Train to Carlisle and then a short ride (once the way out of Carlisle was located, always problematic) to the coast near Gretna where I failed to find the Lochmaben stone. More appropriate footwear was required. Oakbank Lakes campsite was rather expensive, and charged an extra £5 to use the facilities. What else was I going to do, crap on the grass?
Border crossings: 2
Solway coast
Solway coast
Oakbank Lakes campsite
Campsite lake
‘Facilities’
River Esk at Longtown
Longtown livestock market
04/09/23 Longtown – Kielder
A long slow slog through the forests of Kershope/Newcastleton/Kielder. A fully loaded drop bar bike was not optimal here. The top is quite funny; Forestry and Land Scotland and Forestry England have their tracks going up from their respective sides to the border, and then there’s a grudging bit of single track joining them together. Didn’t see another soul all the way through the forest track. Stayed at the lovely Kielder Village campsite.
Border crossings: 4
Cyclists should teleport…
Scots’ Dyke
Liddesdale
Presumably something to do with the railway line that once unbelievably ran along here
Entrance to Kershope Forest
Scottish Borders region over the bridge
The border (Kershope Burn)
Border crossing
A little single track at the top
Crossing Lewis Burn
05/09/23 Kielder – Yetholm
Another considerable climb with some walking required. Given the number of walkers turning up randomly here (Pennine Way, St Cuthbert’s Way) I was expecting the campsite to be a little more relaxed, but I can’t complain as I found their website, booked a night and had an email telling me where to pitch all very swiftly at Kirkfield Caravan Park.
Border crossings: 1
Deadwater
Deadwater
Another bit of old railway
Saughtree Chrurch
The road up to Note o’ the Gate
Bonchester Bridge
Very old tree
Jedburgh
Jedburgh Abbey
Jedburgh
Town Yetholm
06/09/23 Yetholm – Berwick-upon-Tweed
A short day to Berwick, found the Seaview site which most mostly vans and caravans with a small grass strip for tents, then spent a bit of time wandering around the town and getting a train ticket for the return journey home.
My first visit to the York Cycle Rally. I loved it. All different shapes and sizes of bikes and people, more variety than I imagined (on both fronts – especially gender-non-conforming people). Got to meet some excellent yacf folk.
After a few disasters (luggage failure, water butt collapse, cat sick) I ended up leaving later than planned and on a different bike. At nearly 50 kms it was my longest ride of the year. Ok I did walk up a few hills.
Leeds to Tadcaster is ok, and then there is a cycle lane alongside an unpleasant A road towards York. And then it just stops. So you are deposited on a dual carriageway whether you like it or not. And then I missed the turn off I should have taken so got a bit of extra joy.
That’s a world record holding tandem
Had a good look around nosing at all the different cycles.
I was especially looking forward to seeing the ICE stand, and was treated to test rides on THREE trikes: A VTX (so laid back you have to sort of fall into the seat), a SPRINT X, and an e-ADVENTURE (first time on an e-bike). Time to start buying lottery tickets, or take up bank robbery.
SPRINT X (front) and e-ADVENTURE
VTX
I think a tandem trike on top of a Mini sums up the weekend pretty well.
02-08/09/22 Newcastle – Carlisle, with a bit extra
I wanted to try hammock camping this time, but took some poles so I could use the tarp in the absence of trees. In conclusion; the hammock is very comfortable, but not that well suited to a tour of any length, as it pretty much has to be wild camping, and dragging a bike over fences and through low trees was a bit of a hassle. Better suited to a walking trip (when you know there will be trees).
02/09/22 Newcastle – Tynemouth – Redesmouth
Tynemouth
Back in the Toon
Ovingham
Corbridge
Looking for a spot to string up the hammock
03/09/22 Redesmouth – Kielder Forrest
Stayed in the woods to the right
Passing through Bellingham
High Cup Nick
Put the hammock up somewhere to the right (‘Silvas Capitalis’)
Dinner
04/09/22 Kielder Forrest – Bellingham
Not a great time to see the sculptures as there was a lot of storm damage and many were closed/inaccessible.
‘Viewpoints’
‘Salmon cubes’
Near the dam
‘The Human Burrow’
Kielder Water Birds of Prey Centre
05/09/22 Upper Coquetdale and the Otterburn range
The best day’s cycling (bonus: unloaded)
Looking into Scotland
The Border, from the north side
Chew Green
06/09/22 Bellingham – Once Brewed
Hareshaw Linn
The Sill visitor centre
07/09/22 Once Brewed – Bowness-on-Solway
Birdoswald
Lanercost Bridge (River Irthing)
Bad omen? (Brampton)
This is part of the National Cycle Network
Solway Firth
Solo camper here, spent a lot of time in the facilities shed in the rain
08/09/22 Bowness-on-Solway – Carlisle
A short return via the amazing second hand bookshop in Carlisle, where I surprised myself with how much room I could find in my panniers.
