Jura by Jim Sutherland

I had just retired from nearly 30 years of teaching in high school.  I was supposed to be resting and preparing for a 450 mile bikepacking event in the north of England but when Al asked me if I wanted to go on an adventure to the island of Jura off the west coast of Scotland I did not have to think twice!  I had only ever guided road biking trips on this unforgettable island so the chance to undertake an adventure of our own was very strong.

Over the years we have been on many, many local and more remote expeditions together.  I knew right away that he would have studied the forecast, checked out the ferry timetables and researched the route.  The plan was to get to a rocky bay just south of the Corryvreckan Whirlpool - one of the greatest whirlpools on the planet.  We would also be just around the corner from a cottage called Barnhill where George Orwell wrote 1984.  

In order to get to Glentrosdale Bay we were going to have to ride heavily loaded bikes 30 miles up the coast on a steadily deteriorating road, unpaved track and eventually rough rocky trails.  At a suitable point we would then swap out our bike bags and dry bags into our backpacks before hiking nearly 4 miles through punishing, virtually pathless terrain at times to the shore.  There we agreed to sleep in large open caves that Al had visited before, or if they were full of dead goats and deer after the winter we would simply sleep in the open!

The packing for 5 or 6 days bikepacking in Yorkshire would have to wait.  I had one afternoon to plan, prepare and pack for this trip.  What works for me is to write out, or sketch out what the plan is for each day, breaking it down into travel, morning/afternoon/evening, meals and mode of travel.  My main concern was to bring enough food, especially if the conditions changed as hanging out in caves would be hungry work!

My choice of bike was a steel Brother Cycles BigBro hardtail with front & rear racks and big tires.  My choice of backpack was my Minimalist V2 because I already had experience of how well it can be ‘overpacked’ and the amount of food I planned on taking was certainly going to do that.

I chose a down sleeping bag because we were only just into May and the nighttime temperatures were still often close to freezing.  I went for a twenty year old air mattress which had proved itself tough enough to cope with rocky, thorny and rough terrain both here in Scotland and in Zion NP.  The rest of my kit was fairly standard with sleeping clothes, waterproof jacket & trousers, down jacket, hat/gloves/buffs and lots of midge repellent!  Al was taking a gas stove and also mentioned a fire on the beach to cook on, so all I had to bring in the kitchen was an already blackened pot for use on the fire.  Did I mention lots of food as well?  Walking poles were an absolute must in order to keep as much of the weight off my hips or knees as possible.

I live just around the block from Al so it was easy enough to ride around to his for our 7:00 am departure for the ferry at Kennacraig some 177 miles away.  The drive was a good chance to catch up on things.  Al had lots of tales about his work on boats across in this part of Scotland some time ago.  He also had run an adventure business before they were a thing!  Our early departure built in plenty of time for additional food stops, coffee and just time to enjoy both being ‘on the West’.

On the ferry we were treated to breathtaking views of the Argyll hills as well as the Inner Hebridean islands which all seem to be so unique.  Our eyes were nearly always drawn to Jura though.  Eventually we got to Port Askaig on the island of Islay where we disembarked and quickly boarded the simple roll-on-roll off ferry that shuttles between Islay and Jura.  Then at 2:30 pm it hit us…  all that was left to do was ride the 30 miles up to the highpoint of the track towards Glen Trosdale.  Our loads were huge.  I did not weigh it as there was not really anything that I could do without.  As this was a committing, remote and tough expedition.  Raising my seat a little more than usual did appear to make it more efficient when pedalling on the many short and long uphills but it did introduce some pain behind my left knee.  I knew the route as far as a wee pier at a place called Ardlussa.  Here is where guests board a motor launch for the mainland on the guided trips I sometimes work in the summer.  For us Ardlussa signalled the start of some punishing up and down on a steadily deteriorating road surface.  By now it was clear that this was not going to be a pushover, even for experienced and hardened riders like us.  After passing the end of road signs we rode on a more open, rocky and sweeping track heading north.  At a locked shed we decided to leave the bikes, transition our kit into our packs and head for the coast.  We appeared to have a choice of routes: a steep quad bike track that looked as if it went vertically up the hillside or a contouring line into Glen Trosdale.  Or at least that is what we thought!  What came next was some of the most challenging terrain that I have walked over with a big pack in many, many years.  After nearly an hour I stopped basing my progress on the map.  Instead I set myself a visible target, eg. a steeper section of path with oak trees, or a flat boggy area in the distance.  Luckily these boggy areas were not that boggy as the whole of the UK has been experiencing incredibly warm and dry conditions for much of April and all of May so far.  

As we reached the stream that flowed down Glen Trosdale we were treated to a gorgeous sunset with the few clouds in the distance turning a beautiful pink above a grey sea.  At the point where we filled our water bottles the head torches had to go on.  It was nearly 8:30 pm and we had almost reached the caves.  Sure enough an initial check of the first two or three showed dead goats so we had no choice but to sleep out in the open; warm and comfortable in our sleeping bags inside old-school Goretex bivvy bags.  Now by the light of our head torches we quickly boiled water to make instant soup and noodles.  Nothing else.  Too tired for dram!  Lie down.  Stop and drink in the sounds of the sea whilst staring up at the stars.  What a day.

