The Highlands at their most inhospitable
OUT AND ABOUT WITH RALPH
The temperature in Kinbrace had fallen to -18C. Now, just 36 hours later, it was +8 and rapidly melting snow was pouring into the burns, rivers and lochs.
Snow had already melted by the coast but as I pedalled up Strath Halladale, quantities quickly increased. The river was in roaring spate, to peak at only two feet off its highest recorded level, and meltwater thundered down every tributary crossed by the road.
The sky was grey, with a few spits of drizzle, and a fresh southerly headwind meant the bike’s battery was being steadily depleted. I’ll never get used to the delight of being able to pedal an e-bike uphill into a strong wind almost as easily as it would be to ride an ordinary bike on a level road in the calm!
With very little traffic it was an enjoyable ride up to Forsinard, then on over the bealach and down the long straights past Achentoul and the calm frozen lochs to Kinbrace.
My plan was to carry on over to Syre, returning by Strathnaver and Bettyhill, but even with a spare battery I wasn’t going to make it at this rate of usage. The other risks were that my own energy would run out, or that I could be cut off by floods in Strathnaver. So, of course, I pushed on.
The long road from Kinbrace to Syre is an empty one, passing just a couple of habitations including the Garvault Hotel, which is supposedly the remotest on the mainland (Really? It’s only 10 minutes’ drive to a train station!). The wind had dropped away, a few gleams of sun appeared and progress was now faster through the bleak and wintry landscape.
Cloud sat on the hills and a tundra of tussock and snow stretched to far-distant lochs. Off the road you wouldn’t get far, wallowing through deep slush and water and encountering impassable burns – this is the Highlands at its most inhospitable. Vehicles on the road were greatly outnumbered by stags.
The road dipped and climbed, crossing swollen torrents and passing frozen lochans, now covered in water, before climbing to the summit above Rossal with Strathnaver opening out below. A fast, enjoyable descent took me to the river bridge and the relative metropolis of Syre.
The snow here had mostly melted but water was running everywhere with a few shallow floods. Fortunately the river, though high, was not flooding the road.
More than ready for a late lunch and with my exhausted battery needing swapping I reached the Strathnaver Public Hall. Public or not, it was locked – but a decrepit shed round the back housed a stack of rusty iron chairs. I pulled one out for a comfortable seat to eat my sandwiches and enjoy a flask of tea.
With a new battery the range jumped to over 40 miles, I should manage the trip easily now. Strathnaver always has a strange quietness to it; it’s hard to forget the history of clearances but after 200 years maybe we should move on. I was enjoying the ride, a landscape of fields, bare birches, rushing water and the occasional pool across the road.
Back on the main A836 there was a bit more traffic, some vans and lorries and even the first campervan of the new year. Major works are in place to replace the Naver Bridge – about time, too, as its failure would mean a huge detour round the route I’d just come.
The views from the road as you climb the hill to Farr are some of the best, out over the breaking surf at Invernaver to Skerray and Neave Island with its rarely-visited sandy beach. Some lucky people see this view every day from their windows! Away from the snows the temperature had risen, it felt positively tropical and certainly into double figures.
I’m getting old… and couldn’t resist a visit to the ever-open Store cafe for a coffee and cake, before tackling the last 15 miles. The hilly road back eastward has always been a bit daunting on a bike, I remember once taking five hours to push the 35 miles home into a gale. But with electric assist the sting is taken from the hills and headwinds, and you can enjoy the uphills as much as the downs!
Light was fading at the end of the short winter day by the time I’d reached the car near Bighouse, after a round of just under 70 miles.
