Hero worship

This is one of the Silver Sands of Morar, and the one featured in 'Local Hero'. Visiting this was the main aim of the day.

Our journey has been eventful so far. The sleeper train was uncomfortably hot. The only windows that can be opened on the train are those on the carriage doors. The concierge kept shutting them. So, we sweltered. Then, at 4am, we were woken up to fetch our bikes from the Inverness section of the train to await a couple of new carriages that would be coupled to the Fort William section. Fred graciously put himself forward for this task. However, I didn't sleep since I worried about whether he'd get back on the train. As it was, he, another cyclist, and all the poor folk going to Fort William who had seats as beds, stood for an hour on the Edinbugh Station platform at first welcoming the cold then shivering. There was a small problem with the Inverness section. During the hour, the concierge chatted non-stop to someone on the platform - who could sleep through that? At 5am, Fred returned, then there was lots of banging as the engine was attached. I managed about an hour's sleep after, then the view called - the journey over Rannoch Moor to Fort William is breathtaking.

Safely at the station, we enjoyed second breakfasts and showers. The station showers at Fort William are particularly good. Before catching the train to Arisaig, we walked down the High Street. There's a mountain biking weekend in the area and we watched intrepid bikers fly off a ramp, twist about a bit then land on a huge inflatable bag. They were having lots of fun.

The Mallaig train was packed. As usual on the UK rail network, the bike storage was tricky to get into around all the other bikes, big bags and buggies also stored there. On this particular train the bikes have to be hung vertically by the back wheel. I'd break my back just trying that, so Fred had to do both. The guard was very patient, unlike some passengers who tutted at us for blocking the corridor. It's not easy trying to hang bikes in a small space while negotiating passengers and luggage.

All aboard, we found our seats, had a nice chat with a French tourist who lived in Switzerland, and gawped at the scenery. This route is also incredibly beautiful.

Upon alighting at Arisaig, after much de tangling of bicycles and panniers, and Fred helping a lady carry a month's worth of groceries (she goes to town once a month), we loaded the bikes again only to discover that my chain had come off. Fred went to work and nothing could be done. That chain was well and truly jammed. A little defeated, we walked down the road. It was really warm - T-shirt weather. I thought that if we couldn't cycle, it wasn't a bad place to be stuck in.

A little way on, we interrupted two neighbours chatting in their gardens to ask if there was s bike hire/shop and explained our situation. They reckoned the ferry workers might be the best bet, but then a jar of alan keys was produced. With the right tools in hand, Fred went to work again. It took quite a bit of shoogling and prodding before he got the chain back on track. The very kind lady with the alan key jar saved our holiday. She suggested we keep the key we'd used and wanted nothing for it. The kindness of strangers - what a star.

We browsed the exhibits at the Land, Sea and Islands Visitor Centre - where we learned:
"John Silver was born in Arisaig on 2 January 1853. As a young man he went to work on the construction of the lighthouse at Barrahead. The lighthouse designer was Thomas Stevenson, father of Robert Louis Stevenson. Silver met Robert Louis on a few occasions. Local legend has it that Robert Louis Stevenson took the name for his character in Treasure Island."
And secret agents were trained in this area in WWII: http://home.earthlink.net/~mrstephenson_umsl/spy2/training.html. Gavin Maxwell was a small arms and survival trainer.

Onwards, we cycled the road to Rhu and the old goods shed for the now crumbled away Arisaig Pier (see extra photo of Fred by the site of the pier). The Small Isles dominated the horizon, and thrift punctuated the grey of the rocks. On the woodland side, bluebells, foxgloves, birdsfoot trefoil and gorse grew amongst old, gnarled oaks, with willow warblers singing away. I think this road is one of the beautiful I've ever cycled. The sun helped, of course.

En route back to Arisaig and dinner, a New Zealander asked us if there were camping spots on the road. The "No Camping" signs were everywhere so no. But this should have rung a small bell of warning.

Instead we gorged ourselves on a lovely dinner at the Arisaig Hotel and headed on the scenic route to a campsite by the sands. Just out of Arisaig, we spied a stag (extra pic) and his doe . The road from then on was jam-packed with parked motorhomes and cars, with folk camped in the beaches. Hmmm.... Sure enough, every one of the campsites was full. This is a first for us! Normally there's space for two cyclists and a small tent.

At Morar, we tried our luck at a B&B and got lucky. The owners had been out all day and they had one room. Yes! All the B&Bs we'd seen up until now had 'No Vacancies' displayed. Phew. It's a lovely one, too, with a great view over to Rhum.