Day 1 John O'Groats to Crask Inn

6 am Tuesday 14 June 2011

I’ve been awake since 4.30 due to combination of wind noise and vivid dreams (probably generated by last night’s deep fried haggis and the landlord’s jovial threats). Only woke Al up once snoring.

10pm Tuesday 14 June 2011

After a hearty breakfast of porridge and beans we set off for the 4 mile ride to JOG and the obligatory photoshoot. It was very windy – judging by the white tops on the sea probably a Force 6 (25-30mph) coming straight from the west.  But there were blue skies, the Orkneys were visible to the north and spirits were good. We started the ride at 9am; the first 50 miles were due west, straight into the wind, across the north coast to Bettyhill.  The first 20 miles were very tough – even though we were on the flat we could manage no more than 11mph and it felt like we were on a continuous climb. We went through Thurso (not very interesting) before stopping for tea at Melvich (not a town, just a bar) where Sandra met up with us.

The difficult conditions were offset by beautiful views. Some of the sandy northern beaches were spectacular but only suitable for those who like to brave cold seas.  A few hills appeared before Bettyhill where we stopped for lunch, Sandra driving ahead to make sure we could get food before they closed.

We met up with 4 other guys doing JOGLE over 12 days who set off before us earlier but who had already had 2 punctures. We spent the next hour or so cycling with them from Bettyhill along the River Naver to Loch Naver. What a fantastic road (for cyclists) – single track with passing places. We saw hardly any traffic for next couple of hours. The scenery was stunning and apart from a church, the odd farm and a few fly fishers there was little sign of civilisation. The sun was out and the wind abated – almost perfect cycling weather. The road gradually took us up to Altnaharra (another tea break).  600 cyclists had passed through here on the Deloitte ride across Britain a couple of days ago (they plan the ride over 9 days) and they left behind buckets of power jells and bars which the barmaid kindly gave to us.  The power gel worked as the next 10 miles was a 500 foot climb to our destination, the Crask Inn, which is the most remote Inn in Britain.

We could write a book about the Crask Inn. There is no other building to be seen for miles around, just open moorland, mountains and forests. We had the cottage attached to it by ourselves although it could take 12 people sleeping head to toe. One toilet and 2 showers had clearly seen much use over the years but for some reason lacked any appeal for Sandra who decided to wait another day before doing her hair. The landlord of the Inn had been busy during the day (see surprise of the day) and he had probably not had the time to get ready for serving dinner. The other guests consisted of half a dozen very large Belgian and Dutch people who didn’t understand the local dishes (steak pie and rhubarb crumble) on offer. Somehow I got offered the last venison chops from a stag shot on the landlords land last October – they were delicious. The food was excellent old fashioned home cooking.  Beer was McKewans 70 Shillings which was better than the 80 shillings the night before.  I must find out what the shillings refer to.

Highlight of day:  The road from Bettyhill to Crask Inn.

Surprise of day: The Crask Inn landlord bought a Highland Cow at auction a couple of months ago and suspected it might be pregnant so he stuck his hand ‘up her’ to see if she was. She was, and the cow gave birth to a calf 5 hours before we arrived. Both mother and calf were in a yard no more than 30 feet from the window by our restaurant table, calf still with umbilical cord attached.  Judging from his appearance the landlord had obviously helped with the delivery.

Body report:  Better than expected probably due to leg massage given by the multi-talented Sandra. 

Expectations for tomorrow:  More downhill than uphill.