Saturday
We all met at Oban, the start of our trail,
Some got there by cycle and others by rail:
That great institution with an extortionate fare,
And in our opinion they're not ‘getting there’,
But we all arrived timely and ate some good grub,
Then chatted for hours, sampling ales from the pub,
And slept well that evening with stomachs so full
That the next day they were churning on the ferry to Mull..
Sunday
The Island of Mull had a castle to see,
And to keep Arthur going, several stops for tea:
That elixir of life that his body required,
Without a full cup each hour he really gets tired,
So we pottered up the road to Tobermory,
With the lads cycling faster they were there before me,
And we drank well that evening filling a bigger beer belly,
So the next morning they were churning on another dammed ferry.
Monday
Now back on the main land for a fifty mile slog,
On roads with bad drivers, it's hard to road hog,
But I tried very hard to cycle centrally, keeping
Angry drivers behind me with their car horns beeping,
At Garramore Hostel the warden was similar,
To a Nazi commander by the name of Heir Himmler,
So we were pleased to escape from ‘das Hostel’ quite merry,
Finding sanctuary and peace on the Armadale Ferry.
Tuesday and Wednesday
Two days on Skye. A long haul the first day worst,
With the sun beating down and making us thirst,
Though the scenery was amazing with lovely sights,
We got an all over tan, plus lots of midge bites,
The midge is small, such a minuscule thing,
It's flimsy and fragile, but it doesn't half sting,
So us lads united to decided on its fate,
Releasing our ultimate deterrent: Gordon as bait.
We weren't being cruel, he was quite keen to try it,
With each bite off Gordon he'd need 2 weeks less diet.
Finally at Uig, with our noses as red as a cherry,
We awaited the arrival off the Tarbet bound ferry.
Thursday
Harris and Lewis were quite a delight
But Bert not contented had to find better sights,
Whilst we slogged to Stornoway, he supposedly set off fast,
Whizzing fifteen miles further yet we still arrived last,
It's rather confusing as he seems faster by far,
Did he just cycle round the corner then jump in a car?
Or is he just taking a special vitamin berry,
To make sure he gets first to the next bleeding ferry.
Thursday night
Ullapool, Ullapool, some think you're boring,
Us lads slept so well there was no sign of snoring,
It must have been the meal, presented so clever,
It was too good for Gordon so it must have been Trevor,
He's nifty in the kitchen with such vegetarian fare,
It's a shame we can't see him under all of that hair.
The anticipation that night made us happy and merry,
For the next day, would be the first day with no bleeding ferry.
Friday
Carbisdale Castle, what grandeur and spender,
With the over-rail pub that night, phew what a bender!
But we don't drink that much, well most of us wouldn't,
Except George, who passing a drinking house couldn't
Resist going in and sampling their beers,
With several a day he reduces bike fears
Of it snapping in half, like it was built by a Gerry….
George's bike travels bests when it's strapped to the ferry.
Saturday
Inverness bound. The six all intact,
Enjoyed ourselves fully, you know it's a fact
We travel all separate along life's weary street,
Yet for one week each year together we meet,
Each of us different from all over the place,
Each cycling venture: a new challenge to face,
Sometimes it's mountains, old places or new,
But let's hold back on more ferries for a decade or two?
A.G.McDougall