Clan Capo 2016: Mull of Kintyre

Tuesday 7th June 2016

I had gone to bed last night feeling quite tired after a long day of riding in the warm weather. As I lay in my bunk trying to relax into some sleep, a few of the others drifted back from the pub and announced their arrival in the dorm in the subtle way that only lightly inebriated men can.

The second wave arrived shortly afterwards, so at least we were all present and correct. Surely I would be able to finally drift off now. No. Not a chance. Within seconds of peaceful silence falling on our dorm as we all settled into our bunks, the snoring started. At first it was just a couple of subtle drones emanating from various regions of the room. Other members of the Male Snore Choir began to join in, each playing their part in a rousing chorus that wouldn't be out of place in an African wildlife documentary.  It may of been sleep depravation, but I am sure I saw Sir David Attenborough and a film crew camped out in the corner.
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I tried putting my ear plugs in. It made little difference. My next attempt at drowning out the noise involved listening to my MP3 player. This must of helped a little, as the next time I looked at the time it was ten past three. The next few hours consisted of frustrating clock watching. What felt like hours turned out to be only five minutes since the last look! At 6am I could stand it no more. I went for a shower to try and revive myself a little.

Feeling a little more alive I was still unprepared for what awaited back at the dorm. Upon opening the door, the putrid stench of eleven sweaty, flatulent men, trapped in a confined space made me take a step back. Glastonbury festival toilets didn't smell this bad after a whole weekend of use. Not only did it sound like the Serengeti, it smelled like it too. Cautious not to do anything that would cause a spark, I re-entered the dorm.

I got dressed and went for a walk into town. The air outside was fresh and cool. A welcome relief to what I had just experienced. I passed a cash machine so I stopped and obtained some colourful Scottish money. There were not many people about, but those that I did pass said hello. I soon found myself down by the bay, sitting on a bench and watching the ferries being prepared for the day. I began to feel better and less tired than I had felt when I got up. I wandered back to the hostel at seven to get some breakfast.

The MSC was the talk of the breakfast table. We all had a good laugh about things. With some breakfast and coffee inside us, talk then turned to the days ride. Today we were going to explore Kintyre and take a ride to the Mull of Kintyre. 

A few of us were ready to go before the main bunch, and were keen to get going. Mark, Daz and I headed to Tesco's for fuel on the understanding that the rest would be following behind shortly. After fuelling up our bikes we waited a few minutes. With no other bikes appearing in the distance we headed back towards the hostel to see where everyone was. Back at the hostel, there was no sign of any of the others. They had gone without us. Knowing roughly which way they might of gone, the three of us set off in hot pursuit.

We left Oban on the A85 heading for Tyndrum. The very impressive Connel Bridge appeared into view a few miles later.

The A85 was a great way to start the day with its smooth tarmac and nice flowing curves as it hugged the shore of Loch Etive.

The road then turned inland running alongside the River Awe which opened up into Loch Awe. The water was like a mirror with barely a ripple on the surface.

Once past Loch Awe we then turned onto the A819 towards Inveraray. This was another flowing ribbon of tarmac. A local young woman in a modern VW Beetle showed some impressive pace as she led us along the road for the first few miles. Eventually she relinquished her lead to the speed of our mighty steeds, and we were set free on our travels.

At Inveraray, the A83 led us to Lochgilphead. At this point, unbeknown to us, the rest of the group were at a tea shop less that a mile away on a small road alongside the Crinan Canal. We carried on towards Kintyre stopping at Ardrishaig for the swing bridge. Here pleasure cruisers and small sailing boats entered the start of the canal from Loch Gilp.

Mark wanted someone else to lead, so I set the pace as we headed for Tarbert. There were a few hold ups along this stretch of the A83, as the Highways Department was busy cutting back the verges and overgrowing trees. Once the traffic got going though it was a pleasant ride with the road rising and falling a little as it twisted and turned its way along the coast.

The three of us parked up in Tarbert next to the harbor. Realizing we were not going to catch the rest of the pack this morning. we took a break and had a spot of lunch. Tarbert was a busy little place with lots of brightly coloured buildings scattered amongst the plain white painted ones.

After satisfying our hunger, we continued towards Campbeltown and the general direction the Mull of Kintyre. We had to bump into the others somewhere along here. I took the lead again with the Multistada twins following behind.

At Kennacraig there was a turning for the B842. Mark suspected that this may be the route Robbie and the others would take. But, I was unaware of this and zoomed by on the main road. Mark was going to catch me up and make us turn around, but we continued as we were. The A83 runs down the west coast of Kintyre. The B842 which Robbie and the others had actually taken, runs down the east coast. They both end up in Campbeltown. But, the B842 is a much narrower and therefor slower road. It was somewhere along this part of our route that we overtook the rest of the guys as well all travelled south.

About ten miles from Campbeltown it started to rain. I put up with it for a few minutes, then decided to pull over and wrestle my waterproof jacket on. Once under way again, the rain stopped and the sun came out almost immediately! You have to love Mother Nature.

