Wednesday 8th June 2016
Glen Coe, Glen Etive, and Glen Nevis
After suffering from sleep depravation over the last few days, it was a welcome relief to wake from a few hours of proper rest. The large whisky I was poured on arrival back at the hostel last night may of helped. But, whatever it was, I had made it through the night without being serenaded by the MSC.
It was already quite warm by the time I climbed the stairs up to the lounge and kitchen area for some breakfast. A few of the others were already there. Looking around at their faces it was easy to see who had slept well and who had obviously not. Robbie, John and Chris seemed to have coped a bit better in their cosy dorm for three, claiming that is was cool enough for them to actually sleep.
As the breakfast options at the hostel consisted of toast and cereal etc, a few of the more rugged adventurers in our group suggested a cooked breakfast instead. So, a plan was hatched to ride to Tesco for fuel and breakfast before setting off on the ride this morning. Unlike yesterday, the plan worked this time and we were all together and ready to go by ten, full of square sausage and other meat based rarities for the brave ones among us.
We left Oban on the now familiar A85 towards Tyndrum. Today was going to be a big scenery day visiting Glen Coe and its nearby neighbours. Once past the shores of Loch Awe and through Glen Orchy, the mountains began to come into view. A couple of classic touring cars were also enjoying the magnificent weather, cruising along with their tops down.
From Tyndrum the ride continued onto the A82 towards the Bridge of Orchy. I can now see why this is such a popular route for motorcyclists in this area. Twisty, undulating, grippy, smooth tarmac cutting its way through stunning mountainous scenery with no traffic. It was a cracking way to begin the day. There was still a little of the morning mist and clouds clinging on to the mountain peaks. But, by the time we arrived at a scenic viewpoint overlooking Loch Tulla, it had all but burnt off.
There were a couple of cars and bikes parked in the viewpoint layby as we pulled in. Robbie spotted a fellow Super Tenere owner, and went over for a chat. The rest of us took a few photos and soaked up the view. "Panarama Mark" got busy with his IPhone as usual, performing his trademark circular shuffle.
After a few minutes the layby was descended upon by a fleet of tourist coaches. What seemed like the population of a small country spilled out on to the tarmac, all keen to get a photo before they were herded back on board again. Some of them were more interested in the bikes, with Eric posing for a few snaps with a little boy and his parents.
We all thought it best to get going before we became stuck behind the coaches on the next stretch of road. Stu sounded his departure in his usual fashion much to the pleasure of the tourist crowd. Not wanting to disappoint, I took off in hot pursuit opting to use just the rear wheel on this occasion!
With Glen Coe in the distance, the ride across Rannoch Moor was instantly recognizable. I had seen it in travel books, blogs and ride reports many times. Now I was here actually riding it.
What traffic we encountered was quickly dispatched leaving the road before us deserted. For such a busy tourist route the amount of other road users was minimal. I imagine it gets a little busier at weekends.
Robbie had told me to look out for our next turning, which would be just past the large, white painted King's House Hotel. I slowed for the turn. Stu and Daz who were if front of me, sped off into the distance. I waited for the others to catch up, and to make sure it was the correct road. Stu and Daz soon turned around after realizing nobody was following them, and caught back up with the group again.
Robbie signaled that this was the right road, and for us to ride on. This was the road through Glen Etive. It was a single track, dead end road that ended at the shore of the Loch itself. This was to be the outstanding ride of the whole trip for me. Today, in the sunshine, there was nowhere else I wanted to be. It was a simply jaw dropping place to ride a motorcycle.
The road and the views got better the further along we rode. It is no wonder the Glen was used for filming various scenes in the recent James Bond film "Skyfall". We tried to find the spot where the filming had been carried out, but it could of been numerous places. The whole place had the feel of a Hollywood set. But, I was happy travelling on my Triumph. I certainly didn't need an Aston Martin to enjoy it.
A small rocky carpark waited for us at the end of the road. Just a couple of other cars had took the road less traveled to reach the tranquility of the Loch. It was pleasing to know that while being so close to the well worn tourist trail, few people bothered to come to this epic spot.
We took a break for a while to enjoy our surroundings. It was warm in the bright sunshine, but there was some shade to be found if needed. I couldn't wait to get out of my helmet and riding jacket. We got chatting with a few of the other people that were here, including a couple who had parked their car near the main road and cycled the Glen road. The young woman was keen to swap her pedal bike for one of our powered ones, as she was not looking forward to the hills on the way back.
I met them about a mile into the return ride, and shouted some friendly words of encouragement as I passed.
The ride back along Glen Etive was just as stunning as the ride up. With a different perspective, I spotted a few waterfalls I hadn't seen previously. They looked very inviting. A cooling dip would of been welcome now I was ensconced in my riding kit again.
I arrived back at the A82 junction, and took a few photos of my surroundings while I waited. I felt very insignificant beneath the towering mountains all around me.
Eventually, the others had wobbled back along the glen and we were all together for the run through Glen Coe. I got waved on by Robbie, so I set off not really knowing where I am going. Luckily, Mark seemed to know where he was going. Or, I assume he did as he passed me and took the lead.
The idea that Mark knew where he was going soon backfires though. He pointed as we rode past a junction, but kept going on the A82 towards Fort William. After another few miles he pulled over at a bus stop followed by me and a couple of the others. He tells me that he thinks that is where we were supposed to turn off. We wait for a few minutes. As no other bikes appear on the horizon, we take it as a sign that the rest have turned off at the junction so we turn around and make our way there.
