Good Morning Drummond Island

I mount my bike in the near darkness, illuminated by the faint moonlight. In reality, it's probably the glow of the nearby streetlight, but I like the idea of the moon better. And it's clearly visible amid the deep blue of the sky overhead.

We are headed for the ferry landing. We have started cycling earlier than our 6:40 start this morning, but never this late in the year. It is still 40 minutes until sunrise. I can just barely make out the pavement ahead of me. The headlights of the approaching cars blind me. Blinky lights on the front and rear of my bike seem a feeble attempt to be seen. And they do nothing for my own vision. I am thankful, remembering the good smooth pavement on these roads.

The approaching sunrise lifts the darkness surprisingly quickly. Cycling west, I can see its glow in my rear view mirror. There is a pink cast at the horizon in all directions, topped by pastel blue as the world gently shifts toward daylight. Barely a car passes us on the main road. The gradually waking morning is ours alone.

The chilly air penetrates as I speed through it, fully awakening all my senses. Occasional rises bring blasts of warmer air. I welcome the warmth that envelopes me, however briefly. The wind is absent and glimpses of shoreline reveal calm water reflecting the morning's colors. Cycling seems effortless and 10 miles pass quickly.

We over-achieve and reach the ferry landing long before the boat's 8:00am departure. We could have left a good half hour later and still made it. And avoided that pre-dawn cycling. But I'm glad we didn't. It was a memorable ride. A good morning on Drummond Island.

Ferry landing on Drummond Island

 

Roadside Delights

Some of the best finds are the ones that appear spontaneously by the side of the road. They aren't in any tourist guides. They don't show up on Google Maps. They have no feedback ratings. They are just there, and we are in the right place at the right time. On our bikes.

It's not surprising that these stands frequently involve food. Any touring cyclist is a hungry cyclist, and particularly vulnerable to such offerings. And we are no exception. We have availed ourselves of a number of worthy delicacies through our journey along Michigan's west coast.

Farmers Markets are always a favorite of mine. The brilliantly colored fresh veggies in their attractive displays are like eye candy. And I always keep an eye out for the bakery booths, for a treat. When we happened on the market in Harbor Springs we were already well sated after a good breakfast, so it was the flowers that drew my attention. Realizing I couldn't purchase a bouquet, the vendor tucked a vivid pink chrysanthemum in my handlebar bag, where it remained to brighten the remainder of my day!

Farmers Market in Harbor Springs
Flowers for cycling

On a smaller scale, roadside stalls are just as fruitful. Along with the usual assortment of farm stands and orchard sales, I discovered another variety. Coasting through the town of Empire looking for a good resting stop, I spied a tent in a front yard. Closer inspection revealed a treasure trove of home baked goodies. It was tough to make a selection, but that lemon ginger scone was a winner.

Front yard goodies

Taking it one step smaller, we aren't immune from picking directly from Mother Nature. Apples were in abundance throughout the area, and we claimed a few that grew right on the bike trail. Attempts to scavenge crab apples were less successful, as Rich learned through several mouth puckering attempts.

Apples for the eating

Some folks simply cater directly to passing cyclists. We particularly appreciated these two humanitarian services, which need no further explanation.

Water for cyclists
Bench for pooped cyclists

We thought we'd seen it all until we reached the Straits of Mackinac. There we stumbled on the annual Truck Show. With Main Street in St. Ignace lined with hundreds of semis, we could ogle the macho machines as we cycled. But that was only the beginning. Around 9:30 that evening, those same behemoths thundered past our motel, on their way to drive over the Mackinac Bridge. Multi-note air horns blaring, engines revving and decked out in garish colored lights, they roared by one after another, and another and another… And naturally we were out there to witness this astonishing display of Americana. Just another roadside delight.

Truck show parade

 

The Long Way Around

Two peninsulas

Bike touring is all about getting from point A to point B. It is the journey. We see the countryside intensively, at a slow pace. But only right along our route. Despite our best intentions to live in the moment, we often find ourselves focused more on getting to our next destination. On this trip, and in particular in the last few days, we have endeavored to break that mold.

