Cycling at last

The train ride from Inverness, on the Far North Line, was very scenic but I kept thinking what great cycling country I was passing.  I'd highly recommend the train journey from Glasgow to Inverness and onwards North.  But not with a bike.

In the end I got off early where the line rejoined the coast at Golspie,  and cycled the last 20 miles. When I reached Helmsdale the sun was behind the hills, it was getting chilly and the midges were out in force to welcome me.

Helmsdale Hostel is pretty basic but I was made welcome (no, not by the midges) and there were showers, tea and bed, meeting my needs exactly.  I slept soundly and rose early - too early: some fool had set the alarm to 5am.  I was on the road by 6.30, only to find a succession of brutal hills. 

There was nowhere of note for 20+ miles until the port of Lybster.  I wondered what they fished for.  Lybster lobster would no doubt be sought after.   There was a long, steep, dead-end road to the harbour but I had to find out.  And it was worth the journey down: a picturesque harbour with piles of lobster pots everywhere.

Entering the county of Caithness,another 20 miles on much gentler roads took me to the town of Wick, where I was gratified to find crowds of people lining the streets to welcome me.  It turned out that the Queen's baton relay for the Commonwealth Games was passing through, so I stayed to watch.  It was quite a show.   The local police motorcycle came through, lights flashing.   Then the police car.  The motorbike came back and went through again.  An Alba Traffic Management lorry. And the Wick dustbin lorry.  I counted three police officers near me at one stage - surely excessive policing?