Well the logistics for this trip were quite something (mainly to do with Colonsay sailings); and then subject to last minute changes with ferries cancelled after COVID outbreaks. Amazing weather and multiple sea swims.
18/08/21 – Leeds to Lochranza
Train to Ardrossan for the ferry.
Arran and Ailsa Craig to the left
After arriving in Brodick I took The String road over the middle of the island, then followed the coast north to Lochranza, where I had camped many years ago with my sisters. This time we had the company of some deer, at which point someone (the campsite manager?) fired a shot into the air to scare them off – apparently they have been fed by some campers and as a consequence were coming too close to the tents. So having a stag startled by a gun shot running around a campsite is going to help?
The String
Lochranza campsite
Lochranza castle
50 km, 13.6 kph average
19/08/21 Lochranza – Port Charlotte
Ferry to the, er, shaft of Scotland and a trip across the girth, to the day’s second ferry to Islay.
Ferry ready to leave Lochranza
I’d like a more formal font on a lifeboat…
Leaving Arran
Crossing the shaft
BYO hot chocolate; no facilities at this ferry terminal (Kenncraig)
Islay (left) and Jura (right)
It was hard work, probably due to lack of fitness than anything else, but I eventually arrived at the excellent community pub/cafe/campsite/sports ground in Port Charlotte.
36 km, 15.8 kph average (my notebook says ‘hmm, felt like a bit more than that’; I assume I was referring to the distance)
20/08/21 Port Charlotte – Bowmore
On my way out from the campsite I stopped at the shop in Port Charlotte for some supplies, and the chap running it came out and said “it’s an unwritten rule that if anyone stops on an interesting looking bike I come out and take a look”. Well that’s a good rule in my book. He admired my mud flap, clocked the AUK badges on the panniers and we had a chat about the ride on Islay I remembered reading about in Ariveé.
Shop/PO/petrol station/audax conversation…
A mild, windy day but it was mostly helpful as from the SW. I rode a loop around Kilchoman and had a paddle in the sea at Machar Bay, which wasn’t too cold.
Stopped at the RSPB visitors centre at Gruinart – it was open but unstaffed and the toilets were closed. My biggest issue now was a water supply, I was hoping to have been able to find some here. Rode up the west side of Loch Gruinart, which became increasingly gravelly. I’m pretty sure there would have been a great wild camping spot further on, but it would have been a walk for a few miles with no sign of water, so I decided to backtrack and got to the shop in Bridgend, by which time it had started to rain properly. The old woman in front of me at the till had lost her specs, and asked if any had been handed in. The staff member in fact had two ownerless pairs, and held one up, asking if they were the ones, to which the woman responded “I don’t know, I cannae see”.
On to Bowmore where I had a wander around and found that the church had an outside tap. There is a swimming pool here which I though might be useful for shower purposes but still in COVID times the opening hours were quite limited. There’s a public toilet anyway in the centre.
Then cycled out to Gartrack, again a gravel road once past the tip. A house here looked uninhabited, and I pitched my tent just above a small rocky beach. Quite a wind and I’m glad of the tent modifications I had made (extra tie-out points for guy lines to keep the back fly away from the inner).
57 km, 14.8 kph average
21/08/21 Bowmore – Port Ellen
Took the main road from Bowmore to Port Ellen, which goes past the airport, then followed the three distilleries cyclepath to Ardbeg at the end. A taste of An Oa much appreciated as it was quite wet.
Port Ellen
Ardbeg distillery
#fontsmatter
Stop off at Kintra beach where there was a closed campsite and had a swim in the sea, place deserted (source of earwigs to be encountered later). Views of the posh island hotel across the links.
Beach at Kintra
Machrie Hotel
A hard and rough ride to the Mull of Oa, RSPB reserve and home of choughs, which I’ve never seen before. Also a memorial to Americans lost in two ship sinkings.
Feral goats
Mull of Oa
Back down to the Singing Sands just outside Port Ellen, for a wild camp on the dunes.
62 km, 13.8 kph average
22/08/21 Port Ellen – Port Charlotte
Breakfast on a picnic table in Port Ellen, then took the back road back to Bowmore, to find a load of classic cars posing in front of the distillery on a ‘Skyfall’ tour.
