As we start the final leg of our journey from Blackpool back to London we thought we would try to capture some of the highlights and one or two lowlights of the trip (more for our own memory bank but hopefully it may also provide a reasonable read).
As a very brief side note, yesterday's marathon drive south passed off well. We managed to load the support vehicle with the bike rack plus three bikes and completed the 470mile drive back to Thornton in around 9hrs. The enormity of the distance we have covered over the last 2 weeks started to hit home with every passing hour in the car. We were greeted with a finishing line tape as we crossed the threshold into station road and Mum was there along with some old family friends to finish the tour off with a very enjoyable evening.
Also, this wrap up couldn't pass without doffing our hats to the excellent support we received from Big Mike during the second week. His versatility and enterprise meant Big Mike's roadside tuck-shop/deli was always stocked with sweets and pasties, he could overcome any tyre blowout and we had the benefit of his wisdom with wines and whiskeys. We have included the top 3 Big Mike-isms in our summary below.
So to the summary. We are going to try to narrow down our two week marathon into the top three or four events under a number of categories:
Best cycling leg: Leg 8 (Thornton to Pooley) was impressive because of the beautiful scenery and the number of additional riders in the peloton; Leg 13 (Beauly to Altnaharra) due to the picturesque lochs, isolated pub at Crask and the single track A36; and Leg 5 (Bristol to Clun) due to our first border crossing over the Severn bridge, the idyllic meandering Wye valley and our first 90 plus day of cycling on tour.
Best stop (Dicky's parents was discounted as the touch of home comforts and a loving mother blew the commercial accommodation out of the water): Week Farm due to the warm welcome of Devon scones and clotted cream, great night in the White Hart and that John came and picked us up; Altnaharra Hotel as the quality food and array of whiskies was impressive; Clachaig Inn, Glencoe as we sampled our first truly Scottish dishes of Black Pudding, Haggis, Neeps n' Taties and Clottie dumplings and enjoyed the isolation of a log retreat; and Crawford Country House partially because we were saved from a rough night in Leadhills but mainly due to the luxury rooms, excellent breakfast and interesting night at the nearby truck stop.
Best pub: Riverside Inn, Clun as we were dead on our feet, had great cider and was located in a beautiful spot by a river; the Watermill at Ings as it was our last stop before the Kirkstone pass, where we devoured impressive lunches and were entertained by Paul with his hilarious sense of humour failure (see below); and the Crask Inn before Altanarra because of the remoteness of the pub and the imposing surroundings.
Richard Finn Best beers: Betty Stoggs from Cornwall, Butty Bach from Shropshire, the Lytham Blond from Lancashire (obviously) and Jennings Cocka Hoop from Cumbria.
Big Mike Top whiskies: Laphoaig, Bowmore and Balvenie (footnote, credit does go to Phil who also recommended the Balvenie as well as the farmyard Bruichladdich, which unsurprisingly does make the top three).
Best sense of humour failure: Ian when crossing the Cornwall/Devon border after our multiple laps of Launceston; Dicky, his fall at end of first day after struggling up Watergate Hill and then being laughed at by Ace; and Ace because his mudguards were rubbing prior to the Kirkstone pass. We should also mention the dual sense of humour failure by Ian and Dicky after being told by Ace there were an extra 10 miles of riding to do up to Beauly. It didn't make for a harmonious peleton for an hour or so.
However, on looking back at the tour as a whole, the three musketeers stayed pretty tight and we are all still on speaking terms as we draw up to Euston. Sorry for those of you who we expecting fisticuffs and handbags at dawn!
Best guest riders:
- Fergs is in under worst guest rider due to many misdemeanours, including him causing the only multiple pileup, falling off twice, breaking his chain and providing the dodgy pump that caused Dicky's blowout. Quite an impact for his 24hrs on tour.
- JB rode the most miles with the three of us, clocking just shy of 200 miles and using his family heritage to help us safely negotiate the tricky border crossing into Scotland. We did contemplate disqualifying JB due to the false promise of pancake flat plains and shimmering peat bogs of the far north.
- Stuart 'Grandad' Carter takes the last spot due to the positive impact he had on leg 8 to Pooley Bridge. He calmly and expertly took over all navigational duties to guide us through some of the most picturesque and flat parts of the lakes. He also floated up Kirkstone ahead of us despite being nearly 40 years our senior (20 on Ace...)
Best humorous names: Splatt, Cocks and Boghead. For whatever reason the south-west has definitely got the funniest place names of the regions we passed through!
Best detour: Ian taking us across a Bull field to close a one mile (or 2 inch on the map) gap in the road missed during his route planning, Dicky's quick thinking to navigate around a road closure on the way to the Severn Crossing and Ace using the Caledonian canal as a welcome off-road section to get us to Loch Ness.
Best regional food: Pasties the size of a small baby in Cornwall, Haggis (lots of it) throughout Scotland and Devon scones and clotted cream at Week Farm.
Best/worst water crossing: Padstow to rock ferry is how an estuary should be traversed, the fast lane of the Runcorn to Wigan bridge is not and the cycle lane over the Seven bridge was pretty spectacular.
Best river/canal: River Wye in Gloucestershire, River Never in Southerland, Northern Scotland and the Caledonian Canal leading to Loch Ness.
Best Loch/lake/reservoir: Ullswater lake, Loch Ness and Chew reservoir
Most challenging climb: Kirkstone Pass (and we didn't even take on the struggle), the double hill into Bristol at the end of a long day in the saddle and Cheddar Gorge. Notable mentions must also go to the unrequired climb up to Launceston castle post-lunch and the long pull up to Beauly when an extra 10 miles appeared late on in leg 12.
Best additional cycling gear: Ace's 'bento box', Dicky's knee warmers and Ian's Scottish Gillet.
Best comment: Dicky with his East Shieldhill is west of Shieldhill, Dicky mistaking the Lancaster canal for a stream (to the disgust of the locals), Ian prematurely celebrating 100 miles to go, and Ian stating as we neared our finishing point "it had better not be that dump".
Best Big Mike-isms : sustaining the worst injury of the tour when stubbing his toe in the night answering nature's call, being wrongly recognised in Hearthill as an old customer and his flashing headlights/horn beeping disgust at the proposed accommodation in Leadhills
Best/worst Animal: midges, Pinemartin and 'Sea Eagle' (we think) all spotted in Scotland.
Final stats:
Total Mileage 1,118 miles
Unaccounted miles by sector
- Sector 1 (Ian): + 19 miles
- Sector 2 (Dicky): + 18 miles
- Sector 3 (Ace): + 18 miles
Summary: we are all about as bad as each other!
Feet climbed: somewhere between 30 and 45k or twice the height of Everest (and it felt it at times).
Continuous days on the bike: 14 days
Time in the saddle: approx 85 hours
Peddle turns per cyclist: estimated at 500,000. Please see Ian for workings out (yes I know it could be way out!).
