Going nowhere slowly

After coffee in the picturesque sun trap of Isleornsay, the empty main road took me to the consumer paradise of Harrapool, with three cafés and a co-op.  Two of the cafés were closed so it was an easy choice.  I left my pannier and first took a detour to the dead-end hamlet of Heast, five miles to the south.  Not without interest but nothing to write home about.  The best bit was coming back - a long descent with great views of the red Cuillin.  Over there, in Lochalsh, it was raining, but over here, the sun was shining!
After lunch, a longer dead-end detour took me to Elgol. The first ten miles were surprisingly flat, with gorgeous views of the overlooking gentle giants, the smoothly rounded red Cuillin.   After Torrin the less gentle ogres of the jagged black Cuillin sprang out from behind a mountain and watched me as the road became hilly towards Elgol, ending with a  near vertical 100 metre descent into Elgol.  It's a stunning setting: a few houses, a harbour, a one-room school between beach and cliffs, and fantastic views across the sea to the mountains of Skye.   My detailed research told me there were two cafes, but they were both closed - it was just after 5pm, so fair enough.   But there was a little caravan by the harbour which was open, so my happiness was complete.

Tea and chocolate brownie: £2.90, picnic table overlooking the harbour: free, view: priceless.  For several reasons, I didn't want to leave.  Specifically, that hill. It was at least 1 in1, if not 1 in 0.  The rest of the return ride was good, dodging cars in the passing places.

I'm staying in Bradford youth hostel tonight. Currently sitting outside eating excellent pizza with the sun on my back. And a gentle breeze, meaning no midges.  A day to remember on the rainy days.

(ps. I meant Broadford.  Just wanted to give you a laugh at my expense.)