Lairg Lodge to Strathnaver Museum, Bettyhill

Hello from a weary traveller in the far, far north of Scotland.  So far north in fact that the area is called Farr.  Actually, I've no idea if that's why it's called Farr, and in fact the area seems to have various different names depending on which boundaries and which period of history you're going by - Farr, Strathnaver, Sutherland.  One thing is not under dispute, and that is that the village I'm in is called Bettyhill ... although it seems that Bettyhill was an early 19th Century replacement village for the village of Farr, which was practically deserted by the Clearances (see here for more info on the Clearances).  The Duke and Duchess of Sutherland had 15,000 people cleared from their estate, but then the duchess, Elizabeth, had another village built and named it after herself - Bettyhill.  Odd, and rather narcissistic if you ask me.  

Anyway, in Bettyhill is the Strathnaver Museum, housed in the old church at Clachan, listed by Historic Scotland for it's architectural importance.  The museum was first established in 1976 by a group of locals who realised that they needed to preserve the history of the area for themselves and for future generations.  Many locals donated items to the museum, but additionally found items have been added to the collection including a Bronze Age burial beaker, discovered in 1981 by council roadcrew.  The museum recounts the history of The Clearances, and depicts life in the north Highlands from prehistory to more modern times.

It was quite a ride to get here - 80km of vast Highland scenery with lots of strenuous uphill cycling.  I did a total of 45km on increased resistance with 10km at level 13, and 15km at level 12; the other 20km were split between levels 10 and 8.  

There was quite a buzz in Pop-Up Gym on Friday, which spurred me on, as did a few more sponsorships that came through as I was pedalling.  It really does make a huge difference, and helps me to know that others see my efforts as worthwhile, so please do keep the sponsorships coming if you can, as I still have one more ride and one more blog post to go.  Given that the ride was lengthy and arduous, I was pleased to complete it in two hours and thirty six minutes...

When I was planning my trip I thought that I'd be more than ready not to be camping and I'd booked myself into the Bettyhill Hotel...

...but it was such a beautiful day when I arrived, and the scenery is so beautiful that it seemed a shame not to immerse myself in it, and I'm really rather comfortable with my four poster camp bed, butler's sink bar, dining table, and range cooker.  As I'd made the hotel booking and they were expecting me to stay with them, I paid for the room so that they didn't lose out, but pitched my tent back by the museum.  After all, the museum was meant to be my stopping point.  The hotel staff were ever so kind and said that I would be welcome to use their facilities if I wanted to, but for now I'm loving being in my tent...

Yes, I'm quite comfortable in my tent, and I still haven't tired of the Tudor theme in the bed area and dining area.  It's amazing what you can do with the inside of a tent these days if you put a little thought into it.

I decided not to pitch camp within the walls of the old church yard because I wanted to make the most of the expansive vista.  It really is stunning and enormous...

It feels like it goes on forever, and whilst its beauty almost takes your breath away, the vastness of it also kind of fills your lungs.

It would be fair to assume that a little place like Bettyhill wouldn't have much in it, but then it does have a museum, which is perhaps not what one immediately thinks of as an essential for Highland village life.  I guess it is essential for keeping the past alive, and although much of the history of the area was very bleak, it was vital for shaping the area into what it is today.  The Clearances did nothing if not make the Scots a hardy, resilient people, which certainly is essential in these remote parts, especially in winter.  

When I went for my first wander after pitching the tent, I followed some of the Strathnaver Trail, which begins at the Strathnaver Museum and guides visitors to 29 archaeological sites in the area. It includes various monuments, Iron Age brochs (drystone hollow walled structures), the remains of a Neolithic horned chamber cairn, Pictish carved stones, Bronze Age cairns and hut circles, and the remains of abandoned communities from the Clearances...

One of the Pictish carved stones on the trail is the Farr Stone, which stands in the grounds of the Strathnaver Museum...

The Picts could be thought of as a tribe or clan during the late Iron Age to early Medieval period.  Pictish stones are thought mostly to date from the 6th to 9th centuries, during which the Picts were becoming 'Christianised'.  Early Pictish stones likely predate the spread of Christianity and their purpose is uncertain, but the Farr stone, like many later Pictish stones, is known to mark the grave of 'an important local, religious, or political personage.' I am under the impression that all Pictish stones are carved to one degree or another, with much commonality in the symbols and animals depicted.  It's thought that some of the icons might represent names, clans, kinship, lineage etc, and pairs of symbols could represent matrilineal marriage alliances.  I'm afraid I don't know about the symbols and animals engraved on the Farr Stone, but it's very beautiful and ancient, and a treasure to have seen and camped beside.

I haven't had the energy to do a huge amount of extreme sporting activity, but seeing as I was so close to the beach, and I'd noticed that the swell was getting up, I thought I'd grab my surf board and see if I could remember what I'd learnt way back down in Cornwall and Devon. I made my way down to the beach...