We had a hunch that the western side of Michigan would hold some of the best scenery, so our goal was to prevent rushing through this area. Our intentions have been assisted by the existence of small roads right along the coast that allow us to meander and linger. Peninsulas in particular offer perfect opportunities to practice this approach. It would be easy to cut across the bottom. But we have resisted the temptation.

Rich and Jim taking a break

The Leelanau Peninsula impressed us with its coastal parks and prosperous towns. The fine sand beaches and tall dunes were such a contrast to the rocky shores of Lake Superior that are more familiar to us. And we continued to be amazed to see frequent lakes and bays so close to the big lake. We were as likely to have water views inland as we were on the coast side of the road.

We ventured up the peninsula to Northport before turning down the opposite shore. Had we not done so, we would have missed a surprisingly tasty breakfast stop. Dining on eggs with a Mexican flair surrounded by a vivid yellow décor was a day brightener. Resuming cycling, we were bathed in equally brilliant sunshine sparkling on the waters of Lake Michigan. That carried us all the way down the eastern side, passing vineyards and orchards.

Old Mission Peninsula was far more of a whim. Smaller, narrower and with almost no towns, we had little reason to go there. I had to cajole Rich into doing it. And it was the best morning of cycling yet.

Molly cycling Old Mission Peninsula

Under a cloudless blue sky, we headed up the east side of the peninsula. We traveled small local roads, with barely a car in sight. Crisp cool air flowed over us and the low sun was only just beginning to provide its welcome warmth. But it's golden rays illuminated the blue of the water, the dark brown tree trunks and the rich green grass. It was an ambiance that not only encouraged loitering but demanded it.

Bald Eagle by Rich Hoeg

There is no denying that this was a wealthy area. We enjoyed gawking at the sprawling mansions with immaculate landscaping. There was an impressive array of water toys adorning the long docks that jutted out into the lake. Beautiful beach-side patios hosted colorful collections of Adirondack chairs. And bountiful fall flowers bloomed in the carefully tended gardens. Even a bald eagle graced the tall trees and obliged Rich by lingering long enough for a photo.

Crossing over the peninsula we found orchards, colorful farm markets and tidy vineyards. A picturesque marina greeted us on the other side. By then the sun was high enough to stream through the trees and reach us on the opposite side. It was the kind of morning that we wanted to last forever.

Farm Market on Old Mission Peninsula
Old Mission Peninsula

By the time we finished our loop, we had traveled 27 miles but progressed only one mile toward our destination for the day. And yet we had just taken in tantalizingly beautiful scenery. Proving it was worth it to go the long way around.

 

Start and Stop Cycling

Progress to date: 5 days, 203 miles

For once the weather forecast was right. Just when we hoped it wouldn't be. Even through the tent we could make out the lightning blips illuminating the sky. By 5:30am they were even brighter and thunder followed. It still seemed far enough in the distance that figured we had a chance of beating the storm if we acted quickly. A shout out to Jim proved he was no longer sleeping either, and he agreed to packing up while things were still dry.

It almost worked. We had everything ready to go and were about to take the tents down when the first raindrops fell. Then a few more. Then a whole lot more in rapid succession. Back to the tents, along with our gear as the storm raged in earnest. Not much to do but read or snooze in the meantime.

Ha if out in the tent
Wet campsite

It was 9:30 by the time the rains slowed. This time we got everything stowed on our bikes before it started up again. A mad dash through the campground got us to the park ranger office. There we took refuge on the porch along with our bikes. Not a bad place to be, as it had both wifi and charging stations for our enjoyment.

Plugging in at the ranger station

Our next foray was in heavy drizzle and got us almost 2 miles. Art's Tavern was our breakfast stop, and we even saw a few short bursts of almost-sunshine during our repast. By the time we emerged, we felt confident that the day was improving. At the time, it was true. And weather was not our next showstopper, but a flat tire. Still only 8 miles into our journey, we were sidelined once more as Rich changed his inner tube. Relieved to be on a bike trail not the road, we rejoiced in our good fortune along with staying dry – for the moment.

