Islay and Jura Bike Trip
On Sunday 17th August I drove up to Ramsbottom and stayed with Andrew in the
usual way, relaxing from the journey afterwards with a couple of pints at the
Irwell Works Brewery. The following morning we drove north, all the way up to
Kennacraig, the ferry terminal near Tarbert, and took the 18:00 ferry to Port
Askaig on the isle of Islay (pronounced aye-la by the locals).
Kennacraig car park |
The ferry |
On board |
Port Askaig is a tiny settlement with just the one pub – the Port Askaig Hotel
– the ferry terminal, a general store and about half a dozen houses. Our B&B was
at Persabus Farm (£40 each) about a mile out of town so as soon as we had
unloaded from the ferry (about 20:00) we had to mount up and ride up a
moderately steepish hill in the gathering twilight to find it.
Port Askaig |
The Hotel |
Evening in the Port Askaig Hotel |
After dumping the bags we walked back into the village and had a few pints at
the pub. The beer was Belhaven Best - not as bad as it has occasionally been. I
tried an Islay Brewery bottled beer but it was off so I swapped it for another
Belhaven. Some French blokes were jabbering away in the other bar and a foreign
girl was sitting on her own with a laptop – it turned out later she was one of
the barmaids. There had been several Japanese present on the ferry too so all
very cosmopolitan. A bit of rain fell on us on the walk back to the B&B but we
hoped for fairer skies on the morrow.
Tuesday 19th August 2014 - Port Askaig to Bowmore
We left Persabus Farm by about 9.30 and rode to Bridgend without any trouble.
We then headed south-west to Portnahaven and after a few miles there was a
shower, quite heavy briefly and enough for me to stop and put on the overshoes
and waterproof jacket. After that though it cleared up and was quite sunny for
the rest of the day (although it rained again later when we were in the B&B in
Bowmore).
Persabus Farm |
En route to Bruichladdich |
Along the way I saw two stoats chasing each other in circles on the road and
some large raptor eating a rabbit right on the verge – it flew off as I
approached but was so sudden and unexpected an apparition that I was unable to
identify it. Of course at the time I didn’t know if the stoats were stoats,
ferrets or weasels but we stopped a bit further along at a church in Portnahaven which had a
sign up saying ‘Teas and Cake’ and inside were two Scottish ladies who affirmed
that what we’d seen were stoats. They were quite common on the island, they
said, and there were also adders, sea eagles, golden eagles and roe deer but no
foxes. We had a cup of tea and a slice of carrot cake for £2 and the ladies
chatted about Islay – pronounced ‘aye-la’ they said. Both had been born there
(although one of them had lived away for a while, on the mainland and in
England) and were suitably proud of it.
The Distillery at Bruichladdich |
Tea and cakes stop at Portnahaven |
Cattlegrid near Lossit |
Lighthouse north of Port Charlotte |
The ride to Portnahaven was quite easy, a bit of wind but barely any hills, just
rolling roads. From Portnahaven we looped north then back to Port Charlotte and
this stretch was a bit hillier. At Port Charlotte we had a sandwich at Yan’s
Kitchen (Yan being a Chinese chap) and a short walk along the shore to look at
the lighthouse.
Andrew didn’t want to do the next loop away from the main road so we slowly rode
back to Bridgend where we had an ice-cream then on to the final 3 miles to
Bowmore and the An Cuan B&B which Andrew had booked us into for the night.
Bowmore |
Our room in the B&B |
The Harbour Inn |
I had a truly horrible meal – Cajun vegetables, flatbread and chips – in the
Lochside Hotel, accompanied by a truly horrible pint of beer – a locally brewed
effort called ‘Finn…’ something. Then on to the Harbour Inn for a pint of
comparatively wonderful Belhaven Best.
GPS Stats:
44.9 miles
28.1 mph max
10.7 mph ave (moving)
2454 ft ascent
43.75 miles according to the bike computer
Wednesday 20th August 2014 - Bowmore, Islay to Craighouse, Jura
A dry, occasionally sunny day today, with a bit of a north-west wind.
The ride from Bowmore to Port Ellen was easy, flat, well-tarmaced roads and with
the wind behind us we made good time. We had a look round Port Ellen then set
off back north via the parallel road, a single-track affair with passing places,
not so busy nor as well-surfaced as the previous road.
Islay airport |
Approaching Port Ellen |
Port Ellen |
We had passed the turn-off for Bridgend and were heading along the Cluanach/Cattadale road towards
Ballygrant, slogging our way up a fairly long hill. Andrew was several hundred
yards behind me and as I approached the crest of the climb I came to a
fenced-off field of pasture with about a dozen bullocks in it. There was no-one
else around and no signs of habitation anywhere, we were in the middle of
nowhere. For no apparent reason the bullocks now all turned as one and stared at
me as I got nearer. I carried on cycling away and suddenly the herd all ran away
from me, charging slightly uphill, and then they turned and stared at me again.
Middle of nowhere (approx NR397623) looking back south for Andrew (the small dot in the distance) just before the bullocks encounter |
Zooming in on the dot
|
Oh well, not to worry, I thought, they’re a bit skittish but there’s a stout
fence between us.
