Even before I was out of Inverness' busy streets I was going a little bit twitchy with late period ELO interrupting more constructive thoughts. So I tried to change channel and think of all the songs I knew about Inverness. It amounted to one, and you can probably guess which one that is - definitely not a, sing out loud as you wait at a zebra crossing, kind of ditty.
Anyway, back to the cycling, which this morning was excellent. Sun in my face, wind at my back and we were soon gobbling up good chunks of the busy A9. Past Invergordan and then, the unmistakable aromour of malt whisky. I don't think it was my breath, no, it wasn't, it was the Glenmorangie distillery - that smelt very tempting, even at such an early hour. But I showed great restraint and pedaled right by, with hardly a second thought. That was a lie. I didn't really get over what a rank bad decision I had just made until I was approaching Bonor Bridge, much later the same day.
But in any case I was sure I would be rewarded for my sensible abstinence. No, wrong on that one too!
Shortly after lunch the glorious free-wheeling day began to snap at my backside, before, just eight miles from Tane, sinking its knashers through my lycra. I got a puncture! Then another, and another!
I still don't know the cause of the triple flat, and it was only solved by changing a tyre as well. By this point we had used up all the new innertubes we had and were frantically sticking on patches. At one point we had three tubes hung from bushes with patches drying. It looked like we had invented something called Lay-bye Dressing, and any moment I expected that coach load of German tourists to pull over, jack up the rear end pull off a wheel, whip out a tube and join in.
For some reason Lay-bye dressing didn't capture the imagination and so, with the problem finally sorted, we were on our way again.
The helpful breeze of the morning had gone and in its place a nasty side-wind, and ahead - lots and lots of nothing. Miles and miles on the A826 (an A road which is single-track!) and more miles of nothing, until at last, after 73 miles for the day, The Crask Inn, miraculously appeared. The Inn is surrounded by a huge amount of nothing, that is apart from wonderful open space and distant hills. What a place this is. The pub is a step back in time. Creaking and musty and dark - I love it! I'm expecting them to serve Double Diamond.
Talking of beer, and therefore bars, and seeing as this is my penultimate blog of the trip, I thought I would explain my sign-off. It's a line from a Joni Mitchell song - 'Case Of You' which I've carried around with me for more than 30 years. It just seems to be a good way to wrap up the chat - I'm done talking, now I'm going to be drinking. So, as always...
If you want me I'll be in the bar.
Jez
Remote and beautiful. Which reminds me, we don't have a telly or a drinks tray, or any individually-packaged biscuits - but it's grand.
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Location:Crask Inn, Crask!
So very nearly there!
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