Flat tire

It's a good thing that we had already reset our sights for that day's destination. We had planned to go to the very end of the Lelenau Peninsula and stay at the State Campground there. But another night of camping no longer held the same appeal. And alternate lodgings were limited to a town just 20 miles away. As it was, it still took us the better part of the day just to get that far. Our final 12 miles were far from dry, but at least we managed the distance without further incident or delay.

Leland proved to be an interesting little town, and even more so our motel. Perched on the edge – literally – of the Leland River, we reached our room from a walkway overhanging the rushing river water. The small dam adjacent to the motel office created a man-made waterfall and a surprisingly amount of noise. Downstream, boats were moored and on the opposite bank was historic Fishtown. What used to be shanties selling everyday goods for fishermen and townspeople are now populated by boutiques, restaurants and other trendy shops. But the look and feel still harks back to the fishing days.

View from our motel
Fishtown

It was a good place to stop for the day. Our final nighttime entertainment was watching salmon try to jump up the waterfalls. Most would futilely fly through the air to flop back in the water far short of their intended target. It made for some good laughs. And yet I knew how they felt, trying so hard to get somewhere and not quite making it.

Fish jumping upstream - by Rich Hoeg

 

And then there were three

If you’re going to have a friend join you on a bike trip, it is mighty handy if he just happens to be a bike tour operator. Especially if you are in his home territory. And an all around good guy, like Jim.

We had already spent one day making our way north along the western shore of Michigan. It was enough to impress us with the Lake Michigan views and fine sand beaches. And I was enamoured with the brilliant blue-green color of the water, reminiscent of the Caribbean. We discovered that many towns were built on lakes, small bays or rivers adjoining the big lake. They frequently afforded appealing views with boats bobbing in marinas. And in between were orchards laden with ripe red apples, farm stands, peaches for sale, scenic farms and woods lining the road.

A Michigan beach
Rest stop in Onekama

Our rendezvous point with Jim was Arcadia. A tiny village, it boasted both a nature preserve and a beautiful town beach. With free time available, an afternoon for doing your own thing seemed in order. Rich eagerly headed out in search of birds in the marsh. I spent my time walking the beach with the roar of the waves in my ears and the wind on my face. We finished just in time to meet Jim for dinner, and capped off the day with a splendid sunset over the lake.

Arcadia Beach

Our morning departure as a threesome was quite a wake-up call. We had reached the coastal sand dunes, and as they rose steeply above the water, so did the road. Our initial few miles were straight up, ending at an overlook with long views up and down the coast. No one but me was willing to climb the steps to the top. But it was worth it. The low sun was just beginning to illuminate the trees below, and the clear blue skies and enhanced the deep color of the water.

Overlook at Arcadia

It was a grand day for cycling and necessitated taking time to enjoy the sights along the way. Having three people meant more interests. More ideas. More reasons to stop. A photo opp for Rich. A rest stop for Jim. A lighthouse or two for me. One looked like a toy, but Point Betsie Lighthouse was quite nice.

Point Betsie Lighthouse
We were in unanimous agreement on one thing. Ice cream. A requirement at the end of a long, hot day of cycling. Such was our mission upon reaching Glen Arbor after our 50-mile ride. Fortunately, Jim’s expertise led us to just the place – a shop where all the ice cream featured Michigan cherries!
Jim, Molly and Rich at ice cream place

We were grateful to learn that Jim was a very agreeable traveling companion. Despite the dire weather forecasts for morning, we threw caution to the wind and stuck with our plans to camp that night. For our reward, we scored the only campsite in the DH Day National Forest Campgound with a water view! The fact that they had only primitive campsites (outhouses and water faucets, period) was no problem. Our beautifully secluded spot also had beach access. With Jim leading the charge, we were soon swimming off our day’s sweat and rinsing our cycling gear all at once in Lake Michigan! I certainly never expected to swim in the lake on this trip. And had we been on our own, I’m not certain we would have taken the plunge. It’s a good thing that by then there were three.

