Under Canvas Again

I needed an early start on Saturday for an event I was attending in Inverness. However, as Inverness is a good three hour ride away, rather than being forced to set off at dark o’clock, I decided to work a camping weekend around it. I asked about and had the site at Bunchrew Caravan Park recommended to me. A quick phone call and I was booked in for two nights, Friday and Saturday.

Ready to Roll

Now, I haven’t been camping in over three years, for obvious reasons, so I dragged out all my kit, rummaged about to find what I needed, and loaded up the panniers that had been stacked in the back of the shed for the same length of time. All set for the morrow.

Highland Cow Sculpture, Ralia Cafe

As I didn’t need to be in Inverness for any particular time I had a bit of a lie-in, a late breakfast, and then a leisurely run up the A9, stopping just the once at the Ralia Café just north of Dalwhinnie for a bit of a break. 

How Much?

Filling up in Inverness once I arrived was another wallet-emptying experience. The joy of a bike with a 25 litre tank.

View from my tent

The campsite is located a few miles out of town on the shore of the Beauly Firth, and the area for tents is next to the shore giving you spectacular views out over the water. 

Feet up and relaxing

With no hotels or pubs nearby I had brought my own food and some whisky should I feel like it later. With the weather being bright and sunny it was nice just sitting and looking out over the water and reading a book. There are worse ways to spend your Friday night.

Kessock Bridge in early morning haze

Saturday was spent on a run up the east coast, and I’ll post about that separately later.

Back at the site it was more of the same, although the wind got up a bit in the evening forcing a few folk to rig extra guy ropes and dropping the temperature a bit. 

Sunset over the Beauly Firth

Sunday morning, all packed away and another gentle run back down the A9. This is actually a rather pleasant road if you’re blessed with warm weather and a Sunday morning’s lack of traffic. And all too soon I’m home and the weekend is over.

A smashing weekend away, I must get the tent out a bit more this year. A trip further afield may not be out of the question either. Pity there’s no guaranteeing similar weather.

The only downside to staying on a big campsite like this, however, is that you are at the mercy of whoever rocks up and camps next to you. An awful lot of people don’t seem to realise that tents aren’t soundproof, so loud (drunken) conversation into the wee small hours, along with radios blaring, are a nuisance if all you want to do is enjoy the tranquillity and/or get some sleep. I just put in some earplugs and tried not to let it bother me overmuch.

West Coast Run

A week ago I did a run up to Fort William on the big Aprilia with some friends. We met up at Stirling before heading west to Crainlarich and up the A82 to Fort William.

This is a road that I am extremely familiar with. In fact, it’s where I did my first big run on a bike more years ago than I care to mention (see link).

We stopped once for lunch at Tyndrum and again for fuel at Ballachulish, just after exiting Glencoe, before pushing on to Fort William.

It was a pleasant run in bright sunshine, which was a welcome bonus. It’s not always this pleasant weatherwise on the west coast, even in summer.

When it was time to head home it seemed a shame to just retrace my steps, so I decided to head a bit further north to Spean Bridge and cut across country to Dalwhinnie and from there head down the east coast to Perth and eventually home.

So, that’s what I did. Total distance for the day worked out at a little over 300 miles. A thoroughly enjoyable day out on the bike, if a bit tiring. Hauling a big bike around for hours at a time can be like a full body workout.

I think I deserved to put my feet up and relax for the rest of the evening with a nice cask strength Highland Park whisky for company.

Border Run

Been a bit busy recently so haven't managed out on the bike much, although I did manage a quick run down to Moffat in the Scottish Borders to meet up with some friends who were holding a rally there.

Met up with some folk I hadn’t seen in a while and caught up with what had happened to them over the last two years or so.

As I wasn’t staying I headed home again just as it was turning dark.It had been a pleasant enough ride down, but turned cold as the sun sank. Glad to get home and warm.

More Fuel Me

Went to fill the big Aprilia this morning. Got a bit of a shock when I looked at how much it was going to cost me. 

I know fuel has gone up recently, but it wasn’t even empty, I’d stuck 5 litres in from a can when the warning light had come on the other day. The joys of having a 25 litre tank, I suppose.

I remember the first time I managed to get over ten pounds of fuel in the bike. I was my BMW R100RS and had limped into a petrol station outside Aberdeen on fumes sometime in the early 90s. 

On going inside to pay, the assistant assumed that she’d got the wrong pump, as bikes didn’t usually take that much fuel.

Cobwebs Update

Further to my earlier post, the new battery for the big Aprilia arrived yesterday, a sealed one from the Motobatt range offering increased output to aid starting. I have used these in the past on other bikes and have never encountered any problems with them.

Replacing the old battery should be a ten-minute job but, as is the way of things, took significantly longer, due to the narrowness of the area in which you have to work and all the other cables and wires which get in the way.

Eventually it was done. Seat back on and a quick run through of the dashboard settings, the clock and the trip meter(s), and making sure that all of the various electrical add-ons worked etc.

Although it says that it comes changed and ready to go, I stuck it on the charger overnight to be on the safe side.

This morning after sorting out the necessary insurance I set off to see about putting it through a MOT (annual inspection). 

Half an hour later it had passed, with one advisory – the numberplate bulb had blown and needed replaced. The bloke at the testing station trusted me to go away and sort this myself, which is more accommodating than some of the folk I’ve had dealings with over the years.

I now actually have two roadworthy bikes for the first time in who knows how many years.

Now all I need to do is sort out some place(s) to go on them.

Per Ardua Ad Astra

Staying with the military theme, on the way home I came across this stone marker with the Royal Air Force (RAF) logo and motto on it on the approach to a nearby village.

It celebrates the former military airfield which used to be located nearby.

For details click the LINK

Under Foreign Skies

Maybe because of the coastal defences that I mention in an earlier post, war was on my mind. 

Which might explain why I felt inclined to stop off at a small, neat cemetery on a back road near Dirleton in East Lothian that I don’t remember seeing before. 

The sign outside read “Commonwealth War Graves Commission”.

Photo: Commonwealth War Graves Commission

Inside, amongst the normal mix of headstones of local people you’ll find a neat row of 23 headstones for servicemen from the British Commonwealth who died during WWII and are buried far from home.

Each is marked with the arm of service of the deceased, their name and some relevant details. Unsurprisingly most were navy and air force personnel, as we are on the coast here and there were wartime Royal Air Force (RAF) airfields nearby. 

They were all so young, they range from 19 to 26 years old, an age at which I was finishing University and trying to work out what to do with my life. These lads never got that chance.

For more information on the Commonwealth War Graves Commission click the LINK