[YEAR 7!] Quit our jobs, sold our home, gone riding...

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Carve, Neda! Carve!

Stunning views of blue lake beside the twist of tarmac that we gleefully negotiate

In the rockiest section, the road narrows down to a single track. This is not a problem as there are so few vehicles up here. Every now and then the road bulges out, like a snake that's swallowed something large, to accommodate safe passing spots for oncoming traffic.

Even the passing bulge is not nearly wide enough when a tour bus goes by in the opposite direction!

 

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As we get closer to Durness, we spot a larger outcropping of sand

It's a full-on beach and there are people out enjoying the blue skies when the clouds take their mid-afternoon break. Yay! Sun!

From up above the hills overlooking the beach, are those rocks up there?

 

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No, more livestock decorating the lambscape. She's so fluffy!!!

Life's a beach

Scottish highlands would not be complete without highland cattle!

When we were at Gino's place for dinner, he recited a Scottish poem which I can't recall. Actually, I didn't understand most of the Gaelic words, but two stood out: Heilan Coo. That's Highland Cow for those of us who don't speak Scottish.

 

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"If you can smell this, you're following too close"

The Heilan Coo is a special breed with a long coat to better withstand the cold of the Highland winters. Also, to be designated an official Heilan Coo, the hair has to be styled to cover the eyes in an Emo mop. I believe there is a special cattle-stylist that the farmers go to to get this look.

We found a cafe and ducked inside for lunch

I took the picture above in the cafe parking lot while sprinting to find cover inside. The smidges were out in full force. I don't understand how they find us so quickly. When we stop, there are no smidges around at all, but within 30 seconds, clouds of them descend on us.

Then I read online that smidges are attracted to two things: carbon dioxide and heat. The warmth of our motorcycle engines are basically a beacon to all the smidges in the area. Our own bikes betray us every time we stop!

While munching on a burger, I stare out the window and watch as a thick mist of smidges swarm around our motorcycles. Even from the safety of inside the cafe, my skin was beginning to crawl in dreaded anticipation. After we eat, we make sure every square inch of our skin is covered before we venture out again.

I hate smidges!

The only way to avoid smidges - keep moving. And we do. With much gusto!

 

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More scenic lambscape

And more Scottish ruins. I believe they build these structures brand new, then wreck them immediately to create the proper ambiance!

We are on the "back straight" of the NC500. However, the road is anything but straight! The land is starting to get fringey - rocky fingers extending out into waters of the North Sea. This strait that looks out to the Outer Hebrides is called The Minch. We were debating about whether to catch a ferry to the Outer Hebrides, but the way the ferries run, we'd either have to make a cannonball run through the islands, or wait several days between ferries if we took our time. Things are not clockwork-regular up in the North Coast.

Looking at a map, I'm reminded of the west coast of Norway, the west coast of New Zealand, and also the west coast of Ireland. I wonder why do fjords form around the west coasts all over the world?

The west coast is also called the wet coast

Just like Norway and New Zealand, the weather is typically wetter on the west coast in Scotland. Same as in Vancouver/Seattle. We pull into Ullapool as the clouds release a shower on top of our helmets. And everywhere else. Ugh!

 

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I don't want to camp in this. We ride around knocking on doors to find sheltered accommodations

Every place we try is either sold out or too expensive. We fall victim to NC500's marketing. It's obviously way too successful, transforming these old fishing villages into tourist hotbeds! We can't afford a place to sleep here.

So during a break in the showers, we set up camp. A rainbow overlooks Neda's progress, warning us that although it may be dry now...

Do the endpoints of rainbows signal a pot of gold in Scotland? Or just Ireland? If we go to Ireland, will it be just as wet as it is here? And will there be Irish smidges there too? Our campsite is not immune to smidge attacks and I don the requisite armor:

"F U, smidges!"

 

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Walking the main strip of Ullapool between rain showers

Fishing boats out by the pier in Ullapool

It starts raining again and we duck into a pub to escape the waterworks. The price of admission is a pint of Scottish ale. We buy many admission tickets waiting out the storm that's developing outside. The early evening crowd turns into the late night crowd, and the pub starts rollicking as a local musician hits the stage and starts singing traditional Scottish songs. Every now and then, the power cuts out as scheduled blackouts hit the whole of Ullapool. We all sit in darkness and listen to the act as it becomes an acoustic set. Everyone just takes it in stride.

Welcome to the Scottish Highlands!

From her setlist, I had no idea Bruce Springsteen and Tracy Chapman were Scottish!

We make fast friends with the couple that is seated at our table. Turns out they are Canadians too. The guy is here for a bagpipe convention! Lots of Scots in Canada!

The rain comes down hard outside in Ullapool. We are warm, toasty and slightly inebriated and we've got enjoyable company and good music inside this pub on the wet coast in Scotland. I don't want to go outside into our cold and soggy tent.

