by Lisa Hobman
The road took her out of Inverness towards Contin with a slight diversion to avoid heavy traffic on the main trunk road. Once she was away from the city fumes she began to enjoy the scenery a little more. Surrounded by trees, with a small loch on her left and the sun shining down on her, Zara began to relax again. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be so bad after all? Within half an hour she had to make a stop. Her bottom was numb and her back ached.
She climbed off the bike and glared at it. ‘So, my silver nemesis, you’re trying to kill me, are you? You dickhead. It’s been… what, thirty-five minutes and I have arse callouses. How is that even possible?’ She huffed as she held the inanimate object with as few fingers as possible, staring at it with disdain. ‘I don’t want to be here. And I certainly don’t want to be here riding you.’ Realising she was already on the verge of insanity, she glanced round the lay-by. No one else was there, thankfully. Then her attention turned to the loch before her and her breath caught. She took out her phone to snap some images – purely for business purposes, she insisted to herself; it wasn’t that she actually liked the place.
The loch’s surface was still and smooth like a mirror and the mountains opposite appeared to dip down into the loch as an upside-down version of themselves. It really was quite spectacular. She had expected to see murky brown watery depths but instead the shade was a simply darker version of the sky overhead. Okay, so it’s pretty. I’ll admit that much. But it’s not Egypt.
Back on the bike she had now nicknamed Silver Dickhead, she cycled along the shore of the Black Water with its pretty single-storey houses and village post office; then onward still. The roads were fairly flat, which made cycling less stressful, and the scant vehicles that passed by were courteous enough. Before she knew it, she was greeted with another stunning loch. She had heard that there were lots of them in Scotland and of course she’d seen them on the map, but hadn’t quite grasped how frequently she would skirt them in reality.
Another stop was necessary… purely for photos… it was nothing to do with Silver Dickhead trying to cut her in half – well, the piece would be useless without accompanying images, wouldn’t it? As she travelled she memorised the pretty places and the array of vivid colours. Sights and smells became fixed in her mind so that when she stopped she could type up a few notes on her tablet. She was grateful that Josh had recommended buying a solar gadget charger as she was sure she’d make good use of it.
Josh… She sighed. I wonder if he’s with Katie…
Buzzards circled overhead and she found herself smiling as she watched them catching thermals. When she reached the next village she was tired but not exhausted. She found a quiet spot beside yet another body of water and ate her lunch and massaged her sore extremities surrounded by nothing but the gentle swoosh of the breeze and the birdsong overhead.
Once she’d refuelled herself, she dropped a quick text to her friends and family to assure them that all was well so far, but with very little signal it took a while to send. She was in no great rush and mounted the Silver Dickhead once more.
*
Lochcarron was stunning with its view of the distant mountains and a wonderful, peaceful tranquillity. The journey, including various loo breaks, drink stops and photo opportunities, had taken around seven hours. Longer than she had originally anticipated, but she had taken it steady, knowing very well that this was a very new experience and she shouldn’t push herself too hard on the first day. But a real sense of achievement settled over her as she rode into the little campsite that would be her home for the night.
Thankfully the tent pitched easily and, before she knew it, she was sitting by it on a comfy little foldaway pad, overlooking the calm loch, eating another sandwich and watching the sky over the mountainous backdrop go from light blue to pink to orange and then to navy blue.
The little pinpricks of light overhead twinkled and as she stargazed she thought about home. What would her family be doing now? And what would Marco and Shelley be doing without her there to referee their conversations?
At around eleven, when she could fight her tiredness no more, she climbed into the canvas enclosure, removed her boots and slipped, fully clothed, into her sleeping bag.
12
Day two began with a bacon sandwich from a little van on the campsite. It was almost the best thing she had ever eaten. And on realising that she chastised herself. Of all the places you’ve been and all the exotic fare you’ve eaten this simply cannot be the best thing you’ve tasted. Come on, Zara, get a bloody grip.
