I first cycled on Jura in the September before the pandemic. I’d hoped on that first trip to reach the end of the island and see the Corryvreckan which is the worlds third biggest whirlpool and is situated at the northern tip of the island.
However I hadn’t appreciated just what a hard slog the island would be and consequently hadn’t allotted enough time to complete the trip.
This time I’d ensured I’d have enough time. I’d get the first ferry over to Islay which left Kennacraig at 09.25 and arrived at Port Askaig at 11.45. Then it was a thirty minute wait for the small ferry that runs between Port Askaig and Feolin on Jura. I’d then have two and a half days on the island before returning on the late ferry back from Islay at 20.30.
Cycling the Scottish islands is incredibly cheap. A return to Islay costing £14.00 with the return ticket from Islay to Jura just £4.40. Driving there is the biggest expense in money and time. I left home at 21.00 and arrived at the ferry terminal at 04.15. I bedded down in the car and got a few hours sleep before the sailing.
Feolin to Craighouse
I always find the first few miles of any trip hard going. Once that barrier is broken it usually gets a little easier. Knowing though how long this trip was going to be I found myself constantly questioning why I’m putting myself through this (again). The ‘mere’ eight miles between Feolin and Craighouse are awful, there’s no way around it, they just are. Lack of sleep didn’t help but there are some difficult climbs to tackle. Coming straight off the ferries and getting right down to it is hard. If it was just the bike it would be fine, factor in the weight of the panniers with all the kit required to be self sufficient for three days and it becomes incredibly difficult, and painful. Cycling up the west coast of Jura is arduous the views of Islay are incredible, although they don’t quite ease the pain of the initial four miles.
Eventually after four miles I reached the southern end of the island and Jura House with its pretty wooded area. As on the last trip this was the point that doubt left me and I became confident of completing the trip.
You can tell the ferry has recently arrived as soon as you hear cars behind you. I try to always pull in to give the cars behind me space to get by, quickly. As I did this a car pulled alongside me rolled the window down and said “No need to rush, you’re on Jura now.”
Craighouse to Ardlussa
I reached Craighouse around 2pm, took an obligatory selfie outside the distillery and bought a bottle of Jura Journey Whisky for later that night. There is a small community shop a little further down the road and I decided to get some chocolate for later. The shop only opened after lunch at 2.30 so I hung around waiting for it to open. At this point I realised I’d left my coffee in the car on the mainland. Two and a half days without coffee was disastrous (in my opinion). When the shop opened I considered buying some. I quickly baulked at this idea when I saw that all they had was an overpriced jar of generic instant coffee. Instead I stocked up on some cans of fizzy limeade.
Craighouse to Ardlussa is just over twenty miles, whilst there are a few fairly tough climbs by this point my legs were fully working and the toughest part of the day was over. I breezed through Craighouse and along the town which was lots of cottages and houses clinging to the coastline until I reached the furthest building of the settlement, an old church. After this it was a short climb and into the wide open spaces of the island, this is also the point you get amazing views of The Paps of Jura.
All along this route the heat had been just about bearable with the frequent downhills providing much needed wind in my face. I didn’t see a single person on the road all the way along. Reaching Tarbert I stopped to take in the views of Loch Tarbert, a long sea loch that almost splits Jura in two.
The first time I attempted this trip we had stopped at Tarbert which is just before the Ardlussa estate. It was now 17.30 and I’d been cycling since 12.15. I was fairly pleased with my progress and expected to reach the end of the public road once I passed through the estate which would probably take me another hour.
From the huge skies of the Ruantallain and Tarbert estates I entered Ardlussa, over the cattle grid and through the farm estate and into very cool forest areas. This was countered by having some nasty hills to climb which at this point my legs were done for and I didn’t have the strength to climb any more hills so off the bike and pushing it was. The public road ended three quarters of the way through the estate turning into a dirt track. The following day I’d miss that dirt track.
Finally reached the sign and pitched my tent at just gone seven. Now I discovered that not only had I forgotten my coffee but I’d somehow left my gas burner either in the car or at home. I’d be eating cold food until Friday, fortunately everything I had was edible cold. This reinforced the need to draft a checklist before I leave for a big camping trip, clearly relying on my memory wasn’t good enough.