So I buy another admission ticket.

 

[eatSleepWoof2]

You guys are still riding! Fantastic. I remember when you first posted your ride report on BC Sportbikes years ago. Good for you!

 

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You guys are still riding! Fantastic. I remember when you first posted your ride report on BC Sportbikes years ago. Good for you!

Yes, we've ridden for so long, we're starting to outlast the forums now. Had to stop our ride report on BC Sportbikes because the SW went belly up. :Wow1:

 

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Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/354.html

One thing about living in a tent is that you don't have to peek outside to know if it's raining or not.

There's a calm wind rustling the fabric above our heads but no tell-tale pitter-patter to signal a dismal day of wet riding. Excellent!

The cold dash out for my morning pee reveals everyone is still cocooned inside their tents and RVs

Scottish skies are clearing. The fingers of land rising up from the inlets that Ullapool is ensconced in are visible against the backdrop of the town.

 

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We notice two more bikes beside us at the campsite. Joni and his cousin Andy are from Germany riding around Scotland

Really nice guys. As motorcyclists, you always have something in common to talk about. They were surprised we knew so much about Stuttgart, where they're from.

Andy had a bit of an accident the day before and he limped the bike into camp late last evening. His Bandit was patched up a bit, but neither he nor it were up for the long ride all the way back to Stuttgart. They had called a tow truck and Joni would accompany him back on his KTM. German insurance is very comprehensive - the entire tow including ferry was covered. Very different if we were to wreck. We're basically on the hook for the entire cost. And where would we even tow to? Local shop and then back on the road...

The tow truck driver texted and told them that it would be a while for him to reach the hinterlands where we were, so we invite the German guys out for breakfast -- at the exact same pub we were drinking at last night. Thankfully there were different staff working this morning, or there'd be a few raised eyebrows: "Say, weren't you mates just in here a few hours ago...?"

After Joni and Andy pack their bikes up for the long ride and tow back to Germany, we were all alone in the campsite. Taking some time to dry our tent.

Back on the road! Leaving Ullapool

We are continuing down the North Coast 500. Our route for the day consists of following the fringe of land as it reaches in and out along the west coast. A sign on the side of the road indicates that we are on the Wester Ross Coastal Trail. Wait... what? Wester Ross? Like from Game of Thrones...?!? OMG, George Martin totally stole the name of Westeros from the Scottish Highlands! And from riding around the area, I could totally see the series being based up here!

 

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We pull up beside this bunch of Scottish bikers

When Neda takes off her helmet, one of the guys looks very surprised and exclaims to the rest of the group in the thickest Scottish accent I've ever heard: "It's a woo-min!" It was hilarious!

Again, like with most motorcyclists, we have a great time joking around with these Scottish lads. One thing I've noticed when there's a bunch of Scottish guys all hanging out together, *EVERYTHING* is a laugh. They were constantly making jokes and poking fun at each other. So funny!

The Scots take off on their bikes and we watch from above the mountain as they continue their ride

Looking out over Wester Ross. See any dragons, Neda? Does the Loch Ness monster count...?

 

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And then it's our turn to leave

The entire rest of the day, I joke with Neda over the communicator, "It's a woo-min!" HAHA!

The clouds get thicker as we ride up and down the fringes of land extending out into The Minch

We leave the main road to explore all these tiny roads that stretch out into the sea and then back inland again. There's no traffic and the tarmac shrinks to a single lane as if in response to the lack of attention it receives.

Tons of lochs in the area, and the road keeps winding and turning!

 

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There is life out here! More emo coos wandering the Scottish wilderness, competing with the sheep to hoover up the long grass at the side of the road

But apart from the wildlife, it's just us and the lonely road cutting through this vast, unpopulated landscape

The weather's not too bad considering the bad reputation Scotland has for rain. And we're really enjoying having twisty roads and amazing scenery all to ourselves.

It starts to get a bit more livelier when we reach the next big town of Applecross. This is another place that's done very well since the North Coast 500 opened. There is a flurry of vacationers and recreational vehicles milling around the stores and campsites in the area.

Long lineup of motos at the only gas station in Applecross

 

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In town, there are lots of pubs and specialty stores, but we've had our fill of pub and restaurant food, so we go looking for a grocery store. The closest thing is a little shop a few kms outside of town and we stock up on some soups and sandwich stuff.

Neda couldn't resist picking up some locally made jam. I suspect she only bought it because it's a Game of Thrones jam.

Eating in for the day at our campsite in Applecross

The next morning, we hit the highlight of the area: The Applecross Pass

The Applecross Pass is also called Bealach na Bà, which is Gaelic for "Pass of the Cattle". It's one of the highest mountain roads in the UK and boasts stunning views of the mountainside sloping down into Loch Kishorn, its distant waters reflecting the colours of the sky above.