Guest members in the peleton: 19 - many thanks to everyone who rode out with us and supported us at various points along the road. It really did lift our spirits and ultimately helped get us to JOG.
Counties crossed: ~15
Borders crossed: 3, England to Wales, Wales to England, England to Scotland
Pubs visited: ~55
Pints drunk: ~70 pp
Drams sunk: ~15 pp
Beard/barnet update: Ian did have a 3 week head start but has turned into the ginger Father Christmas. Paul has developed a reasonable, if rather subtle, goatee-esk effort and Dicky's 'beard' remains rather shaggy and pathetic. On the barnet front we all bow at the knee of Andrew 'panzer helmet' Dickinson for his impressive public schoolboy take on the Afro.
Falls leader board:
1st: Paul with four
2nd: Fergs with two (in one day guesting)
3rd: Dicky with one
4th: Ian with zero
Bike maintenance summary:
Ace had the first puncture at Preston docks 450+ miles into the tour. Dicky had a spectacular blow out after 550 miles due to the 'dodgy pump' saga and Ian 'Armadillo' Deane rode a puncture free tour.
The only other 'major' incident was the consistent trouble Ace had with the common tourists nemesis, 'mudguard chaffing'. Fortunately he was talked out of the drastic removal action at the bottom of the Kirkstone Pass and managed to complete the tour with guards in tact.
Special thanks must also go to Becs, Miriam and Amy, our very understanding and supportive wives who have put up with lots of cycling talk, purchase of new kit and obviously leaving us to go off on our boys tour for two weeks. I am sure we will all pay our dues next summer!
So to the more serious side of our great adventure. We a pleased to report that we have already managed to raise a shed pile of cash for our respective charities. As we write this we estimate the total to be in excess of £4k with hopes that we each reach our individual target of £2k. Thanks to everyone who has contributed and a shameless plug to say it isn't to late if you still want to pledge!
As we sign off the tour and roll back into London, talk has naturally turned to the 'next one'. The half ironman seems to have already been put in the diary for next June. More ambitious talk has included the full Tour De France in 2012 and Side-to-side Australia at an unspecified date in the future. Perhaps LEJOG has merely wetted the appetite and it would be a shame to waste all the newly acquired Lycra. The main questions are whether our arses and marriages can take it!
We hope you have enjoyed our tour journal.
TTFN
Ian, Paul and Dicky.
LEJOG2011: Ian, Paul and I are cycling Lands End to John O'Groats and raising money for for the Ben Trend Foundation, see http://www.bentrendgetinvolved.com/
Sunday 28 August 2011
Friday 26 August 2011
Day 14 done: Altnaharra to John O'Groats
Before we start the monumental description of today's leg we first must return to yesterday evening. Our proclamation in yesterday's blog of Dad's perfect day in the support vehicle turned put to be somewhat premature.
The Altnaharra Hotel hap provided one of the best evening meals of the tour. Fabulous steak, snapper and pork had been washed down with Big Mike's carefully selected Malbec. We then retired to the lounge to sample a couple of the local single malts. Talk turned to the plan for the morning. I suddenly had a lucid moment. What did we do with the keys when we locked up the bike? I had been pretty careful with them on previous occasions but I had absolutely no recollection of what I had done with them. A comprehensive retracing of events rapidly homed in on the fact that Big Mike had been complicit in the locking up episode. The second kangaroo court of the tour pointed the finger at Mike for being the last in possession of he keys. He was quick to deny the charge. A check of his room and my worries began to mount. We then spent the next 30 mins searching the bike shed in the near pitch blackness to no avail. Key-gate was in full flow. Talk of whether Altnaharra have a fire brigade to cut through our locks took on a pretty serious tone. Finally we deducted that the only place they could be was back in the glove compartment of the car. Thankfully our last resort proved fruitful and Dad's only defence of amnesia was not particularly well received.
Ian's prediction of the procession to John O'Groats was living up to it's promise as, minus the pesky midges, we were faced with with rolling countryside and scenic lochs for the 20 mile ride to the northern coast. Various LeJog tourists seemed to converge as the alternative routes were disappearing by each passing mile.
20 miles in we were all dreaming of ticker tape parades and keys presented by the Mayor of John O'Groats. Then suddenly the wheels started to come off and the blasé approach of the group proved unfounded and exceptionally premature. Who would have thought that the north east coast of Scotland would be so unforgiving...
The village of Bettyhill passed in the blinking of a hypnotised Crocodile's eye and we realised the procession onto JoG was in fact a procession of mountains. Multiple climbs later and the intrepid explorers were gasping and banging on the door of the Starsky Inn 10 minutes before their opening time of 11:30. During our emergency regrouping over a pint of Orkney, the proprietor confidently stated that the next 8 miles would be tough, then the final 36 would be the cake walk we were aiming for. 12 miles of climbing later down his supposedly flatter, short-cut and we realised that we were already manually supping ales and whiskeys in JoG. Our next rendezvous with the support vehicle was scheduled for Thurso and never had 20 miles felt so far! By this stage we were feeling every bump and rivet in the road.
Rather than chastise ourselves, and like any group of men, our attentions turned to blaming others. Could the very same John Bigley (JB), who was our Samwise the brave from his three day stint as a tourist, prove to be our nemesis. If your are reading JB where are the rolling roads, the pancake flat plains and shimmering bogs that were promised?
A refuel at Thruso in the glorious sunshine and we were all set for the last 20 miles. One or two testing hills still lay in front of us but we were now back in full peleton formation and counting every mile down. Before we knew it we were down to single fingers of miles left to ride. The famous JOG signpost was imagined around every passing bend. Surely it is around the next one?! Eventually a cluster of odd looking buildings were spotted down toward the coast. Ian came out with a usual instantaneous remark, 'it better not be that dump'. Well of course it was and we reached Dad who was waiting for us at the signpost marking 1/4 mile to 'the end'.
Suddenly our sails were once again filled. Dad was sent ahead to capture the final action sot of the three musketeers riding in. We we all set and already practicing our poses for the signpost shot we had cycled over 1,000 miles to get. Everything was ready and we slowly drew three abreast for the key moment of the tour. Just as Dad was ready for the shot an old dear suddenly pulled out in her 1997 Ford Fiesta and the shot was missed. We were not too disappointed as we free-wheeled on the remaining 150yards to 'the end'. We rolled in at 4.35pm to be greeted by a cheer from the handful of LEJOGers who had already finished. Our joyful expressions soon turned to confusion as we could not spot the famous signpost. Our fellow LEJOGers filled in the gaps to explain that the signpost is removed each evening at 4.30pm. The only feasible explanation given was theft or vandalism. It hardly seemed possible. We had cycled over 1,000 miles for two key photos and came away with neither!
Fortunately a second, but less impressive, sign exists and we got our finishers piccies. Better news followed as Dad produced a bottle of bubbles from the support vehicle. The cork was popped and we enjoyed a very refreshing glass sat on quayside of John O'Groats harbour.