My first port of call was a tad too rocky, but a little further along it was nice and sandy, and I wasn't fearful that I'd be smashed against the rocks if I came off the board...

I was a little tentative when I started off and stayed at the far end of the beach where the swell wasn't quite so big, but I soon remembered what I was meant to be doing...

...Once I'd got the hang of it again I dragged the board back along the beach where the waves were bigger, and it was just as the swell was really getting up, making the challenge even greater, but I didn't do too badly...

Not bad, huh?  I think I've improved since I was in Cornwall and Devon.  I reckon it must be all the other extreme sports I've been doing, plus I've increased my general fitness, of course, with all the cycling.  I have to admit, that I surprised even myself with how spectacular my final jump was...

I hadn't even expected it to be my final jump, but...

...It was so high, and had such amazing thrust, that I left my board behind and landed on the cliffs above!  Well hey, it saved me a trek up the hill lugging the board behind me!  I decided to head to the cafe I'd seen in Bettyhill and see if I couldn't get myself a hot cuppa because the sea was ab.so.lute.ly freeeeeeezing.

Bettyhill is surprisingly well served with amenities for such a small and northerly Highland village.  As well as the museum it has a Free Church...

...a convenience store...

...the hotel, of course...

...a tourist information centre...

...even a swimming pool!...

...and a lovely little cafe...

...where I warmed myself up with soup...

A good old lentil and carrot soup with soft wholemeal bread to dunk in it.  It was delicious, but I needed another little something to fill the hole from the exercise.  I figured that I'd continue reliving the early days of my trip with a scone...

Okay, so the cream wasn't the delicious clotted cream of Devon or Cornwall, but it was still good, and there was no dictating what order to put the cream and jam (but if you're wondering, I did jam then cream, as I think any sensible person would).

Suddenly hit by a wall of exhaustion, I practically crawled back to the tent, but as the sun set and the dark began to draw in I realised that I would have to stay up because the most spectacular thing was happening.  The sky was lighting up with the most amazing pink, purple, and green streaks - God was giving me my very own performance of the aurora borealis...

I have always wanted to see this phenomenon, and tonight was my night.  Moments like this are what have made my ride so special, and what a treat for my penultimate ride of the journey.  Of course, the real purpose of the journey is not to feed my soul on events like this, but to raise vital funds for the charity Pop-Up Gym.  It's not too late to sponsor me if you haven't already and would like to, and I would be ever so grateful if you did.  You can do so at my Just Giving page with just a few clicks of your mouse, and you can be assured that every penny will be put to great use and hugely appreciated by myself and all at Pop-Up Gym.

So, only one more ride to go until I reach John O'Groats, and while I've loved the ride, I'll be happy for it to finish too because I'm quite exhausted.  Still, I must keep up the momentum until after tomorrow's final ride and after I've written the blog post that goes with it.  How about a few pennies of donation to spur me on?  And on that note it's time to roll out the haggis-fur duvet on the four poster camp bed and tuck myself in for the night.  Take care, thanks for your sponsorship so far, and I'll see you in John O'Groats!


**All photos are from Google Images, except those of the MotoMed and my tent.

Fyrish to Lairg Lodge, Lairg

Look at that.  Isn't it beautiful?  That's Lairg Lodge, where I've been staying since Monday evening.  It's on the edge of the village of Lairg by Loch Shin in the county of Sutherland.  It's in the middle of nowhere, and as places go in the middle of nowhere, Lairg is relatively big, for a village.  'They' say that if you venture away from the coastal areas of Scotland then at some point you will find yourself in Lairg, probably because it has roads, oh and a railways station.

Having said in my last post that every ride is now hard work, Monday's ride wasn't actually too bad.  Maybe I was more invigorated by the liveliness of the gym (it was packed) or something, but whatever the reason I wasn't totally exhausted before I started, it wasn't such a slog doing the lengthy uphill stage, and I was able to do 10km at level 13 again instead of just 5km like last time.  Again I did a total of 45km of the 71km total at increased resistance, and completed the ride in 2 hours and 23 minutes.

Actually, the last few kilometres were fairly relaxed, but I'm not sure if that was just how it seemed after several gruelling rides and the tough uphill section, or if it really was less difficult.  This bit at least wasn't too bad, as I approached Lairg...

I had, for once, planned to stay in a lodge at Lairg, imaginatively called Lairg Lodge, which had looked lovely online, but as I approached it I wasn't altogether sure what I was going to be presented with because the 'road' leading up to it was little more than a dirt track...

I guess that the benefit of having such a track as the driveway means that you get few folk making use of it unless they are trying to get to the lodge, but it also meant that I kept thinking that I'd probably taken a wrong turn.  It turned out that I hadn't and the lodge soon came into sight, alleviating any fears that what had been online wasn't going to match up with reality...

