Cape Wrath, (eventually)

Edit: “The Cape Wrath Fellowship was begun in 1949 by Rex “Ragged Staff” Coley who thought cycling in the post-war era had grown a bit tame. He wanted to inject some adventure and fun back into cycling, which he felt had grown altogether too serious.

To do this, he set out a challenge. Ride to Cape Wrath – the most north westerly point of the Scottish mainland – get a photo in front of the lighthouse and a signature from its keeper, send it in and he would enter you into the illustrious Fellowship.

Sounds simple, but to get there you need to get a wee ferry from Keodale Pier that is at the mercy of the tides and wind across the Sound of Durness. Then ride a road that’s barely been touched since it was first built in 1826 to allow the traffic of materials to the light house.

It’s a pure wilderness, with only this lone track to take you to the lighthouse that stands 11 miles away.”

It began on Friday 9 May 1952 with an entry, Payed Barry, went on rollers, entered Abbotsford 10 with tandem.

A CTC, leather bound diary with the scrawled handwriting of a 15 year old boy full of daily happenings in his life, still at school and a fanatical cyclist.

The money was a deposit to enable the booking of a planned summer tour of Scotland with 7 other friends, all members of the CTC Manchester DA, all at least 5 years older than he was.

July 25 Friday. HOLS. Started from Exchange St first class to Wigan, then guards van to Perth, then 1^st class again to Inverness. 12.00 went to baths then to pictures. 6 miles

26 Saturday. Hols. Inverness good hostel. Bought a dinner. Went to bed early to make up for last night. Saw Caledonian Canal. 2 miles

27 Sunday. Carbisdale Castle. Had good breakfast. Bought dinner for 4/6d, lousy, at Invergordon. Went on 2 ferries, got to hostel at 5, in good time, meals provided. Walked round grounds at night. 45 miles.

28 Monday. Edrachillis YH Scowie. Had lousy breakfast at castle. Went on ferry rowing boat. Had 5 shilling dinner then was sick so got lift in lorry. Got to hostel about 8. 60 miles

29 Tuesday. Edrachillis Y H, Scowie. Should have gone to Cape Wrath but only 4 went. They got back 9.30. We had to go for provisions. 6 miles

And so it has been for almost the last sixty years, that David Moseley has promised himself that one day he will go there.

Having reached the ripe old age of 75, maybe it is finally time to fulfil that ambition, and get to Cape Wrath.

14 June 2011. Caught the midday train direct from Kings Cross to Inverness, arrived 8.20pm, checked in hostel, £12, bottom bunk, only one other in dorm. Walk down to river, cross two bridges, and look at castle. Bed 10.15. Had to carry bike up steps travelling through London and upstairs two flights in hostel.

15 June 2011. Good rest, Up 8.00, away 8.45 across suspension bridge, to have breakfast roll from roadside van. On to Black Isle, along quiet road over Eagle Mount, first big climb, and down to Culbokie, and buy bananas, cake and coffee in local shop. Over A9 bridge, sun and tailwind, through Ardross Forest to Bonar Bridge to have sandwich with a tandem couple doing the End to End for charity. Reach Carbisdale Castle YH at 2.00 , but closed for the summer for a full renovation. Take lots of photos before riding on to Shin Forest where huge salmon are jumping the Falls with a crowd of cheering tourists. Ride on to Lairg and phone ahead to book in at Overscaig Hotel. Heavy rain and headwind for half an hour but arrive 6.10 to shower and have an hour’s kip before having a lovely salmon evening meal.

After the meal I told the proprietress that last time I had eaten lunch there, my friends and I had all been struck down with drastic food poisoning. “Goodness, what did you have“, she gasped. I told her it was pork soup, 60 years ago, for the equivalent of 25 pence, to which she replied, “I wasn’t even born then“. I have noted “A great day” 70m

Thurs 16 June. Away at 8.45 after a full breakfast, and having paid a massive £67 for b&b plus evening meal, a fast ride NW to Laxford Bridge and then NE a sweep down almost to Durness. Decide to book in to Keodale B&B, and leave my heavy saddlebag with Angela Mckinnan. Then with 8 others and my one bike crowded on to a small outboard motor ferry at 1.15 cross the Kyle of Durness.

