Over the Top with Ben and Ferg.

A while back I suggested a bike run for a nights camping at Glencoe. Not many folk were available, so Ben and I planned on heading away on the bikes and arranged to meet HB and Kirtsen in Glencoe. One night turned into two, with a Friday night stay at Faithir and Maw's hoose they'd got at Achiltibuie, which turned into three nights when Ferg said he was up for coming along.

I met up with Ben at his gaff for bacon rolls and coffee, aye, his treat. Food eaten, shits shat and pishes taken we headed off. The forecast was for changeable weather on the run up but in my eternally optimist outlook I declared that it would be fine and we headed north to Thurso.

About three miles from Ben's we were fucking drenched. Abso fucking lutely soaked. It fucking hosed it doon, but never mind, it was still warm and we were on holiday. We carried on up the A9, stopping at Perth for fuel and again at Inverness for some soup in the wee cafe in Tiso's. We stopped in here last year and they had the best mushroom soup I had ever tasted and guess what? It was back on the menu! It might not look it but this is phenomenal soup. I took a photo on my phone with instagram (mind and add me.)

The further north we headed the stronger the westerly wind became, at some points we were getting chucked around like a sock in Aidan's tent, but we still enjoyed the road up. I love the stretch of the A9 that leaves Helmsdale over The Ord and on to the Berridale Braes, but it looks like that the twist and turns may be ironed out in future to make the road a bit safer.

It might look like a bad shite but it tastes awesome.

Ben.

Trumpet and GS on Berridale.

We arrived at Thurso where Ferg, Lynne and two giant dogs welcomed us into their hoose (well I got a bit lost but I blame Ferg's shite directions) and the night was spent eating, drinking and racing bikes on the playstation. After a good nights sleep in one of Ferg's many bedrooms I scrubbed my baws in the shower and enjoyed a grand breakfast Lynne had prepared for us. Being the social media whore I am I tried to document this the best I could using Twitter and Instagram, but I could only kill so much time. Then the waiting began.
Ferg is infamous for the time it takes him to get his shit together, and he had to pack his bike.


We waited.

And waited.






And waited.





Eventually Ferg's shit was packed and Lynne waved us off. We sped along the A836, swooping our way along to Tongue where we stopped for a quick juice and I managed to get a "I Love Tongue" sticker for my pannier on the new GS. Crossing the Kyle of Tongue the A838 becomes the A838 and slims down to singletrack road around the spectacular Loch Eriboll. The wind from the day before had picked up and were were fucking hammered, at on point while stuck behind a couple of motorhomes fucking about in the road I thought I was going to be blown over, and I was fairing better than Ben and Ferg. At one stage Ben was afraid that he was going to get sucked off!
We carried on passing some stunning beaches. Even with the strong wind it was warm and with the white sands and blue seas I could have pretended to be abroad, plus we had it mostly to ourselves. It's a fucking good job everyone thinks it's always pishing with rain or riddled with midges in the North of Scotland or every cunt and his dog would be here. Thank fuck for golf courses.
At Cocoa Mountain, at Balnakeil, just outside Durness we stopped for some fucking tremendous hot chocolate and a chocolate croissant and hummed and hawed over whether to take the A894, the faster road to Lochinver or the more scenic, single track B869 via Drumbeg. This time the faster roads won, purely because Ferg hadn't ridden them before. I forgot how much I enjoy this road. The A894 is up and down swooping back and forth from Laxford Bridge though Scourie and Kylesku before joining the A837 to Lochinver. Don't believe all the shite written in bike magazines, this is one of our best roads here in Scotland and it was fucking awesome fun riding it even with the wind and the occasional twat in a motorhome/caravan.
We followed the road from Lochinver to Achiltibue, one of my most favorite places in the world. The Lochinver to Achiltibuie road is a tight, winding singletrack jobbie with amazing view of Suilven, Stac Polaidh, Canisp and the other big hills of the area and its another must do road if you're touring Scotland.
We arrived at Achiltibuie (well just roond the corner in Reiff) where we'd be staying with Maw and Faithir in their hoose, but instead of going straight there we nipped into the Summer Isle Hotel for a pint of beer, braw!
At Reiff Maw had food on for us, Faither supplied the beers and Roli the dog supplied the entertainment. That night we headed to the local Ceilidh where we watched the dancing and had plenty laughs and beers. The music was supplied by just two folk who between them done a great cover of Dirty Superstition by Stevie Wonder which was some impressive shit!

Ferg

Damn, that a full ass pen.

Still got a very big space in my heart for my old bike.

Ferg Packed.

We waited.

Lynne was impressed by Ferg's preperation.

