We left Arran on the ferry back to Claonig, then cycled across Kintyre to Kennecraig where we had arrived from Islay approximately a week prior. We pedaled over the narrow land bridge that connects Kintyre to the mainland. It was a bit of a climb, but we felt that we didn't have it too hard compared to the characters in this legend:
In 1093, the Viking King Magnus Barelegs proved his rule of the western islands by claiming any land that he could circumnavigate in a boat. Islands like Islay and Arran proved a piece of cake, but Kintyre, though it was connected to the mainland, proved too good to pass up. So he rode in his longboat while his legion of crew dragged the boat over the mile-long isthmus that connects Kintyre to the mainland. Since he was, technically, able to circumnavigate Kintyre while in his boat, he declared that Kintyre was therefore an island. So his claim to Kintyre was valid.
On the eastern end of the isthmus, with ever increasing wind, we arrived in Tarbert. The second Tarbert we've been to so far (the first was on Harris), and one of several that are in the western region of Scotland. The name Tarbert comes from the Gaelic word for isthmus- tairbeart. Broken down, tar means "across" and a form of the verb beir "carry" and literally translates as "across-carrying". No wonder the name Tarbert is popular in a land shaped by the sea!
As in, across-carrying your boat.
Tarbert is a perfect natural harbor, and the waters within were perfectly calm while the wind increased in intensity and the skies threatened rain.
A pretty seaside town, and a popular tourist destination during summer. Owing to the strategic location of the isthmus Tarbert is home to three castles, and has a turbulent history through the Middle Ages as kings wrestled for control of the islands. Including the famed Robert the Bruce.
The seas were rough as we crossed from Tarbert to Portavadie on the Argyll coast, and the skies grew increasingly threatening.
Once we arrived at Portavadie the skies made good on their promise to rain. We lunched in the ferry terminal building, and then bundled up as best we could and headed out in it. Our route north took us through Millhouse, to Kames, and along the Kyles of Bute and Loch Riddon. There were lots of steep climbs, right into the clouds and rain, but the views were outstanding.
This might be an artist conception of a prehistoric pterodactyl-sized midge. It was impressive! And scary! And probably nearly as mean as the modern midge! We pedaled away as quickly as we could...
Here we're overlooking the island of Bute, across the Kyles of Bute. A steep little island! This part of Argyll is called "The Secret Coast", perhaps as a means to entice tourists to come visit. There are a number of super cute seaside towns with sheltered harbors, huge old manors, and well-appointed accommodations for holiday makers.
We came to a place called Glendaruel, which means The Glen of the Red River. It received this name after a particularly bloody battle between the Norse and the Gaels in the 1100's, after which the slaughtered were placed in the river, causing it to run red. We found the beautiful Glen to be wide open and picturesque, even in the rain. A number of pipe tunes take their inspiration from Glendaruel, including The Glendaruel Highlanders, The Maid of Glendaruel, among others.
At the Kilmodan Kirk (church) in Glendaruel we found a lapidarium with an exhibit of medieval burial stones from the 13-15th century, some in remarkably good condition.
We've seen quite a number of these burial stones in recent weeks, and the symbolism and longevity never fail to fascinate. They were carved to commemorate the life of a soldier, a craftsman, a holy man or woman ... these people were here hundreds of years ago, living in the same hills that we're cycling through.
We stopped in the chapel for a break from the wind and rain. It's a beautiful wee chapel, and is used to this day. Chapels and churches are frequently open through the day, and we've taken brief refuge in quite a few of them over the last couple of months. They're always very beautiful and well-kept, and we enjoy the peace and tranquility they afford us.
We continued onward from Glendaruel, in a continuous drizzle. It was getting late, so we started looking for a place to camp. We pondered carefully the flat spots we passed, the depth of the water in the bogs, the velocity of the wind and how it would make the soggy tent flap all night ... And we eventually came up with another idea.
We made Strachur in the evening, hoping that the hotel would have a room available at an affordable rate. Turns out it was a five-star outfit and was a wee beyond our budget, but the hostess refered us to a B&B five miles up the road - and she even called to see if they had a room available!
The Thistle House.
