Discover Scotland

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The Old Flax Mill

Heading South last weekend I called into the Old Flax Mill.
Its 2 miles north of Lix Toll.
The food was superb, even Mrs GC was Impressed, it’s a bit different from the Green Wellie and the burger bar just south of Lix Toll.
A two course meal with 1 drink is about £20, well worth the price IMHO.
The Old Flax Mill :thumb2
 
When in the Uists, keep an eye out for the fish van. It goes about selling crab claws, lobsters, scallops etc to the locals. They are rejects from the stock that they send down south to Harrods and the like. We get them for pennies and they taste fantastic. :thumb2
I caught the van In Lochmaddy last time I was over.

Kallin Shellfish
Tel 01870 603258/282
Open Mon- Fri 9am - 4pm and Sat. 11 am -2pm
Travelling Van is in Lochmaddy from ll.30am-1.30pm on Wednesday and at Sollas Co-op from 2.30 -5pm. May be in other areas on different days . ring to confirm.

The shop sells fresh fish and venison and duck eggs and Scallops. It is possible to order fresh fish which comes from the Barra Fishermen. It is obviously dependent on weather and what they catch Turbot and Halibut are possibles.|Ring on Monday or Wednesday mornings to order things but worth a try at other times as well. Better to ring rather than go on spec.
 
Just thought this pic was worth a post, taken the May holiday weekend on the A838 on the way to Durness. sorry about the size, its the only way I could get it to upload...
 

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Here is a report I put together on a memorable trip around Scotland in June 2006. Great roads and great craic. I know it meanders on a little, possibly a sign of my advanced years and inability to stay on subject for very long. Apologies for that. If some nice moderator wants to come along and move it somewhere else and create a link instead I will have no problem with it. Thanks in advance and try not to nod off while reading.

Adventure on an Adventure

I picked up the ‘phone way back early in the year and it was Eddie Jordan (no not him with the yellow race cars) with a proposal. “We haven’t been away for quite a while and I was thinking of going to Scotland for the May bank holiday. What do you think?” he said. Hmmm let me think, tempting, yes, all rolled across my tongue in about a nano-second. Who to invite along? The group quickly grew to a definite ten, with a few possibles, one nobody believed would go and, regrettably a couple of refusals. Of course with numbers come problems. The May holiday didn’t suit everybody so it became the June bank holiday. The dates were firm and the fast ferry from Larne to Cairnryan was decided upon and booked.

I have been thinking for some time about changing the R1150 RT. It is four years old at this stage and is showing over 54,000 miles and still a wonderful bike, but you know how it is. I nearly jumped for the R1200 RT but then got word that the R1200 GS Adventure was coming. So I waited, and it appeared in the showroom and I thought “God it’s ugly. I love it”. I spoke to Paul Browne, Joe Duffy BMW Motorrad and told him about the trip to Scotland. I asked if it would be possible to get a loan of the Adventure for the weekend and to my great surprise I didn’t have to beg or lie on the floor of his office kicking and screaming and making a scene. “I don’t see a problem” was his simple and helpful answer. I just needed to sort the insurance and sign my credit card away.

We were due to travel on Thursday, 1st June and for two weeks before-hand we had a deluge of Biblical proportions. I started clearing the garage in order to build the boat and started planning for the animals. Two by two is all very well but what about the feed. If I haven’t got enough for the lions and tigers, I won’t have two by two at the end. Then there was the issue of how thankful the ladies of the world would be if I overlooked the two mice and all the spiders……… But I digress. Thursday morning dawned bright and sunny, oh there is a God of motorcycles and he rides a BMW.

