The Longest Night (Snow Roads) - 21 Dec 2019

"Tay FM Snow Report: Powrie Brae is at a crawl and roads in Dundee are treacherous, the Cairnwell and Cairn O' Mounth are closed due to snow, all schools in Perth and Dundee are shut meanwhile in Fife Madras and Bell Baxter are open to local pupils and those whose buses turn up".

Why did my school bus always turn up?
Why did the Dundee kids get off at the slightest hint of snow when they could walk the mile to School when we had a 14 mile bus journey to look forwards to?
And why was this always on the wireless at 0805 when my bus was nominally at 0800 and we relied on Keith in the shop to holler the good news to us often as the bus was coming round the corner?

Such Snow reports from the radio give the "Snow Roads" their name and has loaned it to this Audax of legends, comprising two of the historic "Mounth Roads" crossing the barrier between the Lowlands and the Highlands and 3 passes that link Highland glens it's not an easy ride and as the organiser pleads "please, not in winter".
 

Stock Photograph: Typical winter scene in Glen Callater

The Braco way - 30th Nov an 1st Dec

Ah've bin awa seein neebs in Holand since the Audax Uk Reunion Deener Dairt which ah havnae hid mich tae be screiving aboot, 'twas ain o' mah wirst routes ever efter we hid ridden thro' that Tyne Tunnel an the rest wiz in the dairk afore that sae thir wisnae muckle tae see.

Mah holiday route taked me fae Northallerton tae Hull whar ah taked the steamer tae Europport, from whaar ah rade up the coast on thon LF1 route via Hook o' Holland and Zandvoort tae a toon near aboots Alkmaar whar mah neebs bide.
On the wai back ah rode inland atween the coastal and inland toons throu by the Haarlemersmeer an Maasland afore braving the heidwind in Zeeland 'til ah ran oot o' Netherlands and entirt Belgium whar ah bided in Brugge afore mah ferry.

A cauld mornin stairt

Robbie an ah hid plans fir the Braco Wai, bit he hid the date o' Thainksgien wrang an so wiz in the states wi femily.
Ah set aff efter dairk oan the Seterday nicht, 'twas bitterly cauld, ah believe mah thermometer ower reads bi fehv degrees and it was tellin' me it wis zero. Mah tackety winter tyres gaed seelent as thay skimmit aiver icy burns in the road; ee Glenfarg ah saw minus shree oan mah thermometer, wis that really minus aicht???
At Milnathort ah stoaped tae tap up oan juice an food fir brakfast in the morn afore rading an tae ma hotel in Kinross.

Benarti Hull

A thoucht a hid mah times sortit fir getting tae the stairt in decent time, an ah set oot intae the minus seiven cauld at aicht in the mornin fir the ten in the forenuin stairt.  Ah thoucht this wid mak me stairt on 14.3kmh as ah rollit thru the cauld forenoon air the burns in the cunyies an mah bottles war geilt by Kelty. Ah kent by noo that ah wiz wrang aboot mah times an ah rollit in tae the stairt in Dumfaurlin at twinty efter 9.

Ah thoucht ah micht be the ainly rader but ah wiz wrang again, mair brave or mibbie glakit idjits hid arrived but no aw wir stairtin.  By the aff mah average wis doon tae twal kmh an ah wid be in haste aw day tae stai aiver that fowerteen point shree minimum aince ah had makit back.

A fine parcel O' Idjits

The route taks in some o' mah fauvrit roads, aince we were oot o' toon and past Saulin it wis on tae the Yetts 'o Muckhart and up Glendevon, mah hivy tyres and legs making it a sair fecht o a clim fir thon view in tae Strathearn fae the tap o' the pass.  A rapid descent follit afore ah turnt ontae a road ah'd no raden afore tae Auchterarder station.  Ah had fifteen kmh oan the clock as ah rade intae toon, anely eneuch fir a fest bunce, but ithers war in they tee shaps and cafés wi plenty time fir thir deener.

Up the brae o' Glen Devon

In the copie thir wiz a faut wi the automatic tills an a hid tae bide a wee whiley in the queue afore ah got serrit.  A hid ma deener o salat, sweeies an juice aside the bike an then set aff up the brae, an oot on tae the road tae Braco. Tho there wiz nae ice tae see, the road wisnae tae guid but mah tapity tyres did thir joab.
Ah wis glad tae get this section duin as ah kent fae Dunblane it wid be maistly flet.  Ah hid planned tae ride by the Glen Road instead o the Kier Circle bit wi nae mich time tae play wi ah went the fest wai.

Crossin fae Glen Devon intae Glen Eaglais

The Brig O' Allan wis stowed oot an ah lost time waiting fir fowks tae park their motors afore finishing the descent tae Causewayheid what ah thoucht thir wis a copey ah coud stot aff ae.
But whan ah got thar the copey had movit tae ah dinnae ken whaur so ah went tae the cafe fir a cake and reciept.  Thae Angus lads waur thar an aw an ah wid hae bided an ridden wi them if a hid the time but ah didnae sae ah appologised and crackit oan taewards Tullie and Sauchie afore skirting Allowae tae Clackmannan and thae cycle paith richt intae Dumfaurlin.

Thon paith didnae feel sae brent laist time ah rade it but the day wi the bauchelt legs and slaw tyres ah felt it.  Wi jist o'er fifteen point shree oan the clock ah got tae the feenish o' the Braco wai but mah day wisnae o'er yet. A hunner an twinty fower kilometers oot o' twa hunner an twa ah wis gonnae be riding intae the gloaming and on tae the nicht.  Efter a quick bite tae eat and thanks tae the organiser ah was oan ma way, a fletish fir Fife ride aince ah wis oot o' Dumfaurlin  as ah climbed up tae Cowdenbeath and then oan roond Loch Leven an up tae Glenfarg, by Newburgh ah wis up tae fifteen an a hauf but wis hungert.  A copey raid was jist the ticket an a set on the last leg up tae Hazelton the better o that.

