Arran Meet Arran

Away to Arran we said one wintry day, for the young man must tread the beaches and moors of his namesake. We packed bikes and bags to head north one late May Saturday morning, giddy with the prospect of new trails and tales. The ferry was grasped with only seconds to spare and drizzle laden leaden skies dampened the decks of the Pride of Arran.

Goat Fell escaped its clouds and the mythical isle grew from the horizon, a perfect Scottish minature for us weekend trippers. Many others similarly inclined crowded the ferry and bagged the tables of all the local eateries. Disappointment grew with the rejection of each request for grub, fortunately the local Co-op was well stocked and a al fresco feast of pasta followed by strawberries and cream in meringues was washed down by a hoppy IPA under the gaze of Arran's hills. The party faded as more rain fell, an early night called, for tomorrow Arran would ride far. 

High above my cosy berth the wind and the trees made a giddy dance past dawn while the midges bade their time and planned their next assault. Lulled to sleep we rose well rested for a circumnavigation of our new kingdom at daybreak. 

Breakfast was brief for all were were keen to ride north to 'The String', the ribbon of tarmac that would lead to Arran's wild west coast. A downhill time trial to the sea contorted the contenders into unnatural forms to beat the wind into defeat. 

Tranquility was found at Machrie Moor, 4000 years of man here amongst the heather, between the standing stones and burial chambers. the weight of history made us small in our surroundings, we pedalled North to Lochranza with the sea views of the Mull of Kintyre to port all the way.

Lochranza Castle shared evidence of old betrayals and power struggles in its ramparts.  I climbed high into a crumbling tower to snap my fellow travellers before we adjourned to the Arran distillery for an excellent lunch of homemade veggie burgers with a dram of the Machrie Moor to finish. The whisky was so good that I crammed a bottle of the spirit into my pack only to fret over its safety all the way down the steep descent to Laggan Cottage, stretched out, hands on the drops, this was no way to treat whisky.

Enticed by the near tropical waters of Sannox Bay I waded deep beyond the sandy beach for photos from the sea. Families laughed and ate around beach barbecues, dogs loped after sticks and couples relaxed in sun worship before the inevitable return of the rain.

Lochranza links led to the ice cream shack, more sugar to keep Arran from fading before the picture postcard backdrop of Goat Fell. Lamlash Bay was yet a hill away, creeper laden lane led to fragrant forest trail, a treat for the senses through the grind up and up and up. The peak of Holy Island appeared through the trees and a cow field blast to the beach was all that remained. 

Fine dining on this evening at the Lamlash hotel, pizzas bigger than plates before an early start for the Calmac the following dawn. No souvenirs save a van full of smiles for the journey to Yorkshire.