The tent stayed firmly packed in the panniers and it was lovely not to have to spend time pitching it before I could explore my new destination.  Let me show you a couple of the rooms in the lodge.  First, my bedroom...

I've got quite used to sleeping in a four poster bed during my travels, so I've been pleased to be doing so here too.

Here's the sitting room...

It's quite chintzy, isn't it?  Chintz isn't usually my thing, but it's kind of homely and luxurious here so I don't mind.

Oh, and the dining room...

A nice bottle of red ready for me too.  Lovely.

Seeing as I was here for a few days, I did actually rest for the remainder of Monday!  I know!  Don't collapse with the shock, it does occasionally happen, for a short while.  Tuesday was a different matter, as have been Wednesday and today, though I'll be off again tomorrow so today hasn't been too hectic.

So, after an afternoon and evening of recovery and relaxation I was well up for some exploring the next day and I went for a wander down by the loch - Loch Shin...

Loch Shin is 17 miles long, making it the largest loch in Sutherland.  As you can see in the second photo, the loch is dammed, the dam having been constructed in the 1950s, which raised the loch by 30 feet, and also brought hydroelectricity to the area.  A little way south of Lairg along the River Shin are the Falls of Shin...

The Falls of Shin have become quite an attraction, especially since the development of a visitors' centre providing free parking and admission to the forest paths and woodland walks.  There's also a children's play area and mini golf, and of course when the conditions are right the falls are a great place to see salmon leaping up them...

There's a lot of salmon fishing that goes on here, and salmon is, of course, one of the fresh foods that Scotland is renowned for.  I was vegetarian for twenty years, and while I do now eat meat (including fish) again, I don't think I would enjoy catching it.  Rather, it's the kill I wouldn't enjoy.  I did actually go fishing a number of times in my teens and I did quite enjoy it, mainly because it was a peaceful activity out in the countryside, but my enjoyment of it may not have been dampened by the kill because I never actually caught any fish.  Not one.  Not even when we my dad took us fishing at a trout farm in Windermere!  Yup, I was useless at fishing, but I have always been quietly pleased that I never caught a fish because it meant that I never had to face killing it.  I remember my younger step-brother catching one at the trout farm and the fish refused to die.  My step-brother whacked it over the head repeatedly with a rock, but the fish kept thrashing its tail until its head was almost mush.  It was horrible.  That said, I do now eat fish, and I probably would kill one if I absolutely had to, but I still don't think that fishing is a 'sport' I would wholeheartedly enjoy.  That's a bit of a bummer when you're holidaying in Scotland and looking for an outdoor activity to do because fishing is offered almost everywhere.  Fishing of hunting, and I'm definitely not going to go hunting. 

Avoiding hunting and fishing, and having had a wee explore of the Falls of Shin and the surrounding area near the visitors' centre, I was looking for another activity.  I opted for a spot of horse riding.  That was something I definitely did enjoy as a teenager and also at times in my young adult days.  I even had lessons for a couple of years, but ultimately I had to give it up because I became extremely allergic not only to the horses, but also to the hay in their stalls.  Still, in the virtual world allergies don't exist and I can do whatever I like, so horse riding it was.

I had read that there were a couple of riding stables 'in the area', but it seemed that 'in the area' in this part of the world means within 50 miles.  Only having my bike as transport I wasn't prepared to do any more significant cycling unless it was part of my main ride, so it was fortuitous that I should just happen upon an inquisitive horse on my meanderings...

It wasn't shut behind a fence in a field; it wasn't tied to a post; it was just wandering along, much as I was, and it came up to investigate me.  It seemed rude to ignore it, and when it began to follow me it seemed rude not to ride it, and stupid not to ride it as I was wanting to ride a horse.  It could be said that I'd have been looking a gift horse in the mouth 😆

Now although I've had lesson before, it did take me a little while to get the hang of riding a horse again...

But after the horse's initial excitement, and my initial ineffective riding, I eventually got the hang of it, and we set off on a wonderful ride together.  We went up the hillside a little at first, away from the loch, so that I could get a better view of the beauty of the area and the loch, and it is beautiful.  It's remote, and calm, and deceptively gentle, but you just know that in winter the conditions will be harsh with lots of snow and hard frosts.  Right now, on the cusp of this spring side of summer, it's idyllic (when the sun is shining)...

You might just be able to see Ben (the horse) getting excited in the lower picture.  It was the sight of the loch.  When he saw it he couldn't stop looking at it...

...and as we got closer to it again, and I directed him back towards the loch shore, he became extremely excited...

It was then that I lost the ability to control him.  We very quickly passed through the beautiful Dalchork Forest...

But Ben was galloping towards the loch as fast as he could.  It was almost as though he could smell the water now, and all he wanted was to get to it and go for a paddle...

