Clan ADV 2018: Blue Skye makes an appearance

After the mornings weather shenanigans, it was a pleasant surprise to arrive in a calm, sunny Uig. Once again the ever efficient CalMac staff did an excellent job of getting the bikes unloaded and on our way before the slower traffic. But, they needn’t have bothered on this occasion as our first stop was to be the fuel station on the dockside next to the terminal building.

After Finn’s little whisky hunt yesterday afternoon he was now running low. The rest of us had over half a tank left, and so would wait until we reached Broadford later on. With Finn topped up we headed out of Uig on the A855 which runs around the northern coast of Skye.

The road climbed quickly as it twisted its way up the hills surrounding the village and ferry dock below. The road surface was very poor in places making negotiating the hairpin bends interesting at times. Add in a smattering of tourist traffic looking at the scenery rather than the road to the mix, and it was very much a case of survival of the fittest.

At the top of the climb we turned inland and headed for The Quiraing. This rocky outcrop on the edge of the Trotternish range has become a popular stopping point for tourists and photographers from all over the world. The road across the moors to get there is a narrow single track with passing places. But, a few drivers seemed to think that passing places were not required if it was only a group of motorcycles coming the other way. One older gentleman tried to squeeze through by driving with half of his car on the verge. He didn’t slow down much either as his car was thrown around by the rocky roadside greenery.

But, the traffic quickly cleared as we made our way across the moor. Light rain began to fall as we got to higher ground. It was difficult to tell if it was rain or if we had ridden into low cloud. But, in the distance I could just make out the familiar shape of The Quiraing through my misty visor. 

Robbie pulled over at a new section of parking just prior to the viewpoint, as it can get very busy right at the summit. Just as he parked up and removed his helmet, the storm was switched back on for a couple of minutes. Hail stones could be seen to ricochet off his bald head, as he regaled a brief history of our surrounding while trying to remain standing in the blustery winds. It was a real job to keep my bike upright as I struggled to keep a good footing on the now slippery hard standing. We quickly decided to move on and get off the open moor. 
  

After fifty metres we crested the summit, and started our decent down the winding road through The Quiraing. Within an instant the storm was switched off again. It was now calm again with the sun even trying to make reappearance. It was quite bazaar. The scenery had also completely changed. From open moorland we had descended into the set from The Lord of the Rings. But, instead of rampaging Warlocks, it was just a clan of middle-aged motorcyclists battling their way through.

Magnificent rocky escarpments and moss covered boulders surrounded us. The landscape apparently formed by a landslip thousands of years ago, is still on the move today. Large boulders littered the road having been dislodged by a combination of land slip and the raging storms. Colin was unlucky enough to clobber one of these rocks with his sump guard. Luckily the aluminium plate had done its job. And apart from now sporting a large dent, it had protected the more vital components underneath.

Colin had clipped the rock when he became distracted by a tourist in a hire car who was ignoring the passing places, and heading straight for him. Colin had nowhere to go and so just stopped in the middle of the road. As it was a steep decline, he didn't have the option of reversing his heavy motorcycle. So, the young woman was forced to reverse back to the passing place where she should of waited in the first place. She looked less than comfortable doing so, and seemed to be struggling to drive such a large vehicle as her BMW 1 series!

I was just coming down the hill when I saw all this happening a few hundred metres below. I stopped next to a passing place, and once Colin had got passed her signaled for the BMW to make her way up the hill. She was causing a bit of a tailback, and I wanted to get things moving. As soon as she reached where I and a few of the others behind me were waiting, we quickly got going before things got heated.

It was  a trouble free run to Staffin where we picked up the A855 again heading south along the coast in the direction of Portree.

A few miles along the road Robbie led us to another popular view point at The Kilt Rock.

But, there was more drama happening at the junction where the entrance to the car park was. A young Chinese woman in a Mercedes E Class was completely blocking the road. It appeared that she had missed the turn off. And, after attempting a partial three point turn which had led to her now blocking the road, she was now trying to drive past the line of traffic exiting the carpark on the right hand side. The other traffic was having none of it though, and looked as shocked as we all were at what they were seeing.

