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

The hostel looked strange at first, kind of out of place, I'd seen it before, but not here, not in this wilderness, not sitting at the foot of the granite giants. Then it struck me! This house should have been in Glasgow, the posh bit. It looked like a smaller version of one of the mansions in Glasgow's south-side. It was definitely a Victorian villa. In an early earlier school term I had done a project on old Glasgow and had came come across a lot of many examples of this kind of building. I just didn't expect to see one here! The building nestled into the hillside and looked overpowered looked dwarfed by the hill at the back. I went through the front door and looked for the warden. Nobody! Nothing! Silence! I looked into the front rooms; there was one on either side of the main hall. I expected expecting some kind of sitting room or common area, but no, there were about five beds in each, obviously dormitories, I was glad I had worked that one out. Through to the back and there was another dorm and an empty room. No Kitchen, no stoves nowhere anywhere to heat up my 'scabbie dug'! I walked back outside and ran into a guy who yelled 'Hello' as if I was deaf. He was probably about between 23 and 24, and had a black bushy beard and looked as if he was dressed for fishing (from a whaleboat) 'Aye' he shouted, and I wondered if maybe it was so quiet here he had forgotten how to talk normally. 'I'm the warden, here for the summer - and everybody makes the same mistake, coming in here instead of up to the office up the hill.' Strange the way he thundered on not without pausing or stopping for breath or pausing ‘This is the men's dorm you see - look out the window up that track about half a mile - you'll see the little white house - that's the ladies dorm and the office and the kitchen-leave your bike here and I'll book you in later - before you do pick any bed we're quiet just now - any bed's ok - leave your bike here and just walk up.' Then he was gone. I picked a bed in the front, next to the window from which I had with a great view right up the loch. then With took my saddlebag, I then and trudged up the hill. There were four men and three women, climbers by the look of them, the stove was on and I was immediately offered a cup of tea. 'We were about to eat’ said one of the women, ‘join us, there's plenty grub'. I said ‘No thanks.’ I had some food in my bag. 'Well keep it for another time' she says, And she laid a plate of stew in front of me! After dinner, we all sat around talking and a singsong developed. I joined in where I could, but eventually just listened. This crowd were so used to each others company. One song followed another, mostly quiet songs with one of them singing a verse and the rest joining in the chorus. I was getting hooked and was thoroughly enjoying the camaraderie when the door blew open! It was the young warden 'Good evening' he bawled. Atmosphere gone! He had been fishing and wanted to share his catch, the biggest fish I had seen outside of a fish and chip shop! It was He duly gutted and cleaned and filleted it expertly. by him, He cooked it on the stove and shared it around. I’ve never tasted fish like that again since, more's the pity. Pretty soon after, we all decided it was time to turn in, I had forgotten that the men's dorm was back down the hill in the village. We all said goodnight to the women and went outside. It was as black as the earl of hell's waistcoat! A highland night when the cloud cover came over blotting blotted out the stars, with No lights anywhere except the one from the comfortable kitchen we had just left. 'Not a problem' yells our warden, 'I know the track like the back of my hand - I'll get in front - we go down in single file - put your hand on my shoulder' as He reached out and grabbed my hand. 'There, can you find young Billy here?' I felt a hand on my shoulder and we set off we went, laughing and giggling like schoolboys. Here I was, second in line, in a file of six guys tramping down a hill in pitch-black darkness. It was like something from the Marx brothers. 'Right' the voice in front of me shouted, 'Stop! Stop! there's a slight drop - go careful put your foot out slow and you'll feel it.’ We negotiated that and the hill started to level out. We were walking faster. there was a A little two plank bridge across a burn that cut the path in two. The shoulder in front of me disappeared and the ground swallowed me. and I yelled as loudly as the warden as when four others followed suit, landing on top of us. We, or rather the warden, had missed the bridge and walked right off the edge of a five foot drop! Like dominoes we had followed screaming and laughing as we landed in the burn 'Christ Hell' he shouts, 'I do that every time!' My sides were sore, my knees were skint and but I was laughing fit to burst. Soaked to the skin, I had never felt so happy!

