An unwanted DIY

I failed on my own 300
I messsed up and didn't eat right the day before
I failed horribly on Errochty.
And so I needed another weekend on the long distance bike
An easy DIY in order

I didn't think I'd get here this early
I set off just before midday with the sun high in the sky
The wind whipping up the silt from the fields and blinding my eyes
I'd had a tough week, 3 long walks, 2 hard rides, to bash out work shite.
My legs ached
It was a tough wind to ride into but when I turned at St Andrews I was flying

Now in the woods of Muckhart I soft pedal
Behind me the afterglory burns the sky red at the end of the Ochils
I note there's only 44km to go, if I try I can be home in 2 hours
But I won't, on this quiet road in the woods, in the soft light of the gloamin, I slow
My tyres silent on the road, the wind no longer buffeting in my ears
In the trees the evening songs of the birds ring out
The earlier drizzle brought the petrichor out to scent the air.
This brief calm is time to savour

North Coast Classic 600

Unwelcome

Right, that's my bags packed, bike tested and oh I'm a bit warm and weak.

Two weeks of being anti-social, two weeks of shopping at midnight, and one day in the office at work saw two nasty red lines appear on my LFD the weekend before the Calendar event.
The last event needed to claim the Highland Audax SR Pin Badge, to get the 600 PBP pre-qualifier in after a 1000km failure, and just to top it off, an AAA Super Randoneur Series for a fat lump of a rider... If I made it.

My DNS email went to Andy with the comment "I’ll need to ride the Perm version", I got a response containing "It is a wee bit hillier", just a wee bit aye, the calendar event had 6 AAA points, Audax UK's reward for hillier rides each point being for 1000m of climbing provided the route is over the threshold for being "Hilly", the Permanent has 7.5 AAA!

The Highland Audax Permanents had already saved my attempt at that coveted pin badge since the Turra Coo clashed with the 1000km Highland Fling, I would have blogged about that earlier but, well, I got it a bit wrong and tried to take on Cowal on day two on nothing more than a Sausage and Egg roll, and while it wasn't any of that Link nonsense a bit more energy is needed than what the wonders of Lorne Sausage can for that distance.

With my hiking club having a meet arranged for August in Elphin I spotted the perfect opporchancity to get the ride done, there was only one problem, everyone else that could ride it with me said it was a bit close to London-Edinburgh-London for them to do it, an event I looked at briefly and then discarded in the "not bothered" pile largely due to the turn point for "Edinburgh" being Dunfermline, which means crossing the Forth Bridge, passing signs that say Welcome to Fife and probably also seeing the Lomonds, or in other words, far too close to home (20mi).

So I was resigned to riding 600km, 600 brutal km in a desolate landscape devoided of it's human occupants in the 18th and 19th Centuries in favour of a crop of animals that produced a return on their investment in the land (often won from the clan chiefs through bankruptcy or at the card table), those were sheep and deer. The populace forced out to the new settlements on the coast to participate in the Haaf, fishing for the then popular Herring or collecting seaweed for dyes, many were shipped off to America others were refused permission to sail but found ways to go anyway, meanwhile the landowners descendent raised funds from the few remaining tenants and planted a statute high above Golspie on Ben Bhraggie of his father, the 2nd Marquess of Stafford, 1st Duke of Sutherland or more aptly known as "The Bastard".

Fucked it Mate

Training was looking good, my bike going well, then one night as I put the power down after exiting the junction at Dunshelt I suddenly realized I had a fixed wheel, followed by the sound of spokes snapping as I tried to avoid a tyre destroying rear wheel skid and come to a stop.
As I turned the bike upside down (yes I know the rules) on the verge I saw it was as bad as it sounded.
I'd got the chain off the big ring and into the gap, forcing the spokes into all sorts of mangled shapes, it was a new wheel as well only 400km, bugger.
Backup bike it will have to be.

What else could possibly stop me from achieving this ride, this pin badge, this SR series and this AAA SR Series? How about Toothache...
I'm trying to get in the habit of Swimming again, it gives something to do when my legs are knackered from cycling and a bit of CV work, it's also rather handy if you fall off the bike into a big dub or something. (Fir the Dorics, that's the Fife Dub no yir Muddy Dub).  As I tried out one of the local pools I felt a throbbing in my not long Root Canaled and crowed tooth as I put effort in, the following days test ride of the backup bike confirmed this and I knew if it was the tooth then it was coming out and that means time off the bike, time that would be in the period I planned to ride.

I set tentative alternate plans depending on what the dentist decided to do, if the tooth comes out immediately I can ride on the weekend but would barely be with my club mates, or I could ride the following days, or... 
He peered at the X-Ray image on screen, "good news, the existing infection in the tooth is almost gone so we don't need to do anything drastic like haul the tooth out, but you need to brush harder on that gum to stop it getting infected.", I'd say Phew but I knew what was coming next, the needle in the gum, with no anaesthetic and a flush of the bulge in the gum with antiseptic, how is it dentists always make things hurt more? I spent the rest of the day in worse agony than it had started.

But at least it was an all clear to ride.

A Room with a View

The Grampian Speleological Group's hut in Elphin is rather nice even though I can't pronounce their name and has a cracking view of the Assynt mountains from the conservatory that doubles as a dining room.

I sat there eating my Weetabix looking at Cúl Mór pondering as to what I was about to do after a restless night sleep and a missed alarm had me awake at my intended start time. Not that it mattered as I was going to validate by GPS track and it would only affect the arrival time at potential supply stops such as Thurso and Wick Tescos which I need to be at before 10pm and midnight if they were to be of use.

I soon forced myself to roll down the gravel driveway and onto the roadway, within seconds though I ground to a halt at the sign for the Elphin Tea Room, I needed back up proof in case the GPS failed and Selfies were going to have to do the job in places, no matter how much I would have liked it I wasn't getting a cooked breakfast at this hour so a photo of their sign would have to do the job.

Almost a smile!

Getting going again I was prepared for a long hard slog round to Tongue in what's known as Hellfire Corner, also the title of Highland Audaxes 400km ride which I'd finished in May with 20 minutes to spare on the ACP time limit.
My last ride in this direction here was during LeJog on the fully loaded Touring bike so it's no surprize that I was faster on a lightly loaded Audax Bike, but I was surprized at how much faster, 12 minutes better up the Quinaig, I was going well and outside factors were involved with a brisk South Westerly giving that welcome helping hand, however on some of the descents the fatter tyres seem to have done the trick (The bike, luggage and me combination for this was heavier than LeJog)

I thundered into Durness with an average of 20kmh on the clock, I looked at my computer in disbelief and then faffed a lot of it away in the shop trying to figure out what I could eat, a steak slice seemed safe enough and a chicken and bacon mayo sandwich would be safe too, yet horribly dry I eventually gave up on the bread and ate the filling.

Smiling along Loch Orrible

I knew things were going to ease slightly in the hilliness department, but Loch Eribol was still to be rounded and that usually means a headwind in one direction, I seemed to still have the speed though as I set off along the increasingly busy road in an Eastward direction, I've got the passing places pretty much spot on, on the bike provided the oncoming or passing driver knows what you want them to do, and occasionally I was needlessly stopped by drivers who weren't up for passing me as I rolled slowly through the passing place or worse stopped on the entry to it preventing progress entirely until I had stopped, the best however as is to be expected were the wee red vans of royal mail and the blue pickups of Scottish Water, second only to timber trucks in the "not stopping for anyone" stakes, I stop for timber trucks (and get as far out the way as possible, they're nuts), but these guys know the score and can scoot round you almost anywhere.  They also do it repeatedly as they drop off the day's post so you get to know how good they are (unsuspecting tourists in rental cars also find out about their priority of way to these budding Colin MacRae's rather abruptly).

Loch Eribol proved to be sheltered, the wind conveniently coming from West enough a direction that the slog south was not a slog, but also that the slog North was not wind assisted. The Moine however was wind assisted and as I crested the summit the sun shone on Tongue, the Hostel and the campervans parked on the Causeway by the sea, the houses zig-zagging-up the hill, I thought about stopping at the hostel café but felt I'd taken on enough at Durness to get to Bettyhill, where I was convinced there were hot pies for sale.  This also allowed me to take the shore road, I'm not sure I'll do that again as other than a lack of passing places on the narrow bits the hill is I'm sure harder than the hairpins in the village, but it is shorter.