Allowae an Dumfaurlin Cycle paith

Ah ken this road weel but a haed makkit a mistak in mah routing tae get the route up tae distance a hid tae find shree kilometers, ah cud hae food thaim at Balgeddie Toll an Duncrievie but naw ah pit them in oan Norries Law an the Stirton lum.  As ah turnt on tae thon first hard climb ah felt the ice aneath mah wheels, thae tackets grippit an a' got in a rhythm bit soon the ice turnt tae frozen slush an ah groond tae a halt as the tyres howkit in.
Ah hid tae walk the bike up the brae fae thar 'till ah found a clean bit o tar tae stairt on.  Nae mair ice oan the south side o' Norries la' and Luthrie Bank wis gid an aw.  At Hazelton a turnt doon Mountquhannie aince mair the road wis clean an a hid nae fear but the laist fricht was nae faur.
The lum stairtit guid, but in the trees thon sun hadnae got tae the ice an the water rinning doon the brae wis frozen, mah tackets wir nae use aince a hid stopped and a shuflit on tae the verge fir a final walk up the brae.

Sundoun as ah ride intae the Gloamin

Wi Dundee o'er the water, Gauldry ahead and Wirmit doon the brae ah wis nearly hame et the back o' nine, aw wis guid and ah flew doon the Gutchers brae an in tae the village, shirteen hoors an twal meenits efter setting aff fae Kinross ah wis hame, whit a day.

Double Header 01 and 02 November 2019

I'd had the idea to ride the Border Hills permanent last year however due to one of my many incidents of doing something stupid on AukWeb I thought I hadn't entered in time for the organizer to get a card out to me and rode a DIY instead.  I suggested to Robbie that we could double header the first weekend of November when we would be down in Galashiels for the Long Dark Teatime of an Audax soul and told him I had a card for the Border Hills so we agreed on that.

As the weekend approached Robbie got a rather unwelcome and poorly timed call to travel out into the North Sea for work but Steve, Alan and Russell had confirmed they would be riding so I wasn't going to be slogging through the hills on my own in the dark.

The Long Dark Teatime of an Audax Soul

Last year this ride was a wash out, the forecast of heavy rain all day saw only a handful of cards lifted from the table at the start.  This year however despite a forecast for early drizzle was set to be a good bright autumn day.

Early rain on the climb out of Selkirk

I set out with Craig following Aidan and Dick on the tandem trike towards the A7 a few of the other riders vocalizing their confusion at our route were reminded that we were dodging an early hill allowing much faster progress to Selkirk, it started to drizzle and not long after everyone else had stopped to put their rain jackets on, no sooner had the thought that I was "first on the road" than the fast lads who had taken the hill road passed me, Richard offering a cheery "good morning" as he went by. I was slightly surprized that Craig was still riding with me at this point as he's usually much faster but he told me he was slow to warm up; I'm just slow all day particularly today as I needed to keep something in reserve for Sunday's harder route.

Soon I was going backwards through the field as stronger riders who'd taken the hill road or took time to get going passed, Craig was off in the distance after I reminded him of a routing error in the rain the previous year and Ross caught me somewhere on the climb by the Tima.

Never leave home without gorilla tape on your trusty Audax pen

I decided I could hold his pace and spent most of the climb talking to him, as we entered the woods not too far from the summit we spied the tandem trike with Dick holding the offside wheel in the air as Aidan swore at it; this was their second puncture so far, the first to the nearside rear was due to rim tape problems and this was no different, if only someone had some sort of tape.
I fertled in my saddle bag thinking I might have left a roll in there but no, then I realized there was electrical and gorilla tape on my trusty Audax pen hopefully enough to do the job.


With the rim taped hopefully well enough to carry on Ross, Joseph (who had arrived shortly after we stopped) and I cracked on, as taller riders we all have an inevitable weight penalty on climbs but one place a tall rider can really take advantage is when gravity is on their side.  Ross declared that he isn't that good a descender just as we crested the summit and Joseph and I were soon flying down the hill towards Eskdalemuir with Ross dropping back as we relished the high speed pot hole dodging.  I was missing the French concept of a deformed road.

At Eskdalemuir Hub the rugby was on the telly as we tucked into items from the Audax specials menu.  England were losing to South Africa, as I finished off my Link Sausage Roll the Springboks scored a try in the dying seconds to seal their victory.
I could blame having both English and South African relatives as a reason for not being sure who I wanted to win the least, but in reality it was indifference.
I've just realized Lorne isn't on the menu, what's that about?

Aidan and Dick didn't appear while we were there, I wondered if they'd turned back defeated by the rim tape problems.  Joseph set off from the café first, Ross and I following not too long after and a slight hiccough in Joseph's gear shifting on a hill had us regrouped with Sarah K joining us as the surface deteriorated, I made a bad joke about D&G being the home of the Pneumatic tyre and Sarah disappeared off up the road. The four of us swapped places due to various stops on the road through Langholm and onto the A7 towards Longtown.

One for the pot

I rode with Joseph and talked about PBP and then we started to spot Road Kill; I only have a vauge idea of how to identify what's suitable for the pot and with a limited sense of smell not overly keen on risking it; Joseph however I well versed in identifying next week's lunches while on the road, he was even carrying Pheasant sandwiches.