I loaded up the Adventure and looked at it, thinking I was going to need an orange crate in order to get on. I have a 34” inside leg, so I am not particularly short, but I was still going to treat the saddle height with respect. My brother-in-law RaceTruck (I still don’t believe he is going) was borrowing my RT and after loading the panniers, we were ready for the road.
I had planned a route from Summerhill in Co. Meath, through Trim and Navan, to Ardee and onto the M1 at Dundalk. From there, we continued around Newry, through Belfast on the M1 and M2 and on to Larne. I love Irish roads because they are rarely straight and offer brilliant motorcycling, but the surfaces leave a lot to be desired and are usually a series of potholes loosely held together with tar. The Adventure handled all the undulations and line changes with an aplomb that appears unlikely looking at the bike. We all know at this stage how good the GS is, but the extra bodywork and height give the Adventure a slightly ungainly, ugly duckling appearance. Be not afraid. The bike is the consummate back road scratcher. It has all the ability of a Blade blunter and the seat height gives the viewpoint of a Cessna pilot.

Having arrived in Larne, we were quickly loaded onto the HSS European Highlander and in about one hour we were deposited in Cairnryan and running the speed camera corridor to Ayr in beautiful biking weather. From Ayr, we headed for Glasgow, onto the M8 West and North and over the striking cable stayed box-girder Erskine Bridge. The steelwork runs to a length of more than 1310m and weighs 11,000 tonnes and the masts on the main span are 38m high. Impressive.

On up the A82, we realised that we were short a few bikes so, on the bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond, we stopped at a very fine restaurant about three miles north of Tarbet. Here I can guarantee table service, with helpful staff, very fine homemade steak pie and succulent haddock, and apple pie that alone, is worth the visit. Having satisfied our hunger pangs we were relaxing over coffee when the rumble of our accompanying Harley was heard in the distance and, in short time, the missing bikes rolled up. Dave tried to convince us that they really had wanted to see Greenock. Yeah right!

Full crew back together, it was time for more road as we had earlier decided that our base for the weekend was to be the Glen Nevis Campsite in Fort William. As we approached Glencoe the mountains and glens were dark and brooding. Glencoe had decided that these soft southern Jesses were unwelcome in the Highlands. They were no match however, for the Adventure. On went the heated grips to simmer, a gear dropped just for the hell of it, and a headlong rush along the twisting A82 saw us deposited at the campsite before the spirits of Glencoe could react and drop the dark cloud content on us.



The campsite at Glen Nevis is easy to find and very well appointed. The pitches are flat if a bit stony underneath, and plentiful. The shower blocks are among the cleanest I have encountered in a lot of years motorcycling, with hot water and showers apparently always available. The only drawbacks were the midges (always a problem where you have trees), the fact that the restaurant and bar closed at 22.45 (not conducive to repeat business from Irish bikers) and the site noise police. I understand the need for quiet at night on a campsite, but I don’t think sotto voce conversations were going to upset anybody lads.

Friday 2nd, dawned dry and a bit overcast. After a fine breakfast in Fort William, we decided to head for the Isle of Skye. The first town we met on the A82 was Spean Bridge with its sign for the Commando Memorial. Having an interest in all things military, I couldn’t pass by without stopping. During WWII when the Commandos were formed as a fighting unit, most of their training was done in the area surrounding Spean Bridge, and a large memorial has been erected about a mile outside the town in remembrance. The three Commandos depicted overlook their traditional training grounds and, indeed, Great Britain. It was a strange experience to visit such a memorial on so many German bikes, taking for granted the freedom that men such as these fought and died to preserve.



Back on the bikes and it was on to Kyle of Lochalsh and over the Skye Bridge, toll free since 2005, to Skye. The Adventure was in its element, luggage free, just bike and rider flicking back and forth through the endless bends on the Skye road. The long travel suspension soaking up all bumps the Isle could throw at it and the power delivery sublime. There was no requirement to swap cogs unless you wish to (I wanted to play) as the bike just keeps on delivering with ease.

Skye was feeling shy and coquettish as we were introduced and she kept her mountain-tops shrouded in silky mists for the early part of our acquaintance. In order to ease her embarrassment we continued on the A87 and as we rode through Sconser we could see the Raasay Ferry approaching the dock. As it did, I couldn’t help reflecting on the loneliness and sadness that can often be associated with island life. I thought on the ferry’s occupants and while doubtless they included tourists like us, I am sure they also included islanders forced to leave their homes and families to find work, only occasionally returning for holidays or family gatherings. A community as close-knit as that on an island is hard to find on any mainland. My best wishes for happiness travelled with them.

