Distance: 69.07 miles

Time: 6:56

Elevation: 3113 feet

After an enjoyable breakfast in the Station Hotel, the road started as I hoped it wouldn’t go on, with a 12 mile climb up ‘The Struie’. The gradient was kind, and at 250m the views out over the Dornoch Firth were worth the toil.

On the descent, I stopped to take photos and got talking to a few people from a coach tour – who were on a cruise to Orkney – they liked the sound of my trip and deliberated whether they could do it on their electric bikes.

Plunging down to Ardgay, on the Dornoch Firth, the route led me past the Falls of Shin. Stopping at the falls, there was great excitement, as the Salmon were leaping up the river. I was lucky enough to see two during my short spell there.

Stopping in Lairg after a long tough morning, and 30 miles, I made for the Pier Cafe, feasting on an open ciabatta layered with black pudding, avocado, halloumi and bacon, drizzled with a sriracha mayo. I spoke to two cycle tourists on the way out, they had been on a similar length trip to mine, but had dotted about the north of Scotland, and popped over to the Outer Hebrides. It sounded lovely, but had they stayed in a Travelodge in Warrington, you have to ask?

After lunch, I settled in for the afternoon. It was 36 miles to Tongue, and the couple at lunch, had said that it was a good combination of flat with rolling hills. Unfortunately, that didn’t factor in the headwind; as soon as I set out across the endless miles of open moorland, I felt the force of the 12 mph block headwind, and then the rolling hills began to trend upwards and by the time I was passing the Crask Inn it was a fully fledged climb, back over 250m once more.

A nice descent followed, with ample opportunity to survey Ben Klibreck’s route options for my future Munro attempt. Then I passed the desecrated remains of a hill-side commandeered for a future wind farm project.

Through Altnaharra, a stiff climb ensued, and it was tough going, thanks to the recently returning sunshine, the headwind and the quality of the road. For every pedal stroke I made, it felt like I was moving mere inches.

Passing Loch Loyal, under the eastern flank of Ben Loyal, the plateau was flattening off and I was sure it would be starting downwards to the coast very soon. But then the road turned a corner and upwards it went, clambering up to 200 metres round the shoulder of the hill.

Only then did I get what I’d wanted, almost 70 miles of struggle and persistence, had led me to the prospect of it being all down hill to the sea.

I rattled down the steep lanes of Tongue, arriving at the Hostel and Campsite at 19:53, just 7 minutes to spare before the reception was to shut. Luckily the camping areas were plentiful, and have fantastic views over the Kyle of Tongue. And for now, this is the farthest North on Mainland Scotland, I’ve ever been.

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