To Alness

Tomintoul to Alness (76 miles)

On coming down to breakfast in the large conservatory built onto the farmhouse, we discover that the weather has changed. The morning is looking decidedly grey and drizzly. We console ourselves that we are still quite high up and maybe this is just Scotch mist that we will leave as we descend. Breakfast is taken in the warm noting our cycling kit finishing off nicely on the radiators while we watch Mr Turner through the picture windows working away hard at farming jobs including pitch-forking large quantities of hay into a barn. There are certainly much more strenuous tasks than cycling from breakfast to coffee to lunch to tea to …..

Well fortified by lashings of porridge and all packed up we say goodbye to Mrs Turner and to our fellow cycling guests who are taking a late breakfast approach to the weather. It is only mildly damp as clad in pertex tops rather than waterproofs we freewheel or pedal gently along the steadily falling road to and through Tomintoul itself. From there we drop to the Bridge of Avon and then climb quite steeply. We find ourselves back in much more steadily drizzly rather than misty conditions as we climb, but it is not very far before we drop quickly again into Glen Lochy and the Bridge of Brown. Needless to say the bridge itself features “arrows” on each side, with a steep drop and climb separated by a bridge on a sharp bend requiring a careful slow speed turn and no chance of a run up at the sharp climb. It’s a bit like Devon again, but the landscape overall is several sizes larger.

After a fair spell of climbing beside Carn na Luinne we cross the watershed and in a short while launch into the five miles whizz down hill to Speybridge. I underestimate just how cold the air is in this fine rain and arrive at the end of the fairly fast freewheeling run at the River Spey feeling very chilled and realising I should have put on more clothes than a light windproof and jersey. This is where the stoker really has an advantage, being able to hide behind a human windshield carving the path through the elements in front. We pedal on for the mile or so that takes us into Grantown-on-Spey where hot coffee and a warm up seem to be top priority. We find a suitable establishment and sit well clear of the ceiling fan whose purpose on a day like this I cannot fathom. Hot chocolate does the job very well and both body and extremities are rapidly restored to a cosy temperature. Realising that this could be our last sight of civilisation for some time we wander along the main street until we locate a grocer’s shop where we can stock up on sandwiches and other provisions for lunch.

Re-fuelled we head off northwards on the A939. By now the rain has stopped and although it is very grey looking the rest of the day stays dry for us. At first we are in pine forest that has a strong smell of resin in the damp air, but we are climbing steadily and in a few miles we break out onto Dava Moor. The CTC route guide describes this as being “exposed” and we agree, grateful that we are not up here on a wet and windy day. The moor is a complete contrast to yesterday. There are no very high hills but as we steadily pedal on into a moderate north-east wind across Dava Moor, and even allowing for the grey sky, we both agree that this is a very bleak and desolate place. At the junction of the A939 and A940 we pause beside the road sign proclaiming “Fàilte don Ghàidhealtachd”, we are officially in the Highlands with a welcome. A photo together with the tandem is of course required to add to the county boundary collection. After ten miles we begin to look carefully for our left turn onto a minor road. This is another old military road and on the map looks very small as though it might be little more than a track. In the event having rejected a couple of very rough tracks we find it is a fairly clear junction and turn left.

On the map this looks to be a strange section of very minor lanes through mixed countryside with plenty of scope for getting lost. Because of this I have plotted the route on a larger scale map than the one we have been using for the last couple of days, where navigating has been dead easy because there has mostly only been one road. It turns out to be a fascinating and in parts eerie landscape. The lanes are very tiny and we travel through a mixture of forest plantation, heath and scrub. There are no villages but scattered dwellings seemingly miles from anywhere appear at odd spots as we pick our way from junction to junction. The place names on the map such as Dulsie, Kirton of Barevan and Highland Boath seem to be house names rather than villages. We do not see any farmland as such and although there are some plantations most of the trees seem to be naturally regenerating scrub within heathland. The air must be clean because the most striking feature of this landscape is the mosses and lichens. The trees (and indeed even the wooden fence posts) are festooned with great swags of moss hanging from their branches. It all looks rather like some exaggerated stage set for a production of Macbeth. The occasional finger-post offering Cawdor as a destination completes the picture. By now the weather has definitely started to improve and we pause beside the road for our elevenses at a spot where there is a break in the immediate tree cover and we can see out to the Moray Firth in the distance. Sheila takes the opportunity for another comfort stop adding to yesterday’s competition for the loo with the best view.

Finally as we travel on the landscape begins to change. There are more houses and fields begin to appear. We break out onto high ground following the contour above the flood plain terrace of Moray Firth. We drop down under the railway viaduct towards Culloden Moor. At the B9006 we stop at the Culloden museum and visitor centre beside the battlefield. It is not that exciting a spot without a decent picnic area, but it is lunchtime so we sit on a bench beside the car park and enjoy our rolls.

