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We are hoping to gain, relief from the strain
Of heavy traffic all heading South
We turn towards Dornoch by a tranquil loch
That we enjoy all the way to its mouth.
What’s that then? An otter, says Den
As I slam on the brakes while he havers
But we’re both out of luck, it’s only a duck
He should have gone to Specsavers.
We turn again on the way to Tain
In search of a calm route to Nigg
We follow Route 1, in glorious sun
This tour’s been one heck of a gig.
We stop for a drink and his first Cullen Skink
He thinks he’s died and just gone to heaven
But the café’s not heard of Den’s special word
So now he’s nought for eleven.
There is joy as we wheel past Easter Airfield
Where the saltires and windsocks billow
We are truly content with what nature has sent
More tunnels of amarillo.
Time is not tight so we stop for a bite
The next ferry we’ll reach with ease
No Prêt à Manger about, but they’d eat their heart out
For my sandwich of haggis and cheese.
We get to the terminus feeling quite marvellous
Till one of the locals speaks
Sure there’s a boat but it’s not yet afloat
Come back in another two weeks.
Our back-up alerted, disaster averted
And soon we’re at Cromarty’s shore
Who knew that Scotland could also be hot land?
Refreshments al fresco once more.
The heat brings out flies that can get in your eyes
And we keep changing the specs we’ve got on
For the sun disappears and then reappears
In a landscape of yellow-green tartan.
After 12 days of pedalling and a lot of my meddling
Den’s learned the name of the game
Having said it enough, now it’s straight off the cuff
Are you glad I brought you? Are you pleased you came?
We finish the ride, swept along on a tide
Of thoughts about all sorts of beers
I can hardly wait to celebrate
My longest bike tour in seventy years.
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