Once washed and dressed she tried to pack up the tent. She fought with it for around five minutes trying to remember how the hell it fitted into the tiny pouch but in the end stuffed it in as best she could. It didn’t resemble, in any way, the package she had purchased and she hoped it didn’t make life difficult at tonight’s stop. She logged onto her tablet and typed up notes on her first day’s experiences whilst they were still fresh in her mind, and then eventually she was ready to embark upon another day of cycling.
After checking her itinerary and map she loaded up the Silver Dickhead, straddled it and left the campsite. Today would be over sixty miles and she would encounter some very steep climbs. One of which was the notorious Bealach na Bà, or Pass of the Cattle, which was apparently a gazillion miles above sea level – well, just over two thousand feet in reality but it might as well have been a gazillion miles. And as per the instructions on her itinerary she stopped at the village shop and stocked up on water and food. It’s a good excuse to eat chocolate. The calories are blooming necessary!
The tarmac before her meandered away like a curly line drawn by a child and disappeared round mountainous corners painted grey by the igneous rock it was composed of. Round every turn another view presented itself proudly, as if trying to convince her that it was the best yet. She hadn’t wanted to be impressed but was failing to remain ambivalent about her surroundings. Suddenly all the things that Josh had said about the outdoors made a little more sense.
As she cycled she sang in her head to take her mind off the aching in her muscles. Song of choice for this leg was ‘I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)’ by The Proclaimers. It seemed apt and it was catchy enough to help her keep up a good cycling rhythm. Although after ten minutes of cycling uphill some of the lyrics had changed to swear words and there had been several unkind references to Silver Dickhead.
‘Why can’t you be motorised, eh, SD? Why can’t you make this easier for me? But more to the point, why the hell do I keep talking to you? Ugh!’
She inhaled deeply and, instead of exhaust fumes and cigarette smoke, cool, fresh, clean air filled her lungs. The sky above was blue but there was just enough cloud to cover the sun’s rays. Better for cycling, she surmised. Every so often she was passed by vehicles with bikes strapped to the roof. And she’d expected to envy the people in their safe, little, fast-moving, metal boxes; but what surprised her was a little dash of sympathy that she felt for them. Okay, they had air conditioning and would get to their destinations faster but they couldn’t enjoy the fragrance of the trees and the slight salty tang to the air. Poor people.
The feeling was short-lived.
The road climbed higher and higher and her heart pounded, not only with the exertion but the fact that the road fell away steeply to her left, rather unnervingly so. She had to make several stops and at one point got off to push.
‘Come on, Bailey,’ she said aloud, past caring who might hear. And with a wobbly voice she sang, ‘I will not cry for five hundred miles,’ as her legs throbbed and nausea overtook her. ‘And you, you dickhead of a bike, I want you to know I hate you. There. Now you know.’
By the time she reached the Bealach na Bà viewpoint her legs were painfully tight and aching, she was sweating profusely and she was breathing heavily. ‘How the hell did I think cycling round bloody Peckham Rye Common would prepare me for this?’
One of the cars that had passed her was there, its occupants now standing in the fresh air, snapping phot
ographs of the vista that lay before them. Although she was absolutely shattered she took out her phone and snapped some of her own. A strange feeling of euphoria at her achievement made tears well in her eyes and she had to wipe them away. The view really was spectacular. There’s that word again. The sky was clearer now and you could see all the way to Skye in the distance and even further beyond. She paused and just stood, silently taking it all in. Breathtaking… absolutely breathtaking. Every person at the viewpoint in that moment was evidently feeling the same. A contented silence fell over the strangers.
She glanced to her left through the fog of tears and a man with a strong German accent informed her, ‘I come to Scotland many times. This view. It gets me at my heart every single occasion.’ He patted his chest and Zara thought she could see tears glinting in his eyes too. She nodded and smiled, unable to form words. Wow, so it isn’t just me feeling emotional, then.
