“Oh Jean” Hebridean Way 2022 Day 8: Mallaig - Arisaig - Archaracle - Salen - Ben Hiant - Kilchoan ferry terminal - Tobermory

 




























Stats: 59.5 miles 4,564 feet climbing (! the biggest day so far!) 1 ferry (all to myself!) 1 Triathlon 1 bowl of Tobermory Langoustines…

Well I said yesterday I was feeling pretty good and pretty strong. Scrap that! I’d had a quick look at the elevation a couple of nights ago and it didn’t seem that dissimilar to the day through Skye. I should, however, have looked at the scale on the y-axis. Instead of being 500 ft it was 1,000…

Anyway, it wasn’t going to change no matter what I thought, and firmly putting the thought of getting the train back to Oban, (it would have taken all day as well) it was bags packed and on the bike, which was easy as it was parked in my room, and down the 2 flights of stairs into the chill morning air. I think I put a photo of the room on yesterday’s blog, but for the £20 it cost for the night the Mission bunk house was clean and comfortable if somewhat basic and run down. Downside was there was no breakfast, but with the Co-Op next door, a couple of Chelsea buns and some fruit juice and it was off out of Mallaig at just gone 7.45. 

The A830 was deserted but I’d already put in a route that skirted it for the first 8 miles or so, so pulled off onto the single track B8008 coastal road. Round the corner there was a lovely beach with a tent on it. On the other side of the tent there was a couple getting to know each other “vigorously” not 10 meters from me! A quick “morning” as I cycled past…! I Passed lots of warning signs for “race route” (good job Dec and Kieran have gone home…) coming out of Mallaig and by the time I’d reached one of the sheltered inlets on the headland it was obvious that some sort of triathlon was scheduled for this morning. As I was now getting passed by men and women who looked like they needed a good feed warming up on carbon TT bikes, I was wondering what they thought of me doing about a quarter of the speed they were doing!

The scenic loop ended after about 8 miles at Arsaig and it was back on the A830. As I said it was very quiet, but it made an annoying habit of rising 300 feet in short order, then crashing back down to sea level. At 15 miles in when it was time to turn off the A830 onto the A831, the climbing was already over 1000 feet and I was pretty tired already. Pulling over to eat my second Chelsea bun and emptying another of the bottles I’d bought this morning, I was glad I’d over done it on drinks and food I took with me as I’d not seen a single place so far that I could have got anything. At last it had flattened out a bit and it was a pretty easy going running alongside the inner sea of the West Coast, and the chill had left the air. With no sign of the forecasted rain, it was off with the arm warmers and normal service was resumed as the sun came out!

The A861 was now however a single track road with passing places and although the views were spectacular, the road was rising by 50 feet or so at 10% then heading back down at the same gradient constantly. If I’d been feeling stronger, less tired or just not as fat, I’m sure I could have attacked it and breezed along, but I was none of these thingsand it was a real sapping struggle. It went on and on, any momentum stopped when I had to pause for a car coming the other way or pull in to let one past. For the first time on the trip the demons began to appear, my knee started to hurt and my unmentionables were unmentionable! I needed a break and something to eat, but still hadn’t seen anywhere. Finally coming out of the road by the inner sea and sweeping round a big bay, the little Hamlet of Archaracle came into view and there was a shop! Only open from 11 till 1 it was just after 11.30 so I timed it right!

There wasn’t much choice so a very soggy chicken tikka pasty, a can of coke and a packet of crisps were consumed in quick order while I had a quiet word with myself. I was 30 miles in, so over half way, the sun was out, the scenery was to die for, and I was in my bike! What was I worried about?! Back on the bike, just 100 yards down the road, there was of course a lovely cafe open, and busy…Ahhhhhhhhhh! pushing on I now had the 3 big climbs of the day ahead of me. The first came straight after Archaracle and although bits were at 12%, because it was one big climb instead of lots and ups and downs, I know I can handle them much better. With a bit of Self Esteem pumping through my phone in my back pocket, the demons had gone away not to return!

