United Kingdom 2006
 
 

Day 09

August 27

 
 

When I wake up this morning, it's a rainy day. But as I look up toward the mountains I can see a rainbow faintly painted in the darkened skies. To me it is a promise of good things to come and it will not be the only one that I see today.

 
 
 
 

For me it is also a time of quiet reflection, as many of the riders have to head back home and rejoin their 'normal' daily routine tomorrow. I know that my time is coming, but I still have the unseen sights of Ireland to contemplate and another day of riding in Scotland. Gareth, my roommate and fellow pork pie eater is on the road soon. As he leaves, I can't help but smile as he could pass for Guy in his Blue Aerostich as he pulls away on his ST1100. In honor of his departing, I have spirited away a pork pie for the somber occasion. I also just happen to have a little mayo, some cheese, a Diet Pepsi and a Snicker's bar. What a breakfast feast I have and with sound effects no less. My digestion is aided by the snoring of my remaining roommate Dave which vaguely resembles a steam shovel hard at work. The reverberations have little effect on my appetite, so I make short work of my provisions.

Colin is the next one to bid us an adieu. Soon the SmartHound has it packed up and he is headed back to his 'kennel' in Wales.

 
 
 
  It's sleepy sort of peaceful day, and those of us still around are in no hurry. Dave has a nice ride that will take us up to Mallaig on A830 road – the "Road to the Isles" - also known as "Rathad nan Eilean". It is a functioning sea port more than a tourist spot so it should be interesting. Then we will head back on some of the roads that we traveled in the past few days. At our first fuel stop, Bob points me to this gas display with a bit of caution, since I did eat haggis last night.  
 
 
 

After I fuel up the ST1300, I go inside to pay and pick up a few snacks. I'm chatting with the man behind the counter and I just mention that my great grandmother was a McPherson. He says -

"Well, I'm a McPherson also. Glad to have you here."

 
 
 
 

We head back to the Corran Ferry via A82 so we can check another great single track that Dave knows about. The rain has stopped for a little while which sure makes waiting on the ferry a little more convenient.

 
 
 
  Once we cross the Loch Linnhe, we hang a right through the village of Ardgour and north on a single track that shadows the northern part of the loch then heads west along the shore line of Loch Eil. And though the clouds come back in, there's another rainbow beaming across a valley that we are passing through on the way to Glenfinnan.  
 
 
 

The National Trust Of Scotland has been entrusted with custody of the Glenfinnan Monument and has established a very nice visitor's center. The rain has caught up with us again, so the shelter is much appreciated by all of us and is a good place for a cup of hot tea. This is where Bonnie Prince Charlie, born Charles Edward Stuart, rallied over 1,200 fierce Highlanders in 1745 to attempt to lay claim to the British throne. It is known in history as the Jacobite Uprising. He failed miserably and was soundly defeated at the Battle of Culloden Moor in April, 1746. He then became a fugitive and later escaped to Italy through a series of interesting intrigues, where he turned to the bottle to console himself. In 1815 Alexander MacDonald erected the monument that still stands in memory of the Highlanders that gave their all for the cause, with a statue of the Prince perched on top. The waters of Loch Shiel provides a dramatic backdrop for the whole affair.

 
 
 
 
As we make our way along A830 through small villages with long Scottish names I can't even pronounce, the presence of the railroad is always visible. It is a constant reminder of how important the rails once were to this area. Most of the trains that run on these tracks now are for sightseeing, and I catch a glimpse of a 'stoker' hard at work.
 
 
 
  The rain has left us once again as we reach the harbor of Mallaig. It is the official end of the "Road To The Isles", the termination of the West Highland Railway, and the jumping off point for many ferries that service the surrounding islands. It is also the home to many fisherman who daily ply their trade in the cold, surrounding waters.  
 

 
 

We find a good place to park our bikes so we can stretch our legs a bit. In this stretching business, we can always work in a cup of tea and a scone or two. And there's nothing like a few sea gulls standing sentinel to welcome you in.

 
 

 
 

As we stroll down the narrow lanes back to the bikes, I see a National Scotland Heritage Center. When I go in, I see all sorts of interesting books and maps. One that I find of particular interest is a map that shows the various clans of Scotland and what part of the country they were originally located. As I purchase it to take back with me, I mention to the lady behind the counter -

"My great grandmother was a McPherson from Scotland. I've been told that they were from near this area."

Another lady standing nearby tells me -

"Yes, that is correct. They are from the northwest Highlands and I happen to be a McPherson also."

So here I am, a far piece from my Holler and I have met another one of my long distance clansmen - or should I say 'clanslady'. While I am there, I also get a good look at the particular tartan of the McPherson clan.

With my treasures in hand, I head back to the bike and catch up with the Peter, Fi, Bob and Dave. Soon we are back on the road again, as Dave takes us for some more riding on the single tracks. Once you get over the idea of just how narrow they are, they are great fun. They remind me so much of the narrow holler roads I grew up on, except they were all gravel.

 

And these roads consistently take you to places beautiful in their solitude - and probably seldom seen by most folks.

 
 
 
 

On the way back in when we come near Strontian, it is a unanimous decision by Dave and I to stop by the tearoom. The thought of that poor apple pie just laying there lonely in the display is more that our hearts can stand. As knights of old would come to the rescue of a damsel in distress, we rush in to see if we can be of service to remove the affliction. And, joy of all joys, they do have some left which we quickly relieve them of. With our good deed done for the day, it's back across the ferry at Corran and on to Kinlochleven. It's only been 160 miles or so for the day, but it has been very relaxing and enjoyable.

After chucking our riding gear, we wander back to the pub on premises to see what's on the menu. I go for the venison pie tonight and it is very, very good. But it doesn't do much to improve my pool game, as I get soundly beaten by Keith at the billiards table twice. I give him a good run for his money, but I can't seem to master the smaller table and the narrower pockets. Then Dave steps up and I realize I might as well put my cue back in the rack as I watch his practiced hand and eye. I tell him -

"I bet I know what you did when you were in the military."

He mercilessly cleans the table without so much as leaving me a shot. A feller can only stand getting whipped just so many times, so I do put up my cue. Then Peter challenges me to a game of pub darts which I know nothing about.

"I'll spot you a bit since you've never played this game before" he tells me.

"Nope, if I'm gonna lose, I'll lose going full tilt."

As it turns out, all those years of dart throwing in my momma's basement growing up helps a bit once I understand the rules. Peter jumps out way ahead, but I slowly begin to get warmed up and get my bearings. With every throw I get closer to taking the prize. I finally get within one toss of him, but then he shuts the lid on me just in the nick of time for him. Soundly defeated, and soundly full, I head back to the wigwam hoping to get the jump on Dave. With Gareth and Moff both gone now, it will be up to Dave and I to provide all of the sound effects to keep the pesky midges away. And as it turns out, we are both more than up for the job.