Now that the LeJoGers were over the line it wasn't the time to clock up further unnecessary miles. We were all ready for beers and whiskeys after being home and hosed. Besides, who could get lost in then anti-metropolis of JoG? The answer: Ace! A few trips up and down the main strip, with Ace protesting that these the clock should stop for the 'over count' sweep stake, and we finally rolled into what looked like a single story shack. Finally, the mileage clock was stopped for the last time. As the votes were counted, it seemed like Westminster isn't the only house that has a hung parliament. Deano is our very own Labour party, out of power and sat on 19 excess miles, whilst Ace and myself formed an unwelcome coalition, each clocking 18 excess miles for our sectors. Who would have thought that out of 1118 miles we would only miscalculate by 55 miles with a spread of 1 mile between the worse and best estimator. A good effort all round and an honourable draw.
Another welcome result was meeting Alastair, the proprietor of our digs for the evening. He greeted us with our second bottle of bubbly care of the Finns. We were now getting the taste for the good stuff! A quick shower and we wandered down the road for a good feed at the Seaview Hotel. Discussion over dinner naturally turned to the next challenge. A 70.2 half ironman has already been pencilled in the diary and more ambitious future tours have been muted. Negotiations at home may need to begin.......
We have decided to try to put together something of a round up blog during the 690mile journey back to London via Blackpool.
So to the stats of the day:
- mileage covered: 77
- total miles: 1,118
- unaccounted miles: 2
- nuclear power stations passed: 1 (Dunrea)
- birds of prey: 1 (maybe an eagle but unconfirmed)
- falls: zero
And most importantly, miles to go... 0!!!
Attention turns to the two big outstanding trophies of the tour, the Finn Beer trophy and the Dickinson Whiskey Cup.
The beers have remained steady if unspectacular. We have started to realise Scotland is a little lacking on the village pub front. We were a little unsettled when confronted with Boddingtons on tap in our lunch stop but have enjoyed the Orkney Ale served at the Seaview.
As for the Whiskeys, well we have had a flood of tastings over the last 24 hours. We will sumarise here to prevent boredom (and accusations of alcoholism). Ace has developed a taste for the Islay and has decided his firm favourite is the Laphoaig. Ian almost chocked when he tasted Phil Mawdsley's recommendation of Bruichladdich. The general consensus was that the noise smelt of silage and it tasted like something that was produced by an Angus heffer. Other favourites have been the Balvenie, Bowmore and Craggnmore.
Our final Scottish meal saw plenty of haggis and steak being washed down by one of Big Mike's recommended Malbecs.
The 400 mile road trip to Blackpool tomorrow could be a long day (for Dad). I think Paul, Ian and I will sleep very well in the knowledge that we will not be having to get on our trusty steeds and into the saddle!
TTFN
The Altnaharra Hotel hap provided one of the best evening meals of the tour. Fabulous steak, snapper and pork had been washed down with Big Mike's carefully selected Malbec. We then retired to the lounge to sample a couple of the local single malts. Talk turned to the plan for the morning. I suddenly had a lucid moment. What did we do with the keys when we locked up the bike? I had been pretty careful with them on previous occasions but I had absolutely no recollection of what I had done with them. A comprehensive retracing of events rapidly homed in on the fact that Big Mike had been complicit in the locking up episode. The second kangaroo court of the tour pointed the finger at Mike for being the last in possession of he keys. He was quick to deny the charge. A check of his room and my worries began to mount. We then spent the next 30 mins searching the bike shed in the near pitch blackness to no avail. Key-gate was in full flow. Talk of whether Altnaharra have a fire brigade to cut through our locks took on a pretty serious tone. Finally we deducted that the only place they could be was back in the glove compartment of the car. Thankfully our last resort proved fruitful and Dad's only defence of amnesia was not particularly well received.
Ian's prediction of the procession to John O'Groats was living up to it's promise as, minus the pesky midges, we were faced with with rolling countryside and scenic lochs for the 20 mile ride to the northern coast. Various LeJog tourists seemed to converge as the alternative routes were disappearing by each passing mile.
20 miles in we were all dreaming of ticker tape parades and keys presented by the Mayor of John O'Groats. Then suddenly the wheels started to come off and the blasé approach of the group proved unfounded and exceptionally premature. Who would have thought that the north east coast of Scotland would be so unforgiving...
The village of Bettyhill passed in the blinking of a hypnotised Crocodile's eye and we realised the procession onto JoG was in fact a procession of mountains. Multiple climbs later and the intrepid explorers were gasping and banging on the door of the Starsky Inn 10 minutes before their opening time of 11:30. During our emergency regrouping over a pint of Orkney, the proprietor confidently stated that the next 8 miles would be tough, then the final 36 would be the cake walk we were aiming for. 12 miles of climbing later down his supposedly flatter, short-cut and we realised that we were already manually supping ales and whiskeys in JoG. Our next rendezvous with the support vehicle was scheduled for Thurso and never had 20 miles felt so far! By this stage we were feeling every bump and rivet in the road.
Rather than chastise ourselves, and like any group of men, our attentions turned to blaming others. Could the very same John Bigley (JB), who was our Samwise the brave from his three day stint as a tourist, prove to be our nemesis. If your are reading JB where are the rolling roads, the pancake flat plains and shimmering bogs that were promised?
A refuel at Thruso in the glorious sunshine and we were all set for the last 20 miles. One or two testing hills still lay in front of us but we were now back in full peleton formation and counting every mile down. Before we knew it we were down to single fingers of miles left to ride. The famous JOG signpost was imagined around every passing bend. Surely it is around the next one?! Eventually a cluster of odd looking buildings were spotted down toward the coast. Ian came out with a usual instantaneous remark, 'it better not be that dump'. Well of course it was and we reached Dad who was waiting for us at the signpost marking 1/4 mile to 'the end'.
Suddenly our sails were once again filled. Dad was sent ahead to capture the final action sot of the three musketeers riding in. We we all set and already practicing our poses for the signpost shot we had cycled over 1,000 miles to get. Everything was ready and we slowly drew three abreast for the key moment of the tour. Just as Dad was ready for the shot an old dear suddenly pulled out in her 1997 Ford Fiesta and the shot was missed. We were not too disappointed as we free-wheeled on the remaining 150yards to 'the end'. We rolled in at 4.35pm to be greeted by a cheer from the handful of LEJOGers who had already finished. Our joyful expressions soon turned to confusion as we could not spot the famous signpost. Our fellow LEJOGers filled in the gaps to explain that the signpost is removed each evening at 4.30pm. The only feasible explanation given was theft or vandalism. It hardly seemed possible. We had cycled over 1,000 miles for two key photos and came away with neither!
Fortunately a second, but less impressive, sign exists and we got our finishers piccies. Better news followed as Dad produced a bottle of bubbles from the support vehicle. The cork was popped and we enjoyed a very refreshing glass sat on quayside of John O'Groats harbour.