"I didnae dae it that way. Yer dain it wrong. Yer a prick. Etc etc"

Stopping at Tongue.

A fucking modern art masterpiece.

Aye, its braw up north.

At Cocoa Mountain

The view out oor bedroom window.

Ben freshens up.

Sunset from Achiltibuie.

Faithir enjoys the sunset. Despite the look on his puss.

Posing bastard.

Ferg and Roli. Old room mates.

Maw enjoys the ceilidh.

GS and the Trumpet

See! Telt ye! Fucking posing bastard.

Leaving Achiltibuie is always a sad affair for me, but leave we must as we needed to get to Glemcoe where we'd meet up with HB, Kirsten, Kelly and Rob. Glencoe is an awesome place but compared to places like Achiltibuie it is seriously busy, the roads are heaving and there are people everywhere. We had a relatively traffic free run down the side of Loch Ness, always an enjoyable blast snaking towards Fort William only interrupted by the occasional boat on the canal. Fort William to Glencoe was a fucking nightmare though, the road was jammed with caravans and busses, luckily it was only 10 miles or so till we were at the Red Squirrel Campsite and pitching up. It was a wee bit drizzly but still nice and warm, beers were drunk and HB, Ferg and I got our BBQ going while the rest of us went to the Clachaig for some scran. Frank and Dave, two other bikers, joined us by the fire/BBQ for a while and caught up with us later on at the pub. We also met with a group of Weejies (Glaswegians) who were up on a stag do. During a break in the music the band were playing I taught the stags the game of "Damnbusters." I'll only give the rules and demonstration up if I get enough requests, but it involves me shoving money up my arse.

We had a fucking great night in the Clachaig, the only downside was it ended too early!

The bikes at the Red Squirrel

HB at the Red Squirrel

The Crazy Bus

Ferg having a monster pish on the way to the boozer.

Ben was happy to be back in the Clachaig

No really, he was.

Kelly

Rob

This haunts me when I sleep. Captions in the comments section.

Rob and Ferg by the fire.

We woke to great weather, Kelly and Rob had a breakfast barbie by the river on the campsite and the rest of us got a fry up at the Glencoe Cafe. Ferg followed us down the road for a few miles before turning back and following his trails up Glencoe and the banks of Loch Ness to Caithness and we headed south and east to the Winton where we finished up with a juice before watching Andy Murray win Wimbledon.

Packing up for home.

Quality!

Brian out celebrating. I dunno what he's celebrating though. He doesn't give two fucks about Andy Murray. He doesn't even know what tennis is.

Read Ferg's account of the trip here.

Winton Massif 2011 Sloppy Seconds Tour.

Every year a bunch of us do a tour of Scotland on our motorbikes, hitting some good roads, good campsites and seeing some of the best scenery in the world. This year we followed a similar route to the first trip six years ago with Aidan, Andy, Ben and Faithir joining me on the trip. I dunno why we called it the Sloppy Seconds tour, GHC thought it up, but he couldn't make the trip as he was heading over to Austria on his RT.

Day 1
Ben and I headed for Ullapool. Faithir was all ready up there as he'd left a few days earlier on his auld GS. The run up was good, but wet. Ben and I were both soaked by the rain which was pishing doon good style. It brightened up after Inverness though and we had an awesome run along the road to Ullapool. We chucked the tents up, got some beer in us then headed along for a chippy and a few pints in the Seaforth where we were joined by Mick, a guy from the campsite who was up on his Harley. We had a good blether about bikes and tents and then we were joined by two Swedish wifeys looking for some info on the North West of Scotland. Around this time Mick's Stella kicked in and he became fucked out his heid, telling our fluent English speaking Swedish guests "YOU NO UNDERSTAND WHAT WE SAY!" then asking whether or not they have swearing in their country and trying to establish their relationship status while offering a tour of his tent. Comedy!

We didn't modify the sign, but we might have added a sticker.

Plaice and chips and a can of Bru. Yummy!

Ullapool harbour.

Mick, Faithir and Ben in the Seaforth.

A wee yacht heading towards the Summer Isle.

Day 2
I woke up feeling grand to the sound of Ben spewing his ring. Lovely. We didn't have many miles to do today, with the next stop being Achiltibuie. This is one of my favourite parts of Scotland, when I win the lottery I'll definitely try and buy a house up here. Achiltibuie itself is a wee village on the Coigach ovelooking the Summer Isles. We stayed on the new campsite at Altandhu, the Port A Bhaigh campsite just down from the Am Furan Bar. Both the pub and the campsites are a must if you ever visit Scotland. The facilities are good, with clean toilets and showers and free wi-fi internet. The weather was really good, nice and warm so I took the GS along to Polbain Stores on a beer run and we sat in the sun chilling out. Later on Faithir shouted me tea in the Furan, I had some nice soup and some amazing local dived Scallops, just adding to the awesomeness of the area. Before tea we had a few beers on the wee wooden balcony overlooking the campsite and Andy arrived on his GS.