I think that the sun woke me about 5 in the morning.  Looking around from the warmth and comfort of my sleeping bag I could see that it was, as forecast, another gorgeous day.  Al and I had agreed the night before to have a more chilled second day with an exploration of the nearby coast on foot.  But before any of that Al was going to teach me the art of the ‘frazzle fire’!  I walked across the beach to collect firewood, kindling and any old dry heather I could find.  We are both very aware of our responsibilities of Leave No Trace so our fire site was chosen in sheltered rocks right by the tide line so that after we had finished and cleared up the sea would take care of any remaining ash, or small debris.  The frazzle fire starts with a fist full of dry heather that is lit in the shelter of the rocks.  Once it goes more can be added before a more conventional process of adding progressively larger pieces of driftwood to build a heart for the fire.  Sure enough within no time at all we had boiling water for our porridge and of course the Aeropress for some fresh coffee.

Al and I left about 1100 with light daypacks in which we packed a windproof/waterproof, a lunch of cheese, meat, snack bars and water.  As we headed along the easy grassy south side of the bay we were treated to an  incredible display of primroses.  Probably the most I have ever seen.  They covered the ground like some yellow, fairytale carpet.  Soon Al started to point out where otters had been moving from the sea in order to clean themselves in pools of freshwater.  He also taught me how to recognise their droppings.

Initially the terrain was very similar to the previous night with gently sloping ground that provided fantastic vantage points at the top.  Out of the wind on one such top we spent a fair bit of time watching the many seabirds moving around the waters, presumably feeding.  I also began to try and eat my way through the colossal amounts of food I’d brought.  Al did try to help but he’d also taken way too much.  The western end of the whirlpool was visible but calm because of the tidal conditions.  Later on in the day when the tide was moving the white standing waves would become clear to the naked eye.

After our leisurely lunch it was time to tackle the more rocky and challenging headland that would take us around towards ‘Bagh Uamh Mhor’, in Gaelic the bay of the great hideout, or cave.  The variety of rock types was incredible and we really should have had a geologist along with us!  The slabs, gullies and short walls provided entertaining scrambling which we both agreed was very similar to the routes up into some of the great cliffs in The Cuillin Mountains of Skye.  Rather than retrace our steps we agreed to take a more shattered rock slope that Al thought would allow us to work up above the main rocks.  It worked and we were soon picking our way along narrow ledges with a drop back down to the rocky beach.  Before returning to our primrose garden I was treated to a sight that I have only experienced once before.  I came across a small adder on the path.  Fortunately I was able to react in time and not stand on it!

I did for a short time wonder if there had been adders near us last night as we slept out in the open?  Possibly the terrain was too open for them - I hoped so.

When we got back to camp we discussed the plan for day 3 and both agreed that given the difficulties of the ground on the way in we should leave pretty early.  I suggested to speed things up that we did not have a warm breakfast of coffee or porridge.  Instead have a snack bar and some water then crack on.  Al agreed.  So we both headed off to find more sheltered spots to sleep that night as it was forecast to rain.  I chose a small overhanging wall and Al managed to find an archway. I spent a fair bit of time organising my gear.  On the way here I had carried everything in two large drybags strapped to my bike.  One of the drybags was a SixMoon Designs 50l pack where I put my sleeping system and items that simply had to be dry.  At the transition point I clumsily, or lazily jammed one of these drybags into my Minimalist V2 and then strapped the other to the top.  For the walk out I organised my gear as if I was hiking so that I would have a more balanced load.  This took a bit of to and fro but eventually had sorted things out so that all I had to do in the morning was roll up my sleep system and put it straight into the 50l drybag.  

Sure enough after dinner the clouds did close in a lot more towards dusk.  I was tired but also still absolutely bursting with the enjoyment of this adventure to a special remote place so sleep did not come as quickly as I would have liked.  Not long after I did fall asleep I was woken with a rumbling noise which at first I thought was the whirlpool coming to life.  A flash of lightning closeby put that notion straight out of my head.  The peals and flashed came more frequently.  I began to wonder how safe we were in a place surrounded by small peaks and jagged rocks all above some very loose rocks.  Then the rain started.  My overhanging bivvy spot was enough to see me through the night.  I got enough rest in order to make the 5:00am start without my usual snooze-button bashing.

In the light of dawn we found a much better track out from the coast.  We even managed to come across evidence of ruins and walls from crofting.  Soon enough we arrived at the shed where we had left the bikes what seemed weeks before!  All the ups became downs and all the downs became ups on the ride back to the ferry but on balance I think that the ride south was easier.

After a 5:00am start we rolled back home that night at about 10:30pm.  Both pretty wasted but inside bursting with happiness after a great adventure, in great company.  Do this more!