Now that the LeJoGers were over the line it wasn't the time to clock up further unnecessary miles. We were all ready for beers and whiskeys after being home and hosed. Besides, who could get lost in then anti-metropolis of JoG? The answer: Ace! A few trips up and down the main strip, with Ace protesting that these the clock should stop for the 'over count' sweep stake, and we finally rolled into what looked like a single story shack. Finally, the mileage clock was stopped for the last time. As the votes were counted, it seemed like Westminster isn't the only house that has a hung parliament. Deano is our very own Labour party, out of power and sat on 19 excess miles, whilst Ace and myself formed an unwelcome coalition, each clocking 18 excess miles for our sectors. Who would have thought that out of 1118 miles we would only miscalculate by 55 miles with a spread of 1 mile between the worse and best estimator. A good effort all round and an honourable draw.
Another welcome result was meeting Alastair, the proprietor of our digs for the evening. He greeted us with our second bottle of bubbly care of the Finns. We were now getting the taste for the good stuff! A quick shower and we wandered down the road for a good feed at the Seaview Hotel. Discussion over dinner naturally turned to the next challenge. A 70.2 half ironman has already been pencilled in the diary and more ambitious future tours have been muted. Negotiations at home may need to begin.......
We have decided to try to put together something of a round up blog during the 690mile journey back to London via Blackpool.
So to the stats of the day:
- mileage covered: 77
- total miles: 1,118
- unaccounted miles: 2
- nuclear power stations passed: 1 (Dunrea)
- birds of prey: 1 (maybe an eagle but unconfirmed)
- falls: zero
And most importantly, miles to go... 0!!!
Attention turns to the two big outstanding trophies of the tour, the Finn Beer trophy and the Dickinson Whiskey Cup.
The beers have remained steady if unspectacular. We have started to realise Scotland is a little lacking on the village pub front. We were a little unsettled when confronted with Boddingtons on tap in our lunch stop but have enjoyed the Orkney Ale served at the Seaview.
As for the Whiskeys, well we have had a flood of tastings over the last 24 hours. We will sumarise here to prevent boredom (and accusations of alcoholism). Ace has developed a taste for the Islay and has decided his firm favourite is the Laphoaig. Ian almost chocked when he tasted Phil Mawdsley's recommendation of Bruichladdich. The general consensus was that the noise smelt of silage and it tasted like something that was produced by an Angus heffer. Other favourites have been the Balvenie, Bowmore and Craggnmore.
Our final Scottish meal saw plenty of haggis and steak being washed down by one of Big Mike's recommended Malbecs.
The 400 mile road trip to Blackpool tomorrow could be a long day (for Dad). I think Paul, Ian and I will sleep very well in the knowledge that we will not be having to get on our trusty steeds and into the saddle!
TTFN
Day 13 done: Beauly to Altnaharra
As we are drawing to the end of the tour the blogging duties have been passed back to me, Dicky, to hopefully see us home.
Over dinner last night, and after yesterday's 11 mile overrun, the apparently easy 65mile cruise into Altnaharra for leg 13 suddenly became the main topic of conversation. Had all Ace's calculations (or lack of them) been askew or was leg 12 a blip. Boys being boys, the forecast versus actual mileage conversation suddenly turned into a major competition. The trigger question was simple, who has led the most accurate sector of touring, where their forecast mileage most accurately matched the actual miles covered. Therefore a quick read back over the tour so far revealed some very interesting stats:
- Ian had managed to under estimate his 4 leg sector by 19 miles. This included a whopping 18 mile shortfall on leg 3, from Bridgestowe to Taunton. Ace and I were both left speechless how we had managed to let this type of wilful neglect go without ridicule.
- I had underestimated by a steady 3 or 4 miles per leg to come in at a total overrun of 18 miles for my 5 leg sector. A solid performance I put down to local knowledge.
- Ace (who must remember is the most competitive man on the planet) realised that his 11mile error from day had seriously set him back. After a lot of mileage remeasuring into the wee small hours, Paul emerged this morning to announce that he was confident of a fairly accurate day. In reality we rolled into the Altnaharra Hotel as we clicked through 70miles, resulting in Ace needing to be within a mile of the forecasted 75 left to John O'Groats. It is going to be close!
So to today's cycling. It was definitely the coldest morning of the tour so far as we prepared to roll out at about 8.30am. I was feeling rather smug about my ever increasing Lycra outfit as we slowly made our way through the mist filled valley. The cold start was quickly behind us as the sun burnt through the mist and we started the steady climb up to Stuies Hill. We met the support vehicle at the first designated stop of Dingwall. Big Mike was left to source supplies whilst the three musketeers cracked on up the hill. We were soon into open country and the blue sky against the heather mountains made for a pretty picture.
A major milestone we were looking forward to passing during our morning in the saddle was moving to less than 100 miles to go to 'the end'. Ian, our Maths Graduate and resident Carol Vorderman, was left to do the calcs and we were confidently told by Ian that when we clock up 30 miles we will be down into double fingers. As we passed the mark we all gave a mighty cheer and our spirits will filled ready for the last push. 10 minutes down the road and Ian confessed to a slight miscalculation. He had somehow managed to calculate 65 + 75 - 100 = 30. I might have to write to the Vice-Chancellor of the University of Nottingham to report the declining teaching standards.
We made it to Stuies Hill lookout just before midday and were left in awe at the views down over the Dornoch Firth. A quick Scotch Pie (keeping up our high nutrition), a couple of photos for the album and we were on our way.
A quick stop at Lairgs for our sandwich and we set off up the A836 north. Paul's desire to stear clear of the major A-roads of Britain has been severely restricted as we got further north and the A836 was the only road into Altnaharra. Fortunately the A386 is not one of Britain's major A-roads. In fact it is a single track lane that runs through some of the most rugged countryside I have seen in the UK. All in all, we must have passed 15 cars, a postman, 2 vans and a timber truck in the 20mile ride to our hotel.
At our lunch stop, Paul had spotted a place called the Crask Inn that was 10 miles short of our destination. Could there really be a public house this far into the wilderness? Our hopes were fading as we hadn't passed a house, never mind a pub, in the first 10miles of the A836. As we drew around a corner our spirits raised as we spotted a white house in the distance. We quickly spotted the support vehicle parked up by the side. Surely not!? Our prayers were realised, and not only that but, Dad, in the advanced party, had already lined up the beers. We then enjoyed a quiet, refreshing pint in what must be one of the most remote Pubs in the country. The only issue was that the midges were out in force!
We then had an easy 10 mile cruise into Altnaharra and our day on the bike was done! Due to the weather, the terraine and the general cycling, this was one of the best legs of the trip so far.