Swimming in Lake Michigan

 

The good, the bad and the ugly

It’s easy to write about all the good stuff when we’re cycle touring.  The fabulous scenery, the interesting people we meet, the fun adventures we have.  But my friends always tell me that they most like hearing about “how it really is.”  So in the spirit of truth in reporting for our cycling tour of Scotland, here you go.

The Good

  • Coast near CullenAmazing scenery.  I just have to say it one more time.
  • We had outstanding weather.  Scotland is known for its changeable weather, as well as the cold and rain.  In 22 days, we had only one really rainy day, combined with horrific headwinds.  While the temperature never did reach 70, we had 8 days of sunshine, 3 of partial sun, 7 cloudy and 3 with a few showers.  Quite the record.
  • Scones and coffeeWhen cycle touring, it is impossible to consume as many calories as you expend.  So the sky is the limit on food consumption, and all manner of treats are allowed.  In the case of Scotland, my local favorites included McVities chocolate biscuits, scones (complete with jam and clotted cream) and cider on tap.  The Ice cream stopweather wasn’t always conducive to ice cream, but it’s a universal indulgence.
  • Despite the treats, one always loses weight when cycle touring.  Even better, inches come off and muscles are toned.  There’s nothing like coming home and finding those tight clothes fit so easily.
  • Salmon.  Lots of it.  It was on the menu everywhere.  What more can I say?
  • We always carry an abundance of inner tubes (8 between us) and one extra tire.  Normally we go through a good number of those tubes and the tire as well.  On this trip, Rich didn’t have a single flatRich fixing a flat – clearly a record for him!  I managed two flats, primarily due to rocky trails.  In the US, we have more trouble due to the retread tires on trucks.  The shoulders are littered with metal shards left behind when the tires blow.  We saw no such debris in Scotland.  (Of course, there were no shoulders either… see below).

The Bad

  • Loose Chippings signIn the US, the cyclist’s most dreaded road surface is one that has recently been “chip sealed.”  It’s the cheap way out.  Spreading the road with goo and throwing down crushed rock to prolong the life of the road surface.  Sure, if you’re in a car you just roll over it.  If you’re on a bicycle, it is a nightmare of uneven rocks that take at least a couple miles per hour off your speed.  We were dismayed to learn that Scotland has learned about chip seal.  They just call it by a different name.
  • When we scout out roads for cycling, we pay particular attention to the shoulders.  We look for paved Sheep near the roadshoulders that are wide enough for safe cycling outside the range of traffic.  Forget that in Scotland.  There is no such thing as a shoulder.  There are few markings on the road period.  Since many of them are only one lane wide, why bother?  Fortunately, traffic is often light, and sometimes confined to just the local sheep.
  • Finding cheap lodgings in Scotland was more of a challenge.  There is no such thing as a roadside motel.  The closest approximation was a guesthouse.  It was obvious that some we stayed in were more like boarding houses.  While the place was full, there was no one else at breakfast.  The cooking tended to be blasé, the carpet was worn, and heat only came on for limited periods in the evenings.  And just like cheap motels, electrical outlets were scarce.

The Ugly

  • It’s one of cycling’s facts of life.  I don’t know why, but hour after hour, day after day of cycling means a constantly drippy nose.  Perhaps it’s the wind.  Maybe it’s the exercise.  For whatever reason, a runny nose is a signature symptom of spending days in the saddle.  That’s life, live with it.
  • Some of us have more sanitary ways of handing this nose issue.  Mine is a kleenex, Rich cycling in Scotlandtucked into my handlebar bag.  But not Rich.  He has perfected the art of expressing his snot into the air as he rides.  All well and good for him.  Not so great for the cyclist behind him.  Believe me, riding in the Snot Stream is no picnic.  Especially when there is a head wind.  If he’s feeling extremely magnanimous, he might invite me to ride in the “snot-free zone.”  In that case, it doesn’t take more than 2 seconds for me to increase my cadence and fly past him to cycle in front.
  • Traveling light is of utmost importance when cycle touring.  That means the “wear one, wash one” concept of clothing is followed.  When we cycle in hot climates, we constantly hand wash our cycling clothes every other night.  With the cold weather in Scotland, we could easily convince ourselves that we didn’t sweat as much and could wear our cycling duds more days between washings.  It sure made life easier.  I’m not sure if those around us would agree.
  • For the most part, we manage to work together to plan our itinerary.  But there are those moments when we don’t see eye-to-eye.  Take our final trip to see Fraser Castle when we got mired in traffic.  I’m of the “never give up” camp.  Rich is in the “let’s be practical” corner.  We attempted to settle our differences on an isolated patch of roadside pavement.  Let’s just say it was a good thing the traffic was zooming by.  It wasn’t a quiet conversation.