Between Tongue and Bettyhill is an amusing waymarker at Borgie Glen I need to go back to with Hiking Boots or Mountain bike "The Unknown".

I stopped for silly photographs because why not, a minute or two won't hurt will it.

The Unknown

In the Bettyhill shop I scanned around, cake yes, sweets, yes, sandwiches yes, pies... No.

Argh I wanted something warm, not thinking to ask if they still did Pies, I picked a suitably dairy free sandwich and some sweets and went out to sit on the wall. As I looked at the shop window while filling my water bottles I stared directly at a well hidden hot box filled with Steak Slices and Sausage Rolls. I chewed my bread and sweets thinking about what could have been, but I put this disappointment aside when, as I picked the bike up the shopkeeper reminded me that it's flat after Reay in 8 miles.

Flat Round Here

As the Nuclear Waste containment dome of Dounereay power plant came into view the vast expanse of flatishness lay ahead of me, and with the wind still behind me despite easing in strength I could power on along gently, resting my legs for what lay beyond into the night.

My pre-ride knowledge gathering had revealed rather disappointingly that Wednesdays are the day off for Castletown chip shop so I stopped at Thurso Tesco for tea, another sandwich and some fruit, and on to John O Groats for the control, again I expected I would be too late to get anything at least from the shops, I could possibly have got a drink at a bar but didn't fancy the temptation of somewhere warm to sit down in too long.

 

Despite having started three quarters of an hour later than planned I was concerned about my final pre-night replenishment options, Wick Tesco I had identified shuts at Midnight, I planned based on that being the cut off time before my late start and now I found myself hurtling down the A99 at a good speed with plenty of time to get there before even Sundown, another sandwich etc.

As I set off from Wick Tesco the sun had set and the sky blazed Gold and Red, but the best bit of all was the deserted roads, ideal for making progress through the night.

The A99 and section of the A9 is normally a horror story at the end of LeJog, one of the reasons I chose to ride from Durness when I did it and many others now use the middle road to Tongue, but I skizzed along the silent and damp, occasionally wet roads of the gloaming into the Night, the Berriedale Braes were on my mind, they were my one concern, the descent would be fine I knew, it was the climb that  I feared.

Leaving Wick

They arrived, if anyone could hear me coaxing myself down the hill as fast as I dared they would have heard a selection of swear words surrounded by "Get off the --- Brakes" and "Lean the --- Over", I'm reasonably bold at descending but I could be faster and one of my problems is staying on the brakes too long, often into the corner when everything else is set up to get round, the other is not leaning in enough, just ask Robbie my Tandem Stoker. As I reached the bottom I looked up at the cats eyes climbing ahead, illuminated by my dynamo light slowly dimming as my speed collapsed to a crawl and then I ground to a halt, the problem wasn't the steepness, I was actually riding up ok, it was just my head burst with the slowness after riding everything so well all day. It's only 10% for a kilometer and a half, nothing compared to what I'd stormed up earlier but my head was gone, worked myself up into the fear of the climb, and then it started raining.

I unclipped and started that undignified walk of cycling shame as my glasses misted up.

Early morning phone box snacks

Once up the worst of the brae I remounted and rode through the increasingly heavy rain, I planned to get to Kinbrace before having a snooze on the ground in the shelter at the station, but I wondered if there was something in Helmsdale, and why hadn't I checked the town out in street view before?
Adding to the problem was I was feeling hungry again, my memory said there was a good stone shelter at the junction but this proved to be a fiction of my addled brain.
Near the station I saw a phone box and dived in out the rain clutching the food I'd stashed in my bag at Wick for this purpose, though it was meant to happen when I stopped to bivvy.
It was 30 minutes I shouldn't have spent stopped, standing up in a phone box instead of sitting down preparing to sleep. A wasted 30 minutes

It was still raining heavily but I knew I needed to push on, I didn't think to check Helmsdale station for an open and possibly better shelter, I didn't think to check Kildonnan either as I rode up the Dale towards Kinbrace where I had been set on bivvying on the wooden bench or on the floor of the bus shelter. As I climbed the dale I doubted my route, it looked nothing like I remember from that Icy day Robbie and I rode the 200km round Ben Klibreck but then I know well that nothing looks the same going the other way, nor for that matter in the pouring rain in the dark at 1am compared to in ice and snow in the dark at 8pm.

I also expected to see the glow of the station lights, after all they were on when we did that ride, forgetting that the last train hadn't been when we passed that day, in darkness I arrived at Kinbrace.
344km, Twenty hours and Fifty minutes after I hit start on my computer, I wheeled my bike up to the shelter and realized the wooden bench had been replaced with metal and armrested, designed to ward vagabonds like myself away from a comfortable sleep. It was wet and getting wetter anyway.
I lay my bivvy bag down on the hard platform surface, in my wet kit, so wet I didn't dare put on my down jacket I climbed in and went to sleep, or at least tried to.

Desolate Isolation

At 0415 the timer on my phone chirped, I thought I was cold in the bag, I really need a light weight but warm liner to help with this, or at least to be sensible and put on the down jacket, I undid the draw strings and the cold air of dawn hit me, this got me going. The passenger information told me it was 0420, the next train was going the wrong way and the next one to Lairg was cancelled, so that was temptation sorted. 

I did the maths, for the AUK 14.3kmh pace I had two and a half hours in hand, for the ACP 40hr pace I had thirty minutes, it's not bad, but it's not great.

In the morning gloamin road sleeping sheep woke and legged it in both directions as my free wheel crackled them to life, these Moses moments both concerning and alerting me to the dangers on the road in this desolate glen at this hour the only habitation out here is the Garvault Inn, a white speck against the green and brown of the moor. If you come off, you could be lying there a while. Further on deer bounded around, thankfully always away from me.
A car parked in the middle of nowhere sheltered tent sleepers, now there's an idea (more weight, more bulk, maybe not), and then I recognized the slope, it was where I lost traction in the powderd snow on the way up, now I was on the way down to Syre, not a soul was about, not even a pickup driving farmer to tell me I was nuts.

The Crask Inn

A further failure of preparation was ahead, I had meant to contact the Crask Inn to find out what time breakfast was and if they would be able to serve me, as I climbed the last climb before the plunge to the Kyle of Sutherland I rued this mistake. I got there just before 8 with not a soul around.

The road on from the Crask was busy with workers thundering towards the wind farm construction site, the road widened with coarse gravel allowed them to carry on thundering with a couple of wheels rattling the stones.

I realized my poor sleep was going to haunt me as soon as the climb ended, the long, smooth and fast descent showed me how tired I was, I hoped I could get a snooze at Lairg after Breakfast.

At Lairg the first thing I saw was the sign for a Café and the door wide open, the second thing I saw was the closed sign and the "Opens at 10am", it wasn't yet 9.

I bought yet another uninspiring meal from the local shop and sat on a damp bench that offered no hope of a snooze, but I felt the meal had woken me. After passing more sheltered benches I rolled out of town and down towards the Kyles, once again acutely aware that I needed more shut eye.
I stared at Lairg Station, but carried on, but by Invershin I knew it was either here, Bonar Bridge or Ardgay where I'd need to find something.  I climbed the dirt track to the station and to my relief saw the small wooden shed of a waiting room, no longer than I am tall, and only wide enough for me to perch in the corner on the bench but that 10 minutes with my eyes shut saved my day.

The bottom of the Struie

I had put 15 minutes on the timer but the station maintenance man had come to empty the bins, despite my bike leaning against the station sign he was surprized to see me and his first thought was that I'd slept there all night, I didn't bother to say I had "slept" at Kinbrace but just said I'd taken a quick nap.
The day was feeling warmer already and at Bonar Bridge I stopped to change kit, taking off my warmers and swapping my wool Audax Ecosse jersey for my Mucky Riderz jersey in thin polyester.
And then after that I stopped at the shop in Ardgay, again convinced they did warm food and failing to find it all I bought was a bag of Revels that wouldn't be eaten until I got back to Elphin.