Special mention must go to Dad in the support vehicle for a near (well actually completely) faultless performance today. The food run was spot on and Mike's tuck-shop has now turned into Mike's deli. The pastries and cakes went down a treat, there were no injuries to report and his forward advances tonthe pub and hotel perfectly executed. It seems he has got his A-game together as we reach the end. This was perfectly illustrated when we got to ordering wine with dinner. I asked for the wine list but it quickly emerged that Dad had already done his research and suggested the Malbec would go perfectly with the steak. Perhaps supporting future expeditions could be a nice little earner for the retirement years?!
I must also report the budding bromance that has been developing between Ace and Deano. It has been simmering for most of the trip but has really started to blossom since Dad joined the tour and they have been thrown into room sharing. Since then the colour of each others facial hair has been rapidly converging, tyre kissing on the road has become a reglar event and double night-caps chit-chatting into the wee hours has become the norm. They have also made a formidable sports team taking the Dickinson team down at pool and ping-pong over the last 24hours. As a final straw, I am sure I caught them pushing their twin beds closer together when we reached the hotel last night. Talk tonight of sharing a single bed and spooning has just taken it all a bit too far! I think it is time to get these boys back to their wives!?
Stats for today:
- miles covered today: 70
- Unaccounted mileage cycled in the day: 5
- miles covered in total: 964
- miles remaining: 75 (even though Ace needs to remeasure)
- injuries received: 1 (Ace managed to get a nettle sting where no man wants one)
- single track A-roads ridden: 1
- falls: zero
The Big Mike Scotch Cup was once again well tested in Beauly. The local Singleton malt was well received if not spectacular. The Balvenie Doublewood was the best received of the evening and has emerged as a strong contender for the cup. Other malts sampled included the Highland Park and the Lagavolin, both of which were part of the bromance night cap but neither hit the high spots of the Balvenie.
The beers consumption has remained steady if unspectacular. The Belhaven Best hs been slipping down well but we have decided it is not a patch on some of the English drops we have consumed on the trip.
Food has remained focused on haggis and steak - this is a boys trip after all!!! We did also include the Cullen Skink to keep it Scottish!
Tomorrow sees us embarking on the final push to 'the end'. Ian is convinced it is merely the 'precesion' to the Champs Élysées to receive our podium finishes. We are also looking forward to the shimmering peat bogs JB (John Bigley) promised us. I reserve my judgement until tomorrow.
TTFN
Over dinner last night, and after yesterday's 11 mile overrun, the apparently easy 65mile cruise into Altnaharra for leg 13 suddenly became the main topic of conversation. Had all Ace's calculations (or lack of them) been askew or was leg 12 a blip. Boys being boys, the forecast versus actual mileage conversation suddenly turned into a major competition. The trigger question was simple, who has led the most accurate sector of touring, where their forecast mileage most accurately matched the actual miles covered. Therefore a quick read back over the tour so far revealed some very interesting stats:
- Ian had managed to under estimate his 4 leg sector by 19 miles. This included a whopping 18 mile shortfall on leg 3, from Bridgestowe to Taunton. Ace and I were both left speechless how we had managed to let this type of wilful neglect go without ridicule.
- I had underestimated by a steady 3 or 4 miles per leg to come in at a total overrun of 18 miles for my 5 leg sector. A solid performance I put down to local knowledge.
- Ace (who must remember is the most competitive man on the planet) realised that his 11mile error from day had seriously set him back. After a lot of mileage remeasuring into the wee small hours, Paul emerged this morning to announce that he was confident of a fairly accurate day. In reality we rolled into the Altnaharra Hotel as we clicked through 70miles, resulting in Ace needing to be within a mile of the forecasted 75 left to John O'Groats. It is going to be close!
So to today's cycling. It was definitely the coldest morning of the tour so far as we prepared to roll out at about 8.30am. I was feeling rather smug about my ever increasing Lycra outfit as we slowly made our way through the mist filled valley. The cold start was quickly behind us as the sun burnt through the mist and we started the steady climb up to Stuies Hill. We met the support vehicle at the first designated stop of Dingwall. Big Mike was left to source supplies whilst the three musketeers cracked on up the hill. We were soon into open country and the blue sky against the heather mountains made for a pretty picture.
A major milestone we were looking forward to passing during our morning in the saddle was moving to less than 100 miles to go to 'the end'. Ian, our Maths Graduate and resident Carol Vorderman, was left to do the calcs and we were confidently told by Ian that when we clock up 30 miles we will be down into double fingers. As we passed the mark we all gave a mighty cheer and our spirits will filled ready for the last push. 10 minutes down the road and Ian confessed to a slight miscalculation. He had somehow managed to calculate 65 + 75 - 100 = 30. I might have to write to the Vice-Chancellor of the University of Nottingham to report the declining teaching standards.
We made it to Stuies Hill lookout just before midday and were left in awe at the views down over the Dornoch Firth. A quick Scotch Pie (keeping up our high nutrition), a couple of photos for the album and we were on our way.
A quick stop at Lairgs for our sandwich and we set off up the A836 north. Paul's desire to stear clear of the major A-roads of Britain has been severely restricted as we got further north and the A836 was the only road into Altnaharra. Fortunately the A386 is not one of Britain's major A-roads. In fact it is a single track lane that runs through some of the most rugged countryside I have seen in the UK. All in all, we must have passed 15 cars, a postman, 2 vans and a timber truck in the 20mile ride to our hotel.
At our lunch stop, Paul had spotted a place called the Crask Inn that was 10 miles short of our destination. Could there really be a public house this far into the wilderness? Our hopes were fading as we hadn't passed a house, never mind a pub, in the first 10miles of the A836. As we drew around a corner our spirits raised as we spotted a white house in the distance. We quickly spotted the support vehicle parked up by the side. Surely not!? Our prayers were realised, and not only that but, Dad, in the advanced party, had already lined up the beers. We then enjoyed a quiet, refreshing pint in what must be one of the most remote Pubs in the country. The only issue was that the midges were out in force!
We then had an easy 10 mile cruise into Altnaharra and our day on the bike was done! Due to the weather, the terraine and the general cycling, this was one of the best legs of the trip so far.
Special mention must go to Dad in the support vehicle for a near (well actually completely) faultless performance today. The food run was spot on and Mike's tuck-shop has now turned into Mike's deli. The pastries and cakes went down a treat, there were no injuries to report and his forward advances tonthe pub and hotel perfectly executed. It seems he has got his A-game together as we reach the end. This was perfectly illustrated when we got to ordering wine with dinner. I asked for the wine list but it quickly emerged that Dad had already done his research and suggested the Malbec would go perfectly with the steak. Perhaps supporting future expeditions could be a nice little earner for the retirement years?!
I must also report the budding bromance that has been developing between Ace and Deano. It has been simmering for most of the trip but has really started to blossom since Dad joined the tour and they have been thrown into room sharing. Since then the colour of each others facial hair has been rapidly converging, tyre kissing on the road has become a reglar event and double night-caps chit-chatting into the wee hours has become the norm. They have also made a formidable sports team taking the Dickinson team down at pool and ping-pong over the last 24hours. As a final straw, I am sure I caught them pushing their twin beds closer together when we reached the hotel last night. Talk tonight of sharing a single bed and spooning has just taken it all a bit too far! I think it is time to get these boys back to their wives!?