Eventually Joseph spotted a Pheasant that he wasn't going to just put to the side and collect later, it was hardly damaged from it's fatal interaction with road traffic, had no evidence of other birds or animals investigating it and overall looked pretty fresh.


It now hung from his Carradice adding to the classic look of his bike and bag set up. We crested the hill and knew it was mostly marginally downhill all the way to Longtown, Joseph picked up the pace, stayed on and he took the first turn of an all out 2-up blast. The Pheasants head was swinging from the bag in front of me as I was sucked along at a speed I've not done since I last rode in a group of 6 or more. Time to Swap and it's my turn to hammer myself, Joseph's to rest, Swap back and repeat.  As we swooped past Ross I suggested he try to tag on, 3 would make for a longer rest between turns but he couldn't quite make it and for the next 7km we carried on hammering along until the traffic lights at Longtown stopped the fun for a bit but we picked it up again on the straight and gentle climb to the garden centre my ability to hang on failing just as we reached the car park, and a twinge in the back of my right knee to worry about.

Luxury Bus Shelter with a collection
of bikes that scream Audax

We wheeled the bikes round the back of the Garden Centre where they were visible from the Café, a rag tag collection of bikes that screamed Audax was already lent against the "luxury bus shelters" in the shed department and a long queue stood waiting service.  I quickly realized it would be time for cake and juice and no more.  Joseph bought some cake and retreated to one of the sheds to eat it and his sandwiches.
Aidan and Dick arrived, they'd had puncture number three and gone to find help in the form of the Over Dalgleish Caretaker who was able to get the spoke holes taped over.

We set off again and the slight descent to Longtown as usual felt shorter than the slight climb to the Garden centre, it's over 2km out of town but looking down the road to town you can see the buildings getting bigger.
I had to stop in Longtown at the garage for some water as I'd forgotten to top up at the café and I was on my own.

The back of my knee was hurting, I'm not sure if my saddle is still marginally too high or if it's some other problem. I started to struggle up the hills, they seemed harder than I thought they should.  I dread the hill between Bentpath and Eskdalemuir, it's by far the hardest part of this route hitting 7% in places, the rest is a good steady ~3%er but critically on these days you know Tea is just over that hill. A regrouping with Steve, Alan, Joseph, Ross and I in the Café together and with Beef Stew and Apple Pie for High Tea, it's not dark yet but the sun is setting.  We all left when we were ready and I set off on the climb alone as darkness was coming.

Mists of the Tima Water

I think I summited in the last of the light, or is that a memory from the previous year it's all run together? Anyway that was the hard work done it's mostly downhill from there; I set off down the hill, the mists were hanging over the Tima Water I couldn't not stop for the photo.

The road levelled out past the Angecroft caravan park, and I remembered riding through the river the previous year, no such problem now.

I rode over the bridge at Ettrick, there's a slight rise, I droped a gear or two and CLUNK.

It's pitch dark and my chain's jammed, I hopped off the bike to investigate, as I pushed the bike to the road side a pinging noise came from the back wheel. I assumed the worst, a spoke had finally gone on my so far faultless Spa wheel.  I pointed my head torch at the spokes and scanned around. All good. hm.  I checked the chain, it looked fine oddly. I checked the rear derailleur and it looked fine too... Then I spotted the end of the cable was in the spokes; I checked the derailleur again, and I was convinced it looked fine.  I bent the cable out the way and checked he shifting, I was missing the 4 easiest gears but other than that it seemed to be fine. Ross caught up as I checked the bike over and rode with him from there.

A car rolled up beside us, "erm do you know where the Angecroft Park is, all we have is 'Ettrick Valley, Selkirk' and no phone signal", I told them, "turn round, follow this road over the bridge and it's on the right somewhere up there, if you reach the top of the hill you've gone to far, turn round and you'll see it on the left." It really is out in the middle of nowhere!

We carried on again and Ross remarked about the contrast between that interaction and what he's used to being hollered from the back of cars. I was being very careful with my gear shifts, Joseph had stopped with a small group of riders who were still on their way back on the 100km ride, clearly not "Back in time for Tea" as it's title suggested.

CRUNCH. PING PING PING
My chain jammed on another shift just before Ettrickbridge with 22km to go. I turned the bike back upside down, I checked the mech, it looked ok, I checked the shifting... no shifting, but the cable was taut, hrm. I decided it was too dark to see properly, it's in the 50-13 so I decide it'll ride.

I hopped back on and ground the bike back up to speed, through the village and onto the Bowhill road, I discovered it's not as flat as it feels almost falling over as I ran out of strength to turn the wheels on a slight rise. Thankfully it's downhill into Selkirk and along the cycle path beside the A7, Joseph disappeared into the distance after Selkirk and Ross left me to ride the final hill into Gala alone.  I got to the Focus centre and wheeled the bike inside, it was in 50-11.

I handed Lucy my card and told Russell, Steve and Alan about the Derailleur issue and that I didn't know if I'd be able to ride the Border Hills.
With the bike upside down in the light I took one look at the cable I'd previously felt was taut, and gave a pull on it while spinning the pedals, everything worked correctly.  Then I hauled on the end of the cable and found it slid through the clamp bolt, I fixed it and went back and told them we were on for the Border Hills, collected my validated card, poster, medal, sales money from the cycle jumble and sat down with a nice bowl of soup for Supper.

Border Hills

The rain battered past the window of my B&B's breakfast room as I sat eating a "light" breakfast of Sausage and Eggs, the forecast was again for a wet morning drying out as the day went on so I was slightly optimistic things were going to improve.
It was still raining lightly as I drove up to Innerleithen to meet Steve, Alan, Russell and possibly Davie for a group ride of the Border Hills Permanent, a pretty loop of the major undulations of the central Borders and the rain stopped in time for me to dig the bike out of the car.

