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- Continental Breakfast
- Free High-Speed Internet
- Wheelchair accessibility
TripAdvisor Reviews Borgie Lodge Tongue
Travel Blogs from Tongue
... the American West.
However, if you look at a map of Scotland the areas north and west of Inverness known as the Northwestern Highlands have far fewer settlements and a lot more empty space than anywhere else in Britain. Yeay, I’m finally entering wildest Britain. A good stretch north along the east coast of Scotland’s far north did not look very different from what I saw elsewhere until about the town of Golspie where ...
... but breathtaking. The road we were on was an A road according to the map but was in actual fact a single track road. Traffic was so thin that over the stretch of 40 miles we probably only saw 30 cars.
The weather was warm but there was a haze across the landscape which meant the mountains were more like silhouettes on the horizon. It was wonderfully peaceful as we travelled past forests and lakes, praying our bikes wouldn't breakdown as it would have been ...
... a clapped out old banger...not the police, it's an animal feed store! Ken's new car, laughs Ian (MOD in-joke). We finally arrive back at the ferry stage to be transported back to our car. We beat a hasty retreat and make a bee line for the boat whilst the rest are buying souvenir pens off Stuart. It has started spotting with rain and we want to be in the first shuttke. We just make it back to the car before the heavens open - perfect timing again it would seem ...
... most old fashioned pub imaginable, called the Crask Inn which is like the only pub, only house, around for many many miles and it is on every end to enders 'must do list'. We started chatting. as you do, to two great guys just starting their JoGLE adventure exactly one year on from a terrible accident one of them had had. Great to met and chat to you guys really good luck on the remainder of your journey and so good you are doing it Oliver bet you didn't think a year ...
... time I was on virgin moorland. Eventually I reached the entrance to the estuary of the River Hope, descending steeply through woodland. By now it was past 1900 and I think David had become a bit anxious about my whereabouts. At just under 23 miles it was not my longest walk but probably the most tiring so far.
We were to spend the next two nights in Durness half an hour distant, so we headed there straight away, conscious that places to eat may stop taking orders ...