The Road to Gruinard Bay

We go off like a train, in the pouring rain

And soon we’re by Loch Maree

It’s our last day but one and we’d welcome some sun

But we’ll settle for what will be

The road’s a flat track, we’ve a breeze at our back

As we barrel along by the loch

The water is clean, crisp, clear and serene 

And we get well ahead of the clock

At the end of the loch, I’m expecting a shock

As we start to climb out of the bowl 

But I’m full of good cheer, when it’s not what I fear 

And soon we’re back on a roll

Down the glen we go, where peat water’s flow

As the rain seeps through my top

Common sense holds sway, at Gairloch Bay

We dry out at a coffee stop

By the shores of Loch Tollaidh, it makes Den’s day

He smiles when he thinks of it still

Cause they’re waving at us, from a double-decker bus

A Seaside Special on the brow of the hill.

I much prefer the highlands to cycling on the islands

Where some drivers are looking for a fight

But it’s a wonder, if true, that they called this Loch Ewe

When there’s barely a sheep within sight.

I remember at Gruinard, “father works for Cunard”

Schoolboy humour from the back of my brain 

Then foreboding grows, at the distant Munroes

Though there’s no need to go there again.

Ullapool