The town of Moffat.

Moffat lies in administrative region of Dumfries & Galloway, but the geographical SouthWest corner of the steeply folded valleys of the borders between Scotland and England.  Once on the main road from Gretna to Edinburgh it has now been bypassed by the road network and relies on the passing trade that seeks respite from travel.  For all of this it has created an oasis for the weary traveller and those seeking to know a little more of the region.

Sheep play a prominent part in Moffat

A claim to the UK's thinest hotel, with enough width for a row of rooms and a corridor on each floor.

This disused place of worship is now an apartment block without destroying its facia.

Like many of it's neighbouring towns it has it's own small museum dedicated to it's history and people.  The most prominent of which, from our point of view, was Air Chief Marshall Hugh Dowding.  Born in the village he went on to become leader of the Royal Air Force and held that position through the Second World War.  It is a credit to this town that they have several areas around the town dedicated to his memory.

Dowding house is a retirement home forex servicemen in need of support.  it is away from the main road but close to, allowing respite with ease of access for it's residents.

The Railway station handled stock as well as passengers until the 1960's, since when it has been turned into a gardens with a memorial to Hugh Dowding and pilots of the RAF.  But this is not exclusive and generations of children are encouraged to play freely within it's bounds.  many of the seats in the park are also dedicated to individual aircrew who were born, lived or died near the village.

Memorial to Hugh Dowding.

Bedding plants, play area and in the distance a boating pond for enjoyment.

This is another small town that is keeping it's head above water when the progress of time since the 1950's could so easily have left it behind to become a lost village.  If you have the time it is well worth spending a day or two here to explore what appears to be a sleepy town has to discover.

 

Over the hills to Moffat

We woke up at a reasonable time, with a fair days journey ahead we were after a good start.  A quick breakfast and then finish packing and break camp.  The tourist information centre had informed us of a recently opened cycle-path between Peebles and Innerleithen started nearby and that would do to ease us into the days cycling.

Breakfast coffee and Pain au Chocolat.

Pushing the bikes up the track to the gate, checked the traffic and turning South, we mounted our steeds and pushed off towards the town centre.  The road doesn't actually go right into the centre but filters the through traffic away.  We just had to get to the small roundabout, turn left and find the second turn on the left for the cycle track.  Well signposted and freshly laid tarmac it was a pleasure to ride.  As predicted it followed to a tunnel, which took us under the main A72, and followed the River Tweed towards Innerleithen.  As you reach Cardrona the track comes to a gravel carpark and crosses into a housing estate, but is well signposted through.  At Innerleithen it enters slightly south of the centre on the B709.  we decided to ask about coffee stops and got directions to a place called 'The nrfibfjhhbf stock cafe'  It was a bit early in the morning for Richard to have an Encephalitis moment so we followed the general info into town looking at all the shops until Richard had his 'Richard Hannay, 39 steps' moment when he saw it.  "Of course, The Whistle stop cafe".

The proprietor and staff greeted us warmly and enquired after our journey.  We explained we were going to Moffat and the seemed really impressed, overly so as we had already done 7 or 8 miles already and only had another 31 or so miles to go.  We sat outside, enjoying Coffee and cake while exchanging greetings with other cycling groups as they passed.  We thanked our hosts, paid our dues and set off back to the B709 to recommence our journey.

Coffee at 'The Whistle Stop Cafe'

All went well as we progressed along the road.  Then there was a somewhat steep gradient, something I was not expecting.  changing down through the gears we carried on and the road levelled for a while.  Every now and then we came across another gradient that required some more effort.  We passed a pair of motorcyclists and joked about swapping vehicles but they had broken down, with help already on the way and nothing we could do, we went on our way strangely still going uphill.

it was shortly afterwards that things got serious, down through the gears, and off and pushing.  This was getting steep, how had we missed this in the planning.  Stopping every so often to take on water we were perspiring freely at this effort.  Every crest of the hill was proving to be a false one, with the real one just up ahead by that next bend.  We must have pushed for nearly ten minutes before we finally found the apex, and the downhill beckoned.  Richard went ahead, no worries.  Lorraine followed but had to stop for an insecure pannier.  That downhill section must have lasted nearly two minutes before Richard slowed looking for Lorraine.  We climbed a small rise before pulling off for a break.  Just as we did two RAF Tornados screamed past at head height along the valley on a training flight.  Impressive sight most times but when your almost looking down on them it's something else to see.

