point overlooking Loch Carron.
Fablious it was, but by now it was hot. Before we set off again, I had a brainstorm! Took my jacket off and strapped it to my back seat.
Wow, taking away all aspects of how fekkin stupid and safety and recklessness etc away from it what an absolutely gloriously liberating moment that was ...riding with the wind up ya shirt sleeves at not fast speeds...we're talking slow sight seeing riding here. This went on until we stopped at the bottom of Loch Carron just before the start of the climb up Applecross.
Here's the start of the climb up Applecross
Always one cnoot out there aint there !
Well, I've ridden baht my jacket for the first time since I was a foolish but happy young kid, now I'm gonna go a step further and so my helmet was strapped to the top of my jacket and away we went. We could'nt have possibly had more perfect weather for this, just blue seas and skies and a gentle breeze as we rode. Stopped at the top to take more breathtaking views in
If only the stunning 15 year oldish young lady stood on the rock behind us knew what effect she had on full blooded blokes, sigh.
and then it was a long descent down to Applecross for lunch at the pub.
What a beautiful pub in a beautiful setting and with a lovely menu at decent prices too.
After that we followed the coast road stopping at a glorious new build with no fekkin expense spared house that was unoccupied. What a stunning holiday home..that's if they ever get the weather we were having.
From there we started heading inland, up Glen Torridon slowing to gawp at the famous Torridon sandstone cliffs and outcrops surrounding us.
By this time, poor old Barsteward's Bird which had earlier had started to suffer from overheating, deteriorated necessitating a pit stop in the middle of fekkin nowhere , late afternoon. We found that he'd lost "all" his coolant, how, we didn't know, but needed some water before we could go further. Bollox, he's got shrooms on and we didn't have a socket that size to allow us access to his rad filler cap.
In the middle of the Scottish Highlands, where the nearest place is Nowhere, crawling with nobody, out of the blue a bike came towards us, slowed and stopped. Spookily. he was riding a TDM. Rider lifted his visor, nodded and Jono says "Hi Cliff, have you got a 14 mm long socket?" "Hi Jono, yea, I think I've got one"
All I can say is I was gobsmacked, but this fooka from Liverpool was only off the TDM forum and wild camping.B and B ing on his tod, He knew Jono and friends were up this way and vice versa...but to bump into each other like that and in our time of need...well, ya couldn't fekkin plan it could you.
With Barsteward's fairing off and me running water bottles from the river across the valley, not forgetting a little dip in the glorious cool waters of said river
we got kitted up and headed off. Cliff decided to tag along with us, in the opposite direction to where he was heading originally, thinking it'd be more fun having a drink with us in our next stop...Ullapool.
However, there was still some more serious riding to be had. This was now the time to put my gear on . What glorious fun that had been.
Reaching Kinlochewe and turning left on the A832 took us on another absolutely "can't possibly get it wrong" mental, balls out, giggle and fart fast road.
Jesus the bends, nothing like down here...black and white chevrons ahead? Cog down and nail it cos they are not bends...they are straight roads that just veer in a slight continuous curve...Fookin hilarious.
Arrived at our digs, a lovely bungalow overlooking Loch Broom and a stunning sunset to boot. Showered and dressed and into "tarn", about a 100 yards away. Cracking night full of bollox and glad that Cliff had joined us, a "right bloke"
Oh bloody hell, not again...the next morning turned out to be as good as the last one....cloudless blue sky, so after bidding Cliff farewell on his trip south, we set off North. Not long before we ventured off the main road and headed out towards the headland and Achiltibuie a hamlet overlooking the Summer Isles. We knew it was a dead end but the views were well worth it. I've been up here before and have marvelled at the Stacs/Peaks, but have never really seen them in all their glory until now. Just stunning. off the main road it was jacket and helmet strapped to the back again and into tourist mode.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mbgp5orxuGY
No traffic, no people, just mile after mile of gently undulating twisty single track roads. Stuff off dreams.
At one stage we stopped, as we did many many times, for pics, when I decided, to air my sweaty bollox. My joie de vivre spread to Barsteward and Jono which is when Ramo got the camera out. After posing for what seemd like an eternity we shouted to Ramo, "What the fook is taking you so long" "Tim's bollox..I can't stop fekkin laffing; I've never seen any like that on a human" Coont!
Achiltibuie where we had icecream, up the coastal road to Inverkirkaig then Lochinver, stop start, catch up, stop start, pic, gawp, stop, binoculars out, start and so on
...all fekkin day,
Clachtoll had a glorious white empty beach..so off I fekked with my cozzie and had a half hour in the sea, shortly joined by Ramo.Fekkin tropical huh !
