So with day one done, we awoke to find the drizzle was back with us but it didn’t appear to be as bad as the previous morning. We packed our bikes up and cruised back down to the bridge we had crossed the previous evening in our unsuccessful quest for a pint. After hauling our bikes over one at a time over the narrow metal clip-ons we rejoined a main road and the day’s cycling began.
We knew looking at the profile of the ride that today would be the toughest both in terms of altitude and distance so it was unfortunate that the rain and wind joined in and were getting increasingly heavier and stronger. The clouds were so low in fact that although the scenery was beautiful we could only really see half of each hill. I don’t think the rain had very far to fall to the ground which gave the impression these clouds were directly above our heads. I thought that a good way to simulate the experience on the exercise bike when I got home would be to have an industrial-strength fan blasting wind at me from point-blank range while someone threw a bucket of water over me every ten seconds. It was that fun!
The scenery of the various lochs and the feeling of remoteness were special though. Apart from a rare vehicle passing there isn’t a lot of noise other than the whirr of your bike and the odd utterance of ‘How fucking big is this hill?’. We passed an inn in the middle of nowhere called Crask Inn which I found hard to believe anyone ever stayed there ever. There was literally nothing around so I can only assume the only visitors are lost tourists who are occasionally murdered here. We didn’t stop to find out.
After a good few hours of cycling we neared the coast and also reached the outskirts of the settlement of Tongue but rather than turn back on ourselves for a couple of miles to visit we cycled on to a cafe a mile or so in the right direction. By this point, we were sodden and hungry but still enjoying the ride. After refuelling ourselves on a massive bowl of soup and a sandwich we got chatting to the owners of the cafe. The guy said he used to do a lot of cycling but had given up due to the weather and the buttock pain, both of which we could immediately identify with. Neither of us had an Internet connection though so weren’t exactly sure how far away our destination of Strathy was. He said it was only another 12 miles which I immediately thought sounded a bit low but who was I to argue with an informed local?
We got back on our bikes and into our very wet waterproof gear and soon enough we reached the north coast of the Highlands. Even in cloudy conditions the views were breathtaking and the water looked inviting even though it was no doubt only a touch above freezing temperature. From memory this was the last of the hills for the day and we could enjoy the last few miles rolling into Strathy.
Clearly I had looked at something wrong because the hills, if anything, went up a notch in terms of difficulty. This would have been the ideal time for me to have one of my energy gels but because I thought we were getting close to Strathy (and no way to check with no Internet connection at all) I just stuck to water. Again, this was a mistake. The rain was beginning to fall so heavily that when we stopped to see if John’s phone had any connection his Hans Solo in lucite phone case was wearing armbands. We were starting to get tired and began to wonder where Strathy was. Was it just next to Narnia? North of Hobbiton? Was Strathy so small that we had managed to pass through it without noticing? I found this doubtful given my average speed up the hills.
Finally we passed Strathy landfill. Never have I been so happy to see a landfill and breathe in a lungful of that fetid, dead air as we passed. There was no danger of struggling to find our hotel as there seemed to be only one hotel and only one road through. We stopped and knocked and the owner came to the door. “Oh I wasn’t expecting you on bicycles.” Should we leave then? Can’t we stay? I asked both these questions in my head. We threw our bikes in the shed and then asked what was on the menu for tonight? “Oh we don’t do food on a Monday.” Why the fuck not? Do you all fast on Monday? I also asked these questions in my head. “I’ll warm up some soup for you, it will be about 15 minutes.” We were both very grateful and headed to our room.
I wondered if I would ever feel dry again. After peeling off my clothes I decided to head for a quick shower before tea. While I was in the shower Kathy Bates had come upstairs to tell us that the soup was ready. “Is he in the shower?” John immediately leapt to my defence and said something like “Yeah I told him not to, that the soup would be ready soon, but he just said fuck it, I live by my own rules.” I did wonder why she never really spoke or looked at me again.
To be fair though, she did furnish us with a few delicious Orkney beers to wash the soup down (does soup need to be washed down?). For dessert, we had a packet of smoky bacon crisps. She wasn’t lying when she said food was not served on a Monday.
We were both thoroughly done in after the ride but were glad the toughest day was down. The weather forecast (which we were very quickly beginning to disregard) looked marginally better for the next day. I just hoped my clothes would be dry tomorrow, resting on the radiators that the owner had said not to put anything on (another reason to hate me). As long as I woke up and my ankles weren’t tied together between two blocks of wood I would be happy.
Daniel McChrystal 