I was expecting an unpaved loose rough surface on the road, 11 miles to the Cape, but was happily surprised to find a surfaced road, albeit, very patched and bumpy. A remote place, only sheep for company, but with good views across the sound, and no really steep hills, I reached the lighthouse in only 90 minutes. There is a very small pleasant café there, where I obtained a sandwich lunch and chatted with the lady about the Visitors Book in which my friends had signed their names in 1952. She, and later the ferry driver had no idea where the book had gone. There is a small minibus which takes tourists out to the lighthouse, and I got one of these to take my photograph, and then retraced my path to the 5.30 ferry and had a long chat to a kilted crofter. Later with an elated feeling of satisfaction, I ate an evening meal in Durness, before a quiet night in the b&b. 67m

So, with MISSION ACCCOMPLISHED, only three days in to my two week tour, and with nothing else booked, what route should I take next ? One idea had been to complete the Cape Wrath to Dover route, but after a terrible day of strong headwinds the next day, I decided instead to continue as far as possible to trace the route of my 1952 tour. I would try to find the old Youth Hostels and strike any memory chords that may have survived in my head.

Friday 17 June. Away at 9 for a long drag retracing back up to Laxford Bridge, and then on through Scourie, a very small settlement where, while buying bananas, I asked a few locals, but no one remembered a youth hostel. On my 1952 Barts half inch map, the Edrachillis YH was marked just 3 miles on and though I had no idea where to look, I soon found a one storey stone house that did seem memorable. It was from here that “Only 4 went, they got back 9.30”. They must have had a very hard ride, well over 60 miles that day, on rough hilly tracks from here to the Cape and back, and including the ferry ride.

Now there were shoes and small wellies outside the house, but no reply to my tentative knock on the door, I had to be content to take photographs from the front and from the track behind, being fairly sure that this was from where “we had to go for provisions. 6 miles.”

It was now almost mid-day, with a strong headwind, and by the time I reached the new bridge that replaced our 1952 Kylestrome ferry with 33 miles ridden, I was ready for food. A light lunch at a really interesting toy museum café in Newton where I chatted with a Yorkshire cyclist, Then a massive climb and drop to Loch Assynt and as I looked across to the ruin of Ardvreck Castle, an old memory stirred, of scrambling across a beach and standing under one of the arches. Now 4 pm, with drops of rain in the headwind, I was feeling knackered, and never going to reach Ullapool our next 1952 hostel. I phoned and booked a b&b, Greenside, in Elfin, to arrive at 5.30, and sleep exhausted ‘til 7.30, when after a shower, I felt able to eat a welcome evening meal, talking with the owner Helen.. 54m (Average only 8.6 ! )

Sat 18 June. With chickens running all round the yard, it was a 3 egg breakfast after the cereals, and the first climb outside the gate was long and steep. As I passed a distinctive runner with a red shirt, on a brief downhill stretch, he called out, something about an inner tube ? His legs were all muscle. I got to Ullapool at 11 and as I sat drinking a coffee, I was amazed to see the same runner arrive. He was Peter Lane, a follower of Christ, and a truly remarkable chap who had run 10 of the miles in the time it took me to ride the 15. He was on holiday with his wife and daughter who had dropped him earlier from the car.

I sat in a park in the sun, studied the ferry timetables, looked at brochures, decided to deviate from the ‘52 route and to visit the Western Isles. I then booked the 6pm ferry to Lewis. With the whole afternoon to find the old hostel, the local museum seemed a good place to start. Housed in an old church I spent a happy 2 hours looking at the exhibits, while the receptionist looked up records and directed me to the village hall, which had been the 1952 Youth Hostel.