We had planned to continue to Balloch and then through Culloden village before following the A96 along the shore into Inverness, but because of the time we decide to opt for a more direct route on the B9006. This road takes us along beside the Culloden battlefield, which is an extensive area of rough heath with markers and plaques stating who took what stand and where throughout the battle. It looks rather tedious but those who are interested can be seen following their guidebooks around the circuit. The road is dropping all the way to sea level so we speed along for the next few miles. We head into Inverness without incident despite a car pulling out from a side road in front of us. On a bike we have come not to trust anyone and I could sense that the driver had no idea we were travelling at about 30mph when he stared at me and then came out of the side road. We were in no danger thanks to our defensive riding but to make the point we peer in at the car back window and shake a fist at the driver.

Without major route finding difficulty we arrive in the centre of town and locate the CAB office at our predicted arrival time of 2 p.m. precisely. We are met by Jane, the manager, and her team and we manage to assemble a large group for the front door + tandem + banner photos. It seems a long while since we did this. After stowing the tandem off the street into the downstairs of the office, we all march up to the first floor to find a magnificent reception spread of tea, sandwiches and cake laid on. What a shame we had our lunch such a short time ago. Nonetheless other advisors and we do our best to do justice to all that is on offer while Sheila and Jane discuss specialist advisors and such like.

Eventually we must be on our way and Jane gives us directions for a riverside way out of Inverness to the Kessock Bridge. Before setting off we take a brief look at the centre of the city and wheel the tandem down to a pedestrian suspension bridge on the River Ness waterfront. We are in bright sunshine under a clear sky by now. Following Jane’s directions we work our way along the waterfront around the harbour and eventually back to the roundabout for the approach road onto the Kessock Bridge. There is a pedestrian/cycleway across the modern bridge from which there are impressive views of Moray and Beauly Firths to the east and west. After the cycleway runs out we trust to some Sustrans signs that lead us away from the main road; and we are pleased to find that it does deliver us to a new underpass that is not on our map. We walk through to join the B9161, which is our intended route into the Black Isle.

From here it is up and over from one firth to the next, so we settle in for some steady climbing through the remainder of the afternoon in hot sunshine. In fact it turns out to be two climbs because at first we climb on the B9161, skirting around the top of Drumderfit Hill, only to enjoy views of Munlochy Bay, before we drop all the way back to sea level into Munlochy itself still on the southern side of the Isle. We don’t seem to have re-filled all of the bottles in Inverness, which was a bit of a boob because we are now out of water and feeling parched. We stop at a grocer’s shop in Munlochy and Sheila goes in either to buy some bottled water or to cadge a fill of tap water. She returns having had no luck with at either. The only water they have is hot tap water. A woman getting into a parked car beside us overhears our conversation and says that she lives nearby and will fill our bottles. I’m sure the sign on the back of the tandem with the Lands End to John O’Groats and CAB “charity ride” information is a great help on these occasions. She directs us the short way while she takes the longer route round by road and we meet at her house where we are topped up with water. We thank her and head on to climb over the centre of the Isle.

It is fairly stiff going up to Belton Wood with the road itself managing to go over the highest possible spot, complete with roadside trig point, but then it is downhill all the way to the Cromarty Firth. We freewheel along and then drop very steeply to Culbokie with some splendid views across the firth. A couple of bends in the road from Culbokie and we are at the junction with the A9(T) main road. We have been avoiding the A9 but now have no choice for a spell across the long new bridge. No cycleway has been incorporated in the new structure, but we avoid the fast traffic by cycling on the footpath margin. This has a jointed surface and is both rough and narrow. As a result, although the views are terrific I do not get to enjoy them, apart from when we pause to look around in the middle of the bridge, because it is both eyes on the surface while we travel across with a rhythmic bump, bump.

At the end the path stops abruptly and so we have to join the A9. It is not too bad because although the traffic is fast it is not solid, and following the flat waters edge we make a good pace. At the first opportunity we turn off, dive under the railway line and then climb away from the shore to follow a minor road into Evanton. As we pass through Evanton we are overtaken by a police car whose driver waves in greeting. At least I think that is what he is doing, not being too familiar with the instructions of traffic policemen. Sheila comments on the “Arches to our left”. I look for them but can’t see them. A bit further on she says they are in view again and I realise that they are in the distance on the hillside not close by. They are illustrated on the Evanton town name sign and look like a folly of some sort.

From here it is a fairly short run to the junction with the B817 that takes us into Alness. The outskirts of Alness have lots of new housing estate development. We are not far from Nigg Bay here, which is a major centre for the oil rig building and wrecking business. We pedal through the centre of Alness locating the CAB office as we go by ready for our visit tomorrow morning. We have directions for the B&B, which is 500 yards from the junction where we turn. There is no obvious sign of a B&B but this does not surprise us because most directions from landladies are in “car driver speak”. That is to say that you can safely double the distance they give and quadruple any times. After a half mile we are not so sure, and by the time we begin to climb rapidly past the golf course and it looks suspiciously as though we have just left town, we admit we have missed it and turn around. Needless to say we find the B&B back down by the junction and not even 50 let alone 500 yards from the main road.

After stowing the tandem in the shed and showering and changing, we head into Alness in search of dinner. We plump for the Station Hotel and enjoy a satisfactory dinner served by a very attentive young waitress – “I only work here one night per week” – who scurries backwards and forwards to the kitchen checking on the availability of various items or possible substitutes.

Alness to Bettyhill