At the bottom of the Struie I was only just holding time, despite the good speed on the road my average since setting off six hours and 45 minutes previously was only 14.3kmh, the minimum speed of the Audax and the one hour and twenty five minutes stopped destroying my hopes of building more margin.

Somewhere up the Struie

The good news about the Struie is that it's quite an enjoyable climb, the bad news about the Struie is after 444km it's quite a challenge to keep riding in places, but I made it up.  On the steep section with the view point a gawking tourist could only muster "Oh Well Done!", I was putting so much in I couldn't get the photograph I wanted of a knackered, panting me and the Kyles below.
And of course as with all these ups, there's a good enjoyable down, all the way down to the A9. Crap. Why hadn't I checked this out properly? I could have... No wait what could I have done? Added distance going round by Dingwall? (There was also a 20m stop at Evanton Co-Op but I'll gloss over that for effect)

I found a gap in the incessant traffic of a touristic August Thursday mid-afternoon and hammered it with all I could find the 6.5k over the Cromarty Bridge and onto the climb to Culbokie, for the second and final time on the ride I got off and pushed due to running out of legs. (Garve Level Crossing doesn't count)

This route over the Black Isle is definitely shorter than going by Dingwall, Maryburgh and Tore, but it's also much hillier, maybe if I ride again I'll try the cheeky longer but flatter option.

It had to happen eventually though, in 42 hours it's bound to happen, someone would at some point get upset with me for some reason and hit the horn, after climbing out of Munlochy I was hurtling down the narrow road towards North Kessock and having spent the previous few hours riding single track roads I was of course rather confident in my bike handling at speed, on descents, going through small gaps to get round oncoming cars and I saw the land rover driver move over to make space for me to go through, so much to their fright, I did, squeezing through the gap about twice the width of my bike at 48kmh while turning round a corner. Really it was fine, you could have got a bus through there...

The Aultguish Inn and the Glascarnoch Dam

North Kessock was the turning point for me, as I'd started in Elphin and be getting to North Kessock when stuff was open I was allowed to turn here rather than ride over the Kessock Bridge and back, it would reduce the distance from 612km to 601km, but it's the 600+ that matters for the points and the bridge has no impact on the AAA. This is also the start and end point of the calendar event, I knew this was a good long gentle section compared to the rest of the ride, but it's such a long dull slog all the way up to the Dam, and I always forget about the plateau by the loch not being flat either. 

However eventually I felt my pace quicken without input, Braemore junction came into view and very soon after passed me by, climbing this hill on Hellfire Corner so close to the end, was Hell, descending it, so close to the end was Heaven right up to the point I was reminded that it doesn't plunge right into Ullapool and there's the long slog beside Loch Broom.

I stood on Shore Street at Twenty to Nine, I thought about trying to get a fish supper but that would take time to eat, I've done 582km, I've done them in 37hrs 56minutes, I have, two hours 4 minutes to do 23km to make ACP pace, I have 4 hours, 4 minutes to make AUK pace, only that later number matters really as this isn't an ACP event.
I've lost half an hour today already, so I went to Tesco.

Darkness Looms

I had the fear for this last section, the start of the Hellfire Corner roads, on Hell Fire Corner going the other way I walked every climb, today going the opposite direction I stomped them out with all I had left, I wanted to beat 40hrs.

Yet still I stopped for some photos to send to friends before the phone signal went, as much to say I'm still Ok, because at the end there is no signal to report safety.

I eeked out what I could on the descents, taking the same approach as on the Berriedale Braes, and as I rolled into Elphin I thought I'd done it.

But I hadn't, missing 40hrs by just short of 4 minutes.

Bugger. Not that it matters, as this is a Permanent and therefore only exists under AUK rules.

But still, it would have been nice to know I'd have managed it as an ACP event.

Stats:

Distance: 606.5km (all those mini detours soon add up)
Total Time: 40:03:45
Moving Time: 32:52:58
Stopped Time: 07:10:47
Maximum Speed: 65.7Kmh
Average Moving Speed: 18.4Kmh
Average Speed: 15.1Kmh
Under Audax UK rules my time limit is set for the 601km route at 14.3kmh or a nudge over 42 hours, under ACP Rules the time allowed is fixed at 40hrs

Tour of East Lothian 2022

The tour of East Lothian is also known as "Audax Ecosse's re-enactment of Napoleons retreat from Moscow", this is largely due to the tendency for the routes summit at the Red Stane Rigg to be snowy, very snowy.

However this year was very different, it was wet, very wet.

I hadn't been planning to ride the ToEL this year and instead do a 200 from home to get my 2nd of the month, however Joseph had planted a seed to ECE it and when Robbie asked the organizer if there were any spare cards and suggested I did too, well how could I resist!

The weather forecast was looking pleasant mid-week, unseasonably mild and dry, things were looking good, then it went down hill as each check revealed a heavy band of rain kicking in from 9am bang on East Lothian.

We thought about starting at Ferrytoll Park and Ride which would conveniently be 50km each way, but then, what's the fun in getting up at 5am to drive to ride a bike when you can get up at 4am to ride your bike and get a train home!

The Wee Hours in Kinrosshire

Robbie and I sat bleary eyed and barely awake in my living room eating Weetabix while waiting for Joseph.  I saw the neighbours security light flick on and knew it was time, the night was still dark and the roads damp but the air was dry.  We slipped out into the early morning heading West for Falkland and Strathmiglo to pick up the main road to Milnathort, I struggled to keep up to begin with on the gentle climb, whether they slowed or I woke up I don't know and don't plan to ask but by Arlary I was back on and we were taking turns as we rode through the cobbled centre of Kinross.  Early morning shops slowly waking up on this Sabbath.

The long gentle climb to Kelty, or as the locals call it F**king Kelty went briskly, very few had yet stirred and we mostly had the road to ourselves, at Crossgates I spotted the shop had moved and there was a new outdoor ATM, a major boon for riders of the classic Permanents that visit here, the descent to Dalgety bay and onto the bridge followed, Robbie noted that this would likely be the last time he rode the Forth Bridge before LEL as he's off to 'Nam for work at some point in the near future.

Forth Road Bridge

I'd made the mistake of following the NCN1 route on the map and rode up a ramp into the Forth Bridge Control car park and up to a gate in front of a housing development, I quickly figured out how to get onto the normal route and we skimmed through Dalmeny and along to Crammond Brig where rather than continue into Edinburgh we took to Crammond Village and then along the sea front into Newhaven  as the dull light of an overcast day reached it's peak.

Firth is Scots for Fjord and applies to Sea Lochs forming the interface of river to sea, you can also find Sounds in Scotland which is a cognate of Sund also used for Fjords in Norse but generally applying to through channels between land masses, in Gaelic they're called Caols Scoticised to Kyles.

A bit of urban traffic light pain got us through to Portobello and onto the sea front esplanade there for the last wee bit into Joppa and then Musselburgh, in previous years I've seen riders eating in cafés near the start but they had all repurposed themselves so we retraced to Greggs to attach their breakfast menu, sadly I made a mistake of assuming normal Sausage order applied and that it would be Sausage or Link, not Sausage or Lorne.  One of the helpers arrived for his breakfast and spoke to us as we stuffed food into our already empty bellies.

Breakfast #2

Gluttony completed we rode up to the start and collected out brevet cards, the rain started as we set off to the South.  We split up naturally as we picked up other riders and the route started it's ramp up, Robbie latching onto one of the more natural climbers, Joseph and I held back by Gravity could only watch him disappear up the hill.  Some sections of the route had escaped my memory and I started worrying that when I'd put the ECE together I'd routed wrong, but this turned out to not be the case as groups of faster riders passed.

The Rigg proper starts at Gifford, we had initially hoped to hold on for breakfast 2 until here but I'd identified the need to have some level of buffer would mean Musselburgh made sense, other riders however had already packed into the Lantern Rouge café, I suppose when you only need to maintain 12kmh rather than 14.3kmh it's not so difficult, it's also not so difficult if you can climb and are decently fast on the flat too.

