Someone said it would be a laugh to go round Scotland. Alright then..
Starting mileage - 62041
Screech up the motorway from Leicester, pick up Paul with his trusty (at the time) DR650RE just off he M18, screech upwards some more. And more. And more. Eventually we gave in and camped at Morpeth for the night, this place was actually pretty good.
Of course we arrived so late that nowhere was open, so Paul fired up his stove (I had no idea he was bringing so much stuff) and made Spicy Beans. This wouldn't be the first time..
North some more, the border came and went. Edinburgh came and went. The Forth road bridge came and went. This was all disappointingly normal and English-feeling, hence the lack of pictures. We got rained on a lot in Inverness, and eventually gave in and stayed in a B&B for the night. In fact, nothing interesting happened until we reached somewhere near Wick, where it rained some more:
And then, finally, it stopped raining and I could take the oversuit off again.
This is the entrance to an abandoned settlement, some googling suggests it may have been called Badbea but I can't remember. It was well worth looking around, anyway.
We pressed on and were soon at the famous John O Groats. The CB250's clutch chose this point to go a bit mental and stop grabbing, I'd guess some metal got between the plates. I chuckled to myself at the conversation I would've had with the recovery people.. Thankfully it started working again after some frantic pumping.
After eating some bread and cheese on the hillside (where I'm sure I got some windburn on my face..) it started raining again. As I was dancing around to get my rain oversuit on (again) some Germans laughed at us and said something along the lines of "In Germany we don't bother with that, we just buy Rukka". Congratulations to the Germans.. Anyway, time for some posing!
Weirdly there are two signposts like this, one you have to pay to have your picture taken at where there is a queue of people and the other is this one, off to the side, seemingly forgotten about.
After being annoyed at having to pay to use the toilets at JOG we carried on to Dunnet Head, which is of course the true most northerly point on the British mainland. The road there was tiny and very twisty, and there were hardly any tourists there.. Apart from our German friends! Paul decided he was going to reach Maximum North and no gate was going to stop him, so he leapt over the wall and disappeared over that way..
He was gone for a while, I thought he may be taken away by the police.. But no. What did he find out there at Maximum North? A very surprised photographer, taking pictures of the seabirds at this protected site!
Dunnet Head!
It was now getting late in the day so we decided to start looking for a campsite. We eventually found one in Thurso, run by an American with a strange sense of humour. Nice place though.
Of course Thurso is a small town, the first bit of civilisation we've seen for some time. After some chicken curry and a naan courtesy of Paul's excellent cooking skills, and a small amount of the Eliminator album by ZZ Top it was time to find a pub. And what a pub..
Of course the band played some ZZ Top because everything is perfect in Scotland. The rest is a blur of beer, Irn Bru and Skinandis.
The next day, feeling decidedly worse for wear, we were to continue west. Little did we know the amazing day we were in for. As soon as we were out of Thurso the scenery became like the Scotland you see on the telly, the roads were empty and it was simply fantastic. After a while we stopped in a layby for a rest and some water.. Is that a farm track over there? Is Paul on a trail bike? Do I refuse to accept that the CB ever can't do anything? Time to show him what's what..
Of course he stands no chance against the CB250..
A 45 degree climb up big rocks, boggy ground and lots of gravel is no problem. I get to the end and have to turn back, the track ends and is completely impassable. Of course Paul gets stuck, I watch the rooster tails while sat back at the picnic table in the layby, drinking more flavoured water and wishing I wasn't so hungover. I don't think I've ever been more glad to only have a small bike to deal with. Eventually Paul makes his way out, his bike covered in mud, and we carry on along the A9. How this is an A road I just don't know, it's single carriageway with passing places. There are a lot of Dutch people here, which is a bit strange. The CB250 loves it, we make great progress nipping through gaps and are probably the fastest things on this stretch of road. Eventually we fill up at Scourie at an eye-watering £1.50 a litre and have a break to eat some crisps.
And carry on all the way to Ullapool. These pictures are from somewhere along that stretch, I can't remember where. I was all a bit of a blur..
Ahhh, Ullapool. We pitch the tent at the water's edge..
..Paul plays on the slide..
..And some old German guy talks to us about the Nurburgring. Once you know you can hold the power on through a lot of turns, once you know you will grip.. You can go fast. Once you know, you can really go fast. Thank you, Mr German man Sir. Eventually we get away and get some so-so fish and chips from somewhere that is supposedly famous for its fish and chips, and are mobbed by very insistent seagulls..
..And we find the pub. Obviously.
Is it bed time yet?
I passed out in the tent at this point, my womanly stamina was faltering. Paul though is an unstoppable machine and decided to brush up on his trail riding skills by taking on the track that we could see on the far side of the water that went up a small mountain. Perhaps he had to prove it to himself, I don't know.
A farmer tried to tell him that his bike was "cuvdinmut" but we didn't have a Scottish phrase book to know what this meant. Eventually it was found he was trying to enlighten Paul to the fact that his bike was "covered in mud". Ohhhh...
The next day was a mad rush to get as far south as we could, because time for this trip was running out. We ran down past Loch Ness back to Inverness and then all the way down to Ruberslaw Wild Woods camping in Northumberland where we had a massive fire and ate yet more spicy beans.
A guy on a new CB500F also stayed the night, he was off to the Orkneys for some huge bike fest thing. Hope he had a great time but no real idea of what it was!
The next day, the final day, we ran down the northern counties and only went for a detour to find a tiny place called Esh Winning which has a fish and chip shop that is coal fired. Of course it was closed..
Sad doesn't come close. We'll make it one day! The rest was a horrible grey blur of A1, M18 and M1, the only piece of entertainment being Paul forgetting how far he'd been on a tank and running into the petrol station with a dead motor. All in all a great trip, just a shame that east Scotland is so boring and that it's all a bit far away from the Midlands. Still, I'd go again.
Ending mileage - 63453, 1412 mile round trip.
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