Altnaharra

28/5/15

When the sun came out we left packed with a bacon sandwich that Lesley, our host, had packed for the road.

Within 8km we left the north coast and turned south for the first time in our journey.

We passed a few cyclists riding north on the wind, one looked Germanic and I considered stopping to ask him how many chains he was carrying.

Sue was again the pace setter today and at various times I managed to slip stream her. This is something she dosn't seem keen to try, probably due to the frequency of my nose clearance!

The B871 from Bettyhill to Altnaharra is a lovely road and we can thank a man we met in Torridon for his advice. It slowly climbs up the River Naver. We paused in the sunshine and watched two fisherman, one standing mid-stream casting into the pools, the other lying on the bank chatting. I considered changing my sport but later discovered that a fishing permit would set you back £3000, if you could get one. This river seemed so clean and tranquil and I wondered if the river access campaign from the canoe sports in England is entirely a good thing. Two camouflaged fishermen seemed to fit the environment but I questioned whether a fleet of bright plastic boats containing noisy kayakers would be right.

The last 10km along Loch Naver were a battle against the wind with the whitewashed glimpses of Altnaharra at the finish of a naver ending road. Sorry!

With 3000km now complete, we checked into our special cabins that the Altnaharra Hotel provide for cyclists and headed to the bar for food.

Chatting to a fisherman and his wife from Prestwick revealed that he too had been having a few bad days, it seems that the fish don't like the cold either. A young teenage girl behind the bar suggested that, with no eyelids, fish prefer an overcast day to surface for flies so don't bother fishing on a sunny day. I tried to imagine her life in this remote corner of Scotland. She had all the hair and appearance of any other person of her age but days out with a rod or a gun following her dad who's a ghillie has left it's mark. She recounted tails of the first time she shot a stag and how, although she drew the line at de-gutting the animal, she did help in the larder so certainly knows where her food has come from. Just as we were leaving she gazed out the window from the bar in awe at the light through the rain. I hope I can muster some of her joy and optimism in the next few days, the forcast isn't great.

We gave the fisherman a tip-off about the fishing possibilities in a little known loch we had passed back on the Rhins of Galloway and retired to our comfortable cabins.

Figures:

Distance:- 42.7 km

Cycle Time:-  3 hours 29 minutes

Average speed:- 12.2 kph

Total Distance:- 3015 km