Stats for today:
- miles covered today: 70
- Unaccounted mileage cycled in the day: 5
- miles covered in total: 964
- miles remaining: 75 (even though Ace needs to remeasure)
- injuries received: 1 (Ace managed to get a nettle sting where no man wants one)
- single track A-roads ridden: 1
- falls: zero
The Big Mike Scotch Cup was once again well tested in Beauly. The local Singleton malt was well received if not spectacular. The Balvenie Doublewood was the best received of the evening and has emerged as a strong contender for the cup. Other malts sampled included the Highland Park and the Lagavolin, both of which were part of the bromance night cap but neither hit the high spots of the Balvenie.
The beers consumption has remained steady if unspectacular. The Belhaven Best hs been slipping down well but we have decided it is not a patch on some of the English drops we have consumed on the trip.
Food has remained focused on haggis and steak - this is a boys trip after all!!! We did also include the Cullen Skink to keep it Scottish!
Tomorrow sees us embarking on the final push to 'the end'. Ian is convinced it is merely the 'precesion' to the Champs Élysées to receive our podium finishes. We are also looking forward to the shimmering peat bogs JB (John Bigley) promised us. I reserve my judgement until tomorrow.
TTFN
Thursday 25 August 2011
Day 12 done: Glencoe to Beauly
Today was another successful day in the life of a touring cyclist; albeit that we had a slight recalculation, that I will come to later. We passed our last two milestones before the big one and we now 'believe' we are less than 200 miles from John O'Groats (even though the exact miles remaining has come into debate somewhat).
Before proceeding with today's events an appendix to yesterday's is required. To celebrate Dicky's promotion we commenced the Big Mike Scotch Trophy by consuming a couple of the local scotches; Ben Nevis and Oban. Both scored rather highly but the Ben Nevis seemed to get slightly better reviews.
Through google we also settled Ace's and my bet from Stirling and proved that my knowledge of scotches is rather limited. Based on the evidence that scotch is named, obviously in hindsight, by being Scottish rather than my tenuous scorched barrel theory, I settled the bet. Still a least the 18 year old Bowmore scotch that I had to buy for all seemed to suppress the bitter taste of defeat.
So, bringing the scotch ranking up to date we are currently ranking the Bowmore as number one followed by Craggamore, Ben Nevis and Oban respectively. I am sure further updates will follow...
Interestingly, the scotch seems to be having an adverse effect on Ace and myself. After last nights nightcap(s) we spent about 15-20 minutes looking for a lost 20p piece under a bench. We are hoping that the Scottishness will wear off as we head south from John O'Groats in a few days...
Today begun, with a heartier breakfast for all concerned. Knowing that we had a long day ahead we all seemed keen to learn from my mistake by not going light. The table was also reeling from the revaluation that the tour almost came to a premature end through a debilitating injury. Big Mike's toe was the main topic of conversation as he stubbed it on the bathroom door whilst answering the call of nature in the night. The sentiment of trying to avoid waking Dicky, by keeping the light off, was wasted as the blue language post-stubbing was more disruptive than any piercing light.
After breakfast we set off, impressed by Dicky's latest addition to his outfit. By wearing longer socks there is now only about 1% of Dicky's skin subjected to the elements. We all agreed that Dicky's Lycraman outfit would of been perfect during the recent riots as a vigilante costume. Rumours abound that the 1% of exposed skin could still be reduced further if a balaclava can be sourced prior to John O'Groats.
A few miles of hugging some scenic lochs saw us arrive at Fort William for our first catch up with Big Mike. Fort William is a quaint village blessed with being based by a loch and at the base of Ben Nevis. After commenting all tour how versatile his camera was, Ace was met with a situation that even his camera could not cope with. It seemed that none of the 'Children and Pets', 'Fish Eye', 'Colour Swap' or 'Magnify' modes were adequate for the 'Mountains and Supermarket' view he was faced with, as our first glimpse of Ben Nevis also included the local Morrisons in the camera frame. Along with the manufacturers of his water bottle holder and Evans (for wrongly fitting his mudguards) it seems Cannon will be getting a stern letter for not covering all eventualities...
The rest of the morning was spent meandering through the Caledonian countryside passing countless waterfalls, lochs etc before arriving at the unimaginatively named Loch Lochy for lunch. Quick Butty and sugary tea later we began to home in on Loch Ness and Ace's big revaluation. To continue Dicky's geography master class we were all astounded that Loch Ness holds as much water as all the lakes in England and Wales combined. We were also delighted with the detour along the Caledonian Canal tow path, primarily because it's flat.
Comforted by only having 15 miles remaining we settled down for a cheeky half when we arrived at Loch Ness. It was at this point Ace's estimation of the day's mileage seemed to differ from what was recorded on our planning sheet. It was when he admitted that he never measured the mileage and that it could be anything up to an extra 10-15 miles that our mood changed. The extra miles might also account for the frayed humours over the next 10 miles when the peloton stretched and we weren't quite the slick 'professional' racing team of previous days.
Luckily a sign a few miles away confirmed that our extension was restricted to 10 miles and we begun to zone in on Beauly. After leaving Loch Ness, disappointed that Nessy hadn't popped up to cheer us on, we began a severe climb that must rank in our worse ten climbs of the tour and arrived at our hotel with 86 miles on the clock.
As it is my last blog of tour it would be amiss of me not to mention our last transformation, which along with the beards and ferrel barnets that might persuade our better halves to have the front door locks changed before we return; the farmers tan. As we are eating a lot of sweets to keep our calories up I think we should use sweet shop classics to provide an analogy. My tan is looking very much like a humbug (very black vs white), Dicky's is looking like a rhubarb and custard (red vs yellow) while Ace's is looking like the fried egg penny sweet (pasty yellow vs pasty white).
Tomorrow we head to Altanarra but not before we will all be sitting behind Ace's shoulder as he rechecks his estimates for the last two stages. As found today, we may again experience issues posting the blog due to reception as we get further north. Please bare with us. We will post as soon as we hit a hot spot!
Stats:
- Mileage: 86
- Total mileage: 894
- Miles remaining (hopefully): 140
- Unaccounted mileage cycled in the day: 10miles
- Beers consumed en route: 2 halves per cyclist
- Monsters spotted: zero
- Falls: zero
Before proceeding with today's events an appendix to yesterday's is required. To celebrate Dicky's promotion we commenced the Big Mike Scotch Trophy by consuming a couple of the local scotches; Ben Nevis and Oban. Both scored rather highly but the Ben Nevis seemed to get slightly better reviews.
Through google we also settled Ace's and my bet from Stirling and proved that my knowledge of scotches is rather limited. Based on the evidence that scotch is named, obviously in hindsight, by being Scottish rather than my tenuous scorched barrel theory, I settled the bet. Still a least the 18 year old Bowmore scotch that I had to buy for all seemed to suppress the bitter taste of defeat.
