Sat 2nd May
Last night I had made a rough plan in my head for what to do today. I would try to wake early, walk down to Kings Caves and back again, then head off on a ride to Lochranza and back again. I aimed to get the ferry back to Claonaig at 3.45pm, this allowed me to catch two more after if I was late, but I wanted to try and pop to see Jess the sculptor within reasonable time before she might have her dinner.
I woke, but then went back to sleep, oh well. I don’t really want to get to the point where I’m rushing to do something and cursing myself if I miss doing something. I was obviously tired, muscles still recovering from the Goatfell walk, so I accepted the fact I wouldn’t be able to do the walk to the caves and started to get ready for the bike ride. It had started to rain, oh dear I thought, I don’t want this to get in the way of my ride, should I go anyway? I never normally have an issue with rain, but I guess that’s when it starts when I’m already out, not starting off in the rain. I waited a short while and the spattering on the window seemed to ease off. I popped out and started to get the bike off the back of the van. It was still drizzly, but I decided to go for it. By the time I set off, it was just a misty rain. It wouldn’t make for a scenic ride, but you can’t let that always be the driving force for doing an activity. The most amazing things can happen at the most unexpected of times. The ride was fairly steady on mainly flat roads, a slight up and down, but nothing exhausting. That was until I reached a hill, oh yes, I remember seeing this on the map when I’d looked up the route yesterday. I noted the flatness of the ride, with some undulating bits, but there had been 2 arrows in this road indicating a steep ascent. Oh well here goes! Halfway up, nope not having this, off I get. You know it can be more exhausting pushing a bike up a hill sometimes, I remember that from walking up parts of Lord Herefords Knob in Wales. I’d tried to cycle all of that, just had to stop frequently to catch my breath. I’d had panniers that day, so the bike was heavier. I had pushed it slightly at times but think I’d settled on just catching my breath then setting off for the next 50/100 metres. It was probably a steadier incline than todays’ hill. Anyway, I walked this one, it was short enough and I was pleased to get to the top so I could hop on and gain distance quicker with a bit of freewheeling.
I stopped for a loo stop, hiding between the gorse and the beach. Luckily the roads aren’t very busy on Arran, well they weren’t on this side of the island at this time, which wasn’t that early at about 10.30am. Then I stopped for a snack stop, it’s always nice to stop for a quick rest, but also to take in your surroundings. I find cycling is nicer than driving because you can take in so much more and are able to pull in at any point to stop and observe, but you can still miss things you may spot when walking. Whether it’s not being observant or missing something due to the wind in your ears. I kept checking the distances to ensure I was on track. I aimed to take 2 hours to travel the 15 miles there, and 2 hours to get back. This was an overestimate, and still gave me an extra 45 minutes before I needed to leave the car park to get to the ferry 15 mins early (Nick are you pleased with my time planning??) This extra time should allow for fatigue, sight seeing stops and lunch.
As I cycled along, I had the fields on my right to look at, the sheep and cows, and also the beautiful houses, when I went through a small village. And on my left was obviously the sea, a very still sea, with a very misty outlook. I should be able to see the mainland, after all I had been seeing beautiful sites of Arran when in Campbeltown and when driving down the coast. There were moments I thought I could see it but was unsure if it was just part of the cloud on the horizon.
I was approaching another bay, is this Lochranza? Please let it be. I checked my distance, no, still another 5km or so to go. At least it was flat, I persevered and eventually made it. I’d been told by Mick from the boat trip that the coffee place opposite the ferry did good coffee. Now not being a coffee drinker, this was no use to me, but if they did good coffee, I assumed their tea was alright. I bought a cup and went to sit on the bench on the seafront to eat my lunch, leftover couscous and veg from last night. As I was finishing off my lunch I could see some action by the port, some uniformed men with flags and bagpipes were disembarking. I got my camera poised. I had to wait for a few more people to get into position, then they eventually started up the bagpipes and started marching. I wondered how far they were going, so filmed for a short time, then jumped up to see if I could see where they were heading. It looked as though they were just stopping outside the harbour. I asked a lady who had stopped to watch, and she mentioned there had been an accident here during WWII with a boat blowing up. I looked it up later on and it turned out in 1943 a submarine had left the port and sunk about a mile offshore. All on board died, and this was a memorial for them.
I watched my time again and set off back to the van at the 2-hour cut off I had allowed for the journey to Lochranza. On the way back I was tiring and stopped a few times to look at the view or have a few nuts. I was so admiring of the water being so clear in Scotland and decided to stop for one of these pit stops to admire it. As I neared the water’s edge I could hear a strange glugging noise, like water slopping in a cave, or some kind of crevasse. I went in search of it, and eventually found two large rocks with a smooth, round rock, just a bit smaller than a head, wedged between them. As the waves were gently rolling into shore they were coming up under the round rock and creating the sucken/glugging sound. I liked it, it gave me a little smile. As I turned to return to my bike I noticed a mural on the rock behind me. As I approached, I could see it was a beach and mountain scene in a beautiful array of bright colours. I looked closer at the writing and it said, ‘Jason Died 2019’. I wondered what had happened to Jason, had he died at sea? or was this just a special place for him and someone who created the memorial? Then I thought maybe the rock was Jason’s way of getting my attention to see his memorial, or maybe it was his way of having a joke, a way of turning a sentimental moment into a moment of fun.
I hopped back on the bike, glad of a short rest of my bum and legs and continued along the road. As with always being on the lookout for red squirrels in the woods, when I’m by the sea, I always try to keep a look out for movement in the water, seals or dolphins. Even more so today, as the water was so still. At that moment I could see some lumps in the water. Now, when I’m looking, I normally mistake birds for seals, and I get my hopes up. I stopped for a little while to determine what they were, and they were indeed seals, their heads bobbing in the sea, some swimming along ducking up and down, perusing the shoreline. It was a lovely sight, and I stayed for a short while wondering about the action under the water, the younger seals swimming around each other playing, and the older ones being the ones just bobbing, letting the sun soak into their faces. The sun had started to make an appearance now, and the cloud was slowly lifting off the hills.
I eventually made it back to the van with just enough time to load the bike and grab something to eat before heading back towards Lochranza for the ferry. On driving back the way I had come, I spent my time looking out to sea. Then, I couldn’t believe it, I quickly pulled into the layby I was passing and hoped out the van. The seals were back, but with the tide having receded slightly it had started to reveal the tips of rocks, a great spot for the seals to balance their ‘delicate’ little bodies to bask in the sun. They certainly didn’t look comfortable, arched like a smiley face on the rocks, there must have been about 15 of them, putting on a show for what was now a row of cars that had stopped.
I made it to the ferry with 5 minutes to spare, got back over to Claonaig and headed for Skipness to visit Jess the sculptor. She has a beautiful big house, and I could now see the sculptures in the garden. I knocked on the door, and no answer. Waited a while, knocked again, no answer. It was at this point I thought I would have to look up her email to send my apologies and realised I could have emailed her to arrange a time to come visit in the first place!