Tea break after that unexpected climb.

Scottish Borders territory

Really doesn't show how steep/deep these valleys are.     

we followed the road as it gently descended this hill towards the junction with the A708, our main route to Moffat.  A big surprise when we got there was to see a chalk board for the LEL.  This is an audax event for cyclist which runs from London to Edinburgh and back, taking in checkpoints along the way.

LEL check point board, Junction of A708 & B709.

Hidden in plain sight ~ An Cold War Observation Post.

We turned South-West and followed the gently rising and falling road, looking out for St.Mary's loch our second visual marker point on the route.  It did not take too long for it to come into view but it did feel a bit like a 'finally' moment.

The Northern edge of St.Mary's Loch hauls into view. 

 The next visual was a cafe, Not sure if it was still open we carried on.  Before we got there we did see an old AA phone booth, as well as signs for a comfort break so hurried on after a quick photo.  The comfort break was at the 'Glen Cafe' which is a regular as well as must call in place for travellers on this route.

The old phone booth, not many like that left.

Pulling up outside the cafe we made an amusing site in the car park.  On one side were 5 or 6 gleaming motorcycles on the other were several cars and in the middle were two small bicycles, a little dirty, dusty and well laden.  We chatted a while with the other riders and they were very polite,  we believed because of the hill we had climbed.  Once people had heard our intent there seemed to be a quiet respect for us, which we gave back as fellow travellers on the road.  A small information board indicated we had climbed to over 1600 feet coming from Innerleithen.

We bade our farewells and continued Southwards. The road gently undulating but un-noticeably  climbing at that stage.  Two of the motorcyclists passed us a few miles on, giving us a toot and a wave and we returned the greeting.  The head wind hit us hard, seemingly from nowhere.  we got off and pushed before we became exhausted.  An Australian we had spoken to at the cafe asked if we were OK and we just confirmed the headwind.  As soon as the road turned we were out off the wind, remounted and pedalled on.  It didn't take too long before the gradient became serious again, seemingly forever upwards.  Off and pushing again Richard considered what was happening.  During planning the road appeared to follow two rivers at the bottom of steep valley sides but where the contours of the sides were so close together it was easy to miss them sneaking across the road indicating not a flattish road but a steep gradient.  Just before we reached the top a sign indicating 'Dumfries & Galloway appeared, but we were too far gone to realise and thought it was a B&B advertising sign.  

Then we created the top and were stunned by the view.  It was like being a giant straddling a valley looking down.  The road descended for miles, I have no idea how high we were but we could not see the end of the descent.  This was too good to miss, this one we had earned, this was a descent that could take minutes in double figures.  But with the flimsy crash barriers down one side and the road weaving against the steep valley side we daren't let the bikes have their heads.  Well, not fully.  Off we went, judiciously using the brakes to hold the descent in check, laughing at the stunned faces of people in cars and coaches that had struggled up their side to see two people on fully laden tourers cycling the hills.  It was a little time before we realised we needed to take some photos for keepsake.

Steps placed to control erosion of soil beneath the road.

Grey Mare's Tail waterfall

When we finally reached the bottom we were ecstatic. It had been hard work up but what a ride down.  The road levelled out and we followed the Moffat dale, looking forward to arriving in town.  And we followed and followed.  Where was this place,  there were no apparent clues, how much further.  We stopped for a break on the side of the road, brewing up as more logging trucks passed.  Off we set again before spotting a building called 'Moffat Water Hall'.  There are two ways to read that, and we read it wrong, thinking we were close.  It was another 10 minutes or so it seemed before we found our first sign.  Moffat 1 1/4 miles, thank you for that.  Short lived, another hill before you get to the town.

