Day 18: Dingwall to Crask Inn

There are a few options for routes from here when you’re riding a LEJOG: one is up the coastal A9 through Dornoch, Golspie, Helmsdale and Wick; another is straight up the middle, via the Crask Inn, aka the wilderness route. We’re taking the ‘straight-up-the-middle’ route. We stock up in the supermarket in anticipation – we won’t see a supermarket or even a shop probably for a couple of days, and we don’t want to get caught out.

This route takes you up and over the Tarbert peninsula, then on to Bonar Bridge, Lairg and up Strathnaver, joining the north coast at Bettyhill. It’s slightly longer than the coastal A9: 20 extra miles, and with 400-odd extra feet of climbing, but it’s extremely scenic. It allows us to visit the Crask Inn, the iconic travellers’ sanctuary in the middle of the wilderness, and also avoid the A9 that, since the opening of the North Coast 500 tourist route, has become something of a racetrack.

The pass across the Tarbert peninsula leads us through forests and moorland, to a viewpoint where the entire Dornoch Firth is laid out below, with its golden sands and the bright blue ocean beyond. This is where we say “hi” and “bye” to the sea – next seen in Bettyhill, a day and a half away. Ardgay brings a steep descent, lunch and the cross into Sutherland; Bonar Bridge brings an elegant arched bridge, the successor to Thomas Telford’s original cast iron bridge; and Invershin brings the Shin Railway Viaduct, an intricate steel and brick rail bridge with a cycle/walkway along the side. At the falls of Shin we see a salmon leaping. At Lairg we race the clock to reach a cafe before it closes for the day, and we make it – just – 15 minutes before they stop serving. The array of cakes and tea is definitely worth the extra speed. 

And then it’s just us and the open road for 10 steady miles up to the Crask Inn. The ‘A’ road that we’re on soon deteriorates to a single-track route with passing places. It winds across the moors, between wind farms, sheep and very little else. The River Tirry, not much more than a brook, chatters across the landscape, and a stone or flint bridge occasionally takes us across one of its tributaries. It’s flat and open here, epic and dramatic in a different way to mountains. 

The Crask Inn must be a contender for ‘most remote pub’ in the UK. It was built as a drovers inn in the 1800s and has legendary status among LEJOG cyclists: if you’re coming along this route, chances are you will stay at the Crask. We have arranged to camp in the garden, and will join a communal evening meal with all other guests later on. It appears like a mirage out of the emptiness. It’s easy to see why it’s been a refuge for travellers for so many years. 

Stats for the day: 83km riding, 826m climbing

Accommodation: the Crask Inn. I feel mean writing this because this place is so legendary, but actually, we were disappointed. The owners couldn’t have been nicer, but the food was average and the breakfast was really poor. The atmosphere was lovely but the facilities weren’t that welcoming – there was nowhere to sit in the morning, and there was no shower available for cyclists. I wouldn’t bother staying again and I wouldn’t recommend it!