Continuing on, we took the A863 loop to the west. Skye was more comfortable with our presence and cast off her shrouds, displaying herself in all her glory. Her mountains covered in purple heather contrasting with the glorious azure of the sky only to be outdone by a sudden view of the sea transitioning from deep green to turquoise as it raced to meet the horizon.

Back on the A87 to Uig and then the breathtaking single track loop around the north of the Isle to Staffin. After God had rested on the seventh day I am sure he reflected on everything he had learned and thought to himself, I am going to make something perfect for motorcycling, and I am going to call it Skye. Down through Portree and Broadford, late in the evening we arrived at Armadale to take the ferry to Mallaig. A cheap and quick, twenty minutes, crossing and well worth the effort as the B8008 and A830 are not to be missed as they carry you to Fort William. Back to the campsite, quick shower and into town for one of the finest blue steaks I have encountered at the Ben Nevis Restaurant and Bar. Afterwards there was a group playing in the bar comprising singer/guitarist, accordion and bagpipes. I couldn’t understand a word the singer said but what a singing voice!

Saturday 3rd, saw us heading for Inverness and Culloden. The plan was to head up the north side of Loch Ness on the A82, visit Culloden and come back via the south side on the B862/852. But the best laid plans etc…

RaceTruck (I still don’t believe he’s here) had apparently broken into a Mad Max museum for his bike gear which due to its age, was starting to fall apart on him. He decided to buy a new helmet in Inverness and Ted needed a rear tyre for his R1100 RT, so the first port of call had to be a bike shop. Never having been in Inverness before, we hadn’t a clue where to start looking.

Contrary to what the ladies would have you believe, we are willing to ask for directions when we are lost. It’s just that we’re not often lost. As we approached a set of traffic lights, I saw a large trike go through ahead of us. I decided to follow the trike in an effort to get directions and spoke to the rider, Chris Lynch, at the next set of traffic lights. Chris was only too delighted to be of assistance and took us to a local bike shop. He stayed with us saying if they didn’t have what we needed he would take us to another shop. As it happened they were out of Battlax tyres in the required size so Chris, true to his word, brought us across town to a second shop. This shop was well stocked and had all the required items, including a pair of Richa trousers for RaceTruck (I still don’t believe he is here) as his Mad Max leather jeans gave up the ghost in the shop.

When the tyre was fitted and the helmet and jeans replaced, Chris, who was still with us, invited us back to his house for a barbecue that he had organised for us. We followed his trike out of Inverness and on to Fortrose. I had been speaking to him about the trike and he told me it was homemade. The basis was a Yamaha Venture Royale (the V-Max without the V) with a Jaguar full-width back axle. I can tell you that it accelerated well and can certainly go around corners.

We were made most welcome at Chez Chris and the BBQ was ready almost as we walked in the door thanks to Chris’ beautiful Panamanian wife Frankie. The burgers, complete with Blue cheese surprise, were simply sinful. Chris lives in a house that he is gradually converting from a farm steading and his living room is approx. 100 ft. long. Situated in the Highlands as it is, I would not care to try heating it in the Scottish winter. Chris has many varied and interesting hobbies and, indeed it appears, occupations. Among these are stripping, cleaning, renovating and occasionally gold plating military jet ejector seats, chrome and gold plating (Gold Effects (UK) Ltd., Ross-shire) and quail farming. However, his most interesting hobby to my mind is the reason behind the quail. He keeps, flies and provides a rescue centre for raptors. His collection includes horned owls, a beautiful snowy owl, Harris hawks including the magnificent Cheyenne and falcons. Chris was kind enough to give us a tour of his aviaries and allowed us to get tactile and intimate with Cheyenne. Thanks Chris and Frankie for the wonderful hospitality and I hope you received the thank-you gift.