View back towards last nights camp
Stop off in Bruichladdich on the way back to the Port Charlotte campsite, to use the laundry facilities.
Bruichladdich harbour
The morning’s dampness had cleared to give great views across to the Oa and beyond (Ireland?).
39 km, 15.7 kph average
23/08/21 Portnahaven
Paid a visit to the Port Charlotte natural history centre, and then cycled a loop around to Portnahaven.
Old chapel near Kilchiaran
Portnahaven
Burials of various ages.
Nerabus burial ground (14th or 15th century)
Ancient burial ground of clan Donald (this one is 1839)
Wonder what Celene is doing here?
Neolithic cairn on campsite
Back to the campsite for another swim in my own little bay.
30 km, 13.6 kph average
24/08/21 Port Charlotte – Jura
Over to Jura today.
Craighouse
Passenger ferry to the mainland
A road, or I suppose The road
Nice paps
Went as far north as Lagg Bay, would have liked to have had more time and go as far as possible but the ferry to Colonsay determined timings.
Lagg Bay
Back south and a stop off at Lowlandman’s Bay, more gravel tracks and a lack of water.
Lowlandman’s Bay
Time correct
This house on the bay looked like it was being renovated but no one in sight
Only water source I could find
Down to Curran sands for another swim. Seemed warmer here and nothing but sand.
Camped in the field behind the beach, had to retreat into the tent as the midges were out in force.
77 km, 15.6 kph average
25/08/21 Jura – Colonsay
Midges were still around in the morning so as quick a pack up as possible.
Back to Feolin for the little ferry to Port Askaig. Stopped off at a church and the village hall to find water but without success, met a couple touring on Bromptons who were looking for the same thing. I would later bump into them a few times on Colonsay.
Port Askaig – Feolin ferry
There were lots of bikes heading to Colonsay.
Leaving Port Askaig
Scalasaig, Colonsay
Left the bike to walk up to the top of the hill above Scalasaig, Beinn nan Gudairean (136 m, I think the second highest peak on the island).
North Colonsay
Rode the long way (it’s all relative) via Kilchattan to Kiloran Bay, and had yet another swim.
Kiloran Bay
Headed further north to find somewhere to camp (no campsites on the island), the track was very sandy in places so hard work even pushing. Lots of cows grazing and I had to keep going to find somewhere to stop that was clear of possible bull disruption. Eventually stopped by a little bay, Port Skibinis. There was a standing stone on the nearby hill, and a fish made out of stones that I later learned is the Colonsay Whale (ok not a fish).
34 km, 12.1 kph average (lots of pushing)
26/08/21 Colonsay – Oban
Up as the sun rose and had my one and only trowel use of the trip. Retraced my steps (literally), and met a farmer and sheep dogs on a quad bike, I guess I must have slept in his farm’s field.
More pushing
Sorry bike
Road down into Scalasaig
Down to the south end of the island and a walk across The Strand at low tide to Oronsay. The sun was hot and I was flagging so didn’t get to explore properly; only on the return to Scalasaig and coffee, irn bru, soup and panini did I realise I had been running on empty.
Crossing to Oronsay
Track only accessible at low tide
The Brompton tourers I kept bumping into
Ferry back to Oban through some eerie mist.
Leaving Colonsay
Mull
26 km, 11.6 kph average
27 – 30/08/21 Oban – stop off at HQ – home
Had a day in Oban so rode up to the viewpoint at Pulpit Hill, and visited the town Museum, which is the classic volunteer run over-stuffed gem. Travelled to Lockerbie the next day and had a night with the parent before heading home.
Ferry to Castlebay on Barra. First couple of hours were nice; smooth and mostly sunny, through the gap between Mull and the mainland. Then it got choppy and wet, but outer islands visible. Lovely evening once on Barra, cycled down to Vatersay for a wild camp above the beach.
Oban and loading:
Ferry journey:
Barra and Vatersay:
02/09/19 Barra for an unplanned second night
Vatersay and Barra the next morning, when the weather started:
Memorial to those on a plane that crashed on Vatersay in 1944. Amazing that the bits of plane are still here.
A stop-off at the airport for a cafe visit, where the wifi informed me that the ferries to Eriskay were cancelled. Headed to a campsite a bit further north.
03/09/19 Catholics and Causeways
Ferries to Eriskay operational.
Crossing to South Uist.
A lot of catholic stuff.
Relentless wind and rain, nothing out there to the west to temper it. MOD area on the north west of South Uist, and the crossing over to Benbecula.
Over on North Uist there is nothing catholic whatsoever.