I cycled on.
The bullocks, however, had been taking courage from each other and started to
advance towards me en masse. I was glad of the fence at that point. The advance
changed to a canter and they then veered off and retreated a bit. But not for
long. Turning back towards me yet again they started towards me, a few
tentative, threatening paces at first, slowly turning into a general run, moving
quite fast. They soon reached a point where I thought ‘hang on, if they don’t
stop now they’ll be into the fence!’ But to my horror they didn’t stop! Instead,
crazily, they accelerated and charged directly into the fence, just a few yards
before my front wheel. Time for me to stop! The bullocks hit the fence and stout
as it was it had no chance of stopping them – not much could have done. Down it
went immediately, and the insane beef rolled on over it, over the ditch and onto
the road. One of them fell sideways in the melee there and I thought it must
break a leg but it just got up again, apparently unharmed. Three or four of the
beasts continued their charge right across the road and jumped like horses over
the fence there and into a hay field where they trotted off apace but the
remainder seemed dazed by what they had done and thankfully seemed to have
forgotten about me (I was stationary, of course, rooted to the spot). They
milled about then trotted off up the road in front of me and disappeared round
a bend. Whew!
I was quite shaken by this for I had been peaceably cycling along minding my own
business and had done absolutely nothing at all to upset the livestock or draw
attention to myself - and suddenly all that madness!
I stopped in the road and Andrew caught up, having only seen the tail end of the
dramatic events. At this point I knew that the bullocks were waiting up the road
ahead of us and I didn’t want to go anywhere near them. I suggested we turn back
and take the turning to Bridgend then continue up the parallel road to Port
Askaig. Having just slogged up a long hill, however, Andrew was reluctant to go
back and preferred to carry on and see if he could edge past the animals when he
came upon them. I looked at the map and said that the turning was only a
kilometer back and that I was going to go that way. In the end we both chose our
routes and agreed to meet at Ballygrant.
Unfortunately I had based my estimate of a kilometer on the gridlines of the
map, thinking they were 1k squares. Really they were 10k squares so I had to go
back about 6 miles in all and ended up doing about 8 miles more than Andrew who
negotiated the cows safely and was waiting at his ease in Ballygrant, refreshed
by coffee and food while I bashed sweatily round the long way. Still, he hadn’t
seen the way the bullocks rolled over everything in their path and I wasn’t
sorry I’d made the diversion – I was hot, sweaty, thirsty and knackered though!
Anyway a cup of tea and a sandwich soon sorted me out and we hit the road once
more, not taking long to get to Port Askaig where we got the 15:15 ferry across
to Feolin on Jura.
On the ferry to Jura |
Feolin, Jura |
Me shortly after leaving Feolin |
Feolin is a ferry terminal building and one house. The road from there, the only
road on Jura, was a single track one and there was a surprising amount of
traffic on it considering there’s not really anywhere much to go. It was easy
going though and we had no trouble in getting to Craighouse, our destination for
the night. We were booked into the only hotel there, the Jura Hotel, which is
just across the road from the Jura Distillery.
The Jura Hotel |
Jura Distillery |
The bloke checking us in said there was no shelter for the bikes and to leave
them by the side of the hotel but I took mine round the back and a woman there
asked if she could help. When I told her what I was looking for she was happy to
let me put the bike in the woodshed – Andrew put his there too when I told him
about it.
A helicopter turned up and landed in the hotel garden. About an hour or two
after we arrived it started to rain.
GPS Stats:
50.4 miles
34.9 mph max
10.0 mph ave (moving)
2949 ft ascent
48.5 miles according to the bike computer
Thursday 21st August 2014 - Craighouse to Ardlussa and back
The forecast for today was rain but apart from the odd shower everything was
fine and we had some decent sunny spells. We left most of the luggage at the
Jura Hotel and rode up the only road on Jura as far as Ardlussa. Several times
we overtook a Highway Maintenance truck whose two occupants seemed to travel up
the road arbitrarily choose a pothole and slap a dollop of black stuff on it.
Like painting the Forth Bridge, I expect, a never-ending task. They were
friendly enough though.
Leaving Craighouse |
The Paps of Jura |
Wildlife |
There were a lot more hills today and cumulative tiredness meant that once past
Ardlussa and a sudden steep descent appeared – ie a hill on the way back – it
wasn’t difficult to tell ourselves we’d come far enough. The return trip was
straightforward enough – we had something to eat at the Jura Hotel, picked up
the bags and rode the 8 miles back to Feolin. There we crossed over back to
Islay and had a cup of tea at the Port Askaig Hotel whilst waiting for the ferry
back to the mainland.
As far as we got |
On the way back to Feolin |
Awaiting the ferry back to Islay |
The ferry |
The 18.00 ferry took us back to Kennacraig on time, arriving around 20.00, and
then we drove on to Tarbert, the nearest town, where Andrew had booked us a B&B
for the night – Southcliffe, £75 for the two of us.
Tarbert |
The pub |
GPS Stats:
42.6 miles
33.2 mph max
9.8 mph ave (moving)
3267 ft ascent
42 miles according to the bike computer
|