Next morning I carried out my chores, collecting some wood for the stove up the hill. I hung about for a while taking to take in the scenery, My new Mountain climbing friends took off early to the hills heading for the hills OR took off to the hills early. With a flourish the warden stamped 'Torridon' on my membership accommodation card with a flourish then and I (?) took off towards the jetty. It was a bright morning; the clouds that had caused the havoc the previous night, having had done their damage and moved on. I sat on the shore for a while; the water was flat calm, not a soul about. I saw something move in move about twenty yards offshore and come towards me. When I realised it was an otter I couldn't believe my eyed eyes.when I realised it was an otter! I sat perfectly still. like I imagined the descriptions in some of the books I had read would have told me (Supperfluous?). The Otter came nearer and nearer then rolled over floating to float on its back, then twisting twisted under the water. I was spellbound and I waited for a while but it didn't reappear. Eventually I decided I had to move on to my next destination. Gairloch beckoned, I jumped on the bike and left Inveralligan hostel behind, I had mistakenly thought that was to be the name of the house, turns out that it was also the name of the village as well as the house. Torridon, the village proper lay about three miles along the single track road! So much for research! Ah well, it was only a highland mile anyway. The upper loch came to an end on a seaweed strewn, shingle beach. It seemed a shame that such a magnificent loch should stop finish like this. It took me only seconds to pass I passed through what had been my original target, in seconds, whizzing past the crofts like a man demented and on into onto the little road with signs marked 'passing places' The road through Glen Torridon was wild with all kinds of numerous sudden changes of direction, steep climbs and even steeper descents. The builders must have simply decided to simply follow the contours of the land and lay a strip of tarmac in order to call it a road. It made for fun cycling, since there was no traffic except sheep. I could veer all over the place behaving like a madman. Maybe I was a madman! I was around 200 miles from home by road and as far as the eye could see there were no people was no one in front of me and precious few people behind. I was on a bike that probably should n't never have been used on a simple daytrip and I was running out of money! I started to frighten myself and stopped the bike. Silence! The shriek of a buzzard broke the quietness and I laughed and shouted some obscenity at it. Maybe this was why the last warden shouted all the time? Shout and you hear your echo. You're not alone! I moved on and came within sight of Beinn Eighe, a big bald white mountain, I had been told that if I wanted to see eagles this was the place. and Sure enough as I got nearer I spotted what could only be an eagle, circling lazily high above. My day was made; if this was madness I wanted to keep it OR hold on to it! The road took me by Kinlochewe and northwest to pass by along Loch Maree with its little islands. It was breathtaking, each bend showing revealing more beautiful views than the last one before. Today was to be an easy day, I had only planned about 35miles to Gairloch, so had lots of time. I stopped and hauled out the faithful Primus intending to make some tea by the lochside. Before that operation doing so I took my bag and walked up the hill a little way to get a better view. At the top of the ridge I looked to over the other side and spied a terrific waterfall. Turned out Queen Victoria had beat beaten me to this place as and had the falls were named after her! A great place to drum up! I still had some cheese sandwiches Since the people I met had been refusing to let me eat my own food, I still had some cheese sandwiches so I found a place by the river, made tea, ate sandwiches and thought I was in heaven: a Mad heaven, but a heaven for sure.

Back on the road, I made my way to Gairloch. At first sight it seemed obvious that the old Queen had visited this area, she had and left behind a lot of old Victorian buildings behind! The village stood near the end of an inlet, which was about a mile wide and a couple of miles to the mouth long. The hostel which sat on a little hill facing out to sea had, in all probability, originally been a holiday home for some toff from London. sat on a little hill facing out to sea, originally a holiday home for some toff from London probably, It had the usual provisions shop, office and separate dorms but it was closed, according to as were the rules for Youth hostel rules: 'Closed from 9a.m until 4p.m.' With a couple of hours to kill, I walked the bike around the back to find somewhere to leave it and almost tripped up in surprise! Three of the most beautiful blonde girls were sitting on the back wall, bronzed skin bronzed and hair bleached by the sun. I had just had My first encounter with Scandinavians or Norwegians as I was corrected later informed. My first words weren't exactly inspired, ‘Is it awright if a park ma bike here?’ They all laughed, probably at this the strange accent, maybe at the question, maybe at me? Three sets of gleaming white teeth nearly blinded me and I stumbled to make proper conversation, 'You steyin here the night?’ Stupid! ‘Ah've just arrived’ More stupid. They just laughed, ‘You are correct?’ said the smallest one. By this time they had jumped from the wall and joined me at the back gate. All three were taller than me, which wasn't too hard difficult, but the phrase word ‘towering’ came to mind and that was only Margarethe, the smallest one! I established that they were not sisters as I had first thought been my first impression, but classmates who had finished the Norwegian version of our secondary school and were taking a year off to travel. I was impressed. The hostel opened up at the usual time. and The warden reminded me of My Auntie Isa, a big bosomed woman with long forties style hair. I offered to do a couple of chores in advance of the next morning, hoping she would give me a few things to do then reward me with a free night’s board. Not only did I get the night’s lodging, but she had some tins of soup she couldn't sell and said that I might as well have them. That night, we all sat around the kitchen area with a couple of guys who had arrived from Ullapool where I was headed would be heading in a couple of days. We had come from all points of the compass it seemed. The Warden called us: ‘Look outside’ she said (unnecessary?). There was not a cloud in the sky. It was one of those long, long Highland days when the sun doesn't set till very late and even then you can see echoes it all through the night. The sky was pale blue moving turning to mauve with a great pink tinge at the edges as the sun was dipping. Margarethe and her pals had been the subject of some heavy chatting up by the other guys who had arrived and all had decided to go down to the beach and watch the stars. I had been kind of quiet, checking out Margarethe and wondering? She smiled, then disappeared upstairs and reappeared with a couple of the Hostel blankets. ‘For you, for me. We sit under the stars, yes?" Yes! Next day we parted reluctantly, exchanged addresses, promised to keep in touch but never did, and never met again.