30 July. “ Had bf at CTC place, roads very rough. Went on ferry, Ullapool hostel good, went for walk after”. I took pics but had no memories. The 6.pm passengers arrived in the terminal, in spite of the fact that the ferry was still in Lewis with an inoperable bow ramp, and we did not eventually leave until after 10.30 pm. Embarking at 1.30 am I was surprised to see Stromeferry full of rowdy drunk teenagers, and patrolling police cars. I had warned the Hostel that I would be late, but managed to open the coded door, and was soon in my bunk in a huge empty dorm, with my bike beside me. 17 miles only

Sunday 19 June. A banana breakfast eaten on the bunk while writing three antique post cards to my kids on Fathers Day. I rode out of the town in a cold wind with all my jackets on, and there was nothing open, not even a petrol station. There was no traffic, and only occasional sheep, undulating featureless wild bog country, as I headed south, but a welcome memorial gave me a chance to eat bread and cheese with a box of fruit juice. I read of the times past when wealthy landowners drove all the local people from their land, and of the few who rebelled at the ‘Clearances‘. Hard times indeed. A very long hard climb after Ardvourlie, with the old track and old gulley bridges still visible next to the new road. In South Harris, a drop down in to Tarbert where I had a baked potato at a hotel where everyone was over 70 and spoke in whispers. A dead place, but I sat in the lounge and read a daily paper for an hour, knowing that the hostel, only 6 miles away, would be closed. Drinishader Y H was very pleasant and homely, with a really laid back owner, and I had soon decided to stay a second night. I ate the last of the bread and cheese, with a tin of soup from the next door village shop and PO where the helpful lady promised to stamp my three postcards with a fathers day date. Magazines and a chat with some girls and another cyclist Joe, to whom I showed my 1952 diary and stamped youth hostel card with mugshot, “You were a handsome lad then“. A late bed time at almost 11 pm, and a note in my diary that it was still daylight ! 42 m

Monday 20 June. I had decided to circumnavigate South Harris, which was a great idea, and one of my best days. The east coast is full of small rocky coves, and a narrow twisting one-lane track, with either top or bottom gear required, and a different view round each corner. The still sea was on the ebb with red and brown seaweed being exposed on the grey rocks. The land was so rocky that, not that long ago, all coffins were carried across to the west coast for burial, and the rock piles for resting the coffins now dot the “Harris walkway”. The names of the small run-down settlements along this coast defy pronunciation, with everything closed, and Leverburgh being the first place with an open café, Anchor Rest, at the ferry terminal. From here north up the west coast the scene could not have been more different, with long wide expansive sandy beaches now exposed with the tide well out. Caravan parks, and a wider main road, large smart houses, and a huge golf course with a large sign “No golf to be played on Sundays”. Afternoon coffee taken in a newly opened Art gallery with scrumptious cake, and a talk to a lady intent on buying a cheap run-down derelict house.

Back in the hostel by 5, I was pleased to pass over my weeks’ laundry to the warden, and it was back neatly folded by 8. There was only one other lady cyclist that evening and for tomorrow she had arranged a bus ride to Callanish on the north island to watch the ‘midsummer’s day goings-on’ at the stone circle, much older than Stonehenge. A large collection of CD’s, a good player and chatter filled the evening. 43 m

Tuesday 21 June. Free milk in the fridge and oats on the Free shelf, so it was a porridge breakfast before dashing the 6 miles back to catch the 10am ferry from Tarbert over to Uig on Isle of Skye. A good meal on board and docking at 1.15, meant that I could ride off along the fast main road, negligible traffic and a strong following wind to Portree. Then on to the Sligachan Hotel for a hot chocolate drink and to use their land line phone.

“Sunday 3 July. Uig to Portree, had dinner there 4/6d, Sligachan. Along rathole to hostel, OK. Wooden building full of hikers. Went for walk, but too many midges so played cards”. Not particularly great scenery, and no reply from Grenbrittle hostel made me nervous as I now took a long hilly B road, then a dead end track with possibly no spare bunks. Luck was with me as I checked in at 6 and bought a frozen pizza from the warden. He photocopied my 1952 YHA card and said he would put it on the notice board. Exactly the same building, and it was still full of hikers, but an early bed and a night notable only for the howling wind outside. 45 m