Steve and I were using paper proof of passage so rode up to the Co-Op where Davie said he'd be waiting if he was going to ride.  We got proof of passage from the ATM while Russell checked to see if Davie was riding (he wasn't) and started their GPS devices for the less onerous proof method.

We relied on Russell being local for navigation rather than bother with the GPS route, taking the old railway through Cardrona to Peebles and then on through to Biggar via Broughton on a road I knew from "Broughton and back". The rain was falling again but I was convinced it would stop, light sky seemed to be ahead so I kept the rain jacket off, I'll dry out later I proclaimed!

I had to ask Russell about the pronunciation of Broughton, it could be Bro'ton, Browton, Bruchtun or even Brufton.  Just like Broughty Ferry in Dundee the stop has won though oddly in Dundee the Dighty Burn is still like Dichty and I'm sure I've heard Browton for the road in Edinburgh.
We were maintaining a good pace for a second day, I was flagging on the steeper hills though I had still managed 20kmh to Biggar where it was breakfast time for Steve and Alan, as a night in the van had them well up for a full veggie breakfast.

I put my rain jacket back on and we left Biggar with our average down near the minimum and we looped back through the hills behind Biggar to the Devil's Beeftub climb; Russell told me about his "More Passes than Mastermind" event of old and how riders cottoned on to a long cut that dodged one of the harder hills.  Steve spotted the wall of Talla and pointed it out while jokingly suggested we detour, I suggested we didn't!
By the Crook Inn I was off the back a bit, I remembered the cycle-rave from the Ride to the Sun a free ride from Carlisle to Crammond on the weekend nearest the longest day.

By the top I was well back and Russell had been doing laps of the summit plateau waiting for me so he could get a picture while the others had stopped at the top of the descent, we regrouped there and rode down into Moffat for lunch at the Rumblin Tum.

The next section I reckoned would be the hardest, essentially the middle tough part of Moffat Toffee in reverse through Fingland, over to Boreland and then onto Langholm, each summit we regrouped and descended together until the last one where the lure of the shop must have been too much for them, or perhaps it was just the rain was back on.

We were now riding the road of the previous day's return in Eskdale, the climb by Bentpath and then the viciously sharp lump that gives a descent into Eskdalemuir seemed easier than the previous day but I had the others to pace myself from and judge my progress, it appears I was faster too.
I mentioned to Russell that it was going to feel weird not stopping at the Hub in Eskdalemuir having always stopped there; and he told me about how before the hub opened the Samye Ling Buddhist centre was the control here but this could often mean arriving with many visitors or course attendees which wasn't an ideal mix.

Darkness arrived as we climbed and I made a mess of the top cattle grid, normally I pick up speed before the grid, go light and aim for the plates but today I didn't have the energy for that and had to keep pedalling, the bike squirmed significantly with each pedal stroke and I vocalized my fright.  Safely over and it's a long descent down to the Tushielaw for the second last climb of the day on the Berrybush. I was dropped significantly but again the summit was a place of rest for the others, unlike last time I was up here McNasty had heard a bird trilling like a telephone in the woods which was much to Dicks amusement when asked if he'd heard it when we congregated at the next café in Lilliesleaf. 

The Gordon Arms was busy as we crossed the junction, I suggested to Russell we should have started there and had breakfast and finished with tea, but he didn't think climbing Mountbenger loaded up with a full Scottish was necessarily a good idea!  We stayed together on this initially short sharp climb before it eased off to a steady 3%, at the top a car driver crossing the pass blinded me with their headlights by failing to dip them. I had to stop and put a foot down to avoid wobbling into their path and I had to do it again on the Paddy Slacks descent which was otherwise an delightful finish to the ride, swooping down the hillside and onto the back road in to Innerleithen.
Russell and Alan pulled into the car park while Steve and I headed on for a receipt as final proof of riding the route.
A tough second day in the rain but rather enjoyable too.

Etal U Can - 12th October 2019

I woke and was immediately relieved to discover I was still in my B&B bed in Galashiels and not as I had been dreaming sitting in the Focus center lamenting another DNF.

I woke again from the same dream, the soft mattress of my B&B bed troubling my dodgy back as much as the dreams now, I rolled over on my "wrong" side and found it more comfortable.

Finally I woke to Kraftwerk's Etape 3 blaring from my phone heralding the early wakeup needed for an 8am start.

Tour of Rheged - 5th October 2019

I hadn't realized I'd injured myself until I felt a dull ache under my rib cage.
I hadn't realized how bad it was until I was walking my bike up the Kirkstone pass as darkness fell unable to maintain a sustained effort with an aching back, a dig under the right ribs and legs of lead.

Bloody Toyotas.

Some photos from an otherwise excellent but tough ride through England's Tame and Domestic Scenery.

Border Nights 400 - 21st September

I woke up from a fairly rubbish sleep and not exactly raring to go; it took me ages to get out of bed and sort myself out, I had planned to get the 0722 train with the 0750 as back up even thought the 0840 would get me to Edinburgh on time. I set off for the station at 8, I felt good and was riding well so put the morning fug down to being an anxious Owl and the needless early alarm.

This is a local shop for...

The trains down to Carlisle went well and when I got there the train to Brampton that I was timetabled to miss by 5 minutes was sitting waiting along with the one before it.  A signalling issue had made a mess of things and to make things worse for Network Rail the line was being used to get round a closure on the east coast line between Morpeth and Dunbar.