...a very deep paddle that involved very little paddling and lots of swimming.  I wasn't entirely at all prepared for that, but what could I do?  Ben was a free spirit and I'd taken the liberty of commandeering him for a ride, so I couldn't really complain when he took me for a swim.  It was freezing!  Exhilarating, but utterly freezing, and before long I was kind of floating out of the saddle, only being kept vaguely in place by my feet in the stirrups.  Only then my feet slipped out of the stirrups, knocked by a fish or something, and Ben went swimming on his own...

I'm not sure if he got water up his nose or if he snorted me a thanks, but soon enough he was swimming up the loch, happy as Larry, while I was splashing my way to a small island.  But my luck wasn't all out, because on this island was a tiny house...

When I'd scrabbled onto the island and found my feet I discovered that I was about as tall as the house, so it wasn't likely to be a very good refuge, except perhaps for sticking my head instead if it began to rain, although that would be pointless as I was drenched from the loch.  I wasn't sure if anyone lived in the house.  It seemed unlikely as it was so small, but perhaps it belonged to someone with dwarfism.  I knocked on the door, but nobody was home, and when I poked my head in it was clear that nobody lived here any more, though perhaps they once had.

I later learnt that the wee house is called Broons House, and whilst it was only built 20 years ago for a float in the Lairg Gala, the folk of Lairg didn't want the house to go to waste so they put it on the island and made up a story about it.  You can read the full story at the above link, and also how the story they built was so convincing that they even fooled the BBC.

Discovering that I wasn't going to find refuge in the house, or even likely to be rescued by a returning resident, I realised that I was going to have to get back into the water and swim to shore.  Ben was a speck in the distance, still swimming up the loch, so he clearly wasn't planning on coming back.  It actually felt warmer getting back in the loch than when I was in it previously, most likely because I'd got so cold on the island in sopping wet clothes, but still, swimming back to Lairg helped to warm me a little more.

It was a soggy walk back from Lairg to the lodge, but not too far, and thankfully nobody was around to witness my drenched walk of shame, although had anyone appeared I'd have smiled and tried to look as though it was perfectly normal to be walking the streets of a Highland village in sopping wet clothes on a perfectly dry day.

When I got back to Lairg Lodge, I stood in the porch for a minute wondering what to do so that I didn't splodge soggy, dirty footprints all over the plush carpets...

I opted for the slightly risky, but straightforward option.  I stripped off in the porch and borrowed a couple of coats to wrap around me so that I wasn't streaking through the lodge.  I ran as stealthily as possible to my room, trying to stop any drips from my soggy bundle of clothes marking the carpet, and then practically dived into the bath...

It was lush!  I spent ages soaking in the deep bath full of hot water with luxurious scented bath bubbles, and scrubbing all the loch muck off with wonderfully rich, creamy soap.  Honestly, I think I could've stayed there for the rest of the night had I not been spurred out by hunger and a waft of deliciousness floating upstairs from the dining room.

As I'm almost at the end of the ride and many of my clothes are now a little on the shabby side from the rough trip they've had with the various adventures and several disasters, I decided I'd ditched the sodden clothes.  That dilemma dealt with, I put on my least shabby clean clothes and went down for dinner.  The table was set beautifully...

First course was a light and warming plate of perfectly cooked, creamy scrambled eggs with smoked salmon...

...which was followed by a huge salmon platter...

I was a bit 'salmoned out' by the end of it, but I was exhausted, so more than happy just to have a full tummy and watch the sunset before going to bed...

In case you're wondering what happened to the coats, nobody seemed to miss them, and after they'd dried out I hung them back in the porch.  They were a little muddy, but nothing that wouldn't wash out so I think I got away with it.

So only two rides left now until I reach John O'Groats, though they're both sizeable rides of 80km and 81km respectively.  The penultimate ride is tomorrow morning, so I'd best be getting to bed, but please do sponsor me if you haven't already, or would even like to for a second time.  All monies raised go to the charity Pop-Up Gym in Gateshead, which provide facilities for folk like myself with spinal cord injuries, or with other neurological problems, or for stroke rehabilitation, to exercise on specially adapted equipment, with assistance from personal trainers or gym volunteers.  It provides a safe and friendly environment, with equipment that isn't available for the general public with these conditions anywhere else in the North of England.  Members and one-off users pay to use the facilities, but at a hugely subsidised rate so funds are greatly needed to keep the charity going.  Please do donate if you can.  It's easy to do so at my Just Giving Page, and every penny is very much appreciated.  My goal was £2500.  I'm unlikely to achieve that now, but maybe you can help get me to £1600 or even £1650.  

I'll see you at my next port of call, 80km up the road on the north coast of Scotland near Thurso.  In the meantime, thank you for your support.


**All photos are from Google Images, except for that of the MotoMed.