After a real slog through the wind and rain finally arrived at the campsite on the RSPB reserve at Balranald.
04/09/19 – Refuge from the storm
By some miracle my tent didn’t blow away in the night, but there was no way I was going to try cycling anywhere in the still gale-force winds. I splashed out on a happily available camping pod for the next night (well I got in there as soon as I could); I have never appreciated a roof over my head quite as much as this. The wind seemed to be considered severe by local standards, so I don’t think I was too much of a wimp. I wasn’t expecting electricity, a mini kitchen, or feathered friends, so these were luxury.
Impressed by the people (gravediggers?) working outside during it all.
05/09/19 (over the sea) to Skye
Feeling a bit weather-battered I thought my original plan to go on up to Lewis was a bit optimistic, so headed to Lochmaddy for the ferry to Skye (no ferries from Lewis connect with trains, I’d have to return to the mainland at Ullapool and then cycle some distance to pick up the train line).
Mailbox
Chambered cairn
Had a bit of time in Lochmaddy and had a look through the Runrig archive at the excellent local community centre/cafe/etc. Also home to the most friendly cat I have ever met.
On arrival in Uig it was dark and cold, but the petrol station shop had Cairn o’Mhor wine, so it wasn’t all bad.
06/09/19 Skye
Weather improved from today. Rode to Portree which was busy, seemed to be a music festival on. Sat in a bus shelter for quote a while and managed to get new train tickets home from Kyle of Lochalsh. The cheapest option turned out to be a seated ticket on the Sleeper from Inverness to Preston, which I was quite excited by.
Then on to Sligachan campsite for a couple of nights.
07/09/19 Skye
Sun today, and an unloaded ride up to Dunvegan and back, including a stop at a great coffee/book shop (at Struan I think).
The castle area/car park was really busy, but I wasn’t that interested so went a bit further up the road (the quality of which declines suddenly after the car park) to try and see the castle. Only afterwards did I learn that my friend’s Mother lives along this road. It (the castle) is quite hidden away and from the distance I was at, somewhat underwhelming.
Nice cloudless views over the Cullins on the out and back ride.
Bought this wool at a gallery/craft shop. Still (Dec 2021) haven’t done anything with it yet.
Dinner and lubrication in the Sligachan hotel this evening, both of which were excellent.
08/09/19 Skye to Kyle of Lochalsh
This was the only unpleasant cycling of the trip caused by other traffic, the road was busy and there were a lot of close passes. I think a lot of folk had come up for the weekend at the last minute for the nice weather. And were in a hurry to get home. There were a couple of young lads on what can only be optimistically described as motorbikes, who I was more of less keeping up with due to the number of stops they had to make.
Stopped at a nice cafe in Broadford, and then a bit of a mooch around in Kyleakin.
Spot the trig point – must be one of the lowest.
Then over the bridge, and a last few miles to a campsite.
09/09/19 Kyle of Lochalsh and the Sleeper home
A wet morning, and fortunately I arrived at the station in plenty of time as the bike reservation I had made by phone hadn’t gone through, which sounded like a fairly normal occurrence. Nice little museum there.
Someone put this unicorn sticker on my handlebars while I was enjoying a cooked breakfast in the dry. It’s still there (2021).
Had time to meet up with Kirsteen in Inverness, before getting the Sleeper to Preston, where I spent an uncomfortable couple of hours before an early train to Leeds.
Not abath, which would be much more appropriate, coated as I am in sweat, sun cream, oil, general road dirt and dead flies. I’m waiting for a train to return me to Taunton so I can cycle up a fuck-off hill (again), to spend a night in my tent before going home tomorrow without a wash or change of clothes (my own fault, I was being minimalist in terms of luggage. This is why we have a sleeping bag liner).
I’ve been pretty impressed by my body today. I had a ‘general discomfort’ moment but after a stop and some food it was fine. My legs could have finished the ride, they just kept going. But I haven’t slept for 36 hours, and while I haven’t been nodding off on the bike instead I’ve been mentally spaced out (had this on BGB), it gets scary and doesn’t feel safe. Perhaps coming to do this ride was a mistake, given the way I’ve been feeling recently and that I’m only a week into this lot of medication. But I thought I was being lazy thinking of not starting, that it would be good to do some hard-core exercise and be outside. And no matter how much I might hate it at the time, if I complete a ride the sense of achievement is inextinguishable.
Anyway I’m not supposed to be in Bath. I should be ‘next door’ in Bradford-upon-Avon getting a receipt and then setting off on the final stage of this ride, which is 100 km (longest stage on LEL was 97 km iirc and that was the first one when you have all the enthusiasm). I missed the Bradford turning but that only served to make my decision to DNF easier. I’ve done 300 km to here (still in time) but somehow it’s not much of an achievement when you’ve set out to do 400.
