I was really looking forward to the Isle of Bute or Rothesay as it is known by the Scots. I like to call the island my island though, the Stuart Island. Bute is the most significant location that I had wanted to visit on my journey. This is the island I had many dreams about since I had learned about the Stuart connection many moons ago. There are two ways to get to the Isle of Bute from the mainland Scotland, either by ferry or..... By ferry! John and I took the ferry from Weymss Bay to Rothesay. It took about 45 minutes to cross. There is another ferry further south from Colintraive on the mainland to Rhubadach (Rubber Duck?) but we opted for Weymss Bay. The rubber duck is hardly a crossing at all and takes just 5 minutes; we would have had a much longer cycle ride to get there though. Once on dry land again at the Isle of Bute (Rothesay) the town which is the birthplace to Lena Zavaroni, many older folk may remember. Lena was a child star who found fame after winning Hughie Green’s Opportunity Knocks show back in 1973, and I mean that most sincerely folks. This show was the X factor of its day, no judges though just a clap-o-meter. So much better than portentous dribble that comes from Simon Cowell, Louie Walsh and co. This is only my opinion and I mean that most sincerely as well folks. Lena tragically died from Anorexia Nervosa at the tender age of just 26 back in 1999. John cycled off to buy himself his much needed sleeping bag and left me chatting to some nice folks close to the ferry terminal. Once John returned fully kitted up twenty minutes later we immediately set off in search of a campsite. We were more than a little surprised when we were charged £8 for each tent, despite it being advertised at just £4 on the website. Bute is an island in the Firth of Clyde and is divided into highland and lowland areas by the highland boundary fault, formerly part of the county of Buteshire, it now constitutes part of council area Argyle and Bute. We pitched our tents up anyway despite the disputed confusion over the price. We were taken aback by the sight of John Boys tent, or shall I say Wendy House (All makes sense now, I know why he did not want me to see the tent the night before).His beautiful blue tent with pink flowers (See photo above) was pitched precariously close to a gay Spanish holiday maker’s tent now just to make my Mickey taking a little worse. This was another of Johns increasing senior moments and he took all my banter in the spirit it deserved, quite gracefully? When we recovered from all the laughing we set off to cycle around my lovely island, I mean Bute. We immediately headed for the Mount of Stuart. The splendid gothic building was closed by the time we arrived as it was now early evening; we took some photos from the outside and decided to return the following day for a more desirable look around. We cycled around the island a little just to get a few miles in and then decided to try a pint at a pub called the Struan. It was pretty quiet in the Struan where we enjoyed a game of darts. Steve handlebar fingers (England) 3 John Wendy house Devlin (Scotland) 2. John took a two nil lead rather fortuitously but then there was a magnificent come back by the Englander, Steve the handlebar fingers to take a 3-2 lead, then John decided to give up before it got more embarrassing for him as I was evidently finding some form. And now back to the studio with Gary Lineker. We decided to cycle on and try finding a livelier pub. We had now both got the taste of the Belhaven beer once again, we came across the now notorious Argyle pub a rough looking pub from the outside it is, Google it if you don’t believe me, we were enticed in by a few of the locals stood outside who were on a cigarette break. Once inside we were both gobsmacked and surprised, it was even rougher on the inside than it appeared from the outside. We were both now getting the 20-20 from the locals in this interesting public abode. The locals were interested in my exploits, though sceptical at first to say the least. It was just a tad intimidating but friendly enough and I even got a few donations. An older more aggressive looking guy came up to me; he must have just walked into the Argyle, he asked me my name and what I was doing here. “Well I am a Stuart the same name as the island” I said confidently,” I have come to see my island by cycling here on my bicycle” I said even more confidently. His strange to reply to me was “And how will you be spelling that then” this was quite an aggressive remark which put me back a bit. “Well S for Stuart T for Tango U for unicorn A for Africa R for Romeo and T for another tango, it’s the proper way the same way as the House of Stuart” I replied less confidently and also cautiously .” He’s a catholic, a Sassenach get him” he yelled back at me, and by his mannerisms it did not take a genius to realise he was not joking, luckily the other locals calmed him down and I escaped Scot free so to speak. “Shall we go for another quiet pint now John” I said jokingly but also seriously at the same time. “Phew yeah why not” and we were both grateful the bikes were still in one piece when we got back outside. We then hit another two more nice bars called The Grapes and then The Criterion before heading onto The Islander pub which was much more relaxed and run by a gorgeous, stunning, beautiful Lithuanian girl by the name of Vilma Tiunaitiene. Sorry Vilma but you are. It was to be a great end to this strange night with lovely conversation admiration and respect from all accounts, we heard how Vilma worked her way up from poverty sometimes working 3 or 4 jobs at a time and how she became to be running this lovely bar on my island. Vilma’s story is pretty amazing and puts my bike ride to shame. She informs me she still does not have a day off. Vilma was really interested in my ride however. John was still narrating my journey to everyone that we were to encounter. John was just so proud of what I was achieving he wanted to share my story with everyone we met, this he never relented from doing despite my urgings not to do so. John became a little jealous at what has now become known as the notorious bag of nuts, I don’t mean the gang in the Argyle Arms either but a bag of salted peanuts which Vilma had kindly given me. Vilma also thought my age to be that of only about 40ish, flattery will get you everywhere Vilma I thought to myself (John is only a few months older than me in fact, we are both in our mid fifties). John said Vilma didn’t flinch an inch when he told her that he had been retired for 5 years. It was all good light humoured fun though and it did give my much improving ego a real boost. I think I lost my heart to this plucky girl from Lithuania, yes Vilma is the real business like many I would encounter on this epic adventure. I owned up and told Vilma I should not be drinking with what I have got, She gave me worried glance and replied why what have you got. I said 50 pence. I and John were both a little worse for wear by the end of the night. We decided to head back to find our tents, in John’s case his Wendy house, this time I ignored Johns directions and went my own way, I was right with my prediction , I should always listen to the second person in conversation remember when it comes to directions even if that second person is me. I am learning at last. Had I followed John directions that night we would probably both be stuck on the Island somewhere even now? Maybe John Boy did not want to find his tent and I can understand why. Like I said to him “it’s dark now John boy no one will see you getting into your Wendy house, you just have to worry about it in the morning”. “Cheers you 40 years Old English Catholic Sassenach” he replied. “Don’t be like that John boy, come on Rangers “replied this inebriated Sassenach. What a great night and experience though and I couldn’t have wished for better company. So we cycled our way a little wobbly up a steep incline to camp up for the night.
Posted on: Sat, 26 Jul 2014 09:11:15 +0000