A view from the Rigg

The climb starts with a bit of tough undulation before slowly ramping you up to the peak gradient, I've never made it up having failed at the same sport every time, I've never noticed the grit bin, I wish Robbie had hung back to distract me.
At the top the views were typical of a dreich Scottish day, so I stopped and waited for Joseph, a few more riders summited before him and as we sped off down the hill I thought he was directly behind me as I called gravel on the turn up the Whiteadder, I always think it's downhill through here but after a bit of climbing it becomes a rollercoaster ride of small peaks and big troughs to batter up and race down with a few tight turns, another peak, a right hand turn and a massive hole in the road on a descent to a cattle grid.  At Garvald I decided to wait for Joseph when I saw a 5* Audax Hotel, and we set off again, however he never managed to hang on, the road from Garvald is still technical in places with some sketchy twisty descending trying out my already knackered brake pads and frayed nerves.

Garvald

I rode into Dunbar soaking wet, cold and questioning my life choices, I decided I should bounce it and just as I was trying to remember how to take off my gloves Robbie shouted from the door of Umbertos, "It's warm in here".  I suppose I'd been trying to avoid the comfort of warm but I changed my mind and went in, the steak baguette seemed suitably dairy free and the chocolate cake, although not dairy free I rejected ice cream or cream and asked for to be served first.

Eating the sweet first is something I've developed through cycling, getting that sugar hit in early before the slower burning bread and protein course gives a good kick and I find reduces the post eating lull.
Robbie spotted Joe arrive at the Co-Op but didn't get a chance to call him in before he charged in and reappeared with a typical Audax meal.
I started to worry a bit about time but Robbie pointed out it wasn't event 2pm and I had till 7pm to get to Waverly to finish the ECE in time.  I spent 40mins drying out a bit.

A day for bouncing between questioning your
life choices and channelling your inner Jens Voigh

Another feature of the ToEL is there is always a raging Westerly along the coast, well today there was a raging Easterly and that meant an atypically gentle spin back to Musselburgh but not before climbing back up to Haddington on roads that were very flooded and needed some MTBing techniques to maintain speed through the standing water (that being arse off the back of the saddle ready to lift the front wheel if I felt it drop into a pot hole), on the coast the anticipated shove arrived and we barely had time to read the info control as we shot past the Cockenȝie petrol station.

We had thought we might have caught up with Jospeh but it wasn't to be, he had put the power in to get to Waverly well ahead of us, so we sat in Musselburgh Costa still wondering WTF we were doing while also slowly taking in that Type 2 fun had actually happened (and maybe even some Type 1!!!)

The Innocent Railway

The leg into Edinburgh was fairly easy, except I missed a hop onto a cycle track and had us briefly on the A1 for a sprint between traffic lights and a roundabout.  Thankfully it was easy to pick up the cycle track on the Innocent railway and as we left the tunnel our routes diverged, I said good bye to Robbie and doubled back for a loop of Arthurs Seat that I needed to get my distance up.  I misread a road closure and found myself out of the park and trying to pick my way round the edge passing through medical centre and boolin club car parks before finding a gate in the wall that took me onto the road I wanted to complete my lap and back onto the roads where I'd left them.  Into the old town and a short section of the Royal Mile before descending onto Waverly Bridge and into the station with and hour to spare.

Unfortunately this was also the same hour where there are no trains stopping at my station so I grabbed an overpriced pasty from a stall and stood around until I worked out where my train was for the trip home.

Quick rest to sort bits at Crammond Brig

Along the Silverburn Seafront

Along the Silverburn Seafront

Greggs

Up the Rigg

Up the Rigg

Up the Rigg

Off the Rigg

A summary of the days weather

Through the Night

The golden light of sunset drapes the fields that the ribbon of rough tarmac I'm confined to winds. As the golden sunset fades to the gloaming, my light makes it's presence felt at first on the reflective road signs before marking its presence on the road.
Slowly it becomes more important while my eyesight is starved of the world.

Eventually, I'm riding in a bubble of light, no longer can I see where the road goes through the fields and trees, just a few meters ahead are their fences, and branches jutting over the road to the side. 
An owl flutters out from the unseen and swoops onto the road and returns skywards with a mouse in its beak.

Picking up speed through the obstacles of the descending road, my tyres skizz as I pick up speed.
A rough patch here and a pothole there, these obstacles enter my bubble of light but briefly, I have little time to respond.
Sometimes I don't react in time, a sudden shudder or clatter is my reward for inattention.

My machine whirrs below me, I feel resistance in my legs and  I look into the dark nothingness where my cassette lives.
I've only the feel of the bike to live by.

Between the trees White Eyes glow, White eyes, White whose eyes are they? Deer!
A stag steps into the road, I slow to a halt, he's taking all the time in his world, thankfully I can still see him in my stand light so I can count.
12 points, he's a Monarch, in the middle of the road the king stops.
He looks to his left where I stand, nods slightly and carries on, launching over the fence effortlessly.

In this momentary pause I look skywards, in the clear moonless sky the milky way looks upon me as I stare in awe.
I'm rudely woken from wonder by a sound, I look back and see another light some distance behind. 

I carry on at my pace up this hill, occasionally I look back and see the other light is catching me, at some point over the whirr of my invisible gears I hear a missed gear change and associated swearing.
Despite the mistake he's getting closer.

The other rider's light joins mine with the scrubbing of brakes and a hello,
I know him and we start talking.
We agree to ride together, he may be a better climber but I'd dropped him on the last descent, it's evened out.  Through the night we continue together, looking for the oasis of light that is the motorway service area of the next control.

When we get there riders are draped over the seats of the 24hr McDonalds, some sleeping, others just dozing. More riders are tucking into the burgers and ice creams that will fuel them through the night.
I contemplate joining the sleepers as I tuck into mine.

Back out into the darkness, alone again as my companion has opted to sleep when I have not. 
I navigate the carpark while a slight bluing arrives on the horizon.
Back out into the countryside the sounds of the motorway fade and are replaced by birdsong.

Slowly my bubble of light retreats, the blue of the sky lightens, the fences turn to fields, branches to trees, and then the golden hue of sunlight arrives.
And on I ride with a smile of satisfaction that I've made it through the night.

Upping the distance

Moulin Muirs - A Route Check

The Moulin Muirs has been my favourite DIY concoction so far so it was only right that when I decided I'd run a calendar event or two that I made it the one I set out my intent with.
I also set up an early Spring event for 2021 based on my gentle lap of the Ochils but that was postponed to December following the 2020 post-Christmas lockdown.

Knowing the route well I enlisted Joe another locally based Rider to do a route check with me early summer, although the event isn't until October this allowed me to ensure the combination of RideWithGPS, Google Street View and my memory well in advance of the event, get a second 200 in for June and already having an idea of what a faster rider thinks of it since Craig uses a variation on the same idea starting from Dundee, get an early indication of how the route would look to another rider that is towards the back of the pack.

Joe was wanting a 300 so I met him at the Tay Bridge Car Park around his 50km pretty much bang on the 8am start time of the event, having confirmed that the snack bar was open CRaig put in an appearance, using the excuse of needing to collect rent from a tenant in Kirkcaldy as an excuse to get a 200 in he bade us a good day while making Joe aware of the lump over to Alyth and we set off through Newport and Wormit for the coast road, checking the description of each junction along the way and Joe pointing out hazards that I'd missed or overlooked that should be on there.

By Dunning it was food stop time for Joe those extra 50km bringing forwards eating time and throwing my normal pattern off, although it's not a control it's a good wee shop with a decent area to sit by the bridge.  A good village shop feed and we were back on along towards Auchterarder.  With no need to ride up to the Co-Op for food we carried on over the junction to ride the slight lump that separates Strathallan from Strathearn. All through this section there are peeks at the crack in the Mounth that forms the Sma Glen, each one looking both closer and further away as the road heads slightly east.

