Today was hard work.
We woke up to a delicious breakfast and the sun shining down on us. This was good. The bad news was a 20mph wind blowing up from the south. Not what you want to have when your destination is 50+ miles to the south.
We packed, which really didn't take very long; James made the comment that the great thing about travelling light is that if you do accidentally leave something behind it's at least probably at home.
We visited the post office, bought sandwiches from the co-op and set off. The lush tree-lined streets of Stornoway soon gave way to a much more barren landscape that in fact reminded us of high parts of Yorkshire although it was all practically at sea level. Here was our second problem, which was that whilst the landscape was low it had a tendency to roll up and down that, coupled with the wind, was exhausting to cycle across.
In the distance we could see mountains creeping nearer and we knew we'd have to cross them. We paused by a small lake to eat our sandwiches, enjoying being out of the wind and preparing ourselves for the climb.
In absolute terms the climb wasn't particularly high or steep, but after 25 miles of pushing into the wind and knowing we had another 30 to go it was quite punishing to say the least.
On the plus side the scenery was going from pleasant to beautiful. The view looking back from the climb over a small loch of the deepest blue imaginable surrounded was enjoyable, but as we moved deeper into the mountains around each corner the terrain became spectacular. Michelle described it as a "Masculine Lake District".
The road had other surprises in store. After we battled our way over the highest point and began to descend back to the sea the road became progressively steeper allowing us to pick up a good speed. On the final part of the descent I hit an all-time personal record 51.9mph... before the levelling out of the road and the headwind brought me back to sluggish reality with a feeling of deceleration not unlike riding straight into a lake.
At 4:30 we paused for a drink at a pub in a small town, or rather a large village, called Tarbert to rest and regroup. We still had 20 miles to go.
Leaving Tarbert meant climbing again, pushing against the wind along a single track road as we headed south.
Relief came as the road turned west and, sheltered from the wind in the bottom of a valley, descended to sea level. We also found ourselves on pristine new tarmac, a new section of road that had obviously only just been laid down. It all made for an amazingly smooth and easy ride back down to the sea at the Sound of Taransay, amusingly capped off at the end by a sign left by the road building company: "Sorry for the inconvenience"
The Sound of Taransay was beautiful; the sea was the deepest blue I have ever seen and a beach of yellow-white sand spanned the bay. From here it was just a case of following the coast, which we did at the most comfortable pace we could, frequently stopping to rest and take in the view.
We finally rolled up to our B&B at 7:30pm, but fortunately I had been able to call ahead and they had been kind enough to book us a table at a (the) local restaurant. Dinner never tasted better!
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