Putting off the departure for as long as possible because of the rain has become a daily ritual and my ability to faff has become finely honed. With a couple of bowls of porridge inside me I was ready to hit the road with full wet weather gear. Sure enough the rain stopped and I was boiling so off it all came.
From Rogart there was a lovely run along the bottom of the glen and then a long and gentle climb before dropping down into Lairg. Bacon buttie and coffee and time for the last leg over remote forestry commission land to the village of Crask.
As you approach Crask there is the sign for Crask. Within 50 yards there is a house. Within another 50 yards the white painted Crask Inn and then the sign the other end of Crask. Big city!
If anyone is ever up this way a visit to the Crask Inn is a must. It is in the middle of nowhere and no power until the gennie gets started in the afternoon. Kai and Mike the owners are the most welcoming hosts and you get introduced to everyone when you arrive including the three sheep dogs.
Seeing as the nearest other village was 12 miles in either direction I had dinner at the inn. Smoked salmon, steak and ale pie and black currant sponge. Absolutely stuffed by the end of it.
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