MM - Joe leading up into Fowlis

Kinky Bridge was crossed and we settled in for the climb to Glenalmond, The A85 was annoyingly busy at Fowlis Wester and the dig up the last climb before the descent into Glen Almond taxed our legs properly for the first time in the ride.  A road closure warning sign sat at the side of the junction with the road to Amulree, works on the telephone links up the pass occasionally needing overnight closures.  
Through the woods and then the bridge, the high rocks sides of this crack either side of the Highland Boundary fault feasts the eyes, I double checked the distance for my route note "Welcome to the Highlands"

Up the climb men hung from radio masts by their harnesses, work with a view as we chewed our way up the hill at our respective climbing paces.  Amulree arrived, desolate and remote feeling as ever, the  old pub showed some signs of progress.  A wind assisted respite descent allowed us to regroup before starting on the climb to Griffin, a bit more traffic than the glen due to it being the scenic route from Dunkeld to Aberfeldy but still reasonably quiet, the Lochan near the top is a welcome sight, the view down to the town from the top and what it means for the cyclist even more so.  I told Joe I was going to go for it, and so I did, I needed to see if my warning note at the top was appropriate or if it would unnecessarily hold people back, I soon realized my memory was wrong, it's not short plunge into the Moness gorge but in fact a long fast descent with plenty of warning of Moness, using the 30 mph limit as my cue to slow down for the traffic lights which were red.  I took notes while waiting for them to change, "open top, fast ok, slow down at Moness, TL just after".  Late June the Birks of Aberfeldy are green but in October they and many of the other woods on route will be Red with hopefully the heather in full Autumn purple too.  Finding a café with space proved a challenge but we got in one on the square and spent a good hour resting and eating.

The bagpipes are the sort of instrument that sound either bloody amazing or bloody awful with no in between, unfortunately those learning have to go through the bloody awful stage and since no sensible parent would allow their child to practice in the house one had done the right thing and thrown their child out into the town square to practice in front of the tourists, which of course with it being the start of the Scottish School holidays, and with the borders effectively still closed were almost all Scottish, a collective cringe spread through the square as if a Doric speaker had stood up to give the keynote speech at a Unionist rally.

MM - The Sma Glen

Leaving this child behind as they murdered the Heilan Laddie we retraced our wheel tracks to the Blackwatch Junction and rode over the Wade bridge to take the north road of Strathtay, I had a note about one of the junctions in Strathtay village being very poorly marked, and judging from GSV it had been a long time, amazingly however it had finally been fixed, the road surface though was still typically Scottish.

When I was putting the route together for a calendar event I had to think not what I would personally ride but what makes sense for the sort of rider who does a 200, I decided that rather than have the route blast along the main road from Pitnacree as I would do, I would route it along the South side of the river (the quiet and busy roads swap sides at the bridge here) and onto the Logierait Bridge.  It always feels like you're going the wrong way when doing this but the two roads are pretty much parallel on either side of the river, I think this side is prettier and you don't have to worry about drivers who think a 5m wide single carriageway is narrow and thus drive in a constant state of panic.

There's 3 options from Logierait, and one of them rules itself out for anyone with any sense; so we took the Dunfallandy road because it's flatter (relatively speaking), and on the route sheet, if people want to climb up to Dalcapon they can, but I've done it once when I tried a variation without Pitlochry and as nice as Dalcapon and Edradour are, nah we need the two lunch stop options.

I had hoped for a second snack lunch (read lump of cake) at Pitlochry but we missed the Escape Route café by a matter of minutes, so the snack was a Co-Op raid, (small caramel shortcake slice and some juice).  Now for the titular climb, up the Moulin.  It's 6km at 5%, Strava and RWGPS rate it as Category 3, but some sections even with a modern 6-speed short ratio gearbox you need 1st or 2nd gear in the car.  We had no option but to grind out the climb at our own paces, memory allowed me to pace, the corner at the Edradour junction signals the only properly hard bit of the climb and once that's over the first summit comes into sight on a clear day.  I stopped and waited at the first summit, Joe soon came into view across the muirland as he topped out the hidden part of the climb, undulating through the heather.  After the dip and climb to 2nd summit we were able to ride down to Straloch at a good lick and through Kirkmichael turned across to Dalrulizon on the A93. There are plenty of honesty box shops out in the wilds these days but Joe spotted something that favoured my sweet tooth a bit better at one Tablet! and it was freshly stocked with it too. We took a slab each for a bit of a boost as the route started turning for home.

MM - High Rangulzion aka Tullymurdoch

The new bridge over the falls at Bleaton Hallet has reopened a cracking return route that saves the need for a main road blast, but the climb up to High Rangullzion is going to catch out the unwary who think after the Moulin their climbing is done.
I'd had a nagging feeling that I'd forgotten something all day, and when we stopped at Alyth I realized through much discomfort that what I'd forgotten was Sun Cream, my legs nipped as I sat and ate my tea from the Co-Op chiller cabinet.
Only the Sidlaws and Auchterhouse muir stood between us and Dundee, the crossing from Newtyle and Birkhill is fairly gentle and reasonably quiet, however I'd decided to use the shorter route through Dronley for the event as it's even quieter than the main road and saves adding more over distance to the route, from Birkhill we again had a route different from what I would normally do (blast straight down into Lochee, over the gap between Balgay hill and Dundee Law and then right down onto the inner ring road to the bridge via Hilltown tunnel)  so we had a short unavoidable ride in the Birkhill traffic before plunging down Gourdie brae and onto the Myrekirk circle, skirting Charleston and the long knocked over stone circle before riding through the technology park and under the Perth road to the riverside cycleway for a gentle ride up the bridge to the finish.

On the way over the bridge we passed a bunch of kids messing around, nothing abnormal there, then we passed what I thought was one of them hiding behind one of the electrical equipment boxes on their phone. At the bridge I said goodbye to Joe who had another 50km to ride home.  While I loaded the car up the bridge patrol and a couple of police officers arrived at some speed before running onto the bridge.  It seems we'd passed someone threatening to jump without realising it.

Coast to Coast to Coast

C2C2C - Northumbria

I had another couple of weeks rest in the plan until riding my first 300 of the season, the Coast 2 Coast 2 Coast ride from Cresswell on the Northumbrian coast, over the military road on Hadrians wall before descending to Bowness on Solway and then returning by Hexham.
It's increasingly becoming obvious that there is something called Andy Berne weather, this isn't necessarily any particular type of weather, but instead that whatever weather there is it will be bordering on extreme.

Is it going to be a dry one? If it's Andy Berne's ride, it'll be blistering hot

Is it going to be a wet one? If it's Andy Berne's ride, bring your scuba gear

This was going to be a "dry" one, I stood at the village hall having ridden in from my hotel waiting for the off, the conditions still, dry and warm it wasn't even 7am.

C2C2C - Being Passed

I collected my card, and Andy said with the starting window system in place I could go. The early stages of the ride were gently rising until passing through Morpeth with it's drop into town and recovery of ascent back out, lumping over to Walwick where unusually Andy took us the low road rathe than straight onto the military road an Info control making sure of it.
We joined the military road at Once Brewed and the gentle westerly of the low roads proved to be  howling gale out of the shelter, the descent to Greenhead had been marked with a caution due to surface dressing but it seemed to have been tidied up by the time we got there and the café at Gilsland although not a control was welcome after the wind blasting long the top.

C2C2C - The Military Road

As I sat eating my link and egg roll, a bike propped against a wall popped a tyre in the heat of the sunlight, I double checked mine but it was fully shaded so I munched on.  From Gisland there followed an undulating route towards the Carlisle bypass, Andy was running a roadside control on a non-contact basis, times being recorded on a time sheet for later entry into the brevet cards.
Finally flatness came on the road to Rockcliffe but the wind now unhindered at this altitude by hills or even many trees was there to grovel into as the sun beat down.  A decent cycle path round the Carlisle bypass was welcome, but a fuel station with juice and sweets would have been more welcome, it was one of the warnings of the ride "there's not much out there" as it manages to be both remote while not really far from anywhere.

The Burgh Moss followed, thankfully it was low tide as I passed depth warning signs that said I'd be out my depth if the water was here, instead cows chewed the cud and occasionally dropped landmines on the roads on this low lying flat as I slogged on under the sun and into the wind, Port Carlisle, the end of the slog across the moss but not the turn, being so far from Carlisle I struggle with the idea of it being it's port, maybe why it's so small.  Looking out to the Solway the channels of the many rivers were obvious between the sands, I was looking forward to Bowness and the turn.