After munching on a chocolate bar as she enjoyed the scenery, she climbed back on the bike ready to make the descent to Applecross. The name alone sounded idyllic and she found her stomach fluttering in excited anticipation of her arrival. The fact that it was downhill all the way pleased her even more.
‘Come on, Silver Dickhead, we’ve got this bit!’ she yelled as she set off, freewheeling. But within seconds she was wide-eyed and screaming like a lunatic, trying to get her feet back on the pedals. ‘O-o-o-oh, my Go-o-o-o-o-o-o-od! I’m going to di-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ie!’ Silver Dickhead clearly was getting its own back for her verbal abuse as she hurtled down the road towards death and the little village in the distance. ‘I want my mu-u-u-u-u-u-u-um!’ she shouted, thankful that no one was around to witness the terror ride she was now unable to disembark. There was a reason she never went on scary rides at the fair.
Thankfully she managed to find the pedals again and pulled over to catch her breath and give the bike a swift kick before climbing on once more and finishing the descent at a more appropriate speed. A row of white cottages lined Shore Street, which faced the inner sound; their views over to Raasay must have been a wonderful sight to wake up to every morning. Once again Zara was taken aback by the clarity of the water and was so tempted to take off her shoes and dip her toes in.
She noticed one of the cottages had a To Let sign in the window. It was a double-fronted building with two dormer windows creating an upstairs space. She wandered over and read the poster that showed images of the inside. She could imagine sitting by the front window on her laptop, finishing the novel she had always wanted to complete but never had the time. These days the incomplete story was confined to the memory stick that accompanied her everywhere, just in case.
Being an author had always been a dream of hers. But she knew it was something that would likely only happen when she perhaps retired. There were not enough hours in the day in her current life, let alone hours she could set aside to write for pleasure. Maybe one day…
*
Another hilly road took her along the stunning coastline and she made a couple of stops to take pictures and make notes and then continued along the peninsula round to another picturesque village called Shieldaig. By this time she was craving coffee and so she stopped off at a coffee shop that faced Loch Torridon. It was called The Coffee Shack but in no way did it look shacklike. It was a very modern building with large windows that made the most of the view. An old wooden door was attached to the side of the building with the name painted on it. She made her way inside and ordered a coffee to take out. The man behind the counter was very welcoming and friendly. He wore a badge with the name Jim.
‘Let me guess, you’re doing the North Coast 500,’ he said as he made her drink.
She smiled. ‘Under duress, yes.’
‘Oh? That’s not usually the response I get.’
‘Yes, well, I work for a magazine in London and I’m here writing an article on the route because the original journalist left, meaning it was down to me.’ She rolled her eyes but kept her smile in place.
Jim smiled in return and raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh, right. I’m familiar with London. Lived there for a while when I was first married. But I guess the pull of home was too strong. I couldn’t stay away.’
‘So you and your wife relocated?’
He nodded. ‘Aye, eventually. This place… well, the Highlands in general… it gets under your skin.’
She was still a little bewildered at the prospect of anyone leaving the convenience of London, but couldn’t deny she was warming to the Highlands. ‘I bet it’s a great place to bring up children,’ she said, noticing a photo of the man and a blonde woman with two children behind the counter.
He turned and glanced at the point her gaze had fallen and grinned. ‘Oh, that it is. My wee ones love the beach.’
‘Can I ask a question?’
‘Fire away,’ Jim said as he placed her coffee before her on the counter.
‘Why is it called the coffee shack when it’s not exactly a shack?’
He chuckled. ‘Before you leave, nip through to the little hallway where the toilets are. You’ll see the photos that show the old building. Believe me; the word shack definitely fitted its original form. We bought it as the shack and ran it as a business for a while but we’ve expanded it quite a bit, as you’ll see.’
