The Isle of Mull is very beautiful, and apart from being bloody hilly, is very nice to cycle on.
However, the road from Craignure to Fionnphort is often full of coaches, taking people to the Island of Iona. And if you're going to cycle it between the hours of 10 and 5, you're going to have to spend a lot of time in passing places, waiting for coaches to pass.
I always wonder when I go to places that get a lot of tourists. Why do people want to go there? And often, even if I don't understand why they do, I like to watch people, and how they behave when they get there. If it has some meaning for them, I try to show some respect for that, even if I've no idea what they're getting out of it.
I enjoyed watching people arrive at Jami Masjid in Old Delhi. Families who seemed full of joy at arriving at the end of their pilgrimage. Iona seems to be a similar place of pilgrimage.
I enjoyed watching people arrive at Jami Masjid in Old Delhi. Families who seemed full of joy at arriving at the end of their pilgrimage. Iona seems to be a similar place of pilgrimage.
It seemed to be largely old people and people in anoraks who were on Iona. Some of the people in anoraks were a bit scruffy, or at least it seemed that way to me And some of the old people seemed to be literally on their last legs. But somehow they had managed to get themselves there. Whatever comfort or inspiration they were looking for, I hope they found it. The old lady who could barely walk off the ferry, but who was determined to do so anyway, I hope it did her some good.
It did have a very peaceful feeling there, and the pleasure of visiting there was helped by the fact that in the time it took us to cycle the three miles from one side of the island to the other, all the clouds blew away, and it became a brilliant blue day, the sky and sea in perfect harmony.
I sat on top of a hill for a while, probably the highest spot on the island and I took some panoramic shots of the scenery all around me, and I felt a little bit powerful for a short time, and I got a bit giddy, and imagined I was the King of Iona, and I imagined that I could chin and knock out anyone who came to challenge me, including Jimmy 76 from Tobermory, who I would cantilever onto his back with the minimum of effort, as soon as he started talking.
The view from the hill was the first time that Scotland looked like it had in April, with stunning blue skies, and sandy beaches, and it reminded me of being on Islay.
Ruth went into the Abbey to look at some ancient and religious things for a while, and although I didn't, there was something about the people who had bothered to travel there to look at stuff that made me feel part of something bigger than me, and I drank some chocolate milk, and bought some batteries that worked, and we saw some dolphins (or maybe they were harbour porpoises, I'm not sure) from the ferry and we had an evening ride out to Bunessan where we had a fairly uninspiring meal at the Argyll Arms, where they charged us to use the Wi-fi and home seemed a long way away, and not an easy place to get to in two days time. But after looking at various permutations, the train from Oban to Ardrossan seemed to be the best bet.
The next morning it was similarly blue, and Atlantic coast-like and we decided to take the scenic route back to Salen. As usual we didn't break any land speed records though, and this wasn't helped by stopping at the charity shop at Bunessan for half an hour on the way out to log all my miles for the trip on Bikejournal, and then we stopped at the Smithy at Pennyghael for some delicious scones, and some tea from a non-spilling teapot, and it was all served by a man whose name I never asked who had been in the Army and who now lives in Pennyghael making scones and pots of tea, and we sat and chatted to him for a while and threw a ball for his dogs and watched his ducks nearly go under the wheels of a passing car, and he was a pleasure to meet.
We also stopped at the shop at Pennyghael, and saw the nice Geordie lady again, and I asked her what it was like here in the winter, and she said 'Like this, but colder', which made me wonder if I'd asked a stupid question, like when I asked the girl what to do to get into the Dark Sky Park in Galloway Forest, and she just said 'Come at night'.
We took the scenic route back to Salen, and unlike Loch Awe, it lived up to its name. On the way up the big hill we saw a sea eagle, and when we got round the bend at the top it was one of the greatest descents ever, and the coast road had views like you wouldn't believe, and the last two days made sense of all the days of being melted and dehydrated on the way here, and I didn't think about it being the last day, I just enjoyed being there, and I was glad to see it all blue and beautiful, and I took loads of photos, but they probably don't convey the bigness of the sky and the sea.