Just like blog posts, the bad and ugly bits easily fade into the background in our cycling trip memories.  It’s the good that stays with us, and spurs us on to the next trip.  No doubt that will be the case with this one.  Stay tuned for our next adventure.Molly and Rich on Scotland Tartan Tour

I’ll have tea, please

There is no point in going to a foreign country if you can't adapt to local ways. Sure, it may mean doing without some of favorite foods, the comforts of home and familiar customs. But the fun is in learning about other cultures, trying new things and living life differently. Bike tours included.

Many will recall last year's tour in which several days were spent “in search of Chardonnay.” In fact, it has since defined Rich's wine preference. However, since setting foot in Scotland we have exchanged our wine glasses for pints of cider. On tap is preferred. Bottled works. Nothing tastes better after a long day of cycling. Not even Chardonnay.

Rich enjoying a cider

Little roadside motels and campgrounds have been our staple for accommodations in the US and Canada. In Scotland we have substituted guesthouses and hostels. Just like motels, guesthouses range widely in quality. For each tired guesthouse with well worn plaid carpeting, I can think of a cramped motel room to match. It's what you get when seeking cheap lodging. The hostels, however, have been a great find. Like camping, they have been some of our favorite locations. It has been well worth the more spartan and shared arrangements.

Rich in hostel

There is no arguing the fact that cycle touring burns a lot of calories. And eventually our bodies crave energy-rich foods. Rich loves to tattle on my habit of buying KitKat bars on our first long tour. While such exist in Scotland, I have switched my allegiance to my favorite biscuit. McVities Dark Chocolate Digestives. I'm on my third package already.

Chocolate digestives

The meager contents of our panniers are different for this trip. We left behind our after-cycling shorts and t-shirts in favor of pants and long sleeves. This one was less of a cultural difference than a practical one. It just doesn't get that hot here. Not even in the beginning of June.

Rich and Molly in Blackhouse hostel

Finding dinner is often a matter of locating the nearest pub. Although “pub grub” is heavier fare than I'm used to on cycling tours, it fills and warms at the same time. Somehow, it always goes down easily. The same with the hearty breakfasts and ubiquitous eggs. And where else can I get smoked salmon on scrambled eggs on a regular basis?

Kings Arms pub

Since food seems to be a central theme here, I can't leave out another local favorite – scones. With breakfast already behind us, we've been seeking out coffee shops or cafes for our breaks. I immediately case the front counter for scones. My cycling appetite often allows for jam and clotted cream as well. Might as well do it right.

Rich at the Coffee Pot on Mull

Rich and I are both wedded to our own particular source of caffeine. Coffee for me, and Diet Coke for him. But mornings in a B&B have us both singing out of the same hymnal. The British know how to do tea right. I'd rather have good tea than mediocre coffee. For Rich, the chilly weather warrants a hot drink instead of cold. For both of us, here in Scotland the refrain is the same. “I'll have tea, please.”

 

A Fraser Finish

Final Totals: 22 days, 830 miles

I don't know if I ever saw Rich's Grandpa Fraser in his kilt. But I certainly saw pictures, and knew how proud he was of his heritage. And after all, we were wearing a patch of Fraser plaid on our Tartan Tour jerseys. So it seemed a serious omission to bypass Fraserburgh on our first circuit along the north coast. Now it was time to rectify that.

Scotland is famous for its changeable weather. As we headed for Fraserburgh the warm sun of recent days was just a memory as we entered a world of fog. The vistas were gone, but in exchange we had peaceful rural scenery.