With a brief scare cresting a rise in the road involving cow muck right across the road, the three of us reached Campbeltown without  further incident. We fuelled up and then stopped for a break, parking next to the harbor just off the main through route.

With still no sign of the others Mark phoned Stu who has his intercom linked to his phone. They were about forty minutes away, and reading between the lines, riding at a slightly slower pace that Stu would prefer.

We decided to wait for them to arrive. It was a nice sunny day, so we chilled out on a bench for a while. We were sat there chatting away, when two old ladies in a car attempted to park in the road behind the bench. I caught sight of them just before they came into contact with the bench as the car mounted the curb. The lady in the passenger seat apologised for her friends driving skill, claiming that she did have a valid license. They didn't want to knock our bikes over and were concentrating on giving them a wide birth. We had a good laugh with them in the end.

After a few more attempts at parking ( in a space big enough for three cars ), they gave up and parked in another space a few yards down the road. 

Soon, the familiar sound of a Caponord 1200 exhaust could be heard over the peaceful sounds of the harbor. Stu, was shortly followed by the others. We were all together again, at last. After a bit of a catch up on the days events so far, we all set off together through the town towards the Mull of Kintyre.

The B842 was quite fast and flowing as it crossed lush green farmland towards Machrihanish. It then  branched off for the run down to the south coast.

The road to the lighthouse began as a single track lane with a few farms either side. The surface soon became a little rougher with potholes caused by the heavier farm traffic.

We encountered some of this at a narrow section a few miles from the main road. The farmer in his large tractor and trailer managed to skillfully manoeuver onto the verge for us so that we had enough room to squeeze past.

The lane got a little narrower and eventually led to a gate. Mark parked up, and opened the gate for us all to get through. It was three miles to the lighthouse from here on a track that was rough in places with gravel washed down from the surrounding hillside. But, for the most part it was a fantastic little ride. The views down to the coast and then across the moorland were well worth the effort.

The track ended at a car parking area near the end of the peninsula. The track to the lighthouse continued through a locked gate, down a series of steep hairpin bends to the lighthouse. It would of been a bit of a trek in full bike gear, so we walked over towards the cliff top for a view of the lighthouse below.

As we stood on the cliff admiring the view below, The Waverley was cruising past just off shore. The Waverley is the worlds last ocean going paddle steamer. We could just make out its distinctive sound as it drifted by. But, we were not the only ones enjoying the sights. A couple of the locals were too.

As we walked back to our bikes, Stu and Robbie began talking about a gravel track that was a few hundred metres further back the way we had come. Robbie had suggested taking a gravel road during our journey over to Oban on Monday. The general consensus that day had been not to bother and stick to the tarmac. Stu still fancied a bit of gravel action, and was not to be denied.

Stu roared off with the determination only a true demon of the dirt could muster. By the time I got there he was about half the way to the top. It doesn't look that steep in the photos. But, it certainly was. The surface was also very loose, covered in the kind of ballast used to seat rail tracks.

This was as far as he got. He had run out of momentum and traction. He was stuck. An expectant crowd of onlookers had gathered at the foot of the hill, wondering what Stu was planning to do next. Jim suggested someone should walk up and help him. I was too busy laughing, Colin was too busy taking photos of his heroic efforts, so Jim started the long walk towards the stricken Stu and his bike.

Meanwhile, Stu was attempting to carry out a "hillside recovery turn" which is a tricky manoeuver on a lightweight dirt bike, let alone an adventure touring bike complete with top box!

A few nail biting minutes later, Stu had managed to turn his bike around on the narrow track without dropping it, and was thundering his way back down the hill. Jim managed to take avoiding action by stepping back onto the verge as the mighty Caponord slewed its way past. I was the next in the line of fire, so I made my escape and set off down the tarmac track towards the main road.

The ride back along the track was even  more stunning than the ride up. Beautiful empty beaches came into view as I peered over the dry stone walls.

We bumped into the farmer again on our return to the main road. He managed to impress us once again with his driving skills, by reversing back down the hill and into a very tight gate. Show off!

Once back through the gate and onto the lane we passed a large farm. There was a Border Collie snoozing on the grass verge. I had spotted it on the way up, and it didn't appear to have moved. I imagine that it is where the dog spends the day, every day, just watching the world go by.

The ride back to the hostel was the usual brisk paced affair back the way Mark, Daz and I had come this morning. There was no sign of the rain that had fallen this morning, and the sun was beaming down. The road was empty all of the way back to Tarbert, with only a few bits of traffic from there back to Oban on the A816.

Back at the hostel, John, Chris and Robbie had managed to secure a smaller dorm for the three of them just across the hall. They hoped it would be a little cooler and more comfortable for them in there.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, we all headed to Wetherspoons at the far side of the harbor for an evening of cheap beer and decent food. It had been another great day of riding even though we did get split up this morning. Tomorrow promises to be even better.

* Not available on ITunes. And, for the sake of all human kind not available anywhere else either.