The morning after I have a couple of hours to kill in Taunton before my train home.
Clayhidon Church
View from the Half-Moon pub, Clayhidon
Hearing Sarah describe how she kept going to finish an hour over time put me to shame this morning. I thought yesterday that it had been a mistake to start, but now maybe just a mistake not to finish. Which is better I suppose. Ah well, hopefully I’ve burnt a few of the extra calories I’ve been eating recently, and maintained fitness for the 600 km I’m aiming for to get an SR this year. I should get myself an emergency bivvy bag so I can be more confident about just keeping going, knowing that I can stop as often as I need. This ride could be done as a perm starting wherever appropriate in the morning to align the timings with this one…stop it!
Last night on the ride up to Clayhidon I caught up with Hugo who was walking (I’d had 2 hours rest in Bath, food, and a nap on the train. I’m not sure I’d have made it without walking otherwise). He said he was broken and never doing it again. Now I think about it, I wasn’t thinking that when I was struggling; more sadness that once again I couldn’t keep myself awake enough to do it. But yeah, I will do ‘it’ again.
A couple of chaps came over to speak to Marcus, Sarah and me while we were packing up this morning, Rob and Sh?, who lived near Chippenham. They’d ostensibly come over to look at my tent and then Rob was asking about my bike. I’m never sure when folk are interested in it if that’s a good thing or not. My Cheviot seems to be a little alien for audax, which makes me want to keep it and do them all on it. Someone in the coffee shop I am currently twiddling my thumbs in has just been explaining to his companion that the bike he wants is described as a “cafe racer”, and now I’ve looked it up the term seems to refer to motorbikes, but I did think that an audax bike may be best described as a “24hr garage racer”.
Light at 9.50 pm
So after the 22:30 start, when it hadn’t finished getting dark, we had a quick control in Tiverton. Then it was a simple matter of riding up the Exe valley with the sky still not quite black (it never really was), some stars out including a big yellow/orange one near the horizon – a planet? The over-half moon was bright to the west and glistened off the river in places, which was pretty special.
We had a control in someone’s house at 1:45 am – it was the home of the organiser’s mother, with his wife and daughter helping out. I didn’t know that until later, at the time it was just surreal to be parking bikes on someone’s front lawn and sitting in their living room eating flapjacks in the middle of the night. Riding up out of Minehead, after a while I realised that the light in the sky was getting brighter and so must be the first signs of dawn rather than the last glow of the previous day. To my left I thought I could see mist in a valley bellow, but then realised that it could be the sea and the lights beyond it the coast of Wales (it was).
As dawn proper came, I was on flat deserted roads and surrounded by mist. Sun was up by the time I passed Glastonbury but it was still misty and I couldn’t see the Tor until some time later when I was higher up at the edge of the Mendips. There was an amazing moment around Glastonbury riding through the mist which was bright and hazy, and approaching a darker patch suddenly the sun disappeared and I realised it was the shadow of a hill that I couldn’t see at all before.
Chedzoy Church
King’s Sedgemoor Drain
I missed the Esso garage in Nunny Catch (wins place name of the ride) but felt audax-enough to stop at a shop in Frome for a receipt and knew that it would suffice. I’d been physically uncomfortable leading up to this stop (neck especially) and spent a while eating and having a rest off the bike. Fine after that although I could feel a bit of saddle rub and made sure to put some more conotrane on when facilities permitted.
The Bath-Bristol tunnels were fab – several of us seemed to really enjoy these although I find it hard to explain why, but I’m pleased that I wasn’t alone in my geekiness.
The Severn bridge was both a highlight and marked a turning point, although the cycle path was badly signed and we went around in a bit of a circle; funny to visit Wales for about 15 minutes then leave again. Just over the bridge Sarah and I got mixed into a group ride and one of the leaders said ‘let the audax riders through’ which pretty much made my day (also they pointed us in the direction of Tesco which probably saved a lot more faffing). I didn’t stay long as I’d had a quick petrol station stop about 20 km before and was feeling good, and decided to have a proper stop at Wooton-under-Edge. Although once I set off that didn’t last long and started to feel tired and spaced out again. Had a good hour in Wooton and ate too much.