Hallbank Gate "local" shop, worth the stop even if not scheduled; Café open until 2

I hopped on and we set of 35mins late, the announcements weren't working on the train until after Weatherall where it told me the next stop was Haltwhistle rather than Brampton... Slightly concerning but the National Rail app still had us booked to stop at Brampton so put it down to user error.

Riders ready

It was a warm day and I was kitted out for night riding so was a bit too warm as I rode up the hill to Hallbankgate from Brampton Station which is in the woods about a mile from town.  I rolled into the shop with over 2 hours to wait for the start.  I first became aware of this shop on the Borderlands Explorer 600 in 2018 when I saw the "Local Shop" sign, though I didn't stop.  I finally stopped here on the Alston and Back 300 in 2019 and was pleasantly surprised at what was on offer in the small community Co-Op so knew I'd be able to get a reasonable lunch, which I did in the form of the day's special a Chicken Wrap.

Andy arrived and the woman on the counter told him I'd been there for hours (I had!), he got set up then handed me my card, other riders soon arrived some caught up in the train issues others had arrived by a more reliable form of transport. Andy said he had 25 entries but was down to 17 riders at this point and expected a few others to DNS.  As we gathered to start he gave us a warning about the level crossing at Milton which I know well and about the road down to Dumfries from Monaive which I don't.

Down from Brampton

When 3 O'Clock came I shot off along the gravel path to the road and then set off down the hill rather hot, the tail wind and gravity combining to push me along, a rider passed me on the way into the level crossing having obviously not understood the warning and nearly crashed into the side of a car when the off camber left hander the crossing drops you onto came on him. As I descended my eyes and nose started to stream, I put it down to accidentally taking too much nosal spray for my Rhinitis, it's not hayfever season after all is it?

Down from Brampton

Some of the riders behind caught us at the Brampton bypass but I was back up to speed on the descent through town and held my place up the hill out; as the road to Longtown levelled off my speed dropped majorly and everyone else sailed by.  As he passed Dave suggested I grab his wheel so I tried to hang on.  Another rider passed us in town telling us his chain had snapped, I suggested if he needed it there was a shop just over the bridge, though a chain a couple of links short should be fine.

Lockerbie

Dave dropped me on the road to Gretna and I started to feel a struggle on the short sharp bank into Springfield; though I kept a good pace up the hill to Lockerbie where Dave and another two riders were stopped in the petrol station eating.  I decided to bounce the control grabbing some basic food as I reckoned I'd eaten enough to get to Gala.

Out of Lockerbie I was on a new road to Boreland and on to Eskdalemuir; I started to feel the struggle more and found myself out of the saddle a lot more than I should be; but it's a good rolling road and my average was still showing ok.
The other two riders passed me and then Dave did too, by now I knew something wasn't right and started to wonder if I'd made the wrong decision in the morning.
Down to Eskdalemuir and I was feeling ok again, it felt strange riding right past the community bistro where all of the Gala rides stop.

Samye Ling

The hill up was ok and I was over and onto the descent comfortably, but then on the descent as darkness fell I was feeling wrong again and getting sleepy and worse coughing too, I was pedalling down hill into a breeze but was on and off the saddle to do so, and my legs ached, not the usual exercise leg ache but a "you've got a cold or flu" ache.

Down at Bowhill I knew I was back on the flat and I felt better again and forced myself to stay in the saddle as much as I could to Gala, when I got to McDonalds Robbie was just leaving and Dave and the other two were sitting eating.  I ordered and decided I'd make a decision once I'd eaten, but as I stood waiting for my tea my legs started turning jelly like.

I checked the train times and found out that the last train that would let me get home that night was in 20 minutes.  I asked the server for a bag and told the other guys that I was going home and set off for the late night party trains to Fife.

On the party train to Edinburgh

Kilrymanjaro - 1st Sept 2019

Nae cheering neeburs staund aside the road, nae juice, nae crepes, nae caffee, nae tea.
Jist polite afferins o' the forenoon fae the odd body oot washing thair motor in the gairden ir aside the road.

Dalhousie Airch - Aigle

Nae ca's o' bon courage, nae bon rowt fae passin motors, abuis hurled oot insteid "Mah granny can ride faister", Aye but can yer granny ride twal hunner k?
The cooncil dinnae say sairy fir the roch and pot holed road, whit wid the depairtment say tae this?
Thon hills ir a sair fetch fir weary legs, knaps ake 'n grain as wi gae upwith.

Royal Airch - Fettery

Wi rode fae Farfar thru Aigle and Fettery tae Auchenblae whar Torc wis staumping cairds at the café by thon play pairk, fae thar it wiz back tae Fettery an Aigle and alang tae Kirrie fir the dig tae Brigend and anither café whar Robbie catcht me maugre his late stairt by o'er an oor.

Kirk - Drumotchty

Mair upwart riding throu Glen Isla tae the tap o' Kilry brae, and then doon roond Ailyth an in tae Straithmor fir a fine run back in tae Farfar.

OAn oor wai back tae Kirrie

We gaed ben the shoap fir a tattie and a cake, then back oot into the wilds tae get oor distance up tae twa hunner fir twa mair audax points.

Aboon Farfar

Hame roads whit ithers iz like thaim?

Paris - Brest - Paris 1200 and a bit more: 13 to 27th August 2019 - Part 3 Getting Home

Tiredness was beating me so I left the Northerners shortly after 1pm and rode down to my hotel thinking I'd be able to check in promptly on arrival.

Knowing what I know now I should have gone back under the tree for another snooze and hung around until the evening meal at the Bergerie. I would have come home with two direction signs as well as some other trinkets of the ride and have had what was by all accounts a pretty decent meal at the closing ceremony.