We left them to it and entered the carpark looking for somewhere to park. The place was very busy. But, we found a spot for the bikes out of the way at the side of the road. I grabbed my camera bag and headed for the cliff top viewing area.

The Kilt Rock is a huge basalt cliff made up of vertical columns said to resemble the pleats in a kilt. It was an impressive sight that looked almost man made. There is also a waterfall that flows over the Kilt Rock into the sea. The water from The Mealt Falls often never reaches the sea below as it is carried away by the strong winds found in this area. Today the water was forming a nice arch as it was catching the wind but then gravity was taking over and carrying the weight of the water crashing down to the sea below.

I took a few photographs while fighting with the other tourists for the best vantage points. Other travelers had left stickers on the tourist sign post at the viewing point, so I added one of mine to the collection. It was a nice spot to relax away from the bikes for a few minutes. But, we had a schedule to keep to, so it was soon time to get going again.  
 

Robbie in his finest diplomatic style nominated for me to lead the clan on the next leg. We were heading for Armadale to catch a ferry over to Mallaig, and then on to our hostel this evening in Strontian.

I set off at a very leisurely pace as we had plenty of time. As the road twisted and turned its way south, light showers began to alternate with periods of sunshine on the way to Portree. Soon another familiar landmark showed itself on the horizon. The Old Man of Storr, popular with hikers, photographers, and mountain climbers, for its stunning 360 degree views, stood tall looking out over The Sound of Raasay.

The carpark next to the road was packed with cars and motorhomes. Lots of people were making their way up the well-worn trail leading to the top. I would love to return here in my campervan and take a trip to the summit myself, one day.

At Portree we turned onto the A87. This was now the reverse of the way we had come on Monday. Knowing there was only one road between here and our next planned stop for fuel in Broadford, I decided to up the pace a little and enjoy the flowing road across The Cuillin Hills.

The road was quiet with tourist traffic and I got into a nice rhythm as the ribbon of tarmac twisted between the hilly peaks and along the shores of the sea Lochs.

As the sign for Broadford came into view I slowed to allow the others to catch up. We pulled in to the large Coop filling station and supermarket to fuel up. This would easily get us to our destination in Strontian without having to stop again.

I grabbed a quick coffee from the machine while the clan was filling their tanks. Stu phoned CalMac to confirm that our ferry to Malliag was running. Apart from a few minutes delay on the remaining sailings of the day everything else was as normal.

Talking to Finn on the pavement outside the supermarket, I had to grab him by the shoulders and escort him out of the path of a German tourist coach trying to squeeze its way out of the forecourt. The driver and front passengers thought it was highly amusing, as unable to get Finn’s attention to the impending incident I had to physically move him out of the way! Crisis avoided we began to mount up for the run to the ferry. Stu and Alison set off while the rest of us faffed about getting our helmets and gloves on.

The A851 to Mallaig is a fast road. So fast we had great fun getting past the tourist coaches that were travelling at motorway speed as we all raced for the ferry. As we arrived at the shore of the Sound of Sleat, the ferry could be spotted making its way across the sea. We would be arriving with plenty of time to spare.

Then a few miles from Armadale, Stu and Alison appeared coming the other way beckoning for us to turn around. We all pulled over in the next layby. Robbie got on the phone to CalMac to find out was the situation was.

It turned out that the ferry was still running. But, because a motorcycle has fallen of its stand and got damaged earlier in the day, they were no longer accepting bikes on the remaining sailings of the day. The cynic in me took the view that there was now a backlog of cars waiting to cross. As the cars pay double the fare compared to a motorcycle, it was better business sense to take the cars instead of the bikes!

So, without the ferry to take us back to the mainland we had no option but to turn around. Are only choice was to ride back to Fort William via the Skye Bridge (if it was open), and then on to Strontian. Our only hope of salvation was that the Corran to Ardgour ferry across Loch Linnhe would help us out by eliminating a longer ride around the shore of the loch. It was still going to be a long afternoon.