Entering the town we made our way to what was the tourist information office only to find it no longer existed.  Finding an 'Info point' meant loads of leaflets in a shopping mall but little else, so asking a shop assistant we found out hotels are expensive but the B&B's are reasonable and in one area of town.  Taking a street map we started pedalling up towards the area, checking each house as we went.  At the top end of the high street Richard saw a B&B not displaying a 'No Vacancy" sign, parked the bike and rang the doorbell.  A room was available at a reasonable price.  being caring they explained what they had but in our state, dusty, sticky, feeling gritty we just wanted in.  Off loading the bikes, a quick shower, and then back to the high street for dinner.

We considered what we had done, the respect we had been given by others, and now knew why.  Had we known what lay ahead there was a good chance we would not have tried, but having done it we have a certain amount of pride in what we achieved.  Bodies satisfied and growing weary from our exertions this day we retired to bed early.  Richard slept the sleep of a thousand miles while Lorraine spent half the night trying to stop him snoring.  

As of today Richard has woken up with a painful swollen ankle we are not sure why, tomorrow we will leave here and head for a strangely named place Ecclefechan and see how the ankle holds up. Hard to believe we have been on the road for 3 weeks and having the best time ever. 

 

  

The town of Peebles.

The small town of Peebles nestles in the hills of the Scottish Borders.  It lies on the confluence of the Eddleston Water and the River Tweed.  This town could have so easily been lost in the progress of the modern world but has fought back to retain it's character and charm of the last two centuries while making it's own way forward.

The architecture has been maintained as best as possible, other than the later half of the 20th century where local authority buildings were slab built, and newer constructions have been erected so thatthe edifices   blend into the old.  Even new housing has incorporated the towers and turret looks of older buildings.  Many of the grander looking buildings are housing museums and other places to discover more.

There are many small, but light, passages which can take the curious on a journey of discovery.  Many opening onto courtyards or through to the grassy banks of the rivers.  Steeped in history, there is much to uncover in this town from it's people to it's heritage that I will have to come back for a vacation to find out more.

Main church at the top of the high street.

The hotel that has been in business for several 100 years.

One of the older buildings of a former resident is now a museum.

Through the archway is a quadrangle.

Within the quadrangle is a memorial to fallen servicemen from the region.

Closer detail of the mosaic cross within the memorial.

Small garden & quiet area in the quadrangle. 

Small garden which once housed the original market cross, before it was returned to the high street.

 

 

The stoney road to Peebles

We loaded up and said our good byes to mum and set out on what should have been a straight forward hop to Peebles in the Scottish Borders.  The route was not the one we had originally planned, crossing the Moorfoot hills but a simple one in the same basic direction.  We had been warned about a six exit roundabout but assured the roads would be ok.

Following the Firth inland for several hundred yards we turned South and started the first climb, not steep or too long.  We found the first of the main roads we needed to follow and headed out in good spirits.  The traffic was light to start and fairly well behaved.  The dreaded roundabout was in fact well behaved, with six roads in and a small diameter all vehicles had to slow right down making it easy to negotiate on bicycles.  It was slightly later, at a normal four road roundabout that we had problems judging as cars came in at higher speeds.  The traffic levels also increased and less clearance was given to us as everyone had their own agenda.

By the time we made Dalkieth we took a break.  stopping in the town centre we had coffee and reviewed the situation.  The traffic had brought us close to a psychological edge.  We had to regroup our thoughts and decide whether to continue in the face of what we were experiencing.  We hummed and erred till we girded our loins and decided to press on.

