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Day 18 - Whisky tastings and llama farms
Beauly to Berriedale - 79 miles
The closer we got to John O'Groats, the greater the sense of enthusiasm we woke with
eachmorning.Forthemajorityofthejourney,ourfirstthoughtsonwakingwouldbeofmild
fear and anticipation of the day that lay ahead. These thoughts turned more towards excite-
ment, as we felt the finish line getting closer.
Iain gave us a delicious bowl of porridge for breakfast and we acquired an out-of-date
quiche from one of the nearby shops before setting off.
Just after leaving Beauly the route turned right and we climbed the road up to a ridge.
The sky was black as far as the horizon, and we could see the haze of torrential rain in the
distance ahead of us. The weather gods were on our side, because for the next 20 miles a
massive tailwind propelled us, and the clouds, so that we fortunately never crossed paths.
We joined the A9 and crossed Cromarty Firth via the Cromarty bridge - built in 1982,
bridge fact fans - and then diverted onto minor roads through the villages of Evanton and
Alness. We passed alongside beautiful evergreen forests with the road still fresh from a bat-
tering by the rain.
AfterAlness,theroadfollowedthecoastalongCromartyFirthforseveralmiles.Theter-
rain was perfectly flat, and the wind so strong that even when we stopped pedalling it had
the force to propel us along. We continued as far as the village of Milton where we turned
inland again. Here we had an option to either follow the A9 to Tain, or take the 'shorter
route,' as I described it to Ben.
'Definitely theshorterroute.That'sano-brainer,'hesaid,takingthebait.Ihadneglected
to mention to him that the shorter router was significantly hillier.
'This is hell,' he said, as we panted up a road through thick woodland. 'I bet the A-road
was dead flat.'
'No. It's just as hilly as this,' I lied, 'but with much more traffic.'
WethenhadanicelongdownhillintothetownofTain.Wedidn'tstop,aswehadamore
appealing destination in mind a couple of miles further on; the Glenmorangie whisky distil-
lery.
I have never been a fan of whisky. In fact, I would even go as far as saying that I hate the
stuff. It always seemed to be the drink of choice towards the end of a long drinking session
in my late teens. Ever since, the slightest taste takes me back to the feeling of wanting to
spew my guts out. Still, when in Scotland…
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