I set off leading the clan back to the A87. As we turned towards The Kyle of Lochalsh, a matrix sign at the side of the road warned of strong winds. 

If the bridge was closed we would have to find somewhere to stay on the Isle of Skye for the night.

With the bridge in sight there seemed little in the way of a breeze let alone strong winds. The crossing was much calmer that the one we had made on Monday afternoon. Was this a sign things were finally going our way?

It was 85 miles to Fort William. 65 was the magic number once again. If I rode any faster I would start to lose sight of the others in my mirrors. Luckily the traffic was light and we were making good progress. Soon we turned onto the A82 at Invergarry for the run into Fort William. Robbie pulled alongside me at the junction. He wanted to make sure the Corran ferry was still running, so I pulled in at the next layby big enough to accommodate the whole of the clan. The ferry was running until 10Pm so we were going to be fine as it was only just approaching 6.

As we reached the centre of Fort William, I spotted Stu and Alison going back the way we had come. I and some of the other tried to wave them down. We were unsuccessful. It looked like they had chosen to take the road around the loch rather than head for the ferry with the rest of us.

It was a ten minute ride along the A82 to Corran. The ferry was just leaving the other side of the Loch as we arrived at the slipway. Within fifteen minutes we had been loaded and were arriving on the other side ourselves. It was well worth the three pound fare to avoid the extra hour of riding.

I settled into following a couple of local cars along the A861 for the final leg to Strontian.

But, our pace slightly below the speed limit was not fast enough for some. I could see in my mirrors, a white Nissan Nevara pickup truck was slowly picking the clan members off one at a time. Soon his blazing headlights were right on my tail. On the next short straight he powered passed me and the two cars in front of me. Clearly he was in a bit of a hurry.

Seeing him roar off into the distance, and it being the end of the day, I decided to give chase. The Nissan took a bit of catching, as he seemed to know the road well. But, I was soon filling his mirrors with my Ducati as we fired our way across Glen Tarbert to Strontian. Our duel for the next few miles had well and truly begun.  At the “Welcome to Strontian” sign we both reduced our speed to 30mph, and cruised through the sleepy village like the law abiding pair we obviously were!

At the far side of the village I indicated to turn off for the road leading to the hostel. The Nissan driving gave me thumbs up out of the window and a beep-beep of his horn. It seems he’d enjoyed himself too.

I waited for the other to catch up at the junction before we headed along the forest road to the hostel. The Ariundle Centre consisted of a restaurant and reception building, with a large accommodation building next door. It was a pleasant surprise to end what had been a long day in the saddle.

But, we had another surprise in store. As we pulled up outside the reception, regular clan member Mark came out to greet us all. Mark was not able to come on this year’s tour due to work commitments. However, after a last minute shift change here he was. Mark is one of those people who always bring a sense of fun to proceedings. It looked like the last couple of days of this year’s tour were going to be good ones.

We all headed inside to book in. The Ariundle Centre is a lovely spot. Run by an elderly couple and a few helpers, it operates as an arts and crafts school during the day. It then opens up to travelers as a restaurant in the evenings. The large accommodation building next door has two large dorm rooms upstairs and a series of smaller rooms downstairs next to a communal kitchen area.

 We were told to take our luggage to our room and then help ourselves to a beer from the bar area. The staff then went to prepare our beds for us. We were quite happy to fend for ourselves but, they were insisted on fussing over us. It was nice. A bit like staying at your Gran’s house.

After a few drinks we were treated to huge plates of home cooked food in the restaurant. It was delicious and very welcome. The ladies fussed over us making sure we wanted for nothing. Barely able to move after our feast we retired to the communal kitchen area. The whisky began to flow as did the conversation. At just after midnight we all retired to our dorm room with smiling faces, and empty bottles. It had been a good evening.

Tomorrow should be a nice relaxing day with the plan being to head over to The Isle of Mull to explore what it has to offer.

Here is the vlog of what happened today.