Headwind, Hail, Rain & Smoked Salmon
I set out on this trip wanting to ride out a collaborative effort between Poler Stuff & Urban Destroyers.
Poler, with their love for adventure and enlightenment, Urban Destroyers with its love and dedication to the basic ‘bike concept’: to enjoy the ride, to take it outside of the cities confinements where limits are obsolete.
Where #campvibes meet #rideithard to create #PolerGoAwol.
Our chosen journey started in the small, quiet town of Oban, deep on the West coast of the Scotland, well, ‘quiet’ is what our imagination had led us to believe.. Our team of 3 had travelled there in various ways, I first bumped in to Alex on a small Glasgow side street, soon after we found Dan idling at Glasgow Queen Street station, looking slightly lost yet quite content with where he seemed to have found himself, having possibly not left the brick filled London in a while.. Together our trio caught a small, somewhat shabby looking train from Glasgow onwards to our final destination, or rather, our starting point of Oban.
A stunning two-hour trip along the beautiful Scottish coastal scape led us to our meeting point to link up with the remaining crew. With Harry and Sky greeting us only George remained, from there we would find our first camp spot…simple, not exactly.
Quickly George was found engaged in the task of re-building his bike after the unavoidable dismantlement needed to cope with a lengthy bus journey and it was decided that we should experience our first Scottish outback experience before the first ferry journey on to Castlebay on the Isle of Barra.
With a suitable spot found close by, overlooked by a lighthouse no less, the potential wake up scenario was too picturesque to leave behind.
Coming across possibly Britain’s greasiest fish and chip shop we decided to have our last warm meal before our adventure. This is where it gets a little noisy.. Whilst enjoying our grease laden protein supper, unbeknownst to us the town’s local jester took it upon himself to play a prank, procuring one of our bikes parked outside, not cool. After a frantic five minutes of running around investigating and chasing the said jester with scenes reminiscent of a Benny Hill sketch we finally relived him of our steed.
According to the crowd assembled out of curiosity (guessing not much happens here) the new bike owner had found our bike a little too heavy for his liking, deciding to drop it and make the whole event look like a big friendly joke. Ha ha. We laughed with him as not to upset anyone and returned sheepishly to our half eaten fishy bliss.
Well, no one said touring bikes are easy to ride around after few pints.
4 ferries 8 days 8 islands
We chose Hebrides archipelago for our trip because it’s the furthest North Westerly point of Great Britain, a seemingly meticulous maze made up of over 100 small islands. The local landscape is as dreamlike as it is bizarre, there are no woods and rock formations seem to dominate, just like the dry vermillion sand dominates the desert. At times in fact, I thought we were in the desert, only the constant sounds of the ocean reminding us that there existed something other than fields and empty roads.
Our trip was dictated by the nature of islands and because of its raw wilderness, we were simply carried through the various paths along our way. Some were empty, allowing us to feel, if only for a brief while, as though we were the only living souls for miles. However, some paths we shared with fellow car drivers who quickly took us out of our romantic daydream (luckily the drivers in Hebrides are the most pleasant I’ve yet to encounter). The many ferries we had taken from island to island scheduled our journey time. But in between we had enough time to explore these extra-terrestrial feeling islands.
Our first ferry took us to isle of Barra and our second night of sleeping under the abundant stars, setting up camp on the beautiful coast on the Southern most tip of Vatersay. Even though the sun blessed us with its presence for the set up, we knew that the weather would change with rain clouds on their way. So far we had been lucky, enjoying frequent and idyllic outdoor coffee breaks, in other words #notabadplaceforabrew. Though the sun said hello a few times I had probably been optimistic in packing the SPF50.
During the hours of daily cycling the wind at times was so strong (try 42mph) that when combined with a Northern rain so heavy, we began to sink. This meant we had to find indoor refuge for one night. Trust me, heavy wind on the archipelago is not the same as it is inland. Only the delicious, sublime flavour of the local Salmon smoking business could keep our spirits high, our stomachs satisfied, at least for now, at least while I can still peddle and have my bike spirit. Okay, let’s get back to the point. Whilst the guys were looking for a place to crash camp, I took the opportunity (already being soaked head-to-toe) to stay outside for just a little longer, hanging on to capture these moments in pictures.
Returning from my successful solo shoot, the crew had meanwhile looked sorry enough for a charming and charitable local lady to take pity on us, letting us set up camp on her land, even inviting us in to her quaint home for tea and biscuits… Alas, Mary Bell was our archipelago saviour.
I must admit that the islands anthropomorphically named after Lewis and Harris were my favourite part of the journey; its inexplicable landscape comprising of rocks surrounded by lochs and little bays, utterly devoid of human presence. This otherworldly land echoed in me a feeling as though I had been magically elevated onto a different planet, disconnected from its soils and histories, only there briefly to ride through its unknown routes and camp under its welcoming skies.
A state of adventure, where bikes meet camping.? A place where no road or weather is the limit? The purest way to explore & experience?
Perhaps Polar Go Awol is a state where the bike is transformed into a tool, with which to explore & experience magnificent surroundings whilst gaining an enlightened sense of freedom?
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