Wednesday 22 June. Back along the same up-hill track , then to the Sligachan Hotel for breakfast and to read a paper, 10.30 -11.20. Next was the only bad bit of road, the A 87, poor surface and heavy passing traffic, so at Harrapool , a coffee stop to look at the map and rethink the route to miss Kyle of Lochalsh, Glenelg, Shiel Bridge, and the A87. The Glennelg Youth Hostel is no more anyway, and so instead, I headed south for the Armadale ferry to the mainland at Mallaig, and again it was a good decision, a pleasant A road, not much traffic, with good sea views. Enjoying the ride, I passed the Flora MacDonald Hostel turn-off and went on for 3 miles to the ferry before realising my mistake, but it did enable me to buy something for supper from a small village shop. While I heated and ate the contents of two tins in the kitchen, the owner lit the logs in the wood stove surrounded by easy chairs and huge settees. I sat here all evening chatting to two couples from Nova Scotia, and two very well spoken girls from the home counties travelling by car, and obviously not used to hostels, as they complained bitterly about their dorm being “far too cold”. I had a huge dorm to myself, slept log-like, quite warm enough after my 50 mile day.

Thursday 23 June. Chatted to the two girls again before leaving for the 10 am ferry and found a tasty breakfast in the pier café while waiting. Across the Sound of Sleat, to dock in Mallaig, where I found a rail station, visited by steam trains, so I made enquiries regarding the timetable. It was a much harder climb out than anticipated from the map, but with great views of the harbour and the ferry already leaving.

Through woodlands with the rail line showing occasionally, alongside or over the far bank of Loch Eilt, I kept a lookout for the steam train going in to Malaig during the morning, and even stopped on the small platform at Lochailort, but decided not to wait. Literally five minutes later, while riding, I heard the distinctive sound of a straining engine, and saw the regular puffs of smoke above the thick blanket of trees. But my bad luck turned to good luck at 2.15 as I enquired in Glenfinnan station to be told that TWO steam trains were due to pass right here in an hours time. There was a small but disappointing rail museum, and a café to happily fill in the time, and I photographed both engines with other enthusiasts in and out of the carriages. More fast road along Loch Eil with Ben Nevis coming in to view, down to a Sustrans cycle route for the last few miles in to Fort William. As often happens with Sustrans, I missed a sign and found myself already leaving the town along the Caledonian Canal towpath. The lock keeper commented “Oh, lots of people make that mistake” when I questioned him !

Glen Nevis Hostel, Fort William, and I was now back on our ‘52 route, with the building being very memorable, hardly changed.

Tues 5 August. “Went bathing in morn, (at Glenelg YH), party split up, had no real dinner, Shiel Bridge, Kluny, loch Laggan, went in to FW but came back cos was cold.” 73 m

6 Wednesday. Climbed Ben Nevis with Dennis. 5 started, 3 stayed in FW buying presents. Good hostel. A gale was blowing at night so did not go out. 15 m

Here in the present, I did NOT climb Ben Nevis and with weekend approaching I was now beginning to worry about forward booking hostels towards Glasgow. In ‘52 after mountain climbing all day, the next hostel Glen Coe, was only 15 miles away. I spent an hour on one of the hostel computers (£3), and booked my next 3 nights, and my rail journey from Glasgow to Reading. Raining outside. 49 m.

Friday 24 June. After a hostel continental breakfast, I registered 20 miles over the bridge at Ballachulish, to find and photograph the Glencoe hostel, just outside the lovely little village, and hardly changed at all. It was closed for the day of course, but I took pictures.

Then followed some of the best-ever scenery, winding my way up Glen Coe, just awesome and massive, feeling so insignificant, dwarfed by the surroundings, with still overcast ominous skies adding to the scene. There was traffic, seeming to pass in waves, but nothing to worry about. The viewpoints had coach loads of tourists, and I have never seen so many camper vans in one area.