Ben and his morning sickness.

Breakfast at Ullapool

My GS and Ben's Trumpet with Stac Pollaidh in the background.

Port A Bhaigh Campsite.

Port A Bhaigh Campsite.

Port A Bhaigh Campsite from the Furan.

Andy.

Beer run.

Day 3

Today Ben and Faithir headed home while Andy and I headed north to Durness. The roads from Achiltibue to Durness are mostly single track roads, and offer some really dramatic scenery, especially if you follow the coast road via Drumbeg. I got plenty helmetcam footage on the Gopro which I'll upload once I've edited it together. The road goes through Lochinver, home of the famous Lochinver Pie Shop. Andy decided to sit in and have a meal, while I got my pie take away and headed on up the road. I arrived at Durness and got some petrol in the bike before heading to the campsite. Fuel was £1.51 per litre! Fucking daylight robbery! I spoke to a local guy who worked in the shop, telling him that I'd heard that places in the far north might be getting government subsidised fuel, but he says that they have been on about it for ages and he thinks it'll never happen. Its a major expense for people living there, especially as folk rely heavily on their vehicles as the area is very remote and there is not much public transport.

I headed to Sango Sands campsite, quite a big site overlooking two really nice sandy beaches. I found a spot with enough room for a few tents, pitched up and sat down to eat my pie and read my book. A wee while later Andy rolled in and a wee while after that Aidan joined us. Aidan had made good time coming up from East Lothian to Durness on Dignity, his Kawasaki ER5. Aidan really enjoyed the run to Durness from Lairg, a fast, single track road. He'd even kitted Dignity out with GPS, the flash bastard that he is. 

We went to the shop for supplies then Aidan and Andy went for a meal in the local pub. As it was a nice night, and Andy was grooming Aidan, I opted for a take away and ate up at the tent reading more of my book. Once the happy couple were finished we headed down the beach with a few beers for a fire. Its a good job we had bought some logs as there was zero drift wood and as the sun set wee seen a wee Puffin and Aidan and I showed Andy the Dance of the Flaming Arsehole. The idea is you hold some rolled up newspaper between your arse cheeks and set it on fire. the winner is the person that holds the paper in their arse for the longest. A quality campfire game!

Andy looking at the Coigach/Assynt Mountains

Road to Drumbeg.

Road to Drumbeg.

Road to Drumbeg.

Gid pie and a gid book.

Sango Sands.

The Polish Lada (I think) Club at Sango Sands.

Aidan on Dignity.

Flash bastard.

Fire on the beach.

Puffin

Dance of the Flaming Arsehole.

Day 4&5

The next day Andy headed back down the road, following Aidan's route up. Aidan and I had planned to spend two night at Durness but we changed our mind at the last minute and decided to head back down to Achiltibuie. We had a problem though, Aidan needed fuel and being a Sunday the petrol station was shut. Luckily the outdoor shop in Scourie has petrol pumps and was open, so we headed by down the coast, crossing the Kylsesku Bridge and retracing my tracks along the Drumbeg road to Lochinver, then on to Achiltibuie, stopping for photos on the way. At one point Aidan stopped to get a photo of Suilven, one of the most distinct mountains in Scotland, but the daft cunt forgot how steep the hill was. I was further up the hill getting a photo from the viewpoint when a guy who had also stopped for a photo asks me "Was that your friend who rode by on that bike?"

"Aye." 

"Well his bike is lying down."

"Fuck!"

Aidan had forgot to leave the bike in gear and it had rolled of its stand! I fair shat myself, thinking he's binned himself, but all was ok and we had a good laugh about it. There wasn't even any damage to his bike.

While I took this Aidan threw his bike on the road. Twat.

Aidan on the Kylesku Bridge.

Drumbeg Views

Drumbeg views, check oot the caravan.

We decided on spending two nights at Achiltibuie, so after cooking tea in the toilet block to avoid the fucking massive clouds of midgies we went to the Furan for a couple of pints. The next day was spent chilling out. We done a spot of fishing off the pier along from Polbain and went to the other pub, the Summer Isle Hotel for a pint of Suilven. Before heading back over to the campsite for tea and some beer. We ended up back in the Furan for another couple of pints and some pool. Aidan sprayed the bushes with some Baxters Leek and Potato soup then we crashed out.

a pint of Suilven

GS with Achiltibuie in the background.