Up to Oldany, then Drumberg
finally stopping to take stock when we joined the A894 south of Unapool. Take stock. Yes, we took stock alright...64 fekkin miles we'd covered in 6 and a half hours ! Bwahahahahah ....and only 20 miles north of Ullapool, that we left early this morning !
I'm afraid, that was the best we could manage, faced with all that glorious scenery in stunning weather. As for riding "bareback", I'm thinking of getting a Harley just to cruise in me bandana..what an absolutely fantastic relaxing sense of freedom it was, even Ramo and Barsteward joined in the carefree, reckless abandonement of sensibility while we were on the coastal road. We did get stern looks from a bunch of very serious Twat suited GS riders coming the other way though. fekkin Wild Hogs huh !
It was now time to start making progress so a quick blatt up the A894 took us first to the Kylesku Bridge..a fabulous modern bridge in gloriously rugged mountains.
Stopping for pics we got talking bollox and before too long we decided that Barsteward was going to film us heading north over the bridge. Couple of practice runs failed so Jono took over filluming duties.
We headed back south over the bridge, turned round and waited for a clear road before setting off three abreast. Traffic spoiled the first 2 takes but the third take was something I'll giggle about in my old age...err i mean now. Me, Ramo and Barsteward aka The Wild Hogs, three abreast over the Kylesku Bridge..in glorious technicolour. Something I'll never forget.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=83xXbJ2 ...
With the latest fun over we had a serious run north to Laxford bridge before heading south east, right across Scotland to Lairg...this was about 48 miles on an up and down , in and out left and right, single track with passing places fookin A road...all the way.
From Lairg it was a lovely 12 mile run to a little village called Rogart. I'd read about this place over on the GS site.
Our digs for the night was at Rogart railway station..a place called Sleeperz. It's a live railway staion but has sidings ( locked off of course) with old railways carriages, each compartment being converted into an up and down bunk bed. £16 for the night was just the job.
With Ramo and Jono up the pub and Jono dying of starvation, me and Les rode back to lairg for chips. Whilst in the supermarket, shop assistant recognised my "Yorkshire accent" and asked where I was from. Cut a long story short, she and hubby were from Rotherham and on further more, he had worked at my steelworks when I was there..Old Winton. "He's across the road at Number 4" she said.."go say hello".
Another hour of bollox talking and drooling over his BSA B31, FJR 1300 and Kawasaki 900 Z1 it was time for chips.
next thing we know, old Winton turns up on the Zed 1..."mind if I ride back to Sleeperz with you?...I don't see many peeps up here and it's always nice to ride with someone innit?"
Boy, did he know those 12 miles to Rogart cos on the Kwak, he was fekkin gone ! Couple of pints and some road route tips for the following day and it was goodnight Winton and have a safe ride back.
With a bit of a kerfuffle over snoring habits and volumes, it was time to shuffle the pack, so I bunked up with that noisy twat Ramo, whilst that noisy twat Barstewrad bunked up with that noisy Scotch twat Jono, Ramo having to settle for bunking up with the noisy Welsh twat....me!
Next morning and the weather had changed...we were on the east side now and we'd got a sea fre(t) up over the hills. No worries, as we set of south with a stop for fuel needed. It was early. about 8.15 I think as we'd had no breakfast. The temperature was down a lot compared to the West coast and a thick standing fog. Steady away as we rode south looking for fuel and cafes.
South to Bonar Bridge, no fuel, south to Edderton, no fuel, south past the Struey Hill turn off we'd been recommended to take, south to fekkin Tain before we could get fuel and some breakfast.
Avoiding the A9 we then retraced our steps back to the old AA box and the sharp turn off up the Struey Hill.
Once safely past this very sharp, tight junction we climbedup the hill. Unfortunately, the sea mist/fog still hadn't lifted and the stunning views ( apparently), remained hidden. Half way up. we crossed an old stone bridge where my memory was jogged. I HAD been here before, with Barsteward , when we'd unsuccessfully tried to shelter under the trees from the terrible downpourwe'd been stuck in all the way from the North coast, only to be eaten alive by midges.
Steadily west we rode and the weather improved, not to the cloudless standards of the last few days, but pleasant overcast riding weather.
A short blatt on the A9, across to Dingwall, Strathpeffer, and Garve. Good fast A roads but today a bit of traffic.A left turn onto the A832 and then west onto the A890. We've "crossed" back over to the west side now and
the weather is looking brighter even though we've hit a few showers and it aint "hot" anymore.
I've noticed as we climb up the east side of Glen Carron, that lead man Jono is riding slowly....a family car in the distance remains ...in the distance. He seems preoccupied and unusually just sits back. I can't take anymore of his riding like a twat...summink up with the bike mebbes?, so take the lead and up the pace....look in the mirror and the coont hasn't risen to it.