Along the main A6094 road we turned right in the direction of Rosewell, following the pavement, when we came across a break in the hedge as the pavement ended.  There was a track running behind the hedge in the general direction we were headed.  stopping to ask some walkers they informed us it was part of a new track that would get us to Penicuik off road, then we just had to turn left and follow the next road to Peebles.  Checking the map showed no sign of this track but we figured it would probably do us good to get away from the traffic.

What we found was a delight, an old railway track from decades ago brought back to life for non motorised use.  Just follow the track, going slightly downhill most of the way.  Under a few bridges and within 10 or so miles we would get to our next waypoint.

The old rail trackbed, now a motor free pathway.

As we progressed, feeling good we chanced upon an old rail station platform.  At some time someone had placed a picnic bench on the platform for whatever reason and we took advantage for a lunch break.

The old rail platform.

Lunch break at the station.

We had a meal of chicken breast, crackers, cheeses and bit and pieces while having a good look around.  The piece that really got Richard's admiration was just opposite the platform, not really hidden but there for those who look.  Half covered by nature was a construction of concrete that bore the mane of the original station.  Marked in white stone, this would have been cared for by the station master and his workmen, in the late 19th early 20th century with pride.  Feeling with finger tips the old stone gave up it's secret.  This was 'Rosslyn Castle'.

Hidden in plain sight 'ROSSLYN CASTLE'.

We continued down the track as it clung to the hillside of the Esk valley.  Almost a free ride as we had to pedal little on the gentle incline, allowing more time to look around and take photos.

looking over the valley from the track.

The longest of the tunnels is about 500 feet long. ~Guesstimate.

When we got to Penicuik the route doesn't really take you into town but as we had already eaten we decided to continue to Peebles in the Scottish boarders.  Well we had an almost free ride into town, now we were going to have to pay for it.  it may not have been a 1 in 5 hill but it went on forever.  Down the gears we went, slowly but surely until we ran out and then had to get off and push for what seemed forever.  Even with no headwind we were paying by climbing back out of the valley.

The climb out of Penicuik (yes, that is the road still climbing in front of the tree line)

We finally reached a more level part and remounted the bikes to join the road to Peebles.  We found a small trailer in a layby selling tea and stopped for a break.  While chatting to the lady serving we were impressed by the price of meals on offer, many of which were good value.

'Carol's Snacks. Located on the A703, South of Leadburn.

The next part of the journey followed the road down along the Eddiston Water, although not all downhill it would have been a great run were it not for some of the motorists.  many of the larger trucks would give us a toot to let us know they were passing and give wide clearance, but some smaller vehicles cut in close, too close on occasions unsettling Lorraine.

Finally we approached the town of Peebles, saw the camp sign but decided to continue further.  it was a blessing in disguise for the next site was within walking distance of the town centre and a great site to stay.  We booked into Crossburn for the night, set up camp and walked into town for supplies.  What we found is a wonderful town so decided to stay for an extra day to explore.

camping at Crossburn

Jump to Edinburgh.

In the words of Gunnery Sgt Highway  "You improvise, Adapt and overcome"

And so we did.......

We have a choice, stay in Inverness and wait till the bikes can get booked in for maintenance, with inherent costs of accommodation or get booked onto a train to Prestonpans, just East of Edinburgh where we can stay with mother and have a greater choice of workshops.  This decision though is still reliant on others whichever way we turn.

We spoke to the B&B host who assured us another nights stay and headed for the rail station to check out reservation possibilities.  Yes, they could get all booked on the mid morning train next day.  Ok I was going to miss the Drumachter Pass over the Cairngorm mountain range, but the recent news as to it's condition, from broken road surface to non existent and overgrown by scrub in places help make the final plans for that stage.  Take the train to Edinburgh and continue from there as soon as possible.  We can attack the high pass on another tour.

We have been here a few days. The bike was fixed the day after arrival by ACE BIKES in Mussleburgh, no appointment necessary. It was an absolute pleasure to watch the young man go about his business                           with the skill, knowledge and confidence of a surgeon working in A&E.  We had a quick look at the festival, but it was swamped with people and manic.