Chris then set us on the road to Culloden Moor and we said our goodbyes. As I watched the chromed Jag axle disappear into the distance, I had to marvel at the fact that an Englishman and his Panamanian wife should have settled in the Highlands of Scotland choosing to rescue birds of prey and raise quail rather than follow the accepted norms of society. Is there something about Scotland that does this to people? Is this why a group of clansmen thought they could beat the might of a well equipped and experienced army from the South on a battle-field unsuited to their usual method of engagement? Is this why so many died in less than one hour hemmed in by turf walls they knew were closing their flank? If so I salute them for their bravery against the odds and it was a sombre group of Irish motorcyclists who walked the ancient battlefield that evening.

As we returned to the bikes for the journey back to Fort William it was a lot later than planned. We decided to take the A82 back thereby missing the B-roads we had intended to take but not feeling aggrieved as we felt we had gained more in the day than we lost. The Glen Nevis bar provided the entertainment for the evening with a classic rock band. The narcissistic bass player had to be seen to be believed but in fairness to him he had a great voice and loads of talent while the lead guitarist left me spell-bound. The drummer brought the following quote to mind “Mickah Wallace? But he’s a savage. I know he is, but he’s our savage”. Brilliant.

I picked up a nail in the rear Tourance on the Adventure on Saturday evening, and though we plugged it, I knew it was not one hundred percent. This blew our plans to join Ron Male on his Angus Glens Run on Sunday morning out of the water. Sorry Ron, we were really looking forward to it. This of course left us at a bit of a loose end. What to do? We decided to head away for a short spin keeping a regular check on the tyre pressure. Running through Fort Augustus, I noticed a garage open. “On a Sunday morning? He’ll never. What have I got to lose?” Sure enough the mechanic on duty agreed to repair the puncture and was even bike aware enough not to put the spoked wheel on his machine and used sheets of cardboard between the tyre levers and the rim.


Quickly on the road again with the Adventure’s handling back to wonderful perfection, we decided, as we were already out, we may as well head for John O’ Groats. You know how you do. Into Inverness and onto the A9 north. The Adventure was in its element. Fast A-road with big sweeping bends followed by tight left, right combinations, the Adventure just soaked it all up. Delivering power as and when required to squirt out of bends or overtake slower moving traffic and then, the massive engine braking draining off excess speed as you approach the next hazard removing any requirement to light up the rear. The Tourance pair were nearing end-of-life when I picked the bike up, but the roads didn’t put much extra wear on the centre treads. The sides however had a much harder time of it and came through as gold medallists providing grip worthy of Loc-Tite rather than a simple tyre manufacturer.

If we thought the A9 was good, the A99 through Wick and on to John O’ Groats showed us just how much fun a road can be when ordinary mortals are given the playthings of the Gods. I might have been astride winged Pegasus as the Adventure swooped, soared and turned along the North Sea following every inlet and cliff-top of that sea battered coastline. As we approached Wick I was reminded of Billy Connolly on his World Tour of Scotland. Wick was one of his stop-offs and this just added to the day as I find it impossible to think of Billy without grinning.



We arrived in John O’ Groats in glorious sunshine with a few light, white feathery clouds adding to the artist’s palette of blue sky contrasting with purple heather and yellow flowered bracken. Simply breath-taking. How simple it is to tick off life goals in the right circumstances. The only way to add to this day would have been to turn around and head off for Land’s End, but that will keep for another day. We parked up at the pier, took the mandatory photographs and retired for the equally mandatory fare from the nearby burger van. I know, I know, its not quails eggs and foie gras but what can I tell you. No silver spoons here.

Time to head back to Fort William only to discover that Drew’s R1200 GS was refusing to initialise the ABS and brake servo. We waited a few minutes and tried again a couple of times as this had worked for me in the past when the servo on my RT failed, but to no avail. The system resolutely refused. Drew was unhappy to ride without the servo and I can’t say I blame him. He was also correctly advised against this when he contacted BMW Motorrad UK. They arranged for a tow truck to come out to us and for a replacement car for Drew. While we were sitting waiting for the tow truck, eagle-eye NiPhil noticed what appeared to be a piece of plastic out of position near the rear brake pedal on the GS. When he moved this, the pedal returned to its normal position and when Drew switched on the bike, the system initialised and was back to normal. The plastic is in fact a cover for some electrics in the area of the rear brake pedal and when it came loose it fouled the pedal. Worth checking if your 1200 GS brakes fail and may save you having to cancel a tow truck and replacement vehicle.