I crack on down the west side of Loch carron...fekkin lovely fast twisty road and stop at the bottom. Eventually I'm caught up and whilst spouting bollox, Jono mentions he's worrying about a job he has back home. This must've been on his mind along with his possibe forthcoming career change.
We carry on west climbing up th eside of Loch carron before dropping down to the A87 Skye road. It's here that Jono decides he's had enough and needs to get back home for this job, so he's going to cut and run rather than "do" Skye and one more night. By now, it's bloody raining and the rain suits are on.
Saying so long to Jono, the 3 of us head west to Kyle and over the Skye Bridge. It is now fekkin pissing down. Once on Skye we stop at Broadford for a coffee and watch the rain emptying it down...we wait for it to stop and have another coffee. It doesn't, so we wait for it to ease and have another coffee. It doesn't, and with the hills behind us now totally buried in rainclouds we have another coffee before we kit up and abandon Skye altogether.
Heading back inland towards our final night destination at Fort Augustus we remembered the woman in the petrol station at the bottom of 5 Sisters the other day saying we ought to "do" Ratigan Pass. The turn off was just up the road from Eilean Donan on the A87 at Shiel Bridge.
The rain looked to be easing as we road east...It's easing a bit aint it?" "Yea, I think it's clearing now" "Y'right, it's brightening up isn't it?"
We turned off and started climbing the Ratigan Pass. The fekkin rain got heavier...and heavier and we rode up into cloud. before disappearing we managed to stop half way up..the views were bloody fantastic.
Up we climbed, and over and down and the rain still came...so heavy that we were riding no more than 20 mph... then we got down to the coast and I nasty feeling came over me. "Excuse me moosh" said I to the
Porta Potty driver who kindly opened his window an inch to talk.."Can you tell me, where does this road come out if we carry on?"
"It doesn't, wee man ( he was local)...carry on a couple more miles and it's a dead end...the only way out is from whence you came..back up and over the Pass!"
So, after a customary tourist poicture we set off back up into the clouds.
Oh fekk did we get wet.
Back onto the A87 and up Glen Shiel. A quick stop for some cake and pepperoni and Monsieur Ramo still thinks it's a fekkin laff.
By now, most, if not all the fun of motorcycling had temporarily evaporated. Tired, wet, hungry and cold we ground on back up and over to Invergarry, the road we came down on the way up that was such a blast. Slowed down for a grim looking car accident that ended up in a ditch, which Ramo spookily looked up when we returned home later and found that the driver had been killed and his surname was....Ramsey !
Further on and before dropping down we again pulled in to a high viewing point only to be assaulted by a blanket of fekkin midges the like of which I have never seen or could imagine.
This, before we'd even got off the bikes. fekk that, we got back on and rode to the next viewing point which was slightly better. A quick pic or two and then it was a quick drop down to Invergarry and a couple of miles inland to Fort Augustus for the final night.
info@cumberlands-campsite.com Arriving late, wet, cold and tired, the final insult initially was that we "weren't booked in !" The silly owd bugger that was helping out at reception was adamant that we had nowhere to stay and it started to all get a bit loud as we weren't going anyfookinwhere else that night.
Finally the Manager arrived and all was amicably sorted in quick time.
Dried, showered and kit "drying" out we then browsed the pubs in Fort Augustus, a lovely place that we'd all been to in the past.
We didn't take much rocking to sleep at bedtime!
Sunday morning and we were up and away and still it fekkin rained. We stopped at Fort William for fuel and a cooked breakfast at a wonderful little eatery called Maurice Onz.
We deliberated whether to head south to Oban but in the end, with the weather not improving, we agreed we'd had enough fun and the best bet was to cut and run from this fekkin wet hole.
The ride home was just that, head down and grind away, with an occassional stop on the motorway system south.
Very uneventful and not a ride to stir the memory.
Ramo left us somewhere south of Glasgow to try and get to see his daughter, me 'n' Les, carried on together where he turned off at Kendal for a tea at Devils. Me, I'd had enough and just blatted on home.
Fekkin Ace weekend, stunning weather mainly and scenery I've never seen the likes of.
Summink like 1600 miles all in if my memory serves me well.
; also Ramo , a big hand for organising the accommodation, no fun I know. 
) and then on up past the Bridge of Orchy, what a stunning valley and then the climb up to Rannoch Moor. Here we are looking back up the Orchy valley on the climb up to Rannoch.
cant wait till it gets to the rainy bit 
tour de France 2005 which some of you may remember reading about before some fcuker fcuked up the forum - jeans n T shirts were for the pussies as the trip to the sarf coast from the villa was done in shorts n flip-flops - I kid you not 
sorry Tim, guess i got them mixed up, well their both ugly buggers 
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