SUMMER TOUR: ARRAN, ISLAY, KINTYRE & BUTE
11th to 23rd June 2012
A Road Trip Not to be Forgotten (Sol Lomas)
We’re on the boat sailing into Brodick Bay at the start of our annual spring cycle tour. It’s John’s first visit to Arran. I’ve been in the mid 1950s for three consecutive Easters of rock climbing and to walk the fine ridges. The sun shines and the Arran hills are looking their best. We sit on the promenade to eat our lunch before setting off south to Kilmory and its community hostel.
A stiff climb out of Brodick and we stop off at a view point. The whole of the Arran Hills stretches out providing a wonderful backdrop to Brodick Bay. A super fast descent drops us into Lamlash with the bulk of Holy Island filling Lamlash Bay. A roller coaster road to Whiting Bay, more up and down to Kildonan Castle, then a turn west with another stiff climb before a fast descent to our bunkhouse at Kilmory, run by the local community. We have the place to ourselves for the next two nights.
Next day we are off road, following tracks through the forest to Lamlash Bay. We lunched at the Pier Inn then returned by the Ross Road, a quiet ride through the hills with some pushing. We finally break out on top and enjoy a long downhill section through Glenscorrodale following the Sliddery Water back to the coast road where we stop off at the Lagg Hotel for a well earned pint.
The following morning we say goodbye to the bunkhouse and cycle the west coast to the youth hostel at Lochranza. This side of the island is less hilly and we stop off at Machrie Bay golf clubhouse for tea and scones. Lunch is taken at a delightful café at Pirnmill before arriving at the recently refurbished hostel.
Next day we are hoping to catch the ferry to Claonaig on Kintyre.
We wake to gale force winds and lashing rain. The ferries are cancelled so we are stuck on Arran. The hostel is full and some end up sleeping on mattresses on the floor.
For something to do we catch the bus for a very wet tour of the island. The bus ride is like a boat ride along the flooded roads. We stop off for lunch in Brodick where it’s bitterly cold, gale force winds and heavy rain.
Next morning it’s still raining and no one’s sure if the ferry is running. We wait in the rain and the ferry suddenly appears out of the driving rain so we scramble aboard, lash the bikes to the safety rail and scuttle inside. The ferry departs and in no time it’s rocking from side to side. Peter is sea sick and one of the bikes comes adrift. We dash out to secure the bike which is rolling about in water sloshing over the car deck.
It’s capes on for our ride from Claonaig to Kennacraig where we are to catch the ferry to Islay. Riding a bike in the wind isn’t the best option and wearing a cycling cape makes it even worse. We were nearly blown off the single track road on the way to the ferry. Eventually we arrive at Port Askaig after a very pleasant journey on a brand new boat. A steep climb out of the harbour and it’s easy cycling the sixteen miles to Port Charlotte youth hostel. We are made very welcome at this splendid hostel, right on the shore of Loch Indaal. From here we can see Rathlin Island off the Northern Ireland coast which we cycled around a couple of years ago.
Next day we cycle south to Portnahaven where we find an excellent tea room. We then ride up the quiet side of the island to Kilchiaran. An unmade track climbs steeply to some old wartime buildings then a steep rocky descent and some lovely single track takes us to Machir Bay and a wonderful stretch of sand. At Kilchoman we follow quiet roads back to base via Bruichladdich Distillery and tea room.
Next day we ride to Bowmore where we get fixed up with some more accommodation, back on the mainland, by a very helpful lady in the TIC.
Next morning we leave Port Charlotte SYHA and make our way back to the mainland. We find a superb alternative route back to Port Askaig via Bridgend - Cluanach - Cattardale - Loch Ballygrant - Forest road to Loch Allan and finally Dunlossit House and Port Askaig. After the ferry we ride from the ferry port to Tarbert for our next two night lodgings. Isabella at the Cuillins Guest House in Tarbert is a friend of the lady at Bruichaddaich Tea Rooms who gave me a letter for Isabella telling her that she had to look after us ‘fine wee fellas’. Frank, one of our group, had been in the navy doing his national service and got demobbed from Campbeltown so we paid a nostalgic visit for old times’ sake on a glorious sunny day. Frank remembered the railway station and enquired where it might be.
The railway ran from Machrihanish on the west coast where there were some coal mines to the port of Campbeltown, carrying coal for transhipment. It is now no longer there apart from one remaining engine shed. An airbase at Machrihanish was used by the USA during the Iraqi war as a staging post and has the longest runway in the whole of Europe. It’s now in use as a place to build huge wind turbines. A new dock is being built and they are having to realign the roads to be able to transport these huge fabrications to be shipped elsewhere.
After one day of glorious weather it’s back to cold and damp the next day. We leave Tarbet by ferry for Portavadie and then to Tighnabruich where a long hard climb takes us to a viewpoint down the Kyles of Bute. I should imagine that on a good day the view is superb, not today however - cold, grey and damp.
We follow the road north then south around Loch Riddon to Colintraive and the ferry on to Bute. We cycle the road beneath Windy Hill, a very apt name for today it’s wind and driving rain with no shelter on this coastal road. We arrive at a god forsaken Rothesay and the Bute Backpacker Hostel where we are made most welcome.
Gale force winds batter the hostel all night and it’s just the same next morning. What shall we do? A unanimous decision - ‘get the hell out of here’. We caught the first ferry back to Weymss Bay and drove home. Torrential rain and high wind all the way home via Glasgow and Lancaster and Birch Services on the M62 where Mabel is waiting to pick me up. It’s the day Hebden Bridge gets flooded.
As I write this poor old Hebden Bridge is flooded out again a few days later and the end of a memorable fortnight. Thankfully no breakdowns or punctures and great company - John, Frank, Peter, Eric and me.
Malcolm Lomas