Back down the A99 we came, laughing all the while. Sweeping through the bends like swallows stuck to the tarmac, around the hair-pin bends displaying a panache due more to the chassis technology of the bikes than to any particular rider ability I suspect, avoiding the odd Red Bull can on the exit, (NiPhil), and sweeping down onto the A9 into Inverness like the Five Horsemen of the Apocalypse, (I know there were only traditionally Four but we decided to let LOGISTICS ride with us, because we couldn’t believe he was there).

As we departed Inverness and were again enjoying ourselves along the A82, my heart suddenly started to race as I heard the dreaded sirens wail and saw the flashing blues in my mirror. “What had he seen us doing and more to the point, where the heck had he been?” I watched as Phil pulled over to let him past and up he came behind me. “Oh no!” I pulled over to allow him past in the hope that he had other business and to my amazement he continued on past, overtaking the truck in front of me and away into the distance. My heart managed to settle down a bit as we drove through Invermoriston only to have it replaced with shock as we rode out of town. Traffic stopped, a bike blocking the road and the patrol car halted with blues still flashing beside a sheet covered body and a wrecked bike.

A local came walking back and informed us that the motorcyclist was dead and the police would keep the road closed until they were satisfied. He showed us an alternative route and indicated another heart-broken motorcyclist sitting on the verge. As we didn’t wish to intrude on his grief, we turned around and headed for camp. May he find repose in the arms of his God and may his family and friends find comfort and solace where they can.

Sunday was a reasonably quiet night for some of us. I think we each reflected on the day and what might have been, and possibly thought about home. I know I did.

Monday morning we decided to head south to be close to the boat on Tuesday. As a final fling we took a spin along the B8004 to Gairlochy and the B8005 back to Fort William. It’s only about ten miles but well worth visiting as it is single track with good visibility if you are looking, and tremendous fun. The Adventure took to it like the proverbial duck to water. Then back past the campsite and on up Glen Nevis. If it were possible to experience the thrill of a top roller-coaster while on a motorcycle, then this road is it. It has everything, twists, turns, climbs, unbelievable drops, unseen changes of direction; in fact the only element it doesn’t have is a loop. There is a section where you literally cannot see where the road is going until you are on the crest of the hill and you then realise the road turns right under your front wheel. Lightning fast reactions or a change of underwear required. Not that I would do such a thing, but I can see where long travel suspension could be required on landing from some of the yumps, as the rally fraternity call them.

Tents down, bikes packed and we were on the A82 south and bidding a fond farewell to the Highlands of oh such recent acquaintance. Glencoe, though grudgingly, appeared to have accepted that perhaps these weren’t such soft southerners and greeted us with a brighter visage than previously. If I may give a word of thanks to the crew working on road improvements in Glencoe, the blonde lady engineer certainly brightened up our transit through. She was the topic of much conversation at our next coffee stop on Loch Lomond. More apple pie and ice cream. What can I tell you?



We decided to avoid the Erskine Bridge and travel through Glasgow on our route south. Possibly not the best of plans as there was quite a bit of traffic and air cooled bikes throw off a lot of heat. The fact that the day was particularly fine just added to the fun. On through Clydebank, Partick, Ibrox, Govan and then the M77/A77.

I love the A77 past Ayr and on down the coast, and always have since the first time I rode it about twenty five years ago. However the enjoyment has been ruined somewhat by the proliferation of speed cameras on it these days. I am not talking about being able to speed on it either. I am talking about the reactions of other drivers upon seeing a camera, but I’m not taking my soap-box out. Suffice to say I think a good, safely rideable road has been taken from us.

We stopped in Girvan considering getting a B&B for the night, but as so often happens, the conversation quickly turned to getting an earlier boat. We contacted the second group who had already organised lodgings in Maybole. That was the decision made. We were not for back-tracking so, onward to Cairnryan. Tickets changed, we made for Stranraer for a quick Chinese before returning to Cairnryan for loading at 19.15. Two hours after sailing we were deposited dockside in Larne at 22.15.