Fishin. Caught fuck all.

Aidan, Dignity and some cider.

Eating soup with a fork. Daft laddie. We'd be seeing that soup again. A hug in a bowl it is not.

Nice weather eh?

Day 6
We left Achiltibuie and after a couple of nice rolls in Ullapool we headed round the coast to Gairloch. The road takes you around Loch Ewe and Guinard Bay. At Loch Ewe you can see the WW2 base and at Guinard Bay you can see the infamous Guinard Island, also known as Anthrax Island. If you click the links you can read all about the history of both places and see plenty pictures on my mate Bruce's blog.
On the way round the coast I wanted to go along the old track to Slaggan Bay. The only thing is there is a sign saying "Unsuitable for motors except rough terrain vehicles." So we were a bit concerned that dignity would make it along.
Did the track stop the ER5?????

Did it fuck!! Aidan and Dignity breezed the trail, the only thing that really held us up was a bunch of big highland coos! I was shitting it a bit as there was (what looked like) a mother and a calf. Mother cows can be quite protective of their young, and Highland Cattle have fucking HUGE horns, but we got by with only a few nervous shuffles. From my arsehole.
When we first rolled up to Big Sands campsite we were a bit apprehensive. The campsite is massive, with loads of these big multi room family tents and loads of bairns screaming and running about the place. After Achiltibuie this may as well have been London. Well not quite. After some discussion we decided to give it a shot. In the camping area they try and keep a gap of seven meters between tents, so everyone still has a wee bit of space. Aidan and I managed to find a quiet bit beside a couple on a Kwaker ZRX and after a barbecue we headed down the beach to chill out for the evening. We even tried some beach casting with the fishing rod. Aye, caught fuck all.

Rough terrain vehicles??

That'll be an ER5 then!

Slaggan Bay.

On the Slaggan Bay road.

The beach at Big Sands

Aidan tries to catch a fish while folk sit around their fires.

Sunset at the campsite.

Day 7

I woke up to a nice day and good views over to the Outer Hebrides. Then Aidan stuck his face out his tent. I left the campsite before Aidan as I wanted to go and have a look at the beach at Redpoint and hopefull see the war grave at the Fairy Lochs. We arranged to meet at Applecross then I set off. The road from Gairloch to Applecross is amazing. I done the wee turn off to Redpoint, mair massive coos on the road and a big bull which must have been about six foot tall, the beach at Redpoint is worth the wee detour but I never seen the Fairy Lochs. It was a bit more of a hike than I thought and I was advised by a local fisherman not to attempt it with out giving myself a couple of hours, he also said that I might find it easier with proper footwear, opposed to bike boots. I'll get there next time I'm up there though.

I carried on over the Bealach Na Ba to Applecross. We visit Applecross all the time. The scenery is spectacular, the campsite is great and the food in the local pub, the Applecross Inn, is brilliant.

I found a place to pitch our tents in the busy campsite and soon Aidan arrived. We went down to the shop, said hello to the folk in the pub and got chatting to a couple who were touring on 125's with L plates. They had both done their CBT's a few weeks before leaving for a three week tour of Scotland. Brilliant folk. We then had a few beers on the campsite, chatting with Davie, another biker who was up with his mates on a tour before we went down to the pub for some food. I had the special of Plaice with a caper butter (gid) and we had a few more beers while getting the crack with the staff, locals, and other folk visiting the area. The midgies even let off for a wee bit from time to time. Amazing night.

I've seen better heids hanging oot a fish box.

The view from the top of the Bealach Na Ba.

Proper adventure riders.

View from my tent.

How many deer can you see?

View of the Cullins on Skye from the Applecross Inn.

Folk outside the Applecross Inn...

...looking at the sunset.

Day 8

We left Applecross in the pissing rain with the plan of heading to the Glencoe area. We stopped in at the Waterside Cafe for a challenge breakfast, which beat me this time! Over breakfast the weather worsened so we decided to head for home. On the way down the A9 Aidan decided we should try and head for Glencoe again but the weather got worse the more we tried. The rain was that bad Aidans gloves dyed his hands bluey black! We stopped for a coffee and a cake at Ballenluig Motor Grill and decided that we'll spend the last night at my house! When we got home the weather was good so we sat out the back for a bit before watching some bike related films.

It was nice to get home to see HB and spend a night in a real bed!

dirty paws

It was a brilliant trip. We were really lucky with the weather. While we were getting warm sunshine it was pissing down everywhere else in Scotland. 

I'm all ready planning where I'm going next year!