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Biking (mis)adventures
Originally written June 10th
The Isle of Skye's landscape is very distinctively Scottish, or at least very much "not Irish", at least according to my not-so-expert opinion. It's less green, more rocky, but still breathtaking in it's own way.
Today, we rented bicycles in Portree, trusting that the idyllic Northern Scottish countryside would roll beneath our wheels with the speed of an old VHS on fast-forward, but with less skipping and snow.
These are not the rolling hills of Killarney national park, with tea shops hidden in cottages and men in horses and buggies around every corner. These are rugged, manly, northern, and above all SCOTTISH hills. We two, despite being from the True North Strong and Free, were unprepared for such steep and merciless crags, which would dishearten any out of shape or impatient person.
The cycle rental man recommended us visit a beach down by Braese (sp? Pronounced "Breeze", though the journey was anything but), and he expected that we could get there and back, with plenty of time to relax at the other end, in the half day/five hours we'd paid for our bike rentals. "Great!" said and thought we.
However... We were defeated by the steep hills. But even we of relatively feeble bodies may have been able to put up with such trials for the reward of beautiful panoramic views of Scottish lochs, mountains and countryside (peppered once more with the ever-present frollicking lambs), if not for one more added element of risk:
Cars.
This was supposed to be a quiet road. This means that a vehicle comes along, on average, about once every one to four minutes. Not so bad, you think, right? Here are some more things to take into consideration.
The road is a narrow, one lane, barely paved path. It serves two directions of traffic. There are actual signed "passing places" where cars coming from opposite directions have the space, and thus ability, to pass each other safely. (I took photographs of the signs in case someone doesn't believe my words and needs pictoral proof). All other streches of the road are alarmingly narrow.
This is where we biked for the vast majority of the time. Furthermore, a statistically significant proportion of cars seemed to like to cross paths in our general vecinity, leaving road space at an even higher premium.
I should also mention that there are many blind corners, and while we may be able to hear the cars coming, they cannot see us, and if they're coming at us at, say, 60 km/h, there's little we can do to get out of their way... Except jerk to the side, into the ditch, to avoid being splattered. Sheep and lambs, observing from behind fences calmly chewing their cud and staring, "baaa-ed" their laughter at us on several occasions.
Also, the hills are steep both ways, which means that we alternated between an achingly-slow snail's pace and dangerously attempting to break the sound barrier, if it weren't for the judicial application of brakes.... But we tried to use sparingly for fear of wearing them out and having them fail us at the most inopportune time possible.
So Sara and I, being safety-inclined wusses, pulled over to the side of the road after an hour or so of hair-raising biking, at the first scenic point we could find after making the decision to stop. We laid down our windbreakers as impromptu blankets, took out our lunches (consisting of bottled water, juice, apples, granola bars, and Oreo cookies) and had a lovely picnic, basking in the sunshine and staring out at the countryside (and the sheep).
And you know what? It was still a great day. We even managed to forget for nearly a whole hour that we had to bike BACK, too.
The Isle of Skye's landscape is very distinctively Scottish, or at least very much "not Irish", at least according to my not-so-expert opinion. It's less green, more rocky, but still breathtaking in it's own way.
Today, we rented bicycles in Portree, trusting that the idyllic Northern Scottish countryside would roll beneath our wheels with the speed of an old VHS on fast-forward, but with less skipping and snow.
These are not the rolling hills of Killarney national park, with tea shops hidden in cottages and men in horses and buggies around every corner. These are rugged, manly, northern, and above all SCOTTISH hills. We two, despite being from the True North Strong and Free, were unprepared for such steep and merciless crags, which would dishearten any out of shape or impatient person.
The cycle rental man recommended us visit a beach down by Braese (sp? Pronounced "Breeze", though the journey was anything but), and he expected that we could get there and back, with plenty of time to relax at the other end, in the half day/five hours we'd paid for our bike rentals. "Great!" said and thought we.
However... We were defeated by the steep hills. But even we of relatively feeble bodies may have been able to put up with such trials for the reward of beautiful panoramic views of Scottish lochs, mountains and countryside (peppered once more with the ever-present frollicking lambs), if not for one more added element of risk:
Cars.
This was supposed to be a quiet road. This means that a vehicle comes along, on average, about once every one to four minutes. Not so bad, you think, right? Here are some more things to take into consideration.
The road is a narrow, one lane, barely paved path. It serves two directions of traffic. There are actual signed "passing places" where cars coming from opposite directions have the space, and thus ability, to pass each other safely. (I took photographs of the signs in case someone doesn't believe my words and needs pictoral proof). All other streches of the road are alarmingly narrow.
This is where we biked for the vast majority of the time. Furthermore, a statistically significant proportion of cars seemed to like to cross paths in our general vecinity, leaving road space at an even higher premium.
I should also mention that there are many blind corners, and while we may be able to hear the cars coming, they cannot see us, and if they're coming at us at, say, 60 km/h, there's little we can do to get out of their way... Except jerk to the side, into the ditch, to avoid being splattered. Sheep and lambs, observing from behind fences calmly chewing their cud and staring, "baaa-ed" their laughter at us on several occasions.
Also, the hills are steep both ways, which means that we alternated between an achingly-slow snail's pace and dangerously attempting to break the sound barrier, if it weren't for the judicial application of brakes.... But we tried to use sparingly for fear of wearing them out and having them fail us at the most inopportune time possible.
So Sara and I, being safety-inclined wusses, pulled over to the side of the road after an hour or so of hair-raising biking, at the first scenic point we could find after making the decision to stop. We laid down our windbreakers as impromptu blankets, took out our lunches (consisting of bottled water, juice, apples, granola bars, and Oreo cookies) and had a lovely picnic, basking in the sunshine and staring out at the countryside (and the sheep).
And you know what? It was still a great day. We even managed to forget for nearly a whole hour that we had to bike BACK, too.