Tomorrow we shall move on as we head South again.  Rested, Refuelled and refreshed.  It's not been the easiest start to our tour but it hasn't dampened our spirits and we ride again.  :D

                

Limping to Inverness

Richard got up first, the call of nature outweighing the snuggles of a down filled sleeping bag.  It was just after dawn and the tent had a layer of dew that would soon burn off in the Sun, except the Sun was hidden behind some thick cloud way out to the East over the North Sea.

We dined on scrambled eggs and rolls we had purchased the previous day, sunk plenty of tea and coffee, then checked the bikes.  Richard had taken a fall on the way across and we needed to check the damage.  It didn't look good.  The hanger on the rear deraillier was definitely not vertical.  With limited knowledge we tried to effect a repair but could not set this right.  Inverness was only 15 odd miles away but this was going to make for a long slow ride till we could get the bike to a workshop.

packed and loaded we made our way back along the foreshore till we came to the turn off up the hill.  Decision was simple, that's a steep gradient; get off and push.  We made our way up and almost out the village before the slope levelled off enough to try cycling again. gingerly but with gaining confidence in the Richard's bike we made our way along the coast road to Avoch.  With the stone sea wall to the left and rising hill to our right we made reasonable progress.   Richard noticed that he was spending more time concentrating on the pedals and bicycle than anything else, including traffic.

We knew we would cross the Moray Firth at the Kessock bridge, which on the North side landed high above the shore line so the series of gentle but persistent inclines were to be expected.  We pedalled on, in the lower gear range, determined not to let this beat us.  As we made our way up one that seemed to go on for ever we decided to call a break at the Munlochy turn off.  This was fortunate as it had a bench to sit at and gave us a chance to clear our heads again.  

Tea break at the Munlochy turn off, Munlochy Firth in the miground.

Refreshed something caught our eye.  beyond the village vehicles were climbing what looked like an incredible gradient.  Vehicles that had just passed us.  Quickly consulting the map we could not be sure if that was our route or we turn off before.  We had no option, we would have to descend into the village and see what happens.  It was a good free ride down, then we followed the bends through the houses and saw the sign.  The cycle route turned off before hand.  we would travel further to reach the bridge but the climb would be easier.  Following the back road we passed the black brewery, but feltinclined not to stop.  We moved ever closer to the bridge but from the North side there is no grand approach.  Hidden by hills and flora you would only see the bridge when you turned upon it.

Lunch time was upon us so we dropped into North Kessock.  Following the signs down to the shore.

We found a place called 'The White Cottage Tea House', serving more than just tea & cakes.  We both opted for the special, Haddock dinner, which turned out to be a good deal for the money.  It also turned out later to be a wise decision food wise.

Remounting our bikes we pedalled along the foreshore to find the connecting path to the bridge some 200 feet above us.  With some local help we found it and then started to push the fully loaded bikes up an incline that would be more at home with block and tackle.  After a good five minute struggle, helped along by the local trash cart chasing us up we crested the road and remounted, to read a sign about an obstruction on the bridge and 'cyclists dismount'.  So we walked across the bridge.

Kessock Bridge as seen from the South (Inverness) side.

The other side was easy.  remount, glide downhill, watch for the signs.  These led us through an industrial estate, but something went wrong.  Either the signs were put up wrong or the locals were having fun as we found ourselves going round into a dead end facing the bridge again.  Retracing our steps we followed the original road till we found confirmation in another sign.  The signs led us on towards the town centre, where we found a bicycle shop.  Explaining our plight we were told that the shop was already inundated with back orders.  This was to be a portent of our time here.

 

Hidden in the industrial Estate  Cromwell's citadel.

Making our way into town we found the tourist information centre to locate Accommodation.  We had the tent but Richard really needed four solid walls and a roof to shut the world out and download his brain.  After 20 minutes they could find none available.  we enquired about what was on but told nothing, it was just Summer.  Our only hope was not all places registered and therefore ask around.