As I was settling down for the night at the fairly early time of 20.30 I heard something on the gravel outside, quickly popping my head out of the tent there was a cyclist on his way back from the Corryvreckan. A retired man who the previous day had climbed The Paps and was only two Corbetts away from having climbed them all, with an artificial knee. I was fairly impressed with the list of cycling and climbing achievements he rolled off which included John O’Groats to Lands End. I asked him if the path was easy to navigate on his bike, “ Yes although you have to weave in and out as there are large rocks all the way down to Barnhill.”
Ardlussa to Barnhill
Reading the sign it says allow six hours for the round trip. I decided it was safe to leave the tent and most of the food behind which would dramatically decrease the weight on the panniers. All I had left in the panniers was some water, a little food and my sleeping bag. Two reasons I wasn’t leaving the sleeping bag. The first was it was a ridiculously expensive five season sleeping bag, the second was if anything went wrong and I ended up sleeping outdoors I knew I’d be well protected. With all this in mind I thought I’d be able to cut that six hours down to three hours, four at the most
I set out a little lighter and excited that I was a few hours away from somewhere I’d dreamt about visiting for years. That feel quickly left about ten minutes down the path. Yes it was navigable but it’s full of stones, impossible to get any speed up and the biker from the previous evening was correct you have to weave left to right and back again. At times I ended up cycling the middle which was full of grass and very bumpy.
It took me ninety minutes to reach Barnhill, a big white house with its own little bay looking out onto the Sound of Jura.
Barnhill to Corryvreckan
Three miles to go! From here I had another mile of cycling before I would find the path to take me all the way to the Corryvreckan
About a mile after Barnhill the road stops and it’s a path over the hills. It’s not an easy walk, following the path was fairly tricky particularly through the heather and light boggy ground. I finally got there at 13.00, two and a half hours after I’d set out. Going had been painfully slow, large tracts of the route were either unrideable or so uncomfortable it made more sense to walk with the bike. Consequently I realised this would take me closer to the six hours the guide recommended.
Scarba just across the gulf I sat exhausted at somewhere I’d wanted to visit for at least three years. I often feel there should be a finish line or a medal ceremony at this point, that there never is can sometimes feel like an anticlimax. I’d done it though and I sat and soaked it up for twenty minutes. It’s a beautifully remote and peaceful location despite the swirling maelstrom below.
Back to Craighouse
I finally got back to my campsite at 3.30pm which was pretty much a six hour round trip. I rested for half an hour and considered the options.
The last ferry back to Islay was around 17.45 the next day with the ferry back to the mainland around 20.30. I therefore had most of Friday to get back to Feolin and the ferry. However I was sore and tired and thought I may be suffering tomorrow. I could really do with more water and probably something decent to eat. Cold chicken curry out of a can is really not that great. Ideally I wanted to be close to Craighouse which would mean I could get breakfast, do the nine miles to Feolin and even get an earlier ferry back to Islay.
The good thing about CalMac is foot passenger tickets are valid for any sailing within a thirty day time period.
I therefore decided to pack up and move towards Craighouse. I’d gone about five miles when a van stopped and four or five Irishmen stopped me to ask for directions to a standing stone which was about 500 metres from where we were. Twenty minutes later they stopped again on the way back offering me a lift back to Craighouse. As exhausted as I was I had to say no, it’s cheating and I’m a purist on this.
Wild camping as I was I needed to find somewhere out of the way and unlikely to annoy the residents. I also wanted somewhere along the beach which was quite difficult to find on Jura. I settled on Corran sands which is just outside Craighouse. Just as I pulled in I saw the dreaded no camping sign. Fortunately a little further down the road I was able to get into a corner on another beach completely out of sight.
Ten pm and I’m awoken by seals on the beach. I can’t say with one hundred percent accuracy as I’m not au fait with seal conversation but it sounded like they were arguing over spots on the beach. It actually sounded like pigs at a trough but I checked and it was definitely seals, until now I didn’t realise that pigs could swim either.
https://www.nationalgeographic.com/animals/article/150606-animals-swimming-pigs-spiders-cats-moose
Craighouse to Feolin
On the road at 9.30am, quickly called in to the community shop and then it was on to Feolin. As I suspected I was incredibly sore and couldn’t manage to cycle a single hill. Took my time and wandered slowly towards the ferry. The last nine miles took me until midday and then it was waiting around in the small terminal at Feolin.
Kayak & Cycling Tours of Scotland 