Islay to Dunoon

I reluctantly made a big decision to leave Islay after just one day on the island. The weather forecast suggested that today, Tuesday, would be the only half-decent day in Scotland for the foreseeable future – and that the next three days (at least) would be very wet and windy. Yellow weather warnings had been issued. I had no desire to be a victim of all that. My golden rule always stands: if it isn’t enjoyable, I stop.

My first step was to get up and out of my Bnb early enough to cycle 18 miles to Port Askaig to board the first Calmac ferry to the mainland, which departed at 10am. Miss that and I would be stuck until mid afternoon. It is quite an exposed ride around Loch Indaal and over a few hills to the Sound of Islay, and I didn’t find the going as swift as I hoped. It was very wet and windy when I awoke; but by the time I was cycling, the only water was under my tyres. The ferry was discharging its vehicles when I arrived; but there was plenty of time to buy a ticket and board. By now I was starving, and ready for the Calmac big breakfast, which is not for the faint hearted. For the under-nourished adventure cyclist, however, it is just the thing. I watched the wild, rocky coast of the island of Jura glide past the windows as I cleaned my plate, reliving past cycling adventures there.

Two hours later I was back on the mainland. The port at Kennacraig, on the Kintyre peninsula, is just a harbour at the end of a sea loch. The nearest settlement is 5 miles north east in Tarbert, a pretty fishing port and sheltered sailing haven that opens out onto Loch Fyne. Tarbert means isthmus in Gaelic, and it straddles a narrow neck of land between two sea lochs. It is a pleasant place to pause and watch the colourful activity in and around the harbour, and I had about half an hour to kill here before taking my next ferry. I found a cafe and enjoyed a pot of tea and that Scottish speciality, an Empire biscuit. These are a layer of jam in between two shortbread biscuits, all covered with white icing and perhaps a glace cherry on top. When in Rome (although apparently they are very popular in Winnipeg, too, where they are called Imperial Cookies!).

The small vehicle ferry across Loch Fyne takes 30 minutes to reach the sailing resort of Portavadie and from there, on a narrow strip of concrete road, the most demanding part of my day’s cycling commenced. I was now on the Cowal Peninsula, “Scotland’s Secret Coast”, and the tiny road roller-coastered its way up and over the forested hills to drop steeply down to the water’s edge at lovely Tigh-na-Bruich, overlooking the enchanting Kyles of Bute. The top part of the large island of Bute reaches a hilly point near here, and the narrow strip of sea water that separates it from the mainland on three sides provides excellent sheltered sailing in beautiful surroundings. Along the waterfront are handsome stone houses. I have been here before (in all weathers) and thought how lovely it all looks. Living here may be less idyllic than it first appears, because you are a long way from most essential services, and lines of communication are anything but straight. But as a place to stop for lunch, or indeed watch a game of shinty, as once happened to me, it is a delight. I paused for long enough to remove my waterproof jacket and go down to shirt sleeves, and to drink. I knew what was next.

Next, since you ask, was a long, hard climb. It was every bit as tough as I remember. Jenni and I came this way last August in my Riding All the OS Maps adventure, and it is the only sensible way to get further east (which I was always trying to do); but you have to work for it. As well as the climb (for which you are rewarded with glimpses of the stunning view below), the quiet road takes you many miles north to Ormidale, to cross the river that flows into the Kyles of Bute, and then takes you back again along the eastern shore, almost parallel to the way you just came. It is circuitous; but the descent – and the scenery in general – makes it worthwhile.

Finally, a turning took me up – and very steeply down – more hills on narrow, winding roads with passing places (where I was passed by the occasional big logging truck) around the top of Loch Striven and up the side of Loch Tarsan reservoir. It is lonely, remote feeling country; but after all this effort I enjoyed a long, sweeping descent into the village of Clachaig and suddenly I was on a main road on the fringes of Dunoon!

Following the water’s edge along the shores of Holy Loch, I was presented with the most gorgeous vistas across the sparkling waters to Cove, looking east, and further away to the south, across the Firth of Clyde, to Gourock, with green hills looming on every horizon. Colourful boats, large and small, were criss-crossing the water. It was all very pretty. How quickly things had changed. A few minutes later I was waiting to board my third car ferry of the day over to Gourock, and 20 minutes later I was looking at the same views; but this time from the south as I pedalled along the promenade to Gourock railway station, at the end of a line out of Glasgow.

It was nice to see all of this under bright skies. But in the days ahead, these views would be quite different. I needed to be somewhere I could sit out the bad weather – ideally somewhere a little sunnier where I could regroup and make new plans. And since I had made very good progress, and caught the 4pm ferry from Dunoon, that place could be my home in the Derbyshire Peak District. I would now comfortably make the 6.40pm train from Glasgow Central, upon which I had a bike space reserved. This (with one change) would dispatch me all the way this evening to my home village of Hathersage, before 11.30pm. Since there was a train strike tomorrow, all of that mattered. I had set off from Islay as much in hope as expectation that I would make all of my connections today. But the plan had worked.

And so, some hours later, I slept in my own bed for the first time in almost four months. It was all oddly familiar and comforting, like I hadn’t really been away for very long. I made a cup of tea in my favourite mug and decided to wait until the morning before considering my next move. I will complete this journey to Dull just as soon as the terrible weather abates in Scotland. My ride to Gourock kept me on track – no miles were wasted. I can pick up exactly where I left off.

The most recent weather forecast looks worse than ever. The weather warnings have now been extended to the weekend! So I will remain poised for the next window and grab it when it arrives. I need two clear days – that would suffice. In the meantime, it’s really rather nice further south!