We asked at the Railway station about transport.  we could get tickets but could not get reservations for the bikes.  We were not about to leave our trusty bikes behind.

We sat and had a coffee.  It was a good job we had eaten a proper meal.

Challenge Accepted!

Inverness Castle

As we started to make our way towards the edge of town campsite we stopped at every hotel and B&B to enquire about rooms but all were full.  At one last turning we looked along the signs, solicitors, graphic designers, so & so's but 1 sign in the distance got Richards attention.  Couldn't be read from where we were so Richard cycled gently up the road to read.  It was a B&B.  Ringing the doorbell, to be met by a diminutive but well proportioned granny, yes they had a room.  It wasn't ensuite as such but it didn't matter, it was sanctuary.

We dropped the panniers, stored the bikes in the high walled garden and got showered and refreshed.  We then started to ring the telephone numbers we had for bike shops but were running into the same problem as the Accomadation.  Sorry, fully booked, behind schedule, not for a few days yet.  Time was moving on so we left to find something to eat.  Italian, yes it was a chain but we were not fussy at that point.

And slowly a plan came together.      

Ross & Cromarty.

We awoke to the sound of the early morning alarm train as it clickity-clacked it's way passed 50 feet from the tent.  Normally the sound would diminish within seconds but as the trains here follow the shoreline around the bay to the next head land the hills act as a parabolic megaphone reflecting the sound back for a good sixty seconds.

We packed up the rest of the kit and packed away the tent.  We tried to eat something for breakfast, we needed the fuel for we had a 3 mile climb to start the days journey.  It can be hard to force food down the gullet when the body does not want to eat, even if it pain au chocolat.  We drank some tea, loaded the bikes and set out for the cluster of street lamps.  As anyone with roadcraft skills will know street lamps in the middle of the country means one thing, a junction with a major road, and we were about to join the A9.

Dornoch Bridge from the start of the A9 ascent.

We positioned the bikes between the edge of carriageway markings and the edge of the tarmac, selected the gears that would suit us as we pedalled into the head wind. Vehicles that passed gave us a reasonable clearance but the buffeting from their airflow made for a challenging time.  It was not a steep gradient but was three miles to the turn off for Tain, with our heads down we pedalled and pedalled until we reached the turn off.  We were both amazed and amused by our efforts and started to laugh as we followed the gentle drop into town.

We were looking for a cafe to have breakfast at as we threaded our way along the narrow high street but nothing seemed to be opened, so we pushed on following route 1.  Surprisingly most of the countryside here seemed somewhat bland after what we had previously seen so we kept moving.  Soon we were climbing more small humps that did not seem to give any descent, just a flat top.  As we turned south and headed down the peninsular towards the Nigg ferry we could see the 600 foot hill in front of us and were willing the road to curve round it instead of going over the top.  It did, fortunately, but we did not start our descent until we were almost level with it.  Down we went and joined the main road for the last mile to the loading ramp.

I remembered the ferry form some time ago.  An old black thing that looked like a second hand landing craft that had a capacity for 2 cars a handful of passengers.  As we arrived there was 1 car waiting ahead of us so we parked up behind them to await this beast.  The ferry arrived in due time.  It has been replaced by an updated version.  This small vessel now carries 4 cars and has a passenger cabin, and also boasts a turntable on the deck to assist the loading/offloading of vehicles.  We gripped our bikes as we proceeded down the slope to board.  As we set sail for Cromarty there were some interesting sights to behold.

An Drilling ship, looking like something 'GloMar' would use to recover sunken Soviet submarines.

Oil rigs, old & new being scrapped/refurbished.

The headlands guarding the channel into Cromarty Firth.

The bikes on the deck as we approach Cromarty.

We landed at the Cromarty side and set of into town for refreshments.  We had a short break before deciding it was time to move on.  As we left town we were faced with a steep gradient and immediately knew we would have to get off and push.  Push we did, it took some time for the gradient to ease and allow us to remount.

