With an old bike ...
... by Bill McLaughlin?

15. The Turning Point Next morning I turned my back on Ullapool with great regret. I could have stayed on, but my self imposed timetable told me I had to get moving. I headed back up the road towards Corrieshalloch and braced myself for a long walk. No way was I going to tackle the three mile climb back up from the sea. I had about sixty miles in front of me. and Once past the high point, at the gorge, it was across the the road crossed barren moor land for about twenty miles, past The Aultguish Inn at the end of Loch Glasgarnoch and then down onto Garve for my first stop. A railway station! I felt as though I had come back into to civilisation again! The waiting room served as a good shelter from the storm that had suddenly blown up. The rain had lost none of its ferocity when as it followed me from the coast. So far I had been lucky and had kept one step ahead of the driving rain. that It had now caught up with me up. I brewed up, lighting the little Primus in the one corner of the room and filling the tea can from the tap in the gent’s toilet! The door opened and a railway worker came in: ‘Whit the hell dae ye think yer up tae?’ I thought it was obvious, but decided to explain. ‘This is a Waiting room. No some damn Tearoom, but you jist make yersel’ at hame,son!’ His moustache bristled. Being an innocent abroad, I let his sarcasm wash over me, being an innocent abroad I and thanked him for the invitation. He had a uniform with a cap and a hat and an Albert watch on a chain, but no charity. What a terrible contrast with all those that I had met before up till then.. I got up, switched off the stove, emptied the can complete with tealeaves down his sink and wished him well. He watched as I threw my leg over the bike and started off. ‘I hope the tea chokes yer sink ya auld bampot’: I yelled as soon as I was sure he couldn’t catch me! I didn’t stop until I hit Beauly about ten or twelve miles further on! Here I made a stop for tea, this time with water from the river at the bottom of Beauly Gorge. It was better then railway water anytime! I settled myself under some trees for a to get some respite from the rain and enjoyed a steaming can of tea accompanied by some digestive biscuits left over from breakfast. As I pedalled the last few miles towards Cannich,I found myself was getting tired as I pedalled the last few miles towards Cannich and With about two miles to go, I was freewheeling around a bend when the bike skidded on some wet leaves and I lost it! The bike skewed all over the road, my feet slipped from the pedal straps and I hit the grassy bank on the far side. The front wheel stopped dead and the back came around to meet it, throwing me over in a tangle of metal and grass. I picked myself up and realised I had sprained an ankle. but Worse was to come! The handlebars had pulled over round (?) at right angles to the rest of the bike. so I straddled the front wheel and hauled, fortunately managing to straighten them it. The locking nut must have come loose! I opened the saddlebag to get out the small repair kit I was carrying to see if I had a spanner that would fit. Sods law! Nothing would look at it. ‘Good afternoon young fella’. The voice came from behind and startled me! A man was standing watching me, ‘Got some trouble have we?’ I liked the ‘We’! He was dressed in a long overcoat, tied with string. and Well worn boots stuck out from below it while covering his head was a greasy looking bunnet. and Over his shoulder he carried a large kitbag. Most striking was his hair or rather his beard. His hair was long and greasy, shoulder length at least, maybe more, but his beard stretched right down covering over his chest like some huge sporran! I felt a bit His appearance frightened me a bit by his appearance, but his voice didn’t belong to the figure his physical appearance. It had a highland lilt, but polite and had with a gentle, reassuring quality about it. ‘Lets Let us see what you’ve have done my boy’: he said as he leaned over the bike. Then he noticed me hopping back and said, ‘Don’t tell me you have done in your leg as well!’ The kitbag came off the his shoulder and from somewhere deep inside he produced a bandage! It was a bit grotty, but it was a bandage. and He strapped my ankle up tightly and painfully. The next delve into the bag produced a roll with some spanners. and Miraculously, he had one to fit the handlebar locknut! ‘I cannot ’t do much for your tyre tho’ he said. I looked down and could have cried. Along one side of the rear tyre was a rip, exposing which exposed the inner tube,. Disaster! ‘I’ll walk you into Cannich’: he said, ‘then we’ll will see what can be done.’ As we walked, he told me his name was Davie, Davie Graham; Gentleman of the road, tramp, vagrant, a graduate of the University of Life. An engineer to trade. He told me of how he had lost everything in a fire and had taken to the road - ’too many years ago to remember’ and had taken to the road. He got by doing odd jobs and telling stories. and He seemed remarkably happy. He was intending intended staying in an outhouse he knew about just near the hostel I was heading for.and I marvelled at how anybody could survive like that. When we reached the hostel where Davie was hailed like a long lost friend. as we had passed Passing through the village, he had greeted everybody we met and they had returned the compliment. This guy was a celebrity. He explained my predicament to the warden and it was decided we would eat first, and sort out the problem later. After tea, we went into a small workshop next door. The rear tyre was ruined and needed to be replaced. Unfortunately there were no bicycle shops around. A piece of rubber was found however,and out of which we proceeded to cut a gaiter to glue inside the tyre in an attempt to try and keep me going. I was told that the nearest shop I was told was in Fort Augustus, at the end of Loch Ness, some thirty odd miles away at the end of Loch Ness. I was a bit worried, but also weary so I slept soundly that night, weary and a bit worried. I had been expecting some cash from home and asked the Warden if there was any mail for me. as I had been expecting some cash from home. No letters! Nothing! I really began to really worry. I was short of money as it was, only a couple of shillings left. almost ‘Skint’ was the term! a couple of shilling left, but Now I knew I would have to cough up for a new tyre - if I made it to Fort Augustus! Next morning, after thanking my new pal, I set off after thanking my new pal. The ankle was tender but the warden had found a crepe bandage in his first aid kit and had redressed re-bound the sprain strain. Davie got his bandage back and it promptly disappeared into the kitbag along with a new roll of string and a knife and fork he had ‘found’; left in the kitchen by some previous traveller. I could would swear that guy would could have produced anything from that bag. I waited until for the postman’s arrival arrived. When he did come, I and almost yelled with delight. Ma had come good. There was a letter! I opened it and two well worn pound notes fell at my feet. ‘Thank you, Ma! Thank you!’ I offered up a my silent appreciation.

I made it up to Drumnadrochit, through the Fairy glen. and While appreciating the woodland scenery, my mind was on the patch we had fitted to the tyre. Just before the Loch Ness road junction, I hit a small pothole and heard a definite ‘Bang!’ The gaiter had slipped, exposing the inner tube, which had swelled like a blister of bubblegum and immediately blew blown out. I took the saddlebag off and upended the bike. At least I had a puncture repair kit. It didn’t look good, the tube was slit. The worst kind of problem! I took out the longest patch I had with French chalk to clean up the wound. I then glued the patch in place and inflated the tyre. The inner tube began to come through the hole in the tyre again, so I started all over again, this time using more glue to keep the gaiter in place. I got down to Loch Ness and only made it about three miles further when, ‘Bang!’, again. The repair was not working! Because I had turned the tyre away from the new patch, I had succeeded in making another hole in the inner tube! So Another repair was called for. I repeated the process and again moved the new repair away from the outer hole. I got to about as far as Balbeg when it happened again. As I opened up the repair tin, I was beginning to despair as I opened up the repair tin again. Only two more patches left, and the glue tube was looking a bit sick! This time, the repair held for about five miles before blowing out like a sperm whale. ‘Whoosh!. And down onto the rims again. I walked for a while, not wanting to see look at the damage, but now my ankle was beginning began to be painful pain me and I had to give in. This time I sat on an old milestone about seven miles from the bike shop! Repairs effected affected, I set off again and made travelling about three miles before again once more hearing that sickening ‘Bang!’ My resolve broke down and I cried. I had a bad ankle, a broken bike and still a long way to go. Too far, I felt. it felt too far too go on. After sobbing for a while, I looked around to see if anybody had noticed me. and I felt foolish,. ‘C’mon McLaughlin! Greetin isnae gonnae get ye anywhere.’ I used the last patch, it which was a joke, meant for repairing pin pricks. and I knew it wouldn’t last. Still, if I walked a couple of miles, maybe I could get a lift! Cars were few and far between, so I mounted up and gave it another go. I got about two miles before the inevitable happened. I raged, and jumped up and down, threw the bike at a hedge and screamed at it, then stopped suddenly I stopped, remembering an old tale my Dad had told me. Once, on a trip, when he was stuck with and some of his pals were stuck on a trip with a blown outer tyre, they had stuffed grass into the wheel to get them back home! Could this work for me? I upended the bike again and levered off the tyre to one side. Taking handfuls of anything and everything, I started to stuff the tyre. all around. My old man hadn’t told me how long this had taken took and it seemed ages before I had enough to make it look like a soft tyre! Gingerly I got back on the bike and sure enough it seemed to hold. Slowly I got moving again, but, after about half a mile, heard a grating sound as the rim started running aground. So I repeated the stuffing operation but took longer this time and so succeeded in making gaining a couple of miles before getting that sinking feeling again. Using the bike for support, I hobbled the last mile or so into Fort Augustus. I was directed to the bicycle shop which was like heaven1 I had never seen so many tyres and tubes. The inner tube was beyond further repair and the outer tyre no longer able to serve its purpose. I had to buy both. ‘That’ll be two pounds, four shillings altogether’ The look on my face must have told the assistant the whole story, ‘Hang on, son, I’ll talk to the manager,’ He came back with an older guy in tow; I had two pounds and two shillings in my pocket and still well over a hundred miles to get home! I asked for credit and promised to send him the money when I got home. ‘How much do you have?’ asked the manager. I told him. ‘OK! he said, I’ll give you a discount. How about One Pound Nineteen and sixpence?’ ‘Deal!’ I said, not being in any position to bargain. As I left the shop, the manager called to the assistant, ‘Away and change that tyre for the boy.’ A new lease of life! I had a half crown in my pocket and was back on the road again. Yes!!! The pain in my ankle lessened by my feeling of relief, I set off at speed fired away and headed for Loch Lochy, twenty miles away, the pain in my ankle subsiding with my feeling of relief and headed the twenty miles to Loch Lochy. the stop where It was there that I had first encountered the black girl.

The warden remembered me from my previous visit and welcomed me in. He commenting commented on the bandage,: ’Been in the wars then?’ I was just happy just to rest up for the night so but first I set about using the last of my cash to buy a tin of Spam. and I had that with toast and some bread that had survived the bike being thrown at the hedge. The hostel was quiet this time round. and he The warden lit a fire, piling on some logs. Even in summer the nights got a bit chilly around here. ‘Your not eating much, are you? Said remarked my host, ‘Running out of money?’ So I told him my tale. He didn’t seem surprised at the turn of events and offering as an offered his opinion that I had been mad to try and do what I had done with the meagre resources I had. I was pleased that I had made the journey but was apprehensive as to about the next leg. ‘Tell you what,’ he offered, ‘If you help me in the morning with a problem on the roof, I'll pay you and give you tonight’s accommodation free.’ I needed no second invitation and didn’t even bother to ask more details about the job. Next morning, out came the extension ladder. The warden explained that he had a fear of heights and asked if I could make it to the roof while he held the ladder! Since the pain in the my ankle was subsiding, it was no bother to get up there. He sent me up tied some slate tiles to on a rope and proceeded to direct me to the faulty ones on the roof that needed replacing. This was a dawdle. I whacked the tiles into place and sat back. It was only then that I realised what a magnificent view I had. clinging As I clung to the chimneybreast. I could see right across to Loch Lochy and beyond, then a view, across the hill, towards Loch Arkaig. The sun was shining. and I could have sat up there all day.