Ramboulliet

Instead I stood in a rabble of knackered cyclists waiting for reception to open and when it did the receptionist had a nightmare with everyone in the queue, the first was actually cancelling their room, the second had lost his booking from the previous evening and was hoping the room was still available and then I ended up paying for another guests booking as well as my one. Trying to get a refund for the incorrect check in then proved to be a nightmare as they couldn't refund to card and my UK bank account details were of course useless.
It seems while the rest of the world it appears uses BIC and IBAN numbers, British exceptionalism means I had no access to the details they needed.

Finally in my room I emptied the contents of my Carradice onto the bed and then had what I intended to be a "brief lie down" between the bits and pieces it was hardly 5pm.
I woke at 2am, hungry and with no hope of getting anything to eat, I decided to sort the stuff on the bed into piles for packing and washing before finally having a shower for the first time in four and a half days.  An hour later, washed, with now damp clothes hung up around me room, I went back to bed and woke at 0935, missing breakfast by minutes.

Dissapointed at losing the 7 euros worth of breakfast, I decided to leave off the bike for the day and walked to the shopping mall nearby to see if there were any Cafés there and at least get something from Carefour if not.  As it turned out the Carefour Café was still serving breakfasts and I had a reasonable enough Croissaint, Pain Au Chocolat and bottle of coca for less than the hotel price.
On further exploration of the mall there were at least 3 other better looking cafés on site.

Amphibious vehicle and Hotel De Ville

I arranged to meet Robbie and Élaina after lunch, and started working out the bus system in town, it was reasonably simple and frequent running every 15 minutes from the bus stop just up the road from the hotel.  All I needed to do was buy a time limited ticket for travel throughout the commune from the driver for the heady sum of €2. On arriving in town, I took to the Café by the Caroussel, the previous weekend it, along with the rest of the town was hoaching with cyclists but now only a handful lingered. The lunch menu was reasonable and I had a burger sans-fromage before Robbie and Élaina arrived for a drink, we decided tea would be a good idea in the evening and took different paths of tourism round the town.

I went into the park for a look around, dodging the heat of the sun under the trees as I needed before braving the sun as I walked round the Chateau and into the car park in front of the Hotel De Ville where a collection of French and American vehicles from the Liberation were parked up, it was 75 years and 2 days since the town was liberated from the Nazis and a car club had been touring Northern France with their WWII era vehicles.
It was only once I carried on my wander round the town that I realized the trucks and even the amphibious vehicle were doing passenger rides, so I missed out on the chance for a birl and to sniff the fumes of low octane petrol and Castrol R. [http://www.univem-paris.com/en/75th-anniversary-of-the-liberation-of-rambouillet/]

Citroen

I headed back to my hotel while Robbie and Élaina visited the model railway and saw other bits of the town I'd seen in the rain on the Saturday after bike check.  We decided on an option for tea over messenger and then discovered it was shut for August, Robbie booked a table at the the back up option with a menu I had said was "limited"; unfortunately I hadn't explained what I meant by "limited" to Robbie at the time, it wasn't that I didn't like the fact there was only 3 options for each course on the menu, it was actually that I meant it usually means the chef is good and also they're not over ordering and freezing.
Chez Martin was fantastic but I have to say I would have been utterly dependent on Google Translate being accurate (and when is it ever accurate) if it wasn't for Robbie's ability to translate nouns and Élaina's first language being French.
I got on a bus late in the evening well fed and looking forward to the next days ride north to Evreux.


We met at the post office, my Carradice hadn't been quite as easy to pack as I'd hoped and on discovering Robbie had room left in a pre-paid postage box, I quickly changed my plan to carry everything, all those extra little trinkets I'd collected needed to go along with my warmers and night glasses which I stuffed into the water bottle and drink cup..
As I waited for him to return from inside the post office, a group of Kiwi riders pulled up at the bike stand and started faffing with their luggage to carry out a similar task. After the Kiwi's had gone some locals started to talk to me about Paris-Brest in Broken English, it turned out they'd missed that the event had been and gone despite the banners and the electronic information signs which I only realized when they started offering me Bon Route and Bon Courage.

The start of a routing error

The first day's ride back was to be an easy 80km to Evreux, by riding back up to Houdan through a route I'd scoped in Google Street View on the hard pack dirt and tarmaced roads of the forest of Ramboulliet, all however was not quite what it seemed, after making decent progress one of the had packed roads turned to rough gravel and then to sand, and for 2km we hauled the bikes through that sand cursing my route planning.  I look back at the route we took and in street view and can only surmise that I accidentally altered or failed to save the route, as what I described to Robbie of a short hard pack section then tar paths is exactly what GSV shows.

The dots are the tarmaced cycle track, the blue line is the sand trap

Houdan

After the sand trap we rode into Houdan irritated, hot, dusty, sandy, thirsty and concerned about the time of day as well as our chains. The first Tabac we poked our noses into was shutting for lunch.
We rode on past the cathedral and through onto the cobbled streets of the centre where we found a Creperie busy inside but had some free tables outside where we could watch the bikes as we ate.  I scoured the menu for a Cheeseless option that wasn't a desert, just as I was feeling beaten and starting to consider Nutella and Banana to be a suitable lunch Robbie pointed out the cheese free option.


We set off again and found that most of the rest of the town was deserted. The forest gave way to fields and the afternoon sun started beating down on us. I was struggling with the heat and using up water fast, at Anet only 18km on from Houdan we stopped at a café for a drink and top up of water which was enough to just get me to Evreux.

I'd spent some time trying to find a route into the Evreux Motel that we had booked while avoid riding on the busy main roads that intersect on the edge of town, I didn't manage to avoid them but did find a route in through a series of roundabouts that would do the job; while riding out of one of these roundabouts my foot felt rather loose in my emergency purchase shoes, as the buckle bolt had come loose enough to fall off.

