A FARMERS TAN

TOBERMORY - ARISAIG
60 miles

So the sun finally put on a good show - there had been a suggestion on Monday night that shepherd's were to be delighted on Tuesday but things stayed decidedly average on for our mountain goat trials. Chris had gotten up first and went for a wander shortly followed by me with the SLR - the light and strength of blue in the sky was phenomenal. We bought plentiful supplies for breakfast and had three courses - porridge with strawberries, bacon rolls and pastries with a cafetiere of coffee. I'm sure hostelling didn't used to be like this: it used to be a lot worse.

Suddenly we only had ten minutes to catch the ferry but fortunately falling out the hostel was sufficient to do this. There were a good number of cyclists including a couple from Stirling we had met in Oban two days previously and we all got aboard and hit the top deck to soak up the sun. Jelly fish were the short range interest and a shimmering, unsure horizon bleached away in the background but the porpoises in-between stole the show.

After the bustle of Tobermory we soon found ourselves silently climbing around the hill on Ardnamurchan with only creaking bottom brackets and slightly squeaky panniers as accompaniment. By the time we reached the apex there was an incredible view north to Eigg, Muck, Skye and the Arisaig penninsula - we were surrounded by ancient volcanoes. A pair of large birds of prey circled above making their high-pitched calls and waiting for one of us to fail but there was no chance of that now that we had pistons of steel for legs, Ross admitting that his body felt "this was what he now did" - just to cycle. The thought had been in my head too as you zoom into your focus - I'm sure Chris was thinking the same. We rounded the top and descended a great hill this time with views to Loch Sunart and Morvern and beautiful coves close at hand before stopping for a quick coffee and cake in Glenborrodale.

Salen soon came and we reared up and to the left and finally were heading inland. The big road soon shrank to the size we'd become accustomed to and passing places were once again the norm. Overtaking cyclists is not always an easy thing and we had to all admit that drivers were pretty understanding of us. Surprisingly so. That is not to say we didn't encounter any kamikaze trainees but by and large people were helpful even getting the occasional toot. There were a couple of local cars laughing at us on some of the climbs, a few shaking their head in disgust and even a driver asleep with head back in the chair until Ross realised it was a Dutch car. Oh - lot's of French and Belgians too - mainly in camper vans.

We cycled through unusually flat, but equally beautiful, Acharacle before a wee climb over to Kinlochmoidart and along the Loch - which was also stunning - the forgotten high rises of Glasgow now exchanged for awe inspiring multi-storey Beinns. The colours of Stone not that of Blonde and Ochre soft sand but age old hard-as-nails molten rock - the unmistakable feature of the West of Scotland. As we skirted Loch Moidart at sea level the road inevitably ramped up in the distance - we weren't going all the way around the penninsula but we had known that in any case. We heaved our laiden bikes up the climb, looking back on our incredible route and had, even at the half way point, decided it was probably the best days cycling any of us had done in our lives - Immaculate tarmac, little traffic, sun in the sky, incredibly varying and grand views and very good company.

As we dropped off the top at great speed, a stream of water from my eyes to my ears and almost as big a smile, developed as we saw our destination, still some way off, and moving upward in the distance. We stopped at the welcoming Glen Uig Inn and fed on Langoustines and Bean Stew, sunning ourselves and trying to work out how our distance had only amounted to what it was - it felt like we had gone 70 miles - not 35!

We saddled up and made our way up Loch Ailort gradually hitting more traffic and fancier modern houses as we approached the main Mallaig to Fort William road. We were slowly getting back to civilisation although the past 4 days had been as civil as any I've had recently. We joined the big road and used it's adjoining cycle path for the remainder of the days cycle before heading off at Arisaig and snaking along the B road by white sands. The B&B was pretty much at Morar so after washing and pleasantries with the owner we opted to cycle into Mallaig for chips and juice. Tired and sun-beaten we finished our trip on Morar Beach as the sun went down, contemplating a very beautiful country in the satisfaction of 230 self propelled miles under our legs. Not a huge amount but - given load and ascent - quite enough for a holiday.