On our way back to the Loch Leven junction, a woman in a mobility scooter is cruising along causing traffic chaos. She seems oblivious to the trucks, coaches and other traffic trying to squeeze past at fifty miles per hour.
We find the others at a pub called The Clachaig Inn, just along the B863 to Kinlochleven. We all stop here for a cool drink and a spot of lunch for the hungry among us. I get talking to an old gentleman in traditional local dress while I am waiting my turn at the bar. He asks if we are a bunch of Hells Angels, and if we are going to start any trouble. I reassure him that we are all too old, unfit, and hot and bothered to start throwing tables about!
It was a great spot for a relaxing bite to eat.
Suitably refreshed, we got back on our bikes and continued on the twisty B863 around the shore of Loch Leven. It was one of those roads where one corner led into the next with hardly any straight bits for the whole sixteen miles.
At North Ballachulish we turned back onto the A82 for the run into Fort William and towards our third glen of the day, Glen Nevis. The traffic along this section was the busiest of the whole trip, with lots of caravans and motorhomes slowing things up for us.
Thoughtfully, a slow moving Bedford Rascal Bambi motorhome pulled over and let the other traffic past.
Once in Fort William, we made a quick fuel stop before moving on.
A couple of roundabouts later we reached the turn off for Glen Nevis. A bunch of hikers were having their photos taken in front of the Ben Nevis sign, having hiked to the top and back. We passed loads of other hikers along the road at various stages of the trail.
The Glen Nevis road started off fairly sedately with some nice views of Ben Nevis in the distance. Things then got very twisty with nice little crests that lifted the front wheel, turning the ride into a series of short wheelies between the turns. It's was brilliant fun.
The final part of the road up to the visitors carpark was narrow with passing places in case you met anything coming the other way. It was at one of these passing places where Robbie encountered an inconsiderate driver who decided to stop just passed the passing place. Robbie gave the driver a verbal critique of his driving skill while giving the international hand gesture of inviting him for a freshly ground cup of Nescafe! The drivers wife in the passenger seat was very apologetic.
The carpark was full of cars, with people starting the hike up to the summit of the mountain. We decide not to complete the hike in full biking gear, and chose to just take a break instead. I slapped a sticker on an appropriate signpost that marked the start of the trail to the top.
As we were not going for a hike, and with the temperature still rising, Mark, Daz and I decided to get going and head back to Oban. The others wouldn't be too far behind.
Once back in Fort William, I spotted the future Mrs Crasher walking along the shore of Loch Linnhe.
The ride back along the A82 to South Ballachulish was the usual brisk affair enjoying the lovely empty, smooth roads. I could see headlights of Stu's Aprilia in the distance behind, gaining fast. It was a nice ride, and we seemed to be able to pick off any traffic at the right time. Stu was less fortunate, and every time he caught Mark and I up he would get stuck behind a slow car.
There was one left hand bend that caught Mark and I out. All the corners look the same all over Scotland on the main roads. Constant radius, and can easily be taken at the speed limit. This particular left hander, started off looking like all the others, and then quickly tightened up on corner entry.
Just as we got to the tight bit, Mark started breaking hard. And using a combination of the ABS and superbike sized rubber adorning his Italian hyperbeast headed for the corner exit raising his hand to apologise. In the meantime I was slamming on the brakes and hoping the mountain bike tyre in the front of my Tiger would man up and accept the task of getting us round the corner. With a wedgie of seat cover and barely a flicker of the traction control light, I too was round and off after Mark again.
The next few miles were a little more sedate ( I wonder why?), taking us over a great looking girder bridge as we crossed the mouth of Loch Leven.
Here we seemed to sit at set of temporary traffic lights for hours. The lights had just changed to red as we arrived and we saw Daz just disappearing up the road in the distance. Once the lights did eventually change, we turned onto the A828 back to Oban.
The A828 spiraled under the bridge we had just crossed, and continued to wind its way along the shoreline of Loch Linnhe towards the Forth of Lorne.
There were several little sea forts just off the shore at various points along this part of the route. Most of them looked to be in a bad state of repair, and had just been left to fall into the sea.
It was along this section where we caught up with a group of three other bikers on a variety of sports bikes. They were a little hesitant to pass other traffic, so we got held up behind them for a while. We eventually passed them in traffic queueing on the approach to Connel Bridge.
Back at the hostel, it was the usual shower/ change/ pub routine. Over a cold beer, a group decision of Indian food led us to the Taj Mahal restaurant, just across the road from the hostel. With a warm welcome from the staff, Cobra beer, and some tasty food including some amazing homemade pickles, it was a great evening. As I was the most responsible adult available, I got the task of sorting out the bill! While I was talking to a couple of the staff and paying, it turned out one of our waiters was from Harlow in Essex. He was helping out in Oban during the busy holiday season. It's a small world.
It was still early after the meal, so for some of us a pub was in order for a final drink.....or two. Just across the road from the Indian restaurant was the Tartan Tavern. Mark had wanted to try this pub all week, so tonight he would get his wish. It turned out to be the smallest pub I have ever been to. There were a few locals sat at on table and two more at the bar. By the time our group of eight entered the bar, it was full to bursting! We spent the next hour or so talking about the days events and what a fantastic time it had been. It was a great end to another fine day.
No comments:
Post a Comment