Wow, so people do choose to make lives for themselves here, regardless of the remote location, she mused. She paid for her coffee and, as suggested, she went to look at the photos. The little shed-like building that had stood on the spot years before bore no resemblance to the current one, but it was incredibly cute. The door that was fixed to the side of the modern exterior was the original old door and she thought how sweet that they had kept it. She could see immediately why the man had bought it, even at the small size it had been. He had clearly made a wonderful life for himself and his young family. It intrigued her and she made a mental note to write something about it in her article; even if it was only to point future north coasters to The Coffee Shack for refreshments and a warm welcome.
13
The second night’s sleep was fitful to say the least. Clearly her first-day exhaustion had helped lull her off the night before but that wasn’t the case this time. She tossed and turned and almost tied herself in knots in the sleeping bag. She even dreamed that someone had stolen Silver Dickhead. Of course they hadn’t, much to her dismay.
After breakfast Zara was back on the road again pretty quick. Her porridge had been surprisingly palatable and she hoped it would give her the energy she needed for the morning’s route. The first stop on the seventy-five mile trip was to be Gairloch – a place she had read about and was keen to explore. Rumour had it, Gairloch was where rock star Nick Dacre from Sonic Idols had escaped to live incognito during the band’s hiatus. She wondered if she might pass him on the street in some terrible disguise like a false nose and glasses. She loved Nick Dacre but scouring the people she passed was fruitless. Obviously his disguises were much better than she gave him credit for.
The day was a little cooler and there was a mist hanging over towards the coastline, but her view of Loch Maree was uninterrupted. A flat road that meant less abuse for Silver Dickhead was bordered on either side by a rugged mountain backdrop and a pallet of colours that ranged from grey to purple to green and brown. A bank of Christmas trees lined the road as she travelled further and she wondered if anyone had ever been tempted to come along at night and decorate them for a giggle. It was the kind of thing Marco and Shelley would do. She wondered what they were doing and if Marco had rearranged her furniture whilst she’d been away. Admittedly it had only been a few days, but she knew what he was capable of.
She pulled over and fired off a text.
Hey you guys. Have I mentioned how I am selling my bike when I get home? Well I am. I have blisters on my arse! ON MY ARSE! Anyway, I hope you miss me as much as I miss you. Z xx
*
Once she arrived at Gairloch the sun was beating down on the sea and a sense of nervous excitement gripped Zara
. She was booked onto a dolphin watching cruise and the prospect of seeing the sea mammals at close range made her giddy. Josh would be so proud, she thought sadly. Lifejackets were handed out and the skipper made the necessary checks before they set off out to sea.
Once out in the open water, it wasn’t long before a pod of dolphins joined their boat, as if escorting them on their sailing expedition. Zara had never seen dolphins in the wild and tears welled in her eyes as she watched them leaping out of the water and flopping back down again. Their skin was smooth and silvery and she longed to reach out and touch one to see what the texture was really like. They were playing and performing for their human observers and Zara stood there with a hand over her heart as she giggled through tear-fogged eyes. It was magical. There was no other word for it. She managed to snap a few shots on her phone and the grin on her face remained fixed in place for ages.
‘Isn’t this magical?’ one of the passengers said in an American accent as they watched. Zara turned to see an elderly lady smiling at her.
‘Oh, it really is. It’s wonderful.’
‘I live so far inland, in Kansas, that I never get to see the sea. My husband and I are here celebrating our anniversary and this has just made the trip even more special.’
‘Oh wow. You’ve travelled such a long way. Why did you choose Scotland and not somewhere warmer?’ Zara could think of lots of amazing places she had visited that would suit such an occasion better.
The woman smiled. ‘Ever since I was a teenager I’ve been obsessed with Scotland. Highlanders really, so romantic. My darling husband booked this trip as a surprise. We’ve been married forty years and this is the first time I’ve been out of the USA. I’d relocate over here in a heartbeat if I could bring my family and friends with me,’ she said wistfully.