So, bringing the scotch ranking up to date we are currently ranking the Bowmore as number one followed by Craggamore, Ben Nevis and Oban respectively. I am sure further updates will follow...
Interestingly, the scotch seems to be having an adverse effect on Ace and myself. After last nights nightcap(s) we spent about 15-20 minutes looking for a lost 20p piece under a bench. We are hoping that the Scottishness will wear off as we head south from John O'Groats in a few days...
Today begun, with a heartier breakfast for all concerned. Knowing that we had a long day ahead we all seemed keen to learn from my mistake by not going light. The table was also reeling from the revaluation that the tour almost came to a premature end through a debilitating injury. Big Mike's toe was the main topic of conversation as he stubbed it on the bathroom door whilst answering the call of nature in the night. The sentiment of trying to avoid waking Dicky, by keeping the light off, was wasted as the blue language post-stubbing was more disruptive than any piercing light.
After breakfast we set off, impressed by Dicky's latest addition to his outfit. By wearing longer socks there is now only about 1% of Dicky's skin subjected to the elements. We all agreed that Dicky's Lycraman outfit would of been perfect during the recent riots as a vigilante costume. Rumours abound that the 1% of exposed skin could still be reduced further if a balaclava can be sourced prior to John O'Groats.
A few miles of hugging some scenic lochs saw us arrive at Fort William for our first catch up with Big Mike. Fort William is a quaint village blessed with being based by a loch and at the base of Ben Nevis. After commenting all tour how versatile his camera was, Ace was met with a situation that even his camera could not cope with. It seemed that none of the 'Children and Pets', 'Fish Eye', 'Colour Swap' or 'Magnify' modes were adequate for the 'Mountains and Supermarket' view he was faced with, as our first glimpse of Ben Nevis also included the local Morrisons in the camera frame. Along with the manufacturers of his water bottle holder and Evans (for wrongly fitting his mudguards) it seems Cannon will be getting a stern letter for not covering all eventualities...
The rest of the morning was spent meandering through the Caledonian countryside passing countless waterfalls, lochs etc before arriving at the unimaginatively named Loch Lochy for lunch. Quick Butty and sugary tea later we began to home in on Loch Ness and Ace's big revaluation. To continue Dicky's geography master class we were all astounded that Loch Ness holds as much water as all the lakes in England and Wales combined. We were also delighted with the detour along the Caledonian Canal tow path, primarily because it's flat.
Comforted by only having 15 miles remaining we settled down for a cheeky half when we arrived at Loch Ness. It was at this point Ace's estimation of the day's mileage seemed to differ from what was recorded on our planning sheet. It was when he admitted that he never measured the mileage and that it could be anything up to an extra 10-15 miles that our mood changed. The extra miles might also account for the frayed humours over the next 10 miles when the peloton stretched and we weren't quite the slick 'professional' racing team of previous days.
Luckily a sign a few miles away confirmed that our extension was restricted to 10 miles and we begun to zone in on Beauly. After leaving Loch Ness, disappointed that Nessy hadn't popped up to cheer us on, we began a severe climb that must rank in our worse ten climbs of the tour and arrived at our hotel with 86 miles on the clock.
As it is my last blog of tour it would be amiss of me not to mention our last transformation, which along with the beards and ferrel barnets that might persuade our better halves to have the front door locks changed before we return; the farmers tan. As we are eating a lot of sweets to keep our calories up I think we should use sweet shop classics to provide an analogy. My tan is looking very much like a humbug (very black vs white), Dicky's is looking like a rhubarb and custard (red vs yellow) while Ace's is looking like the fried egg penny sweet (pasty yellow vs pasty white).
Tomorrow we head to Altanarra but not before we will all be sitting behind Ace's shoulder as he rechecks his estimates for the last two stages. As found today, we may again experience issues posting the blog due to reception as we get further north. Please bare with us. We will post as soon as we hit a hot spot!
Stats:
- Mileage: 86
- Total mileage: 894
- Miles remaining (hopefully): 140
- Unaccounted mileage cycled in the day: 10miles
- Beers consumed en route: 2 halves per cyclist
- Monsters spotted: zero
- Falls: zero
Tuesday 23 August 2011
Day 11 done: Stirling to Glencoe
After yesterdays relatively short cycle we knew that we had a tough days cycling ahead of us. When the shop assistant at the Stirling cycle shop said "expect a few hills" you know he's not kidding. After a quick breakfast we were on the road at 8 am passing by Stirling Castle and King's Knott on the way out of the city. Both Dicky and myself were hoping that the blog would write itself this evening if Ace's optimism backfired. He mentioned that today would be an easy one to navigate and confidently packed the maps away saying he would not need to refer to them again today!
We were all eager to test ride our new cold weather kit purchased in Stirling. Dicky's new Fame-esque knee and arm warmers have resulted in him looking more camp than Mr Motivator from GMTV. I was looking forward to the extra protection the cycling waistcoat will provide on the steep declines; albeit concerned that my Scottish themed design might get me in trouble when cycling back in London.
The morning's climbs were a series of long pulls (for all your cycling buffs) that, whilst not lung busting, were testing some tired legs and keeping the speed a lot less than on previous days. I was regretting my decision of a light breakfast and definitely found this the toughest morning. Apart from the spectacular scenes you could tell that we might be getting a bit bored of the whole cycling thing.
Our main interlude that broke up the morning was meeting Mark Osborne whilst on the road. He quickly put our challenge into perspective. Mark had just returned from Turkey after getting shunted by a car 3000 miles into his round the world cycle attempt (you can follow Mark's adventure on http://mskworldcyclingtour.co.uk/). Only 7 weeks after breaking his fibia he is back on his bike and road testing his leg before starting again. The comedy sight of him using one of his water bottle holders to store his two pints of milk was something to behold, as was the amount of gear he had on his pannier racks for camping wild in the forests.
After our frequent but short refuel stops during the morning, including the 11am one where we interrupted Mike's power nap, we begun to climb through the mountain ranges that were looming on the horizon all morning. Quite simply, it was the most picturesque day of cycling that any of us have done to date. We passed a succession of streams, lochs, waterfalls and bogs that even my bad joke about lochs being quite similar to lakes couldn't spoil. The only concerning point was the dark clouds forming in the direction we were cycling and the fact that visibility was beginning to shorten.
Embarrassed by his 'East is West' debacle yesterday, Dicky treated us all to a master class on geographical terms throughout the afternoon. U-shaped valleys, terminal morraines and interlocking spurs were all reportedly spotted on our route. Both Ace and myself are hoping that we score top marks in our homework tonight.
Similarly, both Ace and Dicky stepped up their campaigns to replace me as the Poet Laureate of the tour. Dicky's limerick "20 more miles of sorrow, 20 more miles on this old bike, I hope I get there tomorrow" was something to behold. You could also hear Burns turning in his grave over some of Ace's attempts. His most memorable being "you have to remember the site, sound and smell of this view" when riding along a particularly stunning Loch. That being said it is a shame that Valentine's day is still six months away as our better half could have been reading some impressive stanzas in the cards if it was soon...
