England
By a ferry from Guernsey I arrived to the port of Poole in south-western England. At arrival I was greeted by English grey sky, driving on the left side and Victorian architecture. From the port I went straight north. However, it took a long time to find any open country – the coast is thickly settled, then follows an area of suburbs, then village countryside, but even there is every narrow road surrounded by a high hedge, so it is often difficult to even look around, and every field is behind a hedge and a fence. Only by the evening I arrived to what is here the remote countryside: rolling sheep pastures. I continued further north to Bristol and from there across the wide estuary of Severn river to Wales.
Wales
I followed the southern coast of Wales westwards, visiting Cardiff, then into the hills above Swansea. In the hills I enjoyed mountain-like countryside (despite the hills having just a couple hundred metres altitude), sheep pastures, but also extensive and loud wind power farms and annoying midgets. The journey westwards was going slow – hills in this area are not high, but are unbelievably steep. I went to the port of Fishguard and from there again by ferry to Ireland.
Ireland
In Ireland I went along the east coast straight to Dublin. Welsh-English signage replaced by Irish-English, the accent changed again, but otherwise the countryside stayed similar. In Dublin is the city centre largely built of red brick houses like from the times of industrial revolution and newer houses imitate a similar style. Next to the old centre is a new financial and residential district built in former docks, showing how much money from international companies recently flowed to Dublin. From Dublin it was a pleasant way to the north – flat and with tailwind.
Northern Ireland
Crossing from the Republic of Ireland into the Northern Ireland, going by a minor road, was quite inconspicuous – not even a road sign indicating a change of a country. But some changes were visible – more hills, Irish language signage largely disappeared, and instead in every town appeared lots of flags and commands such as: fear God and honour the King!
I went through the capital Belfast to the north coast, where I stopped in the area of “Giant’s Causeway” coastal formations.
The modest Giant’s Causeway formation, considering its size, attracts surprising number of a million visitors a year. But the nothern coast also further eastwards offers plenty of beautiful views, enriched by castle ruins. I went eastwards to Ballycastle and from there took a small fast boat to the southwestern tip of Scotland. That evening I was the only passanger and therefore had the whole boat as a private transport for me and my bike.
Scotland
Scotland is cut amid by a Great Glen fault line, which goes straight as if by a ruler from the Loch Linnhe gulf, lakes Loch Lochy and Loch Ness, all the way to Moray Firth. I went from its southwestern tip to the north, with a view to the left at the Hebrides islands, then to the right to Loch Fyne gulf, then again left to Loch Linnhe, along the Caledonian canal.
The northerly feel is here supported by sunlight nearly till midnight – as I was here at start of July, at the norh, and compared to e.g. nearby Norway that is still much further on the north, Britain has midnight one hour earlier.
During nice weather this may be the nicest part of Scotland – the coast as if torn apart and covered by firths, lakes, interwoven with lakes and channels, and around them steeply rising mountains. But with the weather forecast promising non-stop rain for at least a week, I was considering to leave by train to the south of England. But when I was already so close to the northern tip of Scotland I carried on. So first along the Loch Ness to Inverness.
And from there further north, first along the eastern coast and then across the inland, where there are only sheep, pastures, heather, grey sky and light persevering rain. But even the barren heather pastures are often still surrounded by fences. I reached the northernmost point of Britain, Dunnet Head, with a view to the Orkney islands and the cliffs all around. And then just next to it, to the symbolic end of the roads in Scotland, John o’Groats, where there is surprisingly lot of commerce for tourists and yet nothing to see. There I turned back south along the coast full of ruins of coastal castles to the town of Wick. And because the forecast was getting worse again, from there I went to Edinburgh by train.
