Day 2 Loch Lèir to The Crask Inn

Very much a day of two halves. Although I'd picked a lovely spot to camp, the downside of being in a nature reserve is the natural noises! It never gets fully dark up here at this time of year, and the many strange and varied bird calls carry on all night.

I continued on the excellent forest tracks, and once over the gentle Stetill Hill it was all down hill to the charming Halledale Valley. A tiny and deserted road followed the river upstream to Forsinard Station.

This is home to an RSBP research centre and there is an exhibition in the station building, it's a real birders paradise around here. However the hotel had closed down and there is nowhere to get any refreshments, so I continued on.

The tiny road follows the railway route as far as the hamlet of Kinbrace, where I turned west on an even smaller one to Badenloch and it's lodge. A handsome boating and fishing loch, and the start of the private track to Loch Choire.

This track was also good, at least as far as the Loch, where there was quite a large farm and hamlet. It seems to be the centre of activities to regenerate native broadleaf woodlands, which requires excluding the red deer with 6 foot fences. If you keep still, they sometimes come quite close.

This is the view from the east end of loch Choire. At the end of the loch you can just see the 1000' pass of Bealach Easach which I have to cross.

This is where the day started to change! The track along the north shore of the loch had clearly once been a well built landrover/pony track but was falling in to disrepair. After a few miles I had to resort to pushing the bike and also had to suffer a heavy shower while the pass loomed ahead.

Despite the poor track, the glen is lovely and with it's many waterfalls would make a fine winter climbing spot.

I slogged up the pass, looking forward to the easy four mile downhill run to the Inn on the other side. Here is the view from the top back up Glen Choire:

But it was not to be. The track on this side was far worse, often just a barely perceptible depression through the sucking bog all around. Most of the bridges had rotten or been washed away and it was another two hours of exhausting soggy pushing before I reached my haven, the Crask Inn.