Sheep near Fraserburgh
Cow near Fraserburgh

Leaving the cycle route to continue east along the coast, we hadn't thought to check out the terrain. When the headlands reached into the clouds, we began to worry. Sure enough, more leg work was in store! Even I didn't think I could manage the steep grade, but it was mercifully short. With a heavy dose of determination along with ample huffing and puffing I reached the top.

Steep hills going to Fraserburgh
With some slack in our itinerary and to give our bodies their first rest day, we decided to spend an extra day in Fraserburgh. I'll be honest and admit it wasn't the most picturesque or vibrant place in my book. But sitting out a day of strong winds, mist and damp weather did have its advantages.
The best feature in Fraserburgh is the Museum of Scottish Lighthouses. We easily managed to spend three hours there, and learned a lot about the hard life of the keepers on the remote islands and rock lighthouses. Our admission included a tour of the adjacent Kinnaird Head Lighthouse with an extremely knowledgeable guide. It was the first lighthouse built on Scotland's mainland, erected right on top of the castle built by none other than the Frasers. A later renovation included a full lighthouse tower that rose up through the castle's great hall. Because the lighthouse was ultimately replaced by a new fully automated lighthouse, the works for the original light were left entirely in tact. We got to see it in operation, and appreciate the precision timing required for the light's unique signal.
Kinnaird Head Lighthouse
Fraserburgh does have a fantastic beach, and is a a favorite for surfers. It didn't show off particularly well on a cloudy day, but I enjoyed watching a couple of hearty surfers attempt the waves. The harbor was full of fascinating and colorful boats. Unfortunately the commercial nature of the area prevented me from getting much more than a glimpse of these craft.
Fraserburgh harbor
After a day of sluffing, I was more than ready to return to my bike. The continuing North wind finally benefitted us, blowing us across the flatter farmland to bring us back to Aberdeen. My favorite part of the journey was seeing the wind blow across the long grasses, creating moving shapes in waves across the field. They were bittersweet miles for me, knowing our tour was coming to an end.
The capstone of our Fraser tribute was to be a day trip to Fraser Castle. At only 15 miles away and sans gear, it should have been a breeze. Instead, it was an exercise in futility. While the fierce winds were aggravating, it was the heavy traffic, construction and dangerous roads that ultimately caused us to turn back. Despite a bit of friction over the decision, we managed to make peace and agree to spend the day exploring Aberdeen instead. And I finally got to use a bus shelter for its intended purpose!
Molly waiting for a but to Aberdeen
We were unimpressed with Aberdeen's busy City Center, but thankfully the information center equipped us with a walking tour of Old Aberdeen. There we found peaceful streets, wonderful old buildings, thriving university life and a great campus hangout called Grub for a snack and warm-up.
Rich in Old Aberdeen
Rich at Kings College Aberdeen
Powis Gates Old Aberdeen

Oh, and those crescents on top of these Turkish style gates at Powis House? Turns out they are the emblem of the Fraser family, who owned this estate before the gates were built. I guess it was a Fraser finish after all.

 

The Same but Different

Having reached Inverness, the most sensible return route to Aberdeen was back the way we came. While I would have preferred to find new ground to cover, things do look different coming the other way and we found plenty of ways to mix it up a bit.

For starters, this time we stopped overnight in Inverness. Arriving late, we hurried out to find a place for dinner and stumbled onto Hootananny, which is a Ceilidh bar with live music. Since a large round table was the only one available, we were soon joined by three young people from London. We hadn't expected to be there long enough for the music to start, but between a delay in getting our food and great conversation with our table mates we did in fact hear some of the music. By that time, the place was packed. We certainly found local color.

Hootanannys

On our first trip across the northern coast, the weather was cool with a mix of sun and clouds, and windy. This time it was uncharacteristically warm and sunny with light winds. Our tights and heavy jackets were stashed deep in our panniers, and I even nixed the wool socks. While the daffodils and tulips were finished, the gorse bushes were still brilliant yellow, and lilacs were now blooming as well.

