Opportunities

We didn't fancy cycling back the way we'd travelled a couple of days ago so we smiled sweetly at the coach driver at Fionnphort and he sized us up and said "OK, depending on the amount of luggage the folks from Iona wished to put in the hold." In the end it was fine and we were great entertainment for the Iona community as we placed our bicycles in storage and shuffled on to the bus with our cycling gear. As luck would have it, we found our Canadian pub friends from the night before and we carried on our conversation.

The whole bus crowd watched as we unloaded at the crossroads and we waved as they carried on to Craignure. Fred discovered that the bus stop worked well as an impromptu coffee-brewing stand and we supped our hot drinks whilst watching a black slug devour a biscuit crumb I'd dropped. From there, we cycled north-west by Loch Beg, taking a turning to the Tiroran Arts Gallery - a lovely wee spot with tea and home-baking, and lots of fab cards, paintings and ceramics. I bought myself a wee cup.

Refreshed, we cycled back down and into the forestry commission woods where we spotted a sign for white-tailed eagle watching. The sign specified that a tour had to be booked, but we just cycled in anyway. Our luck struck again as a tour was about to leave for the hide and the guide decided there was space enough for two more. We made our way into the heart of the forest and very quietly took our places in a spot that had a view of a lofty tree on which was perched a chick on a nest the size of a double bed. A few branches above it was a parent bird. We were transfixed by these huge raptors (even the chick was a giant) while the RSPB guide told us all about them. It was fascinating stuff. The telescopic sights were a tremendous help - my wee camera couldn't pick them up sharply.

Buzzing from our impromptu nature experience we cycled up Gleinn Seilisdeir, which was dramatic with Ben More to our right. The road opened up to a spectacular view down to Lock Na Keal, the island of Ulva and the steep, sloping sides of the volcanic ridge. It was breathtaking. The rain fair battered us and we travelled east along the lochside. Rocky slopes and ledges towered above us. Indeed, the guide book told us that a long time ago, a shepherd had been honeymooning with his wife on their wedding night when a boulder smashed into their cottage. They didn't survive that direct hit. The boulders stayed put for us, but only a few days later, a landslide took out a section of the road, stranding a few motorists (though no one was hurt).

We'd booked a B&B for the night in Salen (the "Sal" in "Salen" in pronounced "sall" as in salad) and we were happy to be in the warmth with a shower close at hand. An epic day!

More photos of the day here.