C2C2C - Burg Moss

I rode into Bowness and started looking for the Leisure centre, this did seem an odd place to put an leisure centre, a sleepy little village miles out on the coast. I passed a couple of bikes propped against a wall in a gateway, and then rode out the village. Hmmm.... Was that it? I turned back and realized my error not a leisure centre but a café at an under construction holiday park with Leisure in their name.
Andy hollered me in as I nearly passed it again.

C2C2C - Crossing the WCML

Another link roll, juice, ice cream, a stamp in my Brevet card and a long rest (may as well there's decent time).  8 Hours and not quite half way.  The flatness continued as the route skirted round Carlisle to Warwick bridge where the Co-Op was doing a roaring trade with cyclists sitting out side just starting on Sandwiches as I entered, when I left I was alone.  This was the last chance to load up before Hexham and the going was about to get hard, but with the heat I was struggling to eat the normal Co-Op energy rich fayre of sandwiches.
I got a bit lost trying to find the road out of Warwick Bridge before realizing it was the road through the park, sun worshipers still out at tea time looking for refreshment in the river.

C2C2C - The Shallow End

As I rode towards Hallbank gate by Talking the road was starting to beat me, a significant rise and good gradients joined with the heat to make me engage pedestrian motion on a couple of hills, but I was still going. I passed a rider sitting down in the sun at a Junction, I checked he was ok, and he said he was packing due to the heat beating him, things were starting to get cooler but it was still around 25C.  As he'd sat down in the sun and thinking back to the Snow Roads in 2018  I was concerned he might be confused but he was talking well and making sense so carried I carried on as he told me he'd be heading for Brampton station to get a train.

Thankfully I didn't have to go to Alston, the route cutting that corner and going by Whitfield much nicer than the one in Dundee, a fantastic switchback climb in Allendale at Cupola.  Out in the fells as nightfall came, I started to hear music external to my inner dialog, not an ear worm but the repetitive beat of dance music in the distance, slowly coming closer, occasionally drifting away.  In a field a Marquee was ablaze with light and a wedding reception in full flight, the music tailed away as I descended towards Hexham.

C2C2C - Corrbridge Gloaming

The town was busy, and a late night newsagent sorted me for supplies and receipt.  I sat and watched people drinking outside a pub stagger around in a drunken stupor at 9pm while I sat eating a Yorkie also unable to walk much and questioned my tolerance of the sort of eejit I once was.  A short main road blast to Corrbridge and a van driver unhappy that the traffic lights don't account for slow passage.
A countryside climb towards Ponteland and my biggest mistake of the ride, I positioned the info control at the roundabout in town, but on getting there realized it was at the junction where I'd joined the A68, I couldn't answer the question in retrospect so decided I'd need to ride back, thankfully I did as when I got there I saw that my best guess was well wrong by 90 miles. Downhill to Morpeth, but I blew up on the hill out of town and got the pedestrian motion going again. It was now just a case of retracing wheel tracks from the morning and I knew that meant gently downhill.
Rolling into Cresswell just under the 18hrs mark and well ready for my plat of Steak Pie and beans.

C2C2C - Finish 1am

Friday Night Ride to the Bay

There was only a week to recover from that roasting for an overnight 200 that I planned to extend to 400, back on the tandem with Robbie due to it being a very Tandem Friendly route.

FNRttB - Me looking where we're going

Friday Night Ride to the Bay was to start from Haymarket Yards in Edinburgh making it an ideal 65Km ride down for the midnight start time which would be comfortably doable by setting off around 8 or so we thought.  Joe rode down to meet us and we set off along the Dryside road towards Scotlandwell before taking the lower route round by Cowdenbeath rather than Kelty, however we never got there.
On a rapid descent Joe lost our slipstream and dropped something at the same time, he shouted to us that he would go and get it so we slowed to a walking pace as we climbed towards Lochgelly station, it was here the odd clunk that Robbie had said he had been hearing revealed itself as a broken hub.

FNRttB - Joe enjoying the tow

Joe caught up with us as we surveyed the damage and sent him on, we were conveniently at a station, but tandems don't fit on trains, but we could change it; but all the trains were stuck at Waverly due to the Overhead wires exiting Haymarket tunnel on top of a unit.  We contemplated riding to the start but with 2 spokes hanging in space and further damage to the hub being likely and catastrophic we decided the best option was to pussyfoot it home, dig out one of my mothballed solos and nick the route and ride a 300.

FNRttB - Um... Game Over

Robbie took my Genesis down from the wall and pretty quickly identified the rear brake seal had perished, then he took the Synapse down from the wall, checked the gears and the battery and decided that would do.  Only problem is he's got considerably shorter legs than me, so for the first time in a while the seat post plug needed to be loosened off and the post height adjusted. Seemed good, route time.

Panic 300 - Robbie riding Carbon

I worked out the 300 by taking the plan for the 400 ECE and simply lopping of the bit to Edinburgh and then cutting out over distance by turning at Strathkinness rather than St Andrews.
Then with a bit of dodgy maths, worked out we needed to set off about 1am to catch the FNRttB riders at Glenfarg. It was half past so what did we do? Have a 30 mins to 1 hour snooze as would be sensible? Nah we set off.

We made good speed along the A91 to Arlary and down towards Milnathort, and it was instantly pretty obvious that we were too far ahead for anyone to catch us for a while.  Craigend was passed in no time and I soon regretted using the harbour route into Perth as the road was being resurfaced.  Through Scone and no pub emptying for some top bantz with drunkards and then out onto a deserted A94, at this time of night we were the only vehicles moving, we skipped the country roads that were in the event route because of this and were soon in Forfar having not seen another rider.  At the new petrol station I realized that my now decrepit Power Monkey Explorer was not going to fire up and charge my Wahoo again so I bought a cheap one off the shelf, it turned out to be flat, what ever happened to LiOn batteries being shipped half charged for safety?

Panic 300 - First of the fast lads

Some of the faster riders eventually arrived as we rested knowing we had plenty of time in hand.
Getting back out on the road with them for a bit before I was dropped on a small rise and Robbie had to drop back. Next along was Dougie Kirkham who like many of the riders were ECEing rather than trying to fight with Scotrail's pathetic cycling provision on the East Coast.  The fast lads were in the all night harbour café in Montrose when we bowled through, no need for receipts on a DIYxGPS, although oddly I don't remember them repassing us, but that must have.  In the morning light we rode back inland and over the A90 towards Fettry and Auchenblae coming into Stonehaven by Glen Bervie.

Panic 300 - Fast Lads

During the darkness Robbie had noticed something not right with the shifting and on first light I had noticed that the cogs were looking a bit wonky.  I must confess I'm over the weight limit of the wheel that was on the Synapse when Robbie took it down and when I'd switched cassettes over I'd put the bits on but not properly because "weel ah cannae ride it, can ah!". We sat in Greggs eating breakfast 1 while waiting for the bike shop to open and withing a couple of minutes the wheel was sorted and Robbie would have a less fretful second half.

The problem with the East coast of Angus is there's not really any other road option than the A92 if you want a direct route that tolerably cycleable towards Arbroath, which is what we wanted to do so we rode in the ever increasing traffic to Montrose.  We had another Greggs stop before taking the country roads to Arbroath where I started to realize that having not slept now in over 24hrs, and not being in the practice of riding on limited sleep now, I was struggling.

Panic 300 - Homeward Bound

Thankfully from Arbroath the road is pretty much flat to Dundee, and then round to the Hungry Horse at Edenside. As we rode through Leuchars Military Base (that feels weird, it's still an Air Base in my head) a mate from Tayport rode up and said Hi, he was out for a "see what I feel like on 1 bottle of water" ride, and decided to tag on with us.  Andy and I have been riding together on and off since Uni days, and have known each other since we were kids, so it was entirely expected that as I slogged up the brae to Strathkinness he would ride up along side me and say "I hate to tell you this, but I'm in Zone 1", at least today I could respond with "well I'm in Zone 2, but that's because I'm fucked", and really I was.