Feeling woken and rested by the Wooton stop didn’t last long, it was only 38 km to Bradford but I had to stop in Chipping Soddbury for half an hour before I did something stupid. I still wasn’t nodding off but just felt really out of it, very distant from myself, although still going on autopilot and managing to pedal and change gear as normal. I think the heat was getting to me now as well, it was baking, the sky had been clear since the start of the ride. Enough brain remained to know I wasn’t safe on the road, especially as some of these were A and B roads. Even when I felt more awake later I was taking chances at junctions that I wouldn’t normally. I had half an hour lying on the grass in a park but didn’t really sleep much. Felt ok enough to continue for a while. Missed a turning for Bradford-upon-Avon where I’d pretty much decided to call it a day, I could have just followed a road sign further on to get there but the road I was on was familiar (the Exe – Buzzard went in the opposite direction) and I knew I could just stay on it to Bath. And then I could find the train station. I had to wait 2 hours for a train with a bike reservation, although top marks to the station staff (GWR?) for being able to book a space at very short notice. Then that ride out of Taunton again, up the never-ending hill, to the Half Moon pub.
As I am sitting writing this a bunch of Santas on motorbikes (and a few pillion elves) just rode through the middle of Taunton. In a heatwave in June. I’m pleased I can still tell the difference between sleep-deprived hallucinations and general human weirdness.
An adventure often calls to mind, or requires, or both, a book. This ride was to be a little adventure, and a little book was borrowed from the library; John Buchan’s John Macnab. Sir Edward Leithen and friends are experiencing what would probably be diagnosed today as ‘mild to moderate depression’ and end up playing poachers on three Scottish estates. Being away from their usual surroundings, physically challenged, and engaging in (what they perceive to be) a high-stakes game has the effect of making them feel ‘alive’ and improves their mental health. Now I find it an over-simplification to say that cycling keeps me sane, or that getting out on the bike makes me feel better; my current bout of depression started while I was riding more last year, increasing my distances in preparation for LEL. The lead up to and start of a ride are usually stressful times, not so much a question of physical ability (I’m reliably full-value, reasonably confident in my own slow ability) but social anxiety. The early stages can be uncomfortable with riders in close proximity, but as groups form and people find their pace I usually get my own little space and settle in to riding alone. Seeing people up on the road ahead, out of touch but a reminder of being on the same ride, is all I need. In general I find audax psychologically beneficial on a longer timescale than the ride, and sometimes not during the ride at all. It’s the sense of achievement, and in retrospect the shear bloodimindedness of it all, that I value. Some rides I hate the majority of the time I’m there (I won’t name the only one that I’ve resolved never to do again), but other times I do experience absolute joy in the moment. Like Leithen and his friends, once we sign up for a challenge something about the commitment keeps us going, no matter how foolhardy and indeed unnecessary it is.
So it was that I came to be emerging from my frosty tent on Selkirk leisure centre’s campsite one Saturday morning in March. There were no other campers and I had the newly refurbished facilities to myself, indeed I should have come in and slept in the warmth of the toilet block, but instead I wriggled into a down jacket and woolly hat at 4 am.
After the past few weeks of cold and snowy weather which had resulted in a number of audaxes being cancelled and the innvocation of the ‘severe weather policy’ it was a pleasant surprise to see the sun. It was too late for the original route of this ride though. We were riding the ‘snow edition’, with the road from St Mary’s Loch over to Tweedsmuir remaining closed because of snow. We missed nothing though, this was a cracking route and that sun stayed out all day. There were a couple of ice patches in the morning where the road was in the constant shade so I could see how those high narrow roads could easily stay blocked for some time.
Navigation was not demanding on this ride, and a good part of it was familiar. Essentially ‘left out of Selkirk sp Moffat, 53 km’ was the first section. The A708 is a great road, I’ve ridden it in the north west direction twicebefore so it was great to be going the other way – of course you see everything from the other side, but also the climbs where you can see the landscape more slowly are reversed. The sun was high enough and the road often on the southern side so that we were mostly riding in the sun. My left foot was quite happy but my right in the shade was still numb with the cold. The roads were in pretty awful condition in many places, here the problem was less large potholes but more the general overall lumpy surface. The route slowly climbs through snowdrop-filled Yarrow, then becoming more moorland. The hills slowly closed in, but stilll the narrowing burn flowed down, down; back the way we had come.
Eventually the top arrived, and the border with Dumfries and Galloway. Here were a few patches of ice but I was happy enough that just going straight and braking in between them would avoid any problems, especially with the road quiet enough to move right out when needed.