On the road

The hotel was one whose format we had been advised was great for cyclists, the rooms were accessed from an outer walkway rather than corridors where we were able to hang clothes up to dry after washing them and the evening meal would be a good spread of a buffet.
However once again things weren't plain sailing at the hotel, to start with check in wasn't too easy as the receptionist only spoke slightly more English than I speak French (Robbie again saving the day), then we were given the key card for a room with a faulty lock, however we didn't find this out until we had hauled our bikes up the narrow twisting staircase.

When we got hungry we crossed to the restaurant and discovered that we were half an hour early for food, despite the buffet being set out ready.  Further to this the menu showed kitchen cooked options that could be added to the meal, but we were told this wasn't available; with the hotel clearly busy I thought the restaurant would be too but as we grazed over a buffet of sliced cold meats, fruit, veg and skewers of meat to cook on the grill at the buffet only 2 other guests arrived to eat.
This seemed all rather odd to me but I got a good feed in none the less.

We felt the breakfast option at the hotel was overpriced so heading into Évreux the next morning we were looking for a Patisierie for breakfast, we found one next to the a square with a view of the centre piece cathedral and got ourselves ready for the day ahead.

Évreux

This was to be the longer day, around 140km to the ferry port and once again it was looking like a scorcher.  I'd failed to use a zip tie to hold the buckle strap in place on my shoe so had simply lashed it to the lower velcro straps and hoped I'd be able to hold them tight enough to ride in which thankfully proved to be the case.  The one way system took us through the historic sights of the city and spat us out onto a busy road which I'd set the route up to avoid as soon as possible; this took us on the cycle path up to the hospital before cutting across into Parvile which the main road bypassed, after this I had spotted an old road through a field in the satellite mapping but the farmer had long since reclaimed the land by swamping the tarmac with dirt.

We were back out in the fields again passing through small villages and the occasional town, I'd designed the return route to be north of the outbound route so that we got different scenery and towns. Beaumont-Le-Roger and Serquingy proved to not have anything worth stopping for on a Sunday morning and it wasn't until Bernay that we stopped for lunch at the only place open, the Super U Express.  We'd caught the shop just in time as no sooner were we sitting outside with our lunches than the staff locked the entrance door and took in the seats we hadn't occupied.  Thankfully they let us sit and eat before taking them in too and locking up for the day.

Wheeler Dealer Mayor?

The supermarket meal was surprisingly filling and we set out again as we rolled towards Thiberville I spotted a mayors office on a corner in the road at Faverolles-les-mares decked out with the trappings of a used car dealership and old style signage for the tuning of Carburettors of makes now long passed into the history books owned by Dellorto (Weber and Solex).
This amused me, where else would a mayor also be a wheeler dealer of automobiles?
Only the fictional Walford and Erinsborough came to mind.



We were going well on the road when I heard a buzz followed by a splatting between my Casquette and Sun Glasses followed by a sharp pain, I'd been stung.  I eructed a stream of profanities that although not much trouble for the writers of Roger's Profanisaurus would be rather unwelcome in polite company. The pain didn't last long but I could feel the skin swelling up and had to stop to give it a check using my phone's selfie camera and a wash from my bottle of water.
I could see the swelling was going down already so reckoned I'd live and carried on again with the gap between glasses and hat closed.

Lisieux

Carrying along the road two large buildings appeared up on the hill beside us, the first clearly the dome of a Basilica and the second a bell tower of the same though it looked like a brutalist cheese grater to me.

Our road into Lisieux joined the road to the Basilica but we chose to ride into town stopping at the first Tabac we found; finding space for the bikes proved tricky and I never thought to consider the trees so I placed it against the poles of the access ramp.
I stepped into the road in a traffic gap to get a photo and posted it to facebook; within seconds I got a message from a school friend "My friend owns a bar right next to where you are!".  Sadly the bar in question was not the Tabac so any chance of wangling a free coca and ice cream were lost.
The manager stepped outside and rambled something at me in French; Robbie looked at me and told me to put my bike against the tree. The motions to indicate that the poles weren't strong enough showed me the problem after I'd moved the bike, by now Robbie was in discussion with the manager and briefly thought I might be in a bit more trouble, however Robbie told me he was asking about where we were going and why to Ouistream and not Le Havre for the ferry! Robbie didn't translate me response of "Well it was cheaper wasn't it".

There was a sharp climb on a small road out of town through some woods only to lose the height in 2 stages shortly afterwards and then we were back out into the fields for the afternoon, once again with nowhere to hide from the sun I was struggling with the heat and at Le Ham I used up the last of my water though I thankfully knew we weren't far from Troarn where I hoped there'd be another Tabac.

As we rode on a triangle junction with a stone monument appeared, it depicted 3 men tied to a stake in the ground and was provided with a plaque advising of it's dedication.  My lack of French did not prevent me from understanding.

 

Memorial to honour the memory and recognise the sacrifice of the 28 Martyrs of France executed by the Nazis during the battle of Normandy.  Their bodies were found in a muddy bomb hole, 11 unidentified bodies are buried at the foot of the clock tower of the church nearby.

At Troarn I rode into the town square to look for a Café or Tabac, but Robbie had already spotted one and made a beeline for it, a nice steel George Longstaff was leaning against the wall in the sun and its rider, Ian was sitting enjoying an afternoon drink in the shade of the Tabac.
We got talking and discovered that he had been riding back to the coast in the group with Lucy and Dick McTaggart!  He had been split from them due to a mechanical failure on the tandem trike making them decide to travel part of the way to their next stop by train and the sliding doors shut on him as he was the last to attempt to board and so had to ride on.