We said our goodbyes to Phil and Drew and headed for Belfast, Newry and Dublin. Travelling down the M1 south past Drogheda, we encountered some fog and I discovered just how effective are the optional running lights on the Adventure. They simply cut through fog as if it wasn’t there and are a definite benefit and well worth any extra expense.

At about 00.30 I pulled into the driveway in Summerhill, tired but still comfortable on the bike. I could easily have continued riding. The relationship of seat to bars to foot-pegs is such as to generate a very comfortable platform for long distance touring and the long travel suspension thrown into the mix means there is nothing to physically drain the rider other than the individual’s personal fitness for the task. I have always been a dyed-in-the-wool RT rider and while I am not so narrow minded that I have not tried other bikes such as Wings, Pans, even Tour Glides, I have never found a bike that I preferred. A regular comment of mine to GS riders was, if BMW made a GS with an RT fairing, I would buy one. It looks like they have done just that. Who says big companies don’t listen to customers. On checking the bike computer, I discovered that I had averaged about 30 mpg. I was surprised at that until I saw that our average speed for the trip was 80 km/h. You’ve got to love sparsely populated areas with quiet roads and sensible speed limits.

Thanks must go to the people who made the Adventure on an Adventure so enjoyable; Eddie for the idea, Paul Browne, Joe Duffy BMW Motorrad for the bike, Chris, Davey, Dave, RaceTruck, (I still don’t believe he went), Ted, NiPhil, Drew, Jack and Keith.

Finally, but by no means least, Paul Browne, R.I.P. You said it always rains in Scotland but it didn’t and you would have loved it. See you sometime.
 
1st Class write up there TheWarlock...your words drew pictures that were as clear as being there.....Cheers..:thumb
 
Commando Memorial - Spean Bridge

IMG_0140.jpg

Had not stopped there since I was a boy although I have ridden past it many times.

Did so on my way to Skye last weekend and wandered round the garden of remembrance nearby. Be prepared to be moved at the words of the families who have placed memorials there to fathers and grandfathers who fought in WW2. There are equally poignant memorials to Marines killed more recently in Ireland, Iraq and Afghanistan.

Must have been on my mind when I stopped in Strontian on my way home from Skye. The war memorial there says it all I think ...

IMG_0156.jpg


The gaelic says "Redemption and Justice". I used an online dictionary. A native Gaelic speaker might not agree.
 
If the newbie can make a suggestion...

This is where I stayed when I came to Scotland.

http://www.aboutscotland.co.uk/aberdeen/lynturk.html

John and Veronica Evans-Freke were excellent hosts, and the surroundings were beautiful. The cost was very reasonable (in my opinion), and Veronica makes the best breakfast I have ever had. First chance I get I'm going back.

One question, if anyone sees this. There is a fish and chip shop near Aberdeen, one that had won some award as the best of its kind in the UK. Does anyone know what the name of that place is? I have never been hooked on drugs, but I can't imagine that they are more addictive than the fish and chips from that shop.

Alba Gu Brath, y'all.
 
Lochcarron

Having passed through Lochcarron numerous times, we actually decided to stop overnight this time and would highly recomend our B&B. Lovely rooms, very clean, great breakfast (especially the black pudding) and fantastic views :thumb2

http://www.castlecottagebandb.co.uk/

We had dinner at The Bistro on the B&B owners recommendation and had an excellent meal. Gordon Ramsey would have been proud of them :clap

Best to book a table though as it's very small and was packed out on a Thursday night http://www.scottishholidays.net/client/f/003-001-120.html

Unlike the Lochacarron Hotel which looked to be continuing that fine Scottish tradition of producing inedible 80's pub food :(

BTW we stopped at Glenuig on the way down to Mull the next day and the inn was looking very shabby with its peeling paint and knackered roof and windows. Thankfully it was closed, so we had lunch at the visitors centre on the way to the Kilchoan ferry instead...
 
The Townhead Cafe, Biggar.