Molly and lilacs

Retracing our route gave us a chance for some re-dos. Findhorn was recommended to us en route, and I almost suggested a spontaneous detour. But I didn't, and rather regretted it. We fixed that this time with a stopover in the little town on a bay. The warm weekend day brought everyone out to the water where there were sailboats racing, folks rowing a wide skiff, and even a water skier. Quality time spent on a park bench was a must.
Findhorn
Repeating means getting to do favorite bits again. The path on top of the cliffs was a standout for me, particularly the last 6 miles approaching Cullen. And crossing atop the old via duct to reach the town was a classic. This time it was the perfect day to avail ourselves of the fabled Cullen Ice Cream Shop. We knew we had the right place. There was a long line out the door.
Rich was eager to have another pub meal at the King's Arms. I was concerned it would not live up to our first warm and jovial experience there, but I need not have worried. The sequel was every bit as good.
Approaching Cullen 1
Approaching Cullen 2
Cullen 1
Cullen 2

Nearly three weeks have passed since we first covered this ground. It seems inconceivable that we saw some of this on only our second day of touring Scotland. We have so much more behind us by this point. No wonder it's the same but looks so different to us now.

 

I get my exercise

Progress to date: 16 days, 648 miles

It's a time honored battle. Rich wants to take it easy. I want to press on for more miles. I've made peace with our reduced mileage this trip, so it surprised me when Rich planned to cycle through the Great Glen in two days. The total distance looked to be about 110 miles. By car. It's always more on the cycle route.

We've learned on previous trips that the best way through the mountains is to follow water. Stay in the valley to avoid hills. Since the Great Glen route follows a series of lochs and canals from Oban to Inverness, we figured it would be reasonably flat cycling. It was. For the most part. But as we'd been warned, there was one major climb.

When you factor in three ferries, additional cycling miles, a big climb and some strong headwinds, we got more than we bargained for. They were the two longest days of cycling on our whole trip. And yet, there were plenty of compensating benefits.

We always enjoy riding along water. This was unique in that we followed a series of inland waterways for 123 miles. The initial portion along Loch Lonnhe still felt like sea coast. And it had sights to go with it.

Molly just north of Oban

We almost missed Castle Stalker, a sea castle just offshore from our cycle path. Good thIng Rich looked left and noticed it! There has been a castle on this site since 1320, and this structure dates back to 1450.

Rich and Castle Stalker

A series of canals connect the lochs in the Great Glen. And with canals come another kind of locks. The first we came to was on the Caledonian Canal just north of Fort William. Called Neptune's Staircase, it is a series of eight locks and is the longest staircase lock in Britain. It lifts or lowers boats 64 feet. It was well past dinner time when we cycled by, so there was no lingering to take pictures. But I did snap a quick one of the boats just above the first lock.

Caledonian Canal

Other locks were simpler affairs, but no less interesting. We never got to see a boat going through, but one lock operator did ask if we'd like a cup of tea! I still regret that we didn't take him up on the offer. I'm certain he had some great stories to tell.

Molly and one of the locks

For Rich, the main attraction was getting to see Loch Ness. It was the final loch in this stretch and at 23 miles long there was plenty of time to look for Nessie. We traveled up the eastern side of the loch, avoiding the busy highway on the opposite side. We knew that initially the road veered inland, which meant navigating the steep hillsides. It was as long and challenging as promised, and by the time we reached the high point we discovered that we were several mountain ridges away from the Great Glen. It seemed odd that the lochs we could see from there did not include Loch Ness.

Climbing above Loch Ness
Near Loch Ness
Molly and Rich near Loch Ness

The journey back down eventually returned to Loch Ness and took us to the water's edge. We appreciated the flatter terrain and could see the famous Urquart Castle on the opposite shore. By that time, after two long days we were even more glad to reach Inverness.

In hindsight, it would have been wiser to take three days. But I have to say that I enjoyed the challenge. I relished each climb I completed, each mile I put behind me. I certainly got my exercise in the Great Glen. And even I got tired.

Molly after Loch Ness climb