This is the parlor - beautiful! And comfortable! And warm and dry! And that's a REAL peat fire. We love the smell of peat smoke, and we have been treated to its comforting aroma frequently throughout Scotland travels. It's a very homey smell, and invokes images of a warm hearth and cozy evening at home playing music and socializing with friends and family.
The only issue with staying at the B&B was that we needed dinner. The nearest restaurant was five wet miles away in Strachur. But we had planned to camp that night and had suitable provisions for dinner, so we donned our rain gear and headed into the back garden of the B&B with our camp stove and cooked a solid camp dinner in their back yard! The hostess said later that they "get all types" and we were not the strangest they'd had. Not sure if we found comfort in that statement or not...?
The next morning we feasted on a huge vegetarian "Full Breakfast," worth a couple thousand calories, and headed off once again. Our objective was to make Stirling - literally half-way across the country to the east. Funnily, one of the last days of the cycle tour was the longest of the entire adventure, in terms of miles.
Thankfully, the weather was cooperating. And it continued to cooperate for nearly the first whole hour of the day!
We rode along Loch Fyne, heading north before turning inland toward Loch Lomond.
This sign was somewhat alarming!
Fortunately it wasn't too windy that day.
This wee loch is high in the mountains, which are covered in clouds and rain.
We climbed the A83 and enjoyed the scenery along the way. Even in the rain this place is beautiful.
We finally topped out at the memorable pass called 'Rest And Be Thankful', which overlooks the breathtaking Glen Croe toward Loch Lomond.
And it was a torrential downpour at the moment so we decided to not rest there. Visibility was only a half mile or so, and resting in a downpour? ... No thanks. We headed down the pass, which was so steep and fast that the rain stung our faces and eyes as we raced down. Cycle touring in the rain is a blast!
Alas, the rain let up just down the hill, so we pulled off to celebrate and 'Rest and Be Thankful' for our safe and successful journey. We played a beautiful slow aire called 'Auld Resting Chair', and snacked a bit.
The highway continued eastward to a wee village called Tarbet (not Tarbert). There we exited the highway and found the Loch Lomond Way, a cycle path on the old highway.
No traffic, smooth roads, and great scenery!
We zipped along southward through tunnels of trees...
And occasionally caught glimpses of beautiful Loch Lomond.
The rain came and went as we headed south, but it didn't rain as hard as it had earlier that day so we considered ourselves lucky.
We stopped at a bench and treated ourselves to another musical interlude, singing the famous song Loch Lomond. Our talented musical friend Lance sings it beautifully, and where we might have fallen short of the sonority of his voice we compensated with enthusiasm and joy.
We saw this banner posted on a fence in Luss:
So There!
About half-way through the day we came to a major milestone: the town of Balloch. Balloch is where we spent our very first night in Scotland, so many weeks and so many miles ago. It was quite moving to come through here again now that we're more experienced, and we remember just how foreign and daunting the whole adventure was to us back on the 17h of July. If only we had known then what we know now!
We celebrated our return to Balloch at a place that was closing just when we pulled into Balloch back in July. It was raining that night, and we just wanted somewhere to sit and get warm and dry before heading into the park to pitch the tent in the rain; but when we walked in that night we were told they were closing!
This time we were just in time for lunch, and we dined on their finest fish and chips and coffee. And it was delicious, indeed!
And we treated ourselves to a genuine Scottish culinary delicacy:
Deep Fried Mars Bar! It was good to try it. Once. And. Never. Again.
We trundled out of Balloch, following the very same cycle routes that we rode on our second day in Scotland. And, for the most part, we took the same wrong turns, complained about the same pot holes, saw the same cows, and worked our way up the same hills! But, really, it was fun to see the same scenery in the colors of Autumn, and we even stopped to pick blackberries that were just budding flowers back in July.
Now for a couple diversions....
1) Scotland has this law about "dog fouling" that was enacted in 2003, and they take it seriously. We've posted strange and remarkable signs about "No Dog Fouling" that we've come across. But the Council of Stirling takes the cake with their signs:
It appears as though they expect you'll follow along after your wee dog, crouching patiently with one hand outstretched and ready to pass your pooch's fresh delivery to the disposal bag you keep at the ready in your other hand. They even offer a phone number in case you need information or advice on the most efficient and effective way to conduct this business. Brilliant!
