As we set out for Lairg things seemed to be going well. There was some gorgeous riding along the cliffs as we followed the north coast of Britain to Toung. Regrettably my video clips fail to do justice to the expansive sea views, but do catch some touring cyclists heading back up into Bettyhill.
A man from Porthcawl spotted my flag flying and pulled along side to inquire about our trip. I was pleased that the flag was still effective in Britain.
Once we turned south at Toung, we found that the "main road" over the highlands is single track with passing places. With a bike as laden as mine the regular requirement to stop and start to give way was exhausting.
The highlight was giving way to a HGV, that took the entire width of the track and pushed a wake so strong that it almost knocked me to the floor as I stood at the side of the road.
Feeling a little unwell, and attempting to bring Rich around to my touring philosophy, I insisted on a stop for afternoon tea stop at a remote highland hotel. It is set up as a way station for tourists selling fuel, food and drink in addition to providing accommodation. We were offered seats in the hotel lounge, which we slumped into gratefully. I imagine to those around us though, the image of two cyclists clad in Lycra (and if I'm honest more than a little dirt) pouring tea from a pot into china cups in the palatial surroundings of the hotel lounge was probably more than a little incongruous.
Day 3 (our first proper ride day) though turned into an unexpectedly low day for both of us. We had both been under the weather leading up to the trip. For my part I had been suffering from nausea, stomach cramps and other, even less pleasant, members of the ensemble which are together known as "gastro-intestinal distress". As a consequence I had lost a fair bit of weight before we left. I hadn't really given this much thought, but at points during the day I found my legs to be way down on power compared to what I can usually manage. There were undulations that would normally not have troubled me, or even slowed my down at all, for which I was having to get out of the saddle and tackle them with significant exertion. Consequently I was relatively slow over the central highlands, and Rich in a significant turn around, ended up waiting on me at times. The feeling of weakness was soon followed up with a recurrence of the injury in my upper thigh/groin that I had experienced on my last tour. I'm also generally (as those of you who have seen me going about in December in my shorts may have guessed) not prone to feeling the cold, but today I found my self donning leg warmers and gilet; a sure sign that I was out of sorts.
Reaching Lairg was a nice mile stone, because it is a calling point on the railway that runs from Inverness to Wick. By reaching it therefore we had completed a big loop around this part of the highlands; up by rail, down by bike.
In Lairg we stopped at a Cafe, with a small jetty into the loch.
I took this picture for my friend Anne, as a follow-up to the "valiant duck" video from my 2010 trip. I call it "let sleeping ducks lie".
The cafe' its self was a lovely, place with a retro, 40s look about some of its fittings.
After the highlands we decided to push on from Lairg (the "cross roads of the north") to Tain, an additional 30miles. It was in this latter part of the day's ride that Rich found his earlier exertions in the mountains catching up on him. He began to experience joint pain and as we went his pace slowed noticeably.
At Invershin, about a third of the way between Lairg and Tain the route (Sustrans' National Cycle Route 1) using a foot bridge slung below a viaduct that carried the railway we had used the previous day to reach Thurso... this involved climbing three staircases, each about 9 feet high. This is not easy to accomplish with touring bikes, and one wonders what the route planner was thinking.
I understand that Sustrans don't have control over how local authorities set up their pathways etc, but they could at least have mentioned the need to man handle well over a 100Kgs of touring bikes up those stairs on the route guide.
We met a lady, touring solo from Land's End to John o' Groats.
About 3 miles from our destination; (the camp site near Tain) my front wheel rolled over a tack (yes, another tack), and punctured. It was quite exposed and cold, so it took quite some time to get it fixed.
Tonight we're camped out on the edge of a firth (probably not for the last time). There is quite a bit of a wind, which is making for a... dynamic camping experience.
There was a marvelous end to the marvelous day:
- Shortly after arriving, I found the washing-up liquid had leaked all over my cooking-stuff pannier.
- Rich spilled our porridge
- Then we ran out of gas for the stove (before we could make more porridge, or cook the Welsh cakes that I had prepared
Plenty of room for improvement :-)
No comments:
Post a Comment