There were patches of snow on the hills all day and at the tops of the passes we rode alongside them. Keeping the right temperature was a balance all day long, climbing in the sun was warm but as soon as a shadows and descents appeared zips were pulled right up again. Stretches of the road around Grey Mares Tail had been fully resurfaced recently and the previous vibrations were soon forgotten, although there were still a few lumps and after one I noticed a rubbing noise. I’m having an ongoing battle with rear mudguards and on stopping in Moffat I realised this was yet another break. This is my third rear guard of the same type…what’s the definition of a fool, someone who keeps doing the same thing and hoping for a different outcome? I think I should just switch to gaffer tape suspended by mudguards stays, which is more or less what I have now, albeit interspersed with bits of actual plastic.
Moffat was a trip to the Rumblin’ Tum, reliable as a quick provider of nice grub and possessor of a stamp. The controls were nicely spaced on this route, all about 50 km apart and before a climb. This climb was the Devils Beeftub (A701), local from my youth when I was fat and unfit, and being driven/driving up this way I always dreamt of riding up here one day. Having done this with 600 km in my legs on LEL I knew it would be fine, and it really is a great climb, on and on but never too steep.
Over the top and the road meets the start of the Tweed, to be followed now as far as Innerleithen. I thought about crossing it yesterday by train in Berwick, and wondered how long it would take the snow patches that were melting today to end up in the sea off the east coast. We briefly cross Scotland’s watershed on this ride, which coincides with the regional borders around Moffat. I wondered whether it would have been any different in Buchan’s day; probably not much, the snaking burn and road and the shape of the hills must be fairly unchanged. The roads were still quiet, among the few cars passing I noticed a Bentley. After a little while I met it again along with another car, stopped in the road, and realised there was a third in a low ditch on the other side. It had gone through a wall and was lying on its side with the windscreen smashed out. I stopped to see if I could help but they said they were fine, there was someone still in the car but they seemed to be engaged in banter with one of the others (“at least it’s not raining” etc) so I hoped that was a good sign. Soon after I set off an ambulance passed and then a couple of police cars.
Just before Broughton we turned off and I was now on unknown roads towards Peebles. There was a mountain bike event on, and I think full suspension would have been useful just for the road surfaces here. I was generally uncomfortable now and a little miserable, and looking forward to a stop in Innerleithen. I’d calculated that Melrose, the final control, would be too late at my speed for a cafe so wanted to sit down and have a warm drink here. Some sort of cyclists’ gravity means that those of us who are slower needed to ride further to find a cafe with space, but the Whistle Stop Cafe was a nice find even if their till clock was running an hour fast on the receipt (stilll within time limits!). My back was sore, which I know is because I had done no core exercises recently, so I had some ibuprofen here (bad habit from LEL) and it was much better for the rest of the ride.
Out of Innerleithen and we were again on a bit of LEL. This had been the end of a beautiful stretch back then, and I remember how weird it was descending these deserted moorland hills to suddenly find a golf course. Again it was great to experience the roads in the opposite direction, and as the road climbed along the Leithen Water and the hills drew closer in I decided this is definitely one of my favourite roads. The sun was sharp on the moorland hills and the roads empty, and I choked up a bit at the beauty of it all. It seems that the only thing that makes me cry these days is cycling and associated reminiscences.
Then we turned off towards Heriot for an info control, before heading south for Stow. We followed the railway line for a while, which had brought me down yesterday and would take me away again tomorrow. This is the most ‘new’ (previously Beeching’d) railway line built for a considerable time, and if it didn’t exist I wouldn’t have been up here riding. Thanks to the Scottish government, and David Steele if I remember correctly. So far the route had been steady climbs and descents but after Stow (unless going off piste which was an entirely reasonable option, good choice Lucy McTaggart) there was a shocker of a hill which had me cursing at the org at the top. Apparently this featured in the Scottish hill climbing championships in 2017. I soon forgave him as there were some great views here. Passing a wind farm I heard the whoosh-whoosh-whoosh as the blades of a close mill rotated. I’d heard similar before, unheralded, in the dark, but never before had I ridden through their shadows, racing towards and through the shadow of my bike going in the opposite direction.
Now we could see the Eildon hills above Melrose which would be visible for most of the rest of the ride. I got a bit confused with the route sheet (my confusion not the directions) and then there was a road closure but the guy working on it let me through and a local reassured me I was going in the right direction. I’d had a walk around here when I camped for last years Moffat toffee so once I could see the Chain Bridge I knew where I was going and headed straight for the Co-op, and crossed paths with Lucy. I’d done pretty well so far not to over-eat but here I had a sandwich and a big twix which I pretty instantly regretted; riding on a full stomach is never comfortable.
