A terrible night introduced this quite wholesome day. Once again a metaphor for life.

A strong wind, a gusty type near the sea, and crackling to pouring rain, especially when you are experiencing this in a tent? Exactly: The result is an almost sleepless night. Neither earpax nor relaxing breathing exercises will help: Falling asleep and sleeping through in a permanently moving tent is a difficult task to master, especially for those who are just starting out as habitual campers. Unfortunately, I failed to complete this task, even though at 2 or 3 o'clock at some point a little calmer heavy rain and tormenting tiredness mixed together to form a reasonably usable sleeping pill. In the time before, however, the late arriving couple in the tent next to mine was a bright light and a dry towel in the wet and dark. They only arrived when the rain had been in top form for quite some time. I already struggled with lying in the tent, but the two of them had to build up their own tent first. But that didn't seem to make much difference to them, because they giggled happily all the time. Apparently they had completed the construction at some point, but they had similar challenges as me. But it was quite exhilarating and relieving for me: Both of them had seen the world that was already gone for me and still they could laugh. Either they were completely crazy or the world was still standing where I had left it.

The next morning everything was quiet again, and remarkably the campsite had not been affected in any way by the rain. I got into conversation with the two laughers (I had already awarded the Fips Asmussen prize these days, hadn't I?) and they turned out to be extremely amusing even during the light of day. Two Northern Irish, who have been living in London for quite some time and now spent their holidays with a round trip in Scotland and headed for the wonderful valley of Glencoe next - I won't be able to make it this time, but I'll definitely make it again on the next motorised occasion. Well, we said goodbye a short time later and wished ourselves a better one for the coming night.

A short time later I saddled my steel blue horse and rode quickly to the next saloon to buy some food for the day and have a rich breakfast. Once again I dawdled around a little. This time, however, the departure delayed by about half an hour should have consequences.

One kicked in immediately. When I left the building and had just stowed away my supplies, it suddenly began to rain like a torrent again. That had just gone well again, because starting a longer bike tour with completely soaked clothes - even GoreTex doesn't help - is simply unpleasant.

Then a rather interesting start into the day for cyclists followed, because the way led me through quite rough terrain with enormous differences in altitude. But at least the way was completely free of cars. Just after I had completed this section of perhaps three quarters of an hour, consequence number 2 hit me. I immediately wondered about the long queue of cars I passed. That can happen every now and then here, if e.g. a swing bridge is opened. But the fact that I drove past such a queue for several minutes had to mean something special. The closer I came to the beginning of the queue, the more drivers condemned to stand were already on foot on the way, in order to find the reason for the forced break. Right in front I then met Evelyn, who informed me straightaway that probably a truck would have touched the pillars of the bridge. Now they started with extensive testing and if necessary repair work. So, actually there was at this time of it still no trace, but only the police blockage activity was in progress. It began to rain then few moments later again and Evelyn invited me and an older lady, who was on foot, into her dry car. And here we sat then. For quite some time. Now, dear reader, I need your active support: In the german version of this text there is an immensely funny part regarding two german proverbs. I am quite sure there is no good translation. So, I propose that you just trust me with how funny it is and laugh out loud.

Quite clearly: I would have escaped this blockage in any case if I had left early this morning. On the other hand, I would have gotten really wet twice. That was certainly no proof, but at least an apt example that procrastination sometimes leads to something good. Especially since after about an hour it turned out that this bridge would probably not collapse right now and was therefore released again.
As a fully packed bicycle traveller I then had the privilege to be the first and only vehicle to pass the bridge. Well, perhaps they thought to themselves: Let the fool with the golf clubs on the bike test it! Anyhow, the bridge proved itself and I could continue my way to Fort William. Anyway, the bridge remained intact and I could continue my way to Fort William.

Once again accompanied and signposted by the National Cycle Network, there were wonderful cycle paths here, which on this section were not even equipped with gates to descend, but with art nouveau imitating stands, which could even be easily turned through.


I had often heard and read beforehand that the way to Fort William was quite exhausting for cyclists, as this main center can only be reached on a country road with a lot of traffic. For a long time I thought that it wasn't that bad, but then, about 10 km before arrival, it became quite unpleasant. The two nice cyclists, with whom I sat on the ferry to Kintyre, had explained to me in detail how to avoid this part by means of two ferries and how to cycle quite quietly on the other side of Loch Linnhe. Unfortunately this plan did not work out due to the bridge incident. Then again the weather was very good at times and the views were great.

Finally, something happened that the alternative route would not have had to offer. It seems that word has spread in Scotland eventually that someone with golf clubs on his bike is trying to cycle his way through the country. Apparently this triggered a real euphoria: Shortly before entering Fort William a vehicle passed me, out of whose opened passenger window a lady leaned and cheered me enthusiastically and seemed to be delighted to have finally met the cycgo guy. That had to happen at some point. I briefly considered whether I should play myself in the film "cycgo - The Movie", which will surely be shot soon, but then it started raining again and I continued to concentrate on the campground at the foot of Ben Nevis. This is the highest elevation of the British Isles. Of course there are a lot of outdoor enthusiasts here and this campsite is 10 times bigger than the previous campsites.

After leaving the reception I had to give up hope for the quick sale of the film rights, but I had found very entertaining people for the evening. The laughers of the previous night had also finished their way through Glencoe at Ben Nevis and it was they who had overtaken me shortly before Fort William and expressed their enthusiasm for the reunion. They pitched their tent not far from mine. It should become an excellent evening.

The cycgo rating today honors the waste of time: 8 of 10 empty hourglass!