And before long we were in Salen, and it had all been easier than we thought, and we camped again at Craignure, and got up at 6 am the next morning and caught the 6.45 ferry back to Oban, and from there we caught two trains back to Ardrossan with a walk across Glasgow in the middle of them. And as I listened to the pipers and marching bands I remembered the last time I walked into Central Station in Glasgow, and then I had a bike in a bag, after getting back from India, and here I was again, at the end of an adventure.
It was a 4 and a half hour drive home from Ardrossan, and as we reached the outskirts of the town, we passed the blackened remains of the wind turbine that had melted earlier in the year, in the high winds. And as we thought back over the good and bad of the last two weeks, the heatstroke, and the midgies, and the airless climbs through the hills, we remembered being here last year in May, seeing dog walkers being blown over in the wind, and people fleeing the ash cloud, and days and days of sideways rain, and we reflected that, as always in Scotland, although not everything had gone right for us these past two weeks, things could have been a whole lot worse.
I sat on top of a hill for a while, probably the highest spot on the island and I took some panoramic shots of the scenery all around me, and I felt a little bit powerful for a short time, and I got a bit giddy, and imagined I was the King of Iona, and I imagined that I could chin and knock out anyone who came to challenge me, including Jimmy 76 from Tobermory, who I would cantilever onto his back with the minimum of effort, as soon as he started talking.
The view from the hill was the first time that Scotland looked like it had in April, with stunning blue skies, and sandy beaches, and it reminded me of being on Islay.
Ruth went into the Abbey to look at some ancient and religious things for a while, and although I didn't, there was something about the people who had bothered to travel there to look at stuff that made me feel part of something bigger than me, and I drank some chocolate milk, and bought some batteries that worked, and we saw some dolphins (or maybe they were harbour porpoises, I'm not sure) from the ferry and we had an evening ride out to Bunessan where we had a fairly uninspiring meal at the Argyll Arms, where they charged us to use the Wi-fi and home seemed a long way away, and not an easy place to get to in two days time. But after looking at various permutations, the train from Oban to Ardrossan seemed to be the best bet.
The next morning it was similarly blue, and Atlantic coast-like and we decided to take the scenic route back to Salen. As usual we didn't break any land speed records though, and this wasn't helped by stopping at the charity shop at Bunessan for half an hour on the way out to log all my miles for the trip on Bikejournal, and then we stopped at the Smithy at Pennyghael for some delicious scones, and some tea from a non-spilling teapot, and it was all served by a man whose name I never asked who had been in the Army and who now lives in Pennyghael making scones and pots of tea, and we sat and chatted to him for a while and threw a ball for his dogs and watched his ducks nearly go under the wheels of a passing car, and he was a pleasure to meet.
We also stopped at the shop at Pennyghael, and saw the nice Geordie lady again, and I asked her what it was like here in the winter, and she said 'Like this, but colder', which made me wonder if I'd asked a stupid question, like when I asked the girl what to do to get into the Dark Sky Park in Galloway Forest, and she just said 'Come at night'.
And before long we were in Salen, and it had all been easier than we thought, and we camped again at Craignure, and got up at 6 am the next morning and caught the 6.45 ferry back to Oban, and from there we caught two trains back to Ardrossan with a walk across Glasgow in the middle of them. And as I listened to the pipers and marching bands I remembered the last time I walked into Central Station in Glasgow, and then I had a bike in a bag, after getting back from India, and here I was again, at the end of an adventure.
It was a 4 and a half hour drive home from Ardrossan, and as we reached the outskirts of the town, we passed the blackened remains of the wind turbine that had melted earlier in the year, in the high winds. And as we thought back over the good and bad of the last two weeks, the heatstroke, and the midgies, and the airless climbs through the hills, we remembered being here last year in May, seeing dog walkers being blown over in the wind, and people fleeing the ash cloud, and days and days of sideways rain, and we reflected that, as always in Scotland, although not everything had gone right for us these past two weeks, things could have been a whole lot worse.
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