Day 4 of Bike Tour or THE FOG
As I pedaled up through the Highlands I had hopes that my next stop would be Loch Ness. I had studied Nessie a lot. Since I was a kid. I had read all the stories, seen the pictures and movies and almost believed that she was actually a plesiosaur, trapped from the last ice age.
My travel agent, being moi, did not account for the length and time required to traverse Lock Linnhe and Loch Lochy to get to Lock Ness. Nor did I take into account the energy required the previous evening in showing the British army how to drink.
Approaching dusk found me on the lee shore of Loch Lochy. I had been pedaling for quite some time along a desolate stretch with no signs of civilization. Exhausted, I spied a bit of beach and hauled The Beast down from the road.
I proceeded to set up my bedroll, which was a mummy sleeping bag in a bivysac, which is a waterproof cocoon that breathes made with Gore-Tex. So I didn’t need to pack a tent.
Then I set up my wee campstove and heated up a can of stew and with some bread, for dunking of course, I started to read a book. I had bought it in Heathrow airport and it was a collection of horror stories with the first one was by Stephen King called The Fog.
No, it was nothing like the movie by John Carpenter with the same name about zombies coming out of the fog. Actually that movie did star Adrienne Barbeau, one of my favourites. I digress.
Picture this, if you will. I’m sitting on a beach about 20 feet wide and maybe a few hundred long. Behind me is a 30 foot wall of rock up to the road. I can see across the loch and I guess the opposite shore is only a mile or so. I have heard no traffic since I started to set up camp. Nor had I encountered any traffic for about an hour before I got off the road. I am on a beach along a long narrow lock that is at the bottom of a valley surrounded by Craig Meagaidh to the east, at a “mere” 3,700 metres high, and Craig Culvain, at a “lowly” 3,224 metres.
(Sidebar – As much as I detest the enforced metricism of my country by PET, I did have the honour of being a particular generation that learned both imperial and metric. As I went through university for forestry, the class before us was taught only imperial. Mine was taught both. The next year was brainwashed with metric only.)
Darkness descends quickly between these two crags and I’m already having to use a flashlight to cook and read.
The story starts off very restful - young family at their house on a lake with one son about 10. Then Stephen starts to introduce neighbours with their foibles and faults.
I watch the evening fog envelope the opposite shore.
They observe a wall of solid fog start to advance across the lake towards them during the day. No real concern. Then a wicked wind whips up and knocks down trees and blows out their windows.
I look up to see the fog half way across the loch !
Dad and son decide to go into town to get some supplies. Whilst they are in the grocery store the fog descends. And the occupants hear screaming from outside in the parking lot. It’s decided to lock the doors. Two army guys are in the store and start getting scared.
The fog is now up to my beach !!
It’s discussed that there is an army experimental station in the area and they had been working on some very strange stuff.
The fog is now up to my sleeping bag !!!
Horrible sounds are heard then awful things tried to break into the store. They found one of the army guys had hanged himself. He knew the terrors that were inevitable.
I CAN’T EVEN SEE THE BOTTOM OF MY SLEEPING BAG !!!!
THE FLASHLIGHT IS FADING !!! AWWW !!!
WHO THE HELL IS GOING TO HEAR ME SCREAM OUT HEAR !!!!!
I finished reading this awesome story to the end.
It is not a pretty ending.
In fact, it is a very scary ending.
I did wake up the next morning and pedaled off to see Nessie.
In the rain, of course.
My travel agent, being moi, did not account for the length and time required to traverse Lock Linnhe and Loch Lochy to get to Lock Ness. Nor did I take into account the energy required the previous evening in showing the British army how to drink.
Approaching dusk found me on the lee shore of Loch Lochy. I had been pedaling for quite some time along a desolate stretch with no signs of civilization. Exhausted, I spied a bit of beach and hauled The Beast down from the road.
I proceeded to set up my bedroll, which was a mummy sleeping bag in a bivysac, which is a waterproof cocoon that breathes made with Gore-Tex. So I didn’t need to pack a tent.
Then I set up my wee campstove and heated up a can of stew and with some bread, for dunking of course, I started to read a book. I had bought it in Heathrow airport and it was a collection of horror stories with the first one was by Stephen King called The Fog.
No, it was nothing like the movie by John Carpenter with the same name about zombies coming out of the fog. Actually that movie did star Adrienne Barbeau, one of my favourites. I digress.
Picture this, if you will. I’m sitting on a beach about 20 feet wide and maybe a few hundred long. Behind me is a 30 foot wall of rock up to the road. I can see across the loch and I guess the opposite shore is only a mile or so. I have heard no traffic since I started to set up camp. Nor had I encountered any traffic for about an hour before I got off the road. I am on a beach along a long narrow lock that is at the bottom of a valley surrounded by Craig Meagaidh to the east, at a “mere” 3,700 metres high, and Craig Culvain, at a “lowly” 3,224 metres.
(Sidebar – As much as I detest the enforced metricism of my country by PET, I did have the honour of being a particular generation that learned both imperial and metric. As I went through university for forestry, the class before us was taught only imperial. Mine was taught both. The next year was brainwashed with metric only.)
Darkness descends quickly between these two crags and I’m already having to use a flashlight to cook and read.
The story starts off very restful - young family at their house on a lake with one son about 10. Then Stephen starts to introduce neighbours with their foibles and faults.
I watch the evening fog envelope the opposite shore.
They observe a wall of solid fog start to advance across the lake towards them during the day. No real concern. Then a wicked wind whips up and knocks down trees and blows out their windows.
I look up to see the fog half way across the loch !
Dad and son decide to go into town to get some supplies. Whilst they are in the grocery store the fog descends. And the occupants hear screaming from outside in the parking lot. It’s decided to lock the doors. Two army guys are in the store and start getting scared.
The fog is now up to my beach !!
It’s discussed that there is an army experimental station in the area and they had been working on some very strange stuff.
The fog is now up to my sleeping bag !!!
Horrible sounds are heard then awful things tried to break into the store. They found one of the army guys had hanged himself. He knew the terrors that were inevitable.
I CAN’T EVEN SEE THE BOTTOM OF MY SLEEPING BAG !!!!
THE FLASHLIGHT IS FADING !!! AWWW !!!
WHO THE HELL IS GOING TO HEAR ME SCREAM OUT HEAR !!!!!
I finished reading this awesome story to the end.
It is not a pretty ending.
In fact, it is a very scary ending.
I did wake up the next morning and pedaled off to see Nessie.
In the rain, of course.
posted by Musings from Idle Acres | 8:43 p.m.
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