The final leg went out to another info which was a bit confusing as the route sheet described it as a T-junction, which did exist a bit further up the road. It took me a while further along the route to be convinced that I’d made the right choice. Lucy had left Melrose before me and arrived at the finish shortly after with an extra few kms so it seemed I had done. As usual the final 10 km seemed to go on forever but once again there was no navigation required so I didn’t bother with my head torch and so couldn’t see how far was still to go or how fast (or indeed slow) I was going, I just practised a bit of being in the present, which I’ve been working on recently. Keep going and you’ll get there. Sure enough almost out of nowhere a T-junction with the A7 appeared and there was the arrivee right next to it – I’m glad I was paying attention and didn’t sail on back down the hill to the town centre only to have to climb back up again, like a few others. Plenty of food at the finish which was great, and I did it in 11 hrs 30 which I was pleasantly surprised by. Then a freewheel down to the campsite, shower and bed. I was quite happy that the clocks went forward as it meant one hour fewer in a frosty (again) tent before getting the first train to Edinburgh from Tweedbank the next morning.
Leithen and his co-conspirators fully exercise and exorcise themselves in John MacNab. Taking themselves out of their usual surroundings and putting themselves ‘in danger’ was sufficient to shift their minds. I was actually surprised by the turns the story took in the later stages; [spolier] the recognition of friends and the security that their place in society provides (so not actually ‘danger’). You can’t read John Buchan now without gagging on the racism, classism and misogyny, but this one has a strong female character and at least some self-awareness at the end.
It’s an over-simplification to suggest that feel bad -> go for an adventure (long bike ride) -> feel better always works. Perhaps it’s rather that making myself do these things keeps a wolf from the door.
207 km, average 21.6 kph, 9:42 hrs riding time; 11:30 total time
My second outing on this ride – it was my first 200 km a couple of years ago. This time serendipitously (my train was fairly late back on Sunday as it was cheap) I was able to make a proper weekend of it. I took Friday off work and an early train to Edinburgh and then along the new line to Galashiels, then rode to a campsite in Melrose. Plenty of time for a mooch around the place: Abbey, Hills that would be nice to walk up with appropriate footwear (and less cloud) and the river Tweed.
We started an hour earlier than usual as it was the same day as Galashiels’ Common Riding, but even so there were some early band members about already. On the first stage I saw Julian who’s been on quite a few of the same rides as me this year. I told him I’d entered LEL but that my training hadn’t gone entirely to plan; he said he’d be volunteering the time round, having ridden it multiple times he thought it would be good to ‘give someone else a go’. Jolly decent chap.
I rode the section into Eskdalemuir with a chap (sadly forgotten his name) who was training for the Etape du Tour, a similar distance but considerably more climbing. Eskdalemuir Community Hub was an excellent control once again, and it was exciting/daunting to see a list of LEL volunteers up.
Next top Langholm for an ice cream, then on to Moffat where I had planned to meet my Mother at the control cafe. I sincerely hope that her paying for my sustenance doesn’t contravene any AUK rules about ‘support’. I can predict my timings reasonably well now and since she is always late I suggested I’d be there 15 minutes before I expected to arrive…typically for the only time ever she was early and spent a while standing outside the cafe and chatting to other riders. On the way up to Moffat I could just see the hills near my parent’s house, although they didn’t make the best photo.
The final leg from Moffat is one of my all-time faves, up the A708 passed the Grey Mare’s Tail and over the top to St Marys Loch. I’d remembered this stage getting quite cold last time and had worried about gloves, until I realised that the last time I rode this it was April, not July.
It was nice to finish feeling good and ‘ready’ for the 100 km the following day, compared to my previous Moffat Toffee when I was wiped out. After stopping in Moffat for longer than I’d normally spend I had a fast ride down on the final stages and finished earlier than expected.
208 km, 11 hrs 27 mins
02/07/17 Broughton and Back 100 km
Although much tamer than the real thing, this was LEL practice of sorts as it was the first time I’d done rides on consecutive days. Today’s 10 am start was almost a lie-in, but I did have to get up and pack up my tent before riding to Galashiels.
The only parts of this route that were familiar were the first few and last kms (as they were the same as yesterday) and Broughton itself, which I’ve driven through numerous times on the way to Edinburgh. It was a nice route which essentially follows the river Tweed all the way up to the A701, although it’s not always visible. There was even a bit of sun.
I finished in plenty of time for the train home so had a bit of time to kill in Waverley station. There were three people with bikes that were entirely different beasts from my trusty Hewitt, who appeared to be on their way home after a triathlon. It was a pleasant evening’s journey home and I saw the river Tweed once more as it finally found the sea in Berwick.