2) The Canadians:
These folks were on a shorter cycle tour of Scotland to celebrate thirty-five years of marriage ("to each other," they pointed out. We don't think they mean that they're all married to each other, but rather we suppose there are two separate couples touring. But how does one tactfully ask such questions of total strangers?) They were fun to talk with, and couldn't believe that we had been on the road for 2-1/2 months! They're touring the John Muir Way to Strathblane, and they made these nifty t-shirts to celebrate their adventure.
John Muir was a Scottish naturalist and preservationist, engineer, philosopher, writer, founder of the Sierra Club in the US, and was instrumental in helping to preserve Sequoia and Yosemite in California. He was referred to as the Father of The National Park, and is revered in Scotland as well as the US for his naturalist work and foresight to establish protections for remarkable natural areas. The John Muir was is a 139-mile long-distance route through Scotland, and is travelled by walkers and cyclists.
We left the cycle path and found our own way eastward. Continuing through the farmlands, along untrafficked and un-numbered roads, we made Killearn and found a monument to George Buchanan.
Buchanan, born in Killearn, was a scholar and poet known for his witty satire against a corrupt church and government. He was actually enprisoned in St. Andrews for a satire of Henry V and escaped in exile to travel and teach abroad. Upon his eventual return to Scotland he became the tutor of Mary Queen of Scots and later her son Henry VI. Buchanan's ideas were influential during the 1688 constitutional changes in Great Briton as well as during the creation of the American constitution.
East of Killearn, we rode through the Fintry Hills to the town of Fintry. This is a beautiful rolling terrain, with cows and sheep and large farms.
Eventually we came to a fork in the road at the Carron Valley reservoir, and started up our second grueling climb of the day. It was long, slow, and we were already tired before we started up!
We felt like we were a hundred miles from anywhere, and we really weren't. Stirling was probably another ten miles ahead, but with no traffic and no signs of people we felt far away from anything. We felt as remote here as we did in the far corners of the Highlands and Islands, and we loved it! (Although you can't really make out the enthusiasm in the next photo!)
We climbed for what seemed like hours. And for just a short while we were grateful for the deep fried Mars bar and the thousands of calories that we socked away at lunch.
We climbed and climbed. Neither of us were aware that central Scotland had such hills! We thought it would be flat! Nnnnnnope. We were glad for all the hard miles we'd put in on this trip; being in such good shape makes it possible to do such a climb is late in the day.
Eventually we reached a wind-turbine installation at the top of the Touch Hills, feeling beat, and looked down to Stirling. It was a thrilling descent, then we wound our way through a couple small towns. And then came the culture shock of a major divided motorway, the M9. Considering that we'd felt all alone in the world just a few miles ago, it was almost scary to hear the roar of traffic! Quite a contrast to the places we've been for the last couple of months...
We rode into Stirling as it was starting to get dark, feeling half delirious from the long day's efforts. The roads were wet, and here is where boB finally met the pavement up close. It was our very first "crash" of the entire cycle tour, but to call it that is a bit of an overstatement. Basically, the rear wheel slid out on a wet curb going up a steep hill, and boB tipped over leftward while moving only about six or seven miles per hour. Thankfully it was very slow and there was no damage to Melinda's guitar or boB's fiddle. boB was fine, too, thanks for asking.
We checked into the Stirling hostel, moved into our private room, and promptly disgorged the entire contents of our panniers all over the place. It's amazing how much stuff we carry!
It was the most miles we'd done in a single day: 73.29. And we were utterly exhausted. Time to rest up and tomorrow we'll explore the rich and complex history of Stirling, one of the most historically significant and strategic locations in all of Scotland.
5 October: Lochranza to St Catherines via ferry from Lochranza, Arran to Claonaig, Kintyre, B8001, A83, ferry from Tarbert, Kintyre to Portavadie, Cowal, A8003, A886, and A815. Visited Glendaruel. Passed through Kennacraig, Millhouse, Kames, Stuchur. Luxurious night at our first B&B 'The Thistle House'. Total 45.87 miles.
6 October: St Catherines to Stirling via A815, A83, Rest & Be Thankful pass, Loch Lomand Cycle Route, Cycle Route 7, B834, A875, B818, and the hellish white road from Fintry passed the North Third Reservoir. boB's wee crash climbing the hill in Stirling. Stayed at Stirling Hostel. Total 73.29 miles.
