Spean Bridge

by

Russell Turner

 The omens were good: a week of uninterrupted blue skies and sunshine, and – even better – I was off work and able to make the most of it. Then a beautiful Friday evening journey with Heather down quiet roads at the back of Loch Ness to Spean Bridge for the Autumn Weekend. Gorgeous.
 And there we met Roy who complained it was too hot. Within minutes the clouds began to gather and darken and by the end of the evening it was throwing it down. Undoubtedly, the man is a rain god. The Aultguish downpour was probably his fault too.
 By then we were too full of drink and food to care. The kitchen half of the Coire Glas Guest House management had unilaterally gone on strike the week before, near the end of a busy season, and evening meals were no longer available, so the gang had ventured into the village and the Spean Bridge Hotel. This is a place I’ve passed many times but never found inviting enough to go in - my loss. The staff were sparse but friendly, the interior comfortable, the food good and in Geoff-sized portions. And Mike Matthias definitely clicked with the chatty waitress there.
 Next day, after a fine breakfast, we set out on the run. My original plan, after sampling the delights of Sheena’s Tea Hut in Corran (well worth the trip), was to visit Plockton, but after seeing hot suns on the BBC’s weekend internet weather forecast I’d suggested, the evening before, we go to Skye instead. That idea had been well received and was still popular in the morning, despite the efforts of the rain god.
 So the route we took was Spean Bridge to Invergarry, down Glen Garry and Glen Shiel to Shiel Bridge, through Glenelg to Corran, back to Glenelg for the ferry, over to Skye and Kyleakin then back over the bridge to Glen Shiel and Spean Bridge. Superb roads and great views. I’ll leave a description of the run to Heather, who was so moved by the experience she felt inspired to prose. All I’ll add is that I’ve crossed on the Glenelg ferry many times, usually with no more than a relaxed hand on the bike while I watch the water for seals. This was the first time I’ve had to stay seated on the bike, both feet firmly on the deck and both hands gripping the handlebars. It was a memorable crossing.
 In the evening, after drying out, it was back to the Spean Bridge Hotel for more good food. We might have stayed for the disco, but when the rugby club arrived and staff took the pictures off the walls we thought discretion was best and took our drinks to the hotel lobby. A good time was had by all.
 Thanks to Heather, Gordon, Ian, Allan, Mike, Alastair, Roy and Neil. I’ll hand over to my glamorous assistant for her thoughts on the first Autumn Weekend.

OK, I was bored and made the mistake of saying so. That was as much as it took to be lured into writing this piece.
 Being fairly new to the bike scene (sorry, they’re all just bikes to me), I still feel slightly intimidated when attending one of your get togethers but Spean Bridge proved to be a delightful weekend, maybe not the sunniest on record but having been one of the intrepid number at the Longest Weekend where I thought we might dissolve in Applecross’s lashing rain, the weather this time was positively Mediterranean, on a damp day!
 It started off well enough, leaving Invergordon in full sunshine late on Friday afternoon. We had a brilliant run down by Loch Ness-side which, though I was born and bred in the Highlands, never fails to enchant me. Being introduced to so many tiny roads I didn’t know existed is a definite bonus. We arrived at our very pleasant B & B in early evening and for once I was able to have a conversation without my teeth chattering. This is something of a rarity for me as some of you may know! I was relieved to see mostly familiar faces even though they were all males. Where were all the women? The first gobsmacking moment came when Roy informed us he was too hot! The man was at Applecross for heaven’s sake, is he never happy? Roy, I hold you responsible for the downturn in the weather.
 Next morning we awoke to the familiar sound of falling rain but not daunted we headed North West through glorious scenery until we reached the end of the road at Corran. One cup of hot chocolate later we’re back at Glenelg patiently awaiting the arrival of the ferry to take us to Kylerhea on Skye. Watching it fight its way over the short but very fast flowing crossing did not inspire me with much confidence and I have to say I noticed most of my male colleagues nipped behind a handy shed after they’d watched it a while! Too much tea at Corran? Perhaps, or maybe they were nervous too. Anyway, we made it over on the last ferry run of that day, the owner having decided enough was enough. I felt slightly less of a wimp after that.
 Skye was its usual self in the rain, pretty misty but still impressive. We headed straight for Kyleakin and lunch in a café which overlooked the sea. I thought I was seeing things when some eccentric emerged from the water having been in for a swim. It was lashing rain but he still observed the formalities of towelling down before getting dressed! Why? I’m not sure what happened to him, food took my attention after that.
 Taking advantage of a brief break in the downpour we set off again over the Skye Bridge, through Auchtertyre where I refrained from surprising my parents with our little group, though I was sorely tempted to see the look on their faces when eight bikes roared up to their front door. Past Eilan Donan Castle, a familiar sight to anyone who has ever owned a calendar, then a smooth run back to Spean Bridge and the familiar smell of the “drying room”.
 After a reviving shower, no brown water here, we set off for the “long” trek to the hotel where we had booked a meal, a direct result of the success of their culinary skills the previous evening. Some of us had learned a lesson and settled for one course, except for the odd dip of a spoon into Mike’s Cullen Skink which he generously donated when he saw the dish came in the size of a small wash basin! Eat your heart out big Geoff. I don’t think even you could have managed two bowls of that size. The meal was followed by a disco though I wasn’t exactly inundated with offers to dance, a pity considering the general lack of fitness of those around me. The exercise would certainly have done some good and considering the anguished cries of those facing the “long” walk home (it took approximately 5 minutes), I think I should have a few more candidates for my fitness class – no plug intended - but bring your lycra to the next meeting.
 With typical Scottish contrariness, the weather was lovely for the trip home on Sunday – at least it was for our trip back to Ross-shire.
Has the bad weather put me off? Not a bit of it. 
See you next time, it was good.