7 Thursday. Got up 9. Rained hard. Had dinner at Kingshouse Hotel 4/6. Party split again, Got puncture on rathole from Bridge of Orchy to Dalmally. Good hostel, went for milk. 40 m

Kings House Hotel was off the main road, on what was obviously the old road, with only walkers inside, following the West Highland Way. I spoke with two young girls outside who had already walked 18 miles and had another 12 to do today ! I used my cellphone calculator while eating lunch. 1952 cost 4/6d = 25p approx. 2011 cost £8.95. A factor rise of 36. What will lunch cost in another 60 years ?,,,,,,, £325. Had you told me as a 15 year old, that I eventually would pay a whole £9 for a lunch when my Dad was only earning £9 a week, I would have called you crazy. And that did not include my £2 pint of lemonade !

8 Friday. Glen Tyndrum near Rannoch Moor, Crianlarich, down west shore of Loch Lomand. Good hostel, Arrochar. went for walk. 30 m

A further climb over Rannock Moor, then drop down beside the railway to the Bridge of Orchy. A rail station dropped off an army of walkers and I took pictures of the bridge, and the road B8074 through Glen Orchy which had been the puncture giving track. I continued on the A road to Clifton and a private hostel in Tyndrum, for my first encounter with midges outside, and an hours snooze in an empty dorm. Later while eating, a French lady shared her cherry pie, and we chatted with a folding-tandem couple having a car assisted holiday. As had happened once before, they had heard of an old cyclist with a 1952 diary, from a previous hostel.

Saturday 25 June. Wake to very heavy rain, which delays departure after breakfast, but an easy cold ride to Dalmally where on older lady customer in the PO gave clear directions to where the youth hostel had been. I took pics of a deserted gated plot, way out of the village, with signs of long abandonment, and looking like a broken down garage and leaving no memories at all. Due to hostel unavailability, I now took another day’s diversion to stay at Inverary, an obvious tourist place with busloads full of saga holiday crowds in the café making me very thankful for my physical wellbeing. A picturesque place even with heavy cloud mirrored in the water, old fishing boats at the dock, and cottages on the front, a castle, and eateries galore. I had not been able to book my bike on the train from Glasgow, and asked the kilted guy in Tourist Information for the telephone number of Glasgow Central Station. He then spent a full 50 minutes calling everyone from the stationmaster to Richard Branson, “I don’t give up easily”, but was unable to secure a bike place on the 14.00 to Reading in two days time. I looked at the castle, and with the day still very dull, found the hostel open at 4.30 with a crowd of hostellers checking in after me. It was a cold common room so I had an early night at 8.45, after chatting again to the tandem couple, and a strange old German lady. 35 m

Sunday 26 June. Pouring rain again, but easing as I set off up the long climb of Glen Kinglas, and very heavy again with the A82 like a river torrent alongside Loch Lomand. There is a cycle track but my objective was to reach the hostel as quickly as possible and find some shelter, which I did by 12.30. It was of course closed, but I found shelter, and when the torrent did clear, and I rode the few miles down to Balloch for some lunch. I was lucky again at the small station, to be able to book a bicycle space for Monday’s journey home, and then found a very interesting steam ship renovation ’Maid of the Loch’ which was launched in ,,,,1952 ….and I became a donating member, still in the rain.

The Scottish Youth Hostel on the very southwest shore of the loch is amazing. A lavish huge mansion, even sumptuous, with tapestries on the walls, ornate plasterwork ceilings, wood panels, period fireplaces, curved staircase and glass roofed hall. On the drive, superb view, a great fish pond fountain, lawns all round and a massive glass house. Well worth staying, (£22) and with meals provided in a palatial dining room too.

9 Sat. Went past Loch Lomand. In Glasgow went in unfinished hostel round fire. Went for walk, lost Barry. 40 m

What I do remember is that I saw even more drunk men in Glasgow, than I was used to seeing in Manchester streets during the early evening.

Monday 27 June. There is a Sustrans route from Balloch all the way to the centre of Glasgow, 19 miles, very pleasant, reasonable surface along the river and a canal, and passing through a big shopping centre in Clydebank just at coffee time. An interesting wait in Glasgow Central Station, change at Birmingham, and an uneventful ride back home to Odiham by 9.30pm. 42 m

Altogether it had been a very interesting tour, only a total of a couple of hours sunshine, one half day of rain, but overcast every day. I totalled 654 miles but David, back in 1952 had 542 on his cyclometer. We both had fun.