Day 14- Tobermoray / Salen / Craignure / Ferry Oban / Burnt Porridge Bay

A good dreamless night’s sleep for me. The B&B Dutchman had breakfast-porridge and a full fry-up-ready for us. We appeared to be his only guests. We only paid £15 each, and it was good value even compared with what we would have paid at the Youth Hostel.

....and the road goes on

Off and out into another grey day but we did not cycle far. We were only halfway up the hill that gets us out of Tobermory and this is where it gets steeper. Today’s route is north and west over the top of Mull, and we were not to be disappointed. The gently undulating countryside west of Tobermory, beyond the freshwater Mishnish lochs, provides some of the most beguiling scenery on the island.
The only village of any size on this route is Dervaig, which sits beside Loch Chumhainn. The roads were quiet, scenic and in good condition. Some of the hills though, were absolute stinkers. The B8073 is exceptionally dramatic, with fiendish switchbacks. The road continues cross-country to Calgary Bay, where a superb beach awaited. Wild campers clearly lovedit, staying there for the whole season.
Again the weather became the dominant factor - never really drying, although it was warm enough. We stopped occasionally at the top of a hill to admire the view and have a quick snack. We paused at sea level to admire the beach, and at any other points of interest like waterfalls. Generally, we plodded southwards.
Eventually, we came off the mountains and back to civilisation, onto the main road south to Salen. Despite it being signposted for miles, the small village of Salen is easily missed. All roads on Mull lead to it as it is at the narrowest part of Mull. The village was the birthplace of the ‘Father of Australia’, the splendidly named Lachlan MacQuarrie. How does one ‘father a country’, we wondered?

The sun came out after reaching Salen. We intented to stop for the night here, but as we were well ahead of schedule and after a quick discussion we decided to carry on to Oban and cover as many miles as possible.

...and the road stills goes on

Onwards and southwards for the Craignure ferry and back to Oban. Although it was now after 5 pm, we decided to continue pedalling south and look to campsite outside Oban itself. We felt there was still a good two hours of riding available.
As it turned out we did not pass one campsite in the next ten miles. The only one on the map had been converted to timeshare log cabins. So, onwards even more, until it was well past 8 o’clock, Wefinally pulled off the main road and found a spot by a loch. I named this place ‘Burnt Porridge Bay’.

Despite it being by water, despite it being a calm evening, despite camping in the long grass, we were not bothered by midges at all. I had a comfortable night’s sleep, especially after the day’s 53-mile journey. I was occasionally conscious of traffic passing by, but it didn't bother me.
In the morning, however, I heard movement outside the tent. Peering out, I was amazed to see Chris fully dressed for the road, but his tent packed away and his bike ready to go. I was convinced something was wrong This was just unreal. It turned out that it was the sound of the traffic that was the trouble.
I left Chris with the usual gallon of porridge to make. While loading my bike, I became conscious of a strong burning smell - the porridge was burnt! In his keenness to get away the gas had been turned up full and his lack of stirring then led to this culinary disaster. Surely, he had had enough porridge making practise over the last few weeks!
We did not know where the place was that we had stopped at, but I now call it 'Burnt Porridge Bay'. By the way, burnt porridge tastes horrible; it is absolutely vile, well perhaps not that vile, cause you-know-who, still ate it all!