caol

MUILL - OBAN - ILE DIST: 31miles

On Wednesday morning more sun was waiting in the morning but with a little more breeze as I headed the 15 or so miles to Craignure. The reason for not staying longer in Mull was to catch the weekly ferry which leaves Oban for Islay via Colonsay. The road is busier on the north west coast of Mull and fairly uneventful but the views across to Morvern and eventually right up to Ben Nevis were a sight for sore legs. I met a man called Willie MacGregor at Craignure who it turned out owned the pub I was having my coffee outside of. We got talking and it turned out he knew Mairi, who I sit beside at work. He shouted over her dad, Archie, and explained. We had a nice wee chat before he went back to checking tickets for the 13:30. Willie told me a little more about Craignurite and I headed off for the ferry.

I went through the usual getting on first and tieing up the bike routine before getting up on deck for a relax and a draw. Ross's standard issue jacket was great to have for the ferries as the wind out there was rip your face off material. Oban was Oban - actually it was a lot better arriving at it as a port (and perhaps knowing I wasn't staying) but none-the-less I was happy to pick up supplies from the Co-op and embark on the next leg south.

The ferry to Islay was long but quite special. There was an air of contentment aboard. People slept, ate, sat in the sun and exchanged stories of conquered Munroes. We briefly stopped in at the very low island of Colonsay picking up lots of Guardian reading Cyclists with tales of crossing the sands to Oronsay. The lists were being ticked. The view coming in to the sound of Jura was incredible. The light was getting more acute and the Paps and their pristine beaches were being lit up by the big fire. On the right, tiny settlements with a Distillery to themselves shone white despite the sun moving off over the other side of the island. The wind ripped and punched and passengers sheltered in alcoves quietly taking in the views. The water got very choppy and soon our ferry docked at the lego set that is Pt. Askaig.

It was about 18 miles to Pt. Charlotte but the terrain and the wind were with me so I time trialled it down within the hour, the Paps slowly fading behind me and the west side of the island slowly coming into view. Pt. Charlotte was quite a surprise - a really lovely little settlement with all buildings painted out white and grass cut neat. The Hostel was a former distillery and Bruichladdich was just up the road. I met the Jolly German who owned the place and then I quickly showered, splashed on some smells and with scotch egg in mouth, headed to the pub to see the end of the Champions league final.

Post a comment