Monday 22 June 2009 - Helmsdale to Inverness

Helmsdale - Golspie - Tain - Nigg - Cromarty - Avoch - Munlochy - Inverness

The hostel kitchen was well-equipped, but we hadn’t thought to buy anything to cook so we left hungry, intending to breakfast at Brora about 11 miles down the A9. John had recovered well and was raring to go again, and we reached Brora after a fairly easy ride apart from one sharp rise at Portgower.
John bought a knee bandage at the chemist opposite the railway station, and again we looked in vain for a café with outdoor seating, eventually settling for passably edible fare from a sandwich shop.
Continuing towards Golspie, I was initially puzzled by what appeared to be a line of hills lying out to sea. Then I orientated myself and realised I was looking south across the Moray Firth towards the mass of high ground including the Cairngorms. We were travelling south to the Highlands - a rather unusual concept.
The road swings inland after Golspie to skirt Loch Fleet via The Mound, then heads south over rolling countryside to the Dornoch Firth, which it crosses by the Dornoch Bridge built in 1991. The last time I visited the area, with my parents in 1988 shortly after Dad retired, the route was forced to the west via Bonar Bridge, increasing the distance by some twenty miles.
The two junctions with this old road, either side of the bridge, feed traffic from the north-west on to the already busy A9. This, combined with the recent “improvements” to the road from here on results in a fast, busy trunk road which is fine for motorists but highly unpleasant to cycle along. I was thankful that we’d decided to follow the recommendation of one of our erstwhile friends at the hostel, which was to cross the Black Isle and thus avoid the worst section of the A9 by turning off at the Nigg Roundabout to reach the Nigg-Cromarty ferry via the B9175.
The Dornoch Firth was holding a bank of low cloud which provided the only rain shower of the northern half of our trip and deprived us of any views from the bridge. A further mile took us to Tain by which time we were out of the cloud, and the blue skies returned.
We found a café at Tain which again only provided for indoor eating, but the proprietor allowed us to leave our bikes at the back of the building while we enjoyed a pleasant lunch. The café’s cat was rather indignant at this invasion of his territory, but he forgave us when we stopped to chat to him.
A mile after Tain we left the vile A9 for the peaceful B9175 and the half mile ferry crossing to Cromarty. After a swift drink at the pub, we took the steep A832 out of Cromarty. Upon topping the rise, we met a genial local who pointed to rising ground in the distance which he assured us was the “last” hill. He was partly right, at least as far as the next fifteen miles or so were concerned, but the hill continued for miles before finally descending steeply to sea level at Rosemarkie. We then followed the shore of the Moray Firth to Avoch, with its silent Av, where we stopped for a chocolate covered ice cream bar. It was quite warm by now, and we were soon surrounded by drips of the molten confection.
We left the A832 at Munlochy to follow the B9161 which led back to the A82 a few miles from Inverness. Cycle paths enabled us to avoid the main road and cross the Kessock Bridge into the city.
After locating our B&B and checking in, we set off in search of food, eventually choosing an Irish bar near the picturesque Ness Walk. Our food took an age to arrive, by which time I’d finished my first pint and was beginning to feel a little queasy. I had obviously done something to annoy my stomach, and I only managed half of my game stew before I began to heave and had to give up. I began to worry that I might not be eating enough to sustain myself for the demands of the ride, as I hadn’t really eaten a proper dinner since we left Derby.
A group of loud, macho types, possibly servicemen judging by their uniform haircuts, were monopolising half of the bar area throughout our visit. None of them stood still as they were constantly either play fighting or grabbing each others’ buttocks and genitals. No doubt summary justice would have been meted out to anyone with the temerity to suggest that they might be harbouring latent homosexual tendencies.
The pub was not a place I wanted to linger, and it was a pleasant walk back in the cool evening air amidst the fine architecture of Inverness. On the way we crossed the River Ness which leads to the north eastern end of the Great Glen, Britain’s most prominent fracture and our route for the following day.