We followed route 1 again as the main road seemed busy, strange for a small peninsula.  The road climbed and we were soon back to pushing.  We pedalled and pushed our way along looking at the great ridge that seemed to rear in front of us. It took some distance before we found our selves pedalling downhill and the road swinging away from the great ridge in front only to find a hairpin bend at the bottom and another steep climb out.  We pushed and pushed, pedalled and pedalled our way up and up the road with some gradients seemingly impossible.  Then it happened.  Richard was on his side still astride the bike.  Recovering ourselves we brewed some tea and looked at what had occurred.  The road was not that steep, worn but not dangerously so.  Richard had found his Encephalitic limits.  With pushing, pedalling, steering, balance, map reading et al his brain had finally tripped out to prevent overload. A legacy of his illness.

We checked the map again, there was no connecting path to the main road, and knew there was only two options, to go back or to go on.  Going back would mean traversing all the ground again, with the psychological pain as well.  We would have to go on and up over this great mound.  There is a campsite near Rosemarkie, we could divert into there for a rest.  We remounted the bikes and pedalled on changing down as the gradients steepened until we could hear some chimes.  It was Richard's bike, the rear mechanism had been damaged and was striking the spokes in low gear.  Without low gearing this was going to be a trail.  If we get over the hump and make the campsite we could find a repair shop in the morning.  On and on we went, up and up, pedalling and pushing what must be the most wearying cycle route I have seen to date.  Constantly having to get off and push to avoid breaking the spokes.  Then the rain started, not the large globules of a summer storm but the icy blades of freezing water.  We were soaked and cold on exposed skin and perspiring and cold under our waterproofs.  Life was becoming uncomfortable.  just before we entered the wooded area we looked back and could see the main road with it's traffic flowing freely, so close yet so far, we turned back to the task in hand with neither regret nor self pity.  We had seen the aerial up the top and knew we would have to pass it before we were safe.

 

Thats Lorraine up ahead.

After we passed the mast we had a small gentle descent before another climb.  It was a short one before the descent started proper.  The bikes started to pick up speed and it was not long before we were having to alternate front and rear brakes to clear the water off the rims and slow ourselves down as much as possible, this was steep.  Down and down we headed.  We were aware that we would be joining the main road before the village and really squeezed the brake levers as the junction came into sight.  Judging our speed to enter the road without causing mayhem we continued to descend as the road twisted and turned towards Rosemarkie.

The road started to level just before turning sharply into the village and we stopped almost immediately at a shop to pick up provisions.  Fortunate really as we were later told it was the only shop for about 4 miles.  Moving forward 100 yards was the sign for the campsite, a short descent to the seafront and a more welcome sight of two boats gently at anchor in the bay I have never seen.

The seafront just before the campsite.

Turning right onto the little spit of land that protrudes into the Moray Firth we entered the gates.  The sign indicated that reception was another 400 yards, but we didn't care we had made it.  At reception the warden & staff swung into action despite, or because of, the state we arrived in.  Soaking wet, dirty, we must have looked a sight.  The detritus from tyres, oil, dirt, exhaust particulates and anything else that is flicked up from wet roads has to be seen to be believed.

Arriving unannounced, the staff had us booked in, on a sheltered pitch next to the washrooms as requested, and handed us two pieces of paper with info we might need before my sodden fingers had retrieved my membership card from my wallet.  They showed us to the pitch with a cheerful disposition and let us get on with little fuss.  We pitched up, had a brew, and then went for some welcome hot showers.  Later, feeling more human, we enquired about bike repairs only to be told that the nearest would be Inverness some 14 miles along the coast, but within minutes the camp staff had printed off a list with addresses for us to use.

So we settled ourselves down, had a look around, and relaxed while we took in the day.

Double rainbow as that storm passes out to sea.

Post storm ships in the Firth prepare for night.

And we gave thanks to the founding member of the Camping and caravan club who made it a state that'No backpacker shall ever be turned away, no matter what'.