Bealach na ba
Shieldaig - Applecross - Bealach na ba - Shieldaig
50 miles
Despite the weather getting better as we neared our destination, it would have had to have improved considerably to shake off the wet and mirky conditions which hung over us from the Forth bridges to north Perthshire. In the end we settled for what was not an unpleasant September day on the Applecross peninsula. The views started to take over from conversation and Gregor was keen to swap accelarator for the other, rotating type of pedal. Shieldaig is a lovely wee village with its houses hugging the shore overlooking the nearby island in the cove.
As we rolled out it was cloudy but bright and still - which added to the foreboding feeling which came with the inevitable climb. We opted for the anticlockwise route but it is by no means an easy ride down the coast - more like interval training up and down the undulating road. We passed a large group of bikes and then, sporadically, some riders who were involved in a duathlon. As people cheered us on we soon realised that, even at a modest pace, we were taking the lead and by the time we got to Applecross were being radioed ahead as the sprint out. We came clean and pulled up early by a marshall to explain the mix up - perhaps we really should have gone elbow to elbow at 30 miles an hour.
After tea at the hotel we started ramping up the 2053 feet climb - the UK's biggest - and onward into the mist. Buzzards, Eagles and Deer lined our path but soon the six mile climb started to draw our concentration. The climb itself, I have to say, was a lot easier than I had anticipated - I had had worries of not being able to get over - but such are the myths and legends which the Bealach has entered into. "How did you fair?" I asked a fellow cyclist in Applecross - "I didn't make it" he said as if he was a ghost commenting on his own death.
The climb warrants respect of course - such was the concern in my head and mutually during conversations with Gregor last week. He had raced it last year and there's a big difference between racing and riding - and that's where my apprehension had developed.
There were long, steep straights on the west face which really test the stamina but soon we'd plateau'd, taken the obligatory photograph and headed off into the damp, misty greyness both of us hoping our brake shoes would work. There was no view which in retrospect was disappointing but at the time just meant we had to follow rear lights in front of us to get an idea of the road shape. After a few hairpins it became a really enjoyable descent despite a wet and varying road surface.
relief at sea level was accompanied by a relatively pain-free eight miles back to the van and pub with only one climb of note en-route. Definitely be back to see the views. A pint followed by dinner and bed at Gregor's aunts house in Inverness. Findhorn Sunday am and then home.