I get paid to drive from Bolton, M6/M74 & up the A82 from Glasgow to Inverness, then taking the A9 back to Edinburgh about once a month.... I love that trip & would love to ride it one day.

We work up-north loads & use the A702 short cut (M74/Edinburgh), Another road i like to drive. The chippy in Biggar has always been a fav' stopping place for us, as you can sit in, takeaway or even just pickup a decent brew.

It's called "The Townhead Café" in the Border town of Biggar & was crowned the UK’s best fish and chip shop 2007.

I've always enjoyed the food, try it & see what you think. Nab. :thumb
 
Pick any road north of Inverness and you'll have a great time.

If you're heading for Skye - take a detour around LochCarron and do the High pass to Applecross that has been mentioned on here. It's stunning. The Applecross Inn does fantastic seafood but get there early, it's impossible to get a seat 7-9pm.

East Side: A9 North of Inverness as already pointed out, it's a road made for bikes. Watch out for idiot tourists stopping without warning and geriatric crofters driving as if they are the only vehicle on the road - they're lethal.
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Stop at the 'Trawler' chippy on the main drag in Golspie on the A9- you will not be disappointed. Theres a car park next to the beach 100m away.

From Golspie, North to John O'Groats and then West to Durness/Cape Wrath and then South to Ullapool is probably some of the best biking country in the UK. And because it's too far North for a lot of the tourists you can (especially in Sutherland) almost have the roads to yourselves - even in the middle of summer.

Just watch out for sheep, deer, sheep, midgies, sheep and a bumblebee F800GS (me, probably not a sheep, but there is a resemblance to a Texel/Cheviot cross).

If anyone wants any detailed info about Caithness/JOG - please give me a buzz.

K.
 
A few years ago I was mad keen on panoramic photography and here are a few of the fruits of my labours to amplify what Klanky, and others, say. They've been shrunk down so much they lose a lot of impact but if you've never been, never seen it, hopefully it'll whet your appetite:

Dornoch Firth, on the A9 north of Inverness:

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Dornoch Firth again, from the road to Rogart / Bonar Bridge:

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And again, from the back road to Bonar Bridge:

431826923_sPFLB-XL.jpg




This is up in the hills above the Kyle of Tongue:

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As is this:

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And these are some of Orkney:

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431826999_pjA4r-XL.jpg



431826961_MjJ3k-XL.jpg



431826933_9PiuM-XL.jpg



431826980_V6qxy-XL.jpg



431827011_eLMSZ-XL.jpg
 
A few years ago I was mad keen on panoramic photography and here are a few of the fruits of my labours to amplify what Klanky, and others, say. They've been shrunk down so much they lose a lot of impact but if you've never been, never seen it, hopefully it'll whet your appetite:

Dornoch Firth, on the A9 north of Inverness:

431826882_u9mQ5-XL.jpg




Dornoch Firth again, from the road to Rogart / Bonar Bridge:

431826895_niKBy-XL.jpg




And again, from the back road to Bonar Bridge:

431826923_sPFLB-XL.jpg




This is up in the hills above the Kyle of Tongue:

431827022_ZHkZu-XL.jpg




As is this:

431826942_oHpD6-XL.jpg




And these are some of Orkney:

431826860_rRbGD-XL.jpg



431826999_pjA4r-XL.jpg



431826961_MjJ3k-XL.jpg



431826933_9PiuM-XL.jpg



431826980_V6qxy-XL.jpg



431827011_eLMSZ-XL.jpg

sorted some for ye:thumb
 
biker hotel

if you need or want to stay down in the southern end of scotland the Buccleuch Arms Hotel in Moffat is activley biker friendly (pronounced buck lew) it is an absolute gem of a place the staff could not be any more helpfull,the food is FIRST CLASS,(huge menu) they have secure parking,and because we were on the bike they gave us a 15% discount (the owners are bikers) all in all a complete gem of a place NO HESITATION in recommending this establishment
www.buccleucharmshotel.com
ps iv no connection to this place just stopped in on the off chance on a dark pissing night and was very pleasantly surprised (not universally welcomed with your bike gear on has been my experience):bounce1:bounce1:clap:clap
 


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