Ferry to Stornaway

We left the lodge this morning and guess what? Yep, it was raining. Our gear had dried out over night in some very dodgy use of electric fires. The cabin was like a sauna but we could not risk our gear not trying out so we slowly basted over night.

We have established some important facts about motorcycle gear, performance does not necessarily come with price. Take Gavatrons Alpine Start boots, expensive, gortex lined, shite. Or Williams Oxford ‘Laminate’ Textiles, Also expensive, filled with technology, also shite. Both leaked like an old tent, both, you guessed it, shite!

Edwards on the other hand, Mr, ‘I can get 10 of those for the same price from China’ was sitting pretty in his bin bag waterproofs and wellies.

The plan for the day was to catch the ferry from Ullapool to Stornaway travelling over the Bealec na ba and via Applecross. Gavaton turned into a bit of a girl at this Idea, apparently ‘it’s dangerous’, ‘ you guys will leave me’, ‘I’ve got the wrong bike’, ‘I’m scared, hold me’. Err no Gav, grow a pair, even cyclist travel are up here.

To be fair, Gav might have been on to something, the higher we climbed, the worse it got and the less we could see. Edward’s Visor steamed up so he decided to open it. This turned out to be a monumentally stupid idea, his face turned instantly to ice. We passed a number of car clubs, hot hatch’s and Porsche’s. They looks quite a bit warmer than we did.

Eventually we could virtually not see each other visibility was so poor as we claimed to about 2000 ft.

Once over the top and through Applecross we found a cafe to have a scone and a cup of tea. Everywhere we stopped we left a trail of pissy puddles.

Once through Applecross the roads and scenery around the coast is breathtaking even if it was not matched by the weather which was appalling. Edward regaled us with facts about the land scape like ‘it unchanged since the Jurassic era’. Dull!

We tried in vein to find somewhere that would make us a cooked breakfast settling instead for a small lochside cafe that served eggs Benedict. Gavatron decided it was Earle’s enough for a baby deer burger and we set off for the final push to Ullapool and the ferry across to Harris.

For a change we actually arrived in plenty of time and once again, after parking the bikes up ready to board we set off to find a cafe. By now Williams was piss wet through and had developed crutch rot and Gavatron was walking in his own private swimming pools. We found the Magot Cafe, not the most encouraging name but it was warm. Unfortunately they were closing, we were gutted. The young lady behind the counter though obviously spotted the desperation in our eyes and invited us in for a cup of tea and a cake while they cleared up. We actually stayed there while they tidied for about an hour. Top people.

We were now on a high, our luck was obviously changing so we boarded the ferry in hope of a great crossing with calm seas, something delicious for tea and perhaps a beer as the crossing was 3 hours. We had heard the food on the ferry was good, in particularly the fish and chips. Edwards and Williams  queued first and then Gavatron went up. The boys had a bet on what he would have and Gav being a creature of comfort did not disappoint coming back with the second burger of the day after saying he was not hungry and would not eat anything. 

Williams regretted his food and win purchase as the swell steady increased to around 10ft. He disappears off to the loo where he proceeded to stay for the remainder of the journey surrounded on either side by fellow passengers who had also decided they did not want their dinner after all.

It was about 10 miles from the ferry to the house we had rented for the night which is a bit of a 1960’s museum but at least it is dry. The whole house is heated by two bar electric heaters which although incredibly dangerous are great for drying water logged motorcycle clothing.

Unbelievably, we looked out the window in the morning and it had stopped raining!!!!!!