Bombing down the descent, it was time to come off the A831 at Salen and onto the B8007 all the way to Kilchoan. Again, it was single track and a bit up and down, but it was the ancient forest to my right that I couldn’t keep my eyes off rather than the sea to my left. It was like something from Middle Earth and some of the trees were Huge! After the barren peat plains in Harris and Lewis it was definitely a big contrast, and as Dec knows from JOGLE I love a good tree! Just before the last massive climb over the volcanic basalt monster that is Ben Haint, like a mirage in a desert, a tea room came into view so at last I could get a cup of coffee and some cake sat outside with a lovely view of the inner sea.

It was just after 1.30 and just 10 miles to go but with 900 feet of climbing still to do. The bike wasn’t going to get up it on its own so time to remount and get on with it. It was bloody brilliant! The views were astounding, and although quite long at 3 miles, the gradients were less than 10% and I just spun up it stopping once to read the information plinth on how it ( and much of the west coast of Scotland) was formed, appealing greatly to the geology geek in me. 

On the whole having spent 40 of the 60 miles today in single track roads, the driving had been much better. I’d also been playing leap frog with some German bikers as they stopped for photos and also at the cafe just as I was pulling out. I’d gone past them as they were stopped at the summit, but they’d past me on the flat bit that ran for about a mile before the descent into Kilchoan. Once the gradient went down however I was catching them and the race was on! They were all on big BMW GS’s and they aren’t the best things for tight single track roads but even so I’m sure the guy at the back got a surprise to see this fat, grey old man on a fully loaded gravel bike gesturing him to get out of the way! He didn’t of course, and when the road flattened out off they went, but it was good fun while it lasted!

By the time I’d rolled down the hill into Kilchoan it was 2.30 and I was cooked. There was a sign for the lighthouse with its museum and tours up to the top, and although I’m not as much as a lighthouse nerd as Kieran (engineers…) I did think about making a detour. It was also the Western most point of the entire British Isles, and having done North, South and East on cycling trips, it would be good to tick the last one off. Looking at the map, it was an 8 mile round trip with another load of climbing. Nah…with time for a bowl of soup and a drink before the ferry when I came out it had started to rain! I guess I can’t really complain…Pedaling the  last 1/2 mile, I arrived at the “terminal” but there was nobody at all about and no car’s queuing. Slightly concerned, I doubled checked 1) I was at the right ferry, 2) they were still running (you know my history with them!) both were fine so I took myself into the waiting room which looked just like a Swedish sauna! Resisting the urge to take off my clothes, I promptly fell asleep. The clanking of the ferry pulling in woke me up and as I looked outside, there was no one else waiting to get on. I had the entire ferry to myself! £3.05 well spent!

The quick 5 mile crossing done, and I was pulling into Tobermory and as per, facing a steep little climb to get to the hotel for my last night of the trip. A quick shower and then back down the hill, there was lots of choice as to where to eat, but with a promise of fresh Mull langoustines the pub in the harbour got the vote! There was just time to finish it off with a bit of live Mull music in the hotel bar and the trip is very nearly done. I’ve just got the 21 miles down to the bottom of Mull to Craigmure for the short ferry ride to Oban and I’ll have come full circle. I’m really looking forward to getting home and seeing Andrea, Mizz, Ev and my big stupid loveable dog, but a bit sad that it’s come to an end. I’m not sure I’ll be able to top this one (but you bet ya I’ll try!) The weather, the other 3 idiots, and just the place itself have all been magnificent. It’s Andrea’s birthday tomorrow, which is very much something to celebrate, and don’t worry, she’s going to be doing alright for presents after the last 8 days away! 

It would also have been my dads 75 birthday tomorrow. He would have bloody loved hearing about this, the stuff about the formation of Ben Haint, the history of the islands, etc. I sometimes forget he’s not here anymore and think I’ll give him a call and tell him all about it. I bloody miss him. But if there’s one thing he’s taught me, is now is the time, you don’t know what’s around the corner. I intend to live up to that and kick the arse out of the time I’ve got left, wether that’s laughing like a lunatic as Kieran put Dec through his stretching paces in the grass hut in Paible, or enjoying the sunset in Bamburgh with Andrea and the kids. It’s not what material possessions you have, it’s the memories you make…

Anyway enough of this mawkish sentimentality, I’m tired and emotional! I’ll do a last blog tomorrow/Tuesday to tell you how the ride through Mull goes and then the 360 mile trip home in Jean, and don’t forget to sponsor Dec if you can!

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