Panic 300 - Home in tantalizingly the wrong direction

Seriously regretting the decision to take a lumpy route home rather than try and keep it as flat as possible I was glad to haul myself over the top and pass Andy while bombing down the hill, I can always get him back with that one.
Then it was just the slog along Low Road and the climb from Pitscottie to Chance Inn and along the Balcony road before descending to the village.  At the junction Andy and Robbie were waiting, I half joked asking why they hadn't gone to the petrol station for Ice Cream.
Robbie offered to do that while Andy and I rode to the house and relaxed.

Getting a 300 in when the original plan failed was a good turn around, realizing that I really need to have a spare bike ready, both for me and for Robbie if we're tandeming and have an issue early on is another learning point of riding it.  However with a new rear wheel built up, the Tandem is on ice for a bit while Robbie takes on a 1500km ride and I continue to collect rides for my RRTY and SR.

Tour of the Borders and Galloway

Another gap in the calendar let me do some speed and hill work before the Tour of the Borders and Galloway, a 600 Km loop of Dumfries and Galloway and the Scottish borders from Carlisle.
I took a calculated risk with my accommodation, one idea was to stay in Carlisle the night before and after with a one night stop at Johnstonebridge, the other idea was to book all 3 nights at Gretna which would be on the 375km mark, Ideally I'd have a sleep stop around 350km (J'bridge) but I spotted that the first 40km was pretty much flat, if I could absolutely mash that first 40km I could really bring in my arrival time at Gretna from an estimated 5am to maybe 3am.

ToBaG - Oer the Border

So it was on a dull overcast morning Andy Berne handed me my card at Carlisle McDonalds, the forecast had improved but considering it was still Ark weather forecast I was still going to get wet.
I shot off at the go and got a clean run over the roundabout to the Rockcliffe road, Aiden appeared beside me and told me he wished he had a different sprocket on, just after I'd made bad jokes about him missing a wheel I realized he was missing a choice of gears too.
A line of us settled in for the mash, behind me I could here the riders benefiting from my draught as they chatted comfortably.  The only hiccup being stopped at the lights in Annan, by bank end the average was just a nudge under 30kmh.  The bank is a bit of a climb but the tough start eases off to a steady gentle 2%er so I got better speed over it than I expected, but other riders went up the road, only for me to see them again when they stopped to put rain jackets on.

ToBaG - Leading the front

It had only taken me a few seconds to make a rain jacket judgement, the air was warm, the rain was warm, I was generating heat well. I can live with wettness. So I battered on.  Dumfries presesnted more traffic lights to stop at, and I knew my average would only be going backwards now as we took to the hill towards Moniavie, I rode this having completelty misjudged my fueling while doing LeJog and was saved by the pub grub in the Craigdarroch, I felt peckish but didn't want to stop at the shop over the road, some of the faster riders who had repassed me in the rain having stopped for a quick bite.
The road climbs much sharper out of Moniavie before descending and then repeating the rise and fall over to Carsphairn where the first proper control was.
The café had a quick menu on for us and I scanned it for the most appetising option with out dairy, finding it in a mayo chicken roll. I had arrived with 25kmh on the clock and left with a bit less.

Somewhere between Carsphairn and Dalmellington I threw my bike over a gate in the wall, pitched my tent and wild camped on a sloping patch of grass next to some trees.  As I hammered my way along the muirs I looked for it but couldn't see it, anyway I knew what was coming, the drop into Dalmellington is rapid, it was here during LeJog that I knew I was back in Scotland, not because I'd passed the sign at Gretna the previous day but because when I looked at the menu there was the choice of a Sausage on a Roll, or Link on a Roll, the correct shape taking the name.
I wasn't stopping at that café behind the petrol station today, and someone's added speed bumps to the road, but I still got to enjoy it.

Still at decent speed on the flat to Patna where we turned towards Kirkmichael, the forecast for this time of day was a bit zappy but I hadn't heard a rumble or seen a flash.  I did see water though, my kit soaked through and more of the stuff falling from the sky, I was still warm, so it was still good.
The café had set up a stall for us outside, some sausages grilling on a BBQ I made the East Coast mistake of asking for Lorne, "Yi mean the Sassij", "aye ah dae".

ToBaG - A wet muir

The intensity of the rain increased as I sat eating my Roll and Sausage (no I'm not having Roll on Sausage like the weegies say, sorry) and Empire/Belgian/German Biscuit, but there was still no sign of the electrical activity forecast, I may as well go.  After a short bit of downhill the road ramped up, and up, this was the longest and highest climb of the day and it took us properly remote with nothing at all in the 55km between Kirkmichael and Newton Stewart, over the Carrick deer forest on a narrow ribbon of Tarmacadam winding it's way over the hills, rain fell on and off, it was still warm.
The Nick o the Balloch road joined us at a small rise that punctuated the descent through the rain on the way to Glentrool, the Merrick hidden by Trees; the junction with the main road loomed ahead, the smooth tar of the remote road was replaced with Scottish trunk road aggregate poking out of a long expired asphalt binder, worse than the old A74 at it's worst, I juddered along on my 25mm tyres as the heavens opened, water bounced off the ground, the gaps between aggregate pooled, I couldn't get any wetter, and then it stopped.

ToBaG - More wet muir

I clattered along the road for 11km towards Newton Strewart, the Cree falling gently to my left, I realized at some point that the harder I pushed, the faster I went and the clattering was less bad so I dug some speed out and soon I was in Netwon Stewart, in fact too soon for me to realize as I swiftly turned over the bridge and found myself in Creebridge.  Stopping at the petrol station along with some of the faster riders who were just preparing to set off again, I got a traditional Audax dinner of a distinctly Meh Sandwich, sweets, can of coke and bottled water.  I looked at the receipt and realized that of all the information on it none of it was any use, so I retraced over the bridge and discovered a load of other riders arriving and checking out the café across from the bank machine.

ToBaG - Dry but atmospheric muir

It was another long climb and remote section to follow, the climb starts by taking you to the top of the Kirroughtree mountain bike trails in a shorter distance than the mountain bike trails, and over the Galloway edition of the Grey Mare's Tail waterfalls which run most of the way down the hill.  Then Clatteringshaws loch and New Galloway before turning  up the hill and back to Moniavie, I still didn't feel the need to stop at the Craigdarroch so carried on for Penpont and then a skirt round Thornhill.

I've somehow lived in ignorance of the Dalveen Pass, nestled between the more famous Mennock Pass and the small roads of the Forest of Ae, combined with my failure on Border nights in 2019 it'd completely avoided my ken.  It rises on a gently increasing gradient starting gently climbing at 1% before rising to 3% before a plateau and then repeats the pattern in the upper slopes.  
I had been in a gap, the riders I caught at Creebridge miles ahead, the riders I saw arriving or eating at Newton Stewart seemingly a long way back as I climbed the slopes not a rider was in sight either ahead or behind me and not a car passed me in either direction as the light of day faded to the gloam.
However it throws a curveball, the pass isn't the summit and the county march is in the pass, so after some premature excitement I found there was another 10m of climb to do in South Lanarkshire.

ToBaG - Dalveen pass winding it's way up the hillside

In the half hour it took me to reach Abington services from Elvanfoot on the old road, only a handfull of riders descended past me, some others were at the services when I got there but I'd just missed my preferred food option being left with a choice of Burger King or WH Smiths, I opted for both due to BK having already decommissioned their post-mix for the night.  As BK defrosted my burger I grabbed some extras from Smiths including someone's Brevet card that had been left.  I timed it well as my number at BK was called just as I returned to the waiting area, with the rain off I sat our in the balmy post rain night eating a feast of junk.  More riders arrived including Tony and Andy from Highland Audax.  I was well pleased with my progress, my original expectation was that I'd be at Abington around midnight, but it was the back of 10 when I set off for the short climb to Beatock summit.