Robbie and Ian riding to the bridge

We set off together towards Caen, and at Pegasus Bridge Ian said goodbye and carried on to the west.  On the way south I hadn't had a good change to explore the monuments dotted around the east side of the bridge, and found that each one located where one of the three Horsa gliders had crash landed.  On the other side of the road there was signed a monument however it turned out to be a museum with the original bridge and a load of flag poles along with an entrance fee neither of us were willing to pay. I wasn't overly impressed with the manner in which the staff member lowering the flags carried out his duty either.


We crossed the bridge and checked out the restaurants in the area, it was either far to early or far too touristy, the problem was I was getting hangry, thankfully Robbie spotted a Patisserie which recovered me from the perils of hanger and set me up to carry on to the coast.

At the coast we went to find the monuments dotted along the road parallel to the beach which was code named "Sword" for the battle of Normandy where the British commanded forces had landed, the primary memorial sitting the dunes with statues of the operation leaders. The dunes insulated the memorial from the sounds of the beach from the road but as you climbed the steps the sound of the waves and then people enjoying themselves at the beach as you reached the top.
In contrast the battle sites I've visited which usually sit on a bleak muir such as Culloden or Bannockburn it seemed quite strange but also apt tht people are free to enjoy the beach without the rigidity of the fascism that was being fought there.

Further on up the road there is a monument to Piper Bill Millin, a Canadian born Scotsman who lead Lord Lovat's Commando's up the beach in contravention of what Lovat put as "English War Office's" Regulations armed only with a set of Highland bagpipes and a Sgian Dubh.
His survival can be partly put down to the Nazi snipers determination that Millin had gone mad!

Piper Bill Millin

The quality of the eating establishments was considerably better here too and the first we tried was fully booked for the evening.  The second was set up with seats out in a hedge surrounded patio area and we wheeled the bikes in much to the consternation of the garçon who indicated to us that there was a bike rack at the side of the building.  The small wheel bender based device wasn't ideal and was well hidden from our sight but not from the road, it'd have to do. The meal was decent though and it wasn't long before it was time to head for the ferry.

Facilities in the vehicle waiting area at Ouistream were only slightly better than at Portsmouth, it was basically a wide smoking shelter.  A motorbike along with its rider and pillion passenger were already there and not long after we arrived another PBP rider appeared the appropriately named Mr Pain!
We passed the time talking, and checking out the motorbike before we were allowed to board. I had changed my shoes without thinking about the distance to the linkspan's bridge and ended up running up the ramp and onto the ferry.

On board once again the cabins weren't ready but this time we tried to sneak in too early and were on the receiving end of a huff from the crew member doing our corridor.  We slinked off to the bar to pass the time before sneaking back in to find the cabin ready.  After a days riding we were ready to use the shower which was rather impressive and Robbie went straight to bed and sleep while I took in the evening air.  The forecast sea conditions were Smooth to Slight and it proved to be that, I was only woken once by the movement of the ship and was woken for the morning by the Breton wake up call when "Dremmwel "Lans" part N° 4 "Troellenn" is piped into the cabin.

Misty Morning in Portsmouth

From the cabin I could hear and out on deck I could see that we were sailing through a thick fog up the Solent so none of the sights were to be seen.  After disembarkation I forgot that my bike computer wouldn't correct its time until I had connected it to the phone.  We went looking for Cafés and I started getting confused as to why they were all closed at 8am.  Of the few sights to see in Portsmouth none of them are particularly accessible if you've a bike with you either and the historic dockyard an spinnaker tower were out of the question.  Eventually we found the Gregs and Robbie was itching to get back to London to meet friends who were there.  I decided to find something to do until the train we were booked on rather than pay and rode round the coast to the Hayling Ferry and back, I had half forgotten that it was an English bank holiday and unlike in Scotland where most people don't even know when the equivalent local holidays are, most people get the day off so the beach was busy and the food stalls were doing a roaring trade.


I then stood and watched the hovercraft arrive before heading for Old Portsmouth to watch the ferries sail up the Solent and pass the time of day before heading for my train.

Mont St Michel Sails into Portsmouth Harbour

Touristic Road Rat

I caught the train to London and found Robbie and Stan at the Whole Foods in Piccadilly where I had a late lunch consisting of some weird London food, I guess they need to eat healthily to make up for the damage the manky air does.

Two of Robbies other friends arrived and we set off for a bike based cycle tour, sadly I forgot to restart my Wahoo at one point so I've just got a long jump from Picadilly to Tower Bridge recorded, I have no idea where I was or went but Stan was leading and seemed to know where we were going as we hopped from Cycle Super Highway to Alleyways and Courtyards.

Robbie received a text from Serco about our sleeper having a fault in the kitchen, sadly the level of maintenance in the old carriages is clearly as poor as the quality of what they've been delivered in the new ones and it was to be a drinks only service in the lounge car.
So we did as anyone else would in this situation and got a Nando's in for the journey!

In the Lounge car it was was a full house, with travellers for Fort William also using the Aberdeen lounge car until Edinburgh it was a very social affair. I got talking to a German tourist who avoids flying and likes to visit football grounds while on holiday, ideally with West Ham.
Robbie went to bed first but I stayed up talking until I was tired and got another good nights sleep only waking around Crewe and at Edinburgh before waking again somewhere just before Montrose where I decided it was time to get up and sit in the lounge car until Aberdeen.

I'd booked a ticket from Aberdeen back to Dundee to save myself the 5am wake up call, so while Robbie headed home for a shower and a quick blat to work I sat down to a Lorne Roll in the pumpkin Café and waited for my train home.

The End