On the way south I'd deliberately driven the old road so I could scope out the surfaces and critically the state of the gutter "cycle track"  there have been some improvements since I last rode it but it's still got aggregate poking well above the binder, but critically I'd identified that on almost every section still like that, the gutter track was smooth asphalt, further to that I'd noticed that where the road surface was improved the gutter track was worse.  With this in mind I set off on the descent with both lights on, the dynamo giving me light to see and be seen by and the battery light set to point high enough that I could see the smmothest line far enough in advance that I could descend at the best speed I could.  Then as I hit one of the much rougher sections I remembered this auxiliary lamp has issues with vibration as it cut out with a loud click. 

Actually from C2C2C but...

The problem with Beattock is it's not a steep descent at 2%, so to get any speed down it you have to work for it, and I was working for it.  My comfy bed an ever reducing distance away. Then at Beattock despite the general direction being downwards it some how levels out to average 0.1% for the last 45km to Gretna.  Finally reaching the location of that comfy bed on 375km at Half one, I was able to check for other riders in the services and obtain a receipt before heading to my room with the spread of supermarket on the go breakfast food and liquid I'd set out.

I contempleted what time to restart and decided that although I had until 0750ish to stay on time, that since Moffat has breakfast Cafés and it's a long drag over the Beeftubs I'd be best get going at an earlier time than the limit, setting an alarm for half 6 I was awake by 6 and was able to eat my second spread of petrol station breakfast food and liquid between putting on layers of clothes and got on the road at quarter to 7.  Now I had to slog back up that gentle hill of rough road for 45km before turning into Moffat.  I got there just after 9 as early morning Sunday drivers appeared for their breakfast.  I decided quickly that one roll wasn't enough and got a link roll and an egg roll along and ate them leisurely, a 35min stop using up some of that hour head start I had, although in reality I had until just after 11 to get here. I wondered about my other accommodation plan that would have used Johnstonebridge, conveniently close to Moffat, would I have stopped for the night on the first pass or gone to Gretna and come back up?

Despite much feeding I felt terribly slow as I set off up the Beeftubs, 10km of 3% and I was crawling at 12.4kmh, or so it felt at the time, looking at it now that's actually not too bad for me just now, 11 minutes slower than my best.  Of course what follows is the rapid descent to the Crook Inn with it's surprisingly clean and fresh looking "Rooms available" sign while the building remains bordering derelict, at least the septic tank appears to have been emptied, either that or my nose and throat were too raw to smell it.

The rain was back with vengeance at Rachan Mill, I saw a bike propped against a tree and a rider hiding I kept going until I needed to add to the water on the ground.  I put my rain jacket on, unlike yesterday now I was feeling the cold in the rain, my CV system no longer capable of running fast with effort and warming my core enough to heat the water as it landed on me, 130bpm my best down from 170 on Day 1 but it's all you need to batter on if your base speed is fast enough. A red light at Neidpath Gorge slowed held up my arrival in Peebles, I went to the BP to get visit points, the M&S BPs are always freezing cold, colder than outside. I watched the amount of traffic arriving at the roundabout and decided I'd be taking the cycle path to Innerleithen.

C2C2C - Sun Up, Oh for this sort of weather

At Inners the village was hoaching for the SDA Downhill round, I hear my voice being called and look round to see a white beard, I meant to holler back "Haw right Gonzo" but I managed "Awright".

A dubious road closure sign was placed in the road and marshals controlled the crossing where the downhill trail crosses the road and lands in the car park, I could hear a rider making their way through the trees but I was beckoned across, so my hope of seeing someone huck it over the road was dashed, I had the road to myself until the Walkerburn junction but that was the only car I saw.  A Triathlete in Team GB kit emblazoned with their name bricked past me as the rain restarted, I suspect they were minding the wetness even less than I was.
Looking down from the elevated perch of the south tweed road I saw the main road was still quite busy, the road turns further south and plunges to the river at Cadonfoot where I returned to the main road which was delightfully deserted, most of the traffic I'd seen must have turned for Gala.

It was another rough road surface jarring my body, already starting to ache from the juddering and effort so far, I was glad to see that the official route didn't make me climb into Selkirk but instead used the flatter Bowhill route with an info control managing the matter, suddenly my GPS decided it didn't want to keep a signal.
I kept riding hoping it would rediscover a signal but I gave up and rebooted it, signal found in seconds on the move and I started to worry if it's failing or if the weather was messing with the signal too much. (I had another GPS blip the other day while passing a GPS controlled tractor working away in a field, so I fear it's starting to have issues)

These are roads I know well and I guess regular readers will also know well from my descriptions, I started to worry about the possibility of the Etrick breaching its banks again, but it was unfounded fear, the rain was much reduced and the forecast electrical activity was nowhere to be seen again.
Around Tushielaw a rider caught up with me, they fitted the bill for possibly being the owner of the extra Brevet card I was carrying and it was theirs, we chatted for a bit but didn't stop to hand over the card, then they disappeared up the road.

I started to realize I'd made a mistake, I tried the shop at Hopehouse caravan park but it appears to only open on a Wednesday when there is a full moon.  The sign was out at Angecroft but I've never figured out where the shop is there, and no one was around.  My only hope was that I would make it to the Old School Bistro in time.  I remembered that I carry Gels in my pocket for a reason.

ToBaG - Castle Oer

Over Dalgleish and the summit, a sign warning of surface dressing happening tomorrow, I thanked my lucky stars then worried about the caverns in the road, they'd all been patched, even the pot hole on the ideal line over the cattle grid had been fixed, in fact I think both grids might even have new metal.
Samye-Ling passed, but I was too late at the old school, too late by an hour and a half.  As I sat in one of the bus stop huts sucking on a gel, Tony appeared alone.  I asked where Andy was, but Andy hadn't started, I must have seen someone else or even just automatically imagined Andy when I saw Tony the previous day.  Then the epicness of my mistakes dawned on me, familiarity is the Kingdom of the Lost, and although I was not lost, I realized that my plan to eat at Langholm was going to fail, the route was going over Castle Oer, I rode with Tony as long as I could up towards the Fort but it wasn't long before I saw him disappear into the distance.

ToBaG - Cross Dykes

The lanes around here are plentiful and I wasn't quite sure which way I was going to be taken, I could I suppose have left the route and taken salvation in Lockerbie Tescos but I felt I had enough Gels to get to Gretna. Chapelknowe oddly in a hollow, over the railway at Quintinshill, and a photographer taking a photo of the memorial to the 1915 rail disaster that remains the worst to have occurred on the British Rail Network. Although all 5 trains involved were wholly in Scotland, due to the severity of the crash and emergency services from Carlisle being called upon, a number of the dead, died in England resulting in both the Procurator Fiscal and Coroner being involved resulting in the Signalmen found negligent being charged and found guilt of both Culpable Homicide in a Scottish court and Manslaughter in an English court, the first time that the same crime had ever been tried under both countries legal systems.

The road into Gretna was freshly surface dressed disappointing as it looked like it would be a fun little descent if for that.  Everything I could reasonably stagger into looked closed, it was still dry though.
Past the Toll Bar and over the Sark, Cumbria, England.  
But what's this just after the bridge and just before the Cumbria sign? A wedding venue? Does that not defeat the purpose of eloping to Gretna, historically you wanted to get married under Scots law not English because it's terms were more favourable to the runaway couple than their disapproving family.
Something to perplex me on the flats of the Metal Bridge road, practically flat and still dry as I entered the Kingstown commercial area.  As I slowed to cross the roundabout just before the finish the heavens opened again, Noah's Ark got underway and the few remaining Amphicar owners contemplated switching modes.

ToBaG - Back into England

Those last 100m to McDonalds were I must say the best; I was wrecked, my bike covered in detrius and the bar tape long unstuck looked terrible. I chained it to the fence, the litter picker in his Hi-Vis water proofs looking despondent, the drive through servers doing parked orders standing at the door getting ready to make a run for it.  I dropped my lid on a table and went and got my finishing reciept.
No one else finished there while I was there and the rain eventually tailed off enough for me to make the ride up to the car, by which time it was dry and what was left of the sun shone from its low perch to the north west. 600km done for the first time since this time in 2019.

I was due to ride a 200km the following Saturday but by Tuesday I knew I needed longer to recover, so I DNSed. The Etal Lavender café will just have to wait another time for my next visit.