With the clouds overhead we were treated to our first taste of Highlands weather as the heavens opened and continued for the remainder of our journey into Glencoe. Our final long pull of the day was ended by the welcome sight of a roadside cafe selling hot milky tea and Bike Mike's tuck shop open for business. The views and the calories were slightly tarnished by the coach load of Germans and a lone bagpiper. Although I seemed to be in the minority about my dislike of the bagpipes we all agreed about the coach load of German tourists.
After 60 miles of climbing we were treated by 20 miles of flats and descents into Glencoe, which must rank as one of the most beautiful yet intimidating retreats. The village is located within a recess of two crossing ranges such that we have views of mountain tops and waterfalls from our rooms. It also seems to indicate that we might have a bit of a climb first thing tomorrow as well.
When we arrived at the accommodation we were all pleased to be faced with a log cabin resort that must thrive during the skiing season. Both Dicky and I were a bit glum faced that Ace's optimism regarding the navigation was realised. Boys being boys we resisted providing Ace with any credit and used the fact that there were only three roads to turn it on it's head.
On retiring to the rooms to complete our post-game routines, Big Mike was caught having a lie down before the evening to recover from his tiring day at the wheel. His defence that the early start, tescos shop and the fresh air had hit him hard was met by deaf ears from the Defence's bench.
Once again Mrs Richards has done an excellent job with the choice of digs and we are eager to see what she can pull out of the bag in the one hotel villages of Beauly and Altnaharra. Will she be able to follow Annika Rice's example in building some new accommodation before we arrive?
We managed a bar crawl in the evening as they have two, I repeat two, bars. This fact made some of the one pub hamlets we have been staying at seem non-existent. We have also consumed our first portions of Haggis so all is good with the world. Ace might regret rooming with me after my Stornoway Black Pudding for starter and Haggis, Neeps 'n' Tatties for main. It might be a blustery night in Glencoe...
Tomorrow we head to Beauly. The receptionist warned "there's a lot of big hills that way" once you get north of Inverness so we all know what to expect...
Stats
Mile: 79
Miles total: 808
Miles to go: 215
Counties crossed: 2 including crossing into the Highlands indicating another major milestone reached.
Strangest place to receive a promotion: Dicky by Loch Lubnaig
Richard Finn appreciation trophy: Flying Scotsman 8/10, Glencoe Stout 6/10, Nectar 7/10 and Red Culiin 8/10. The Flying Scotsman was taken through on the opinion of the expert witness, Big Mike, due to the tie.
We have begun a Big Mike Whiskey Trophy in honour of his support crew assistance. Scores will follow...
Monday 22 August 2011
Day 10 done: Crawford to Stirling
The fact that today's blog is short and sweet is a testament to Ace's navigation skills as much as the relatively short incident free cycle. Now that we have seen each of our navigation styles it's fair to summarise: I am more a wing and a prayer man; Ace prefers specific road numbers; whilst Dicky prefers to outsource as much navigation as possible by pulling in as many ringers as possible.
All runners and riders enjoyed the varied and hearty breakfasts at the Homeland County House, which received top marks all round, and we set off at 9 am. We once again settled into the new found rhythm of a professional peloton. Mark Cavendish, if you are reading this blog you are free to join our newly formed team (All feel free to propose a team name via the comments feature on the blog).
We started to power our way through the Scottish countryside noting that the 'God's Country' refers to the beautiful vistas rather than some of the towns that we visited. The quaint village pubs from the southwest and the lakes have been replaced by breeze block pubs with shutter fronts. Still, the half cut locals have been very useful in navigating our way to our lunch stops.
Talking about lunch, today's stop provided a potential alarming insight into the world of Big Mike. The local butcher in Hearthill was convinced that Mike was an old customer that hasn't been in for a while. When Mike, unlike his normal self, terminated the conversion abruptly and speed off (pies in tow) Dicky was left visioning what might have happened in this wee Scottish town in Mike's formative years. All fears were allayed a few miles down the road when we saw Mike's car in a lay-by but without Mike who was scampering towards the nearest hedgerow due to nature's calling. Scotch pies in bellies and the "professionals" were off.
At this point another editors note on the morphing into a professional peloton: hand signals. We have all developed our own interpretation of the signals that the Fylde Coast cyclist taught us. Ace has begun to resemble the umpire Billy Bowden on his pre-test match Wednesday morning cycle. Dicky has begun to invent his own, including the salute which means 'no potholes but I am top of the world'. I have been informed that I have begun arm-cartwheels for a row of potholes. I am sure Cracker could give an assessment of what this means on our personality.
At this point we had our one disruption of the day, a temporary traffic lights indicating a reduced one lane of traffic. When the lights went green we were presented with a poor team of workmen who had managed to wedge a telephone pool across the road and spent the next few minutes making a bad job worse (see Dicky's tweeted picture). All was redeemed when they commented "nice beard" as I passed.
Prior to navigating our way through the central residential belt of Scotland we arrived in West Shieldhill. Two funny points of note arose in this place. Firstly, we spoke to two locals who were admiring our bikes. They seemed impressed. Likewise, they seemed impressed that we had cycled from Lands End. The seemed puzzled that we were heading to John O'Groats. Maybe they thought it was the poor cousin to the Lands End To West Shieldhill tour.
Secondly, when trying to direct Big Mike to our impromptu stop, Dicky displayed the symptoms of tiredness that sets in after a ten day tour. The award winning geographer directed Mike east out of Shieldhill to West Shieldhill.
Big Mike left the peloton to ensure that Paul's first accommodation was a better standard than Dicky's last, leaving us to navigate the last few miles to Stirling. Thankfully we were not met with an irate Big Mike and we cruised in at 2:30. Still enough time us to discuss cattle farming and the difference between cows, bullocks and bulls after encountering the largest bull we have seen on tour. All in all a Stirling effort. Boom boom!!!
Stats:
- Mile cycled: 61
- Total mileage: 729
- Funny towns: California, Bogend, Bog Way and Cockridge
- Beard and Barnett updates: less said about my beard the better. Dicky's has gone beyond the post-pubescent teen and is looking like a tramp. Paul is resembling a World War II spiv and I am waiting for him to start trading sugar and suet in the towns that we pass. We also have 'Beardgate' based on the fact that Big Mike is continuing to shave whilst on tour.
- Beers consumed on route: zero again...
- Times past a West Lothian sign: three
Richard Finn Beer contest: Light Orkney 6.5/10 and Dark Orkney 7/10
Final addendum to today's blog is a quick food update. As this is the last main conurbation before the End we once again opted for Italian. Unfortunately I was unable to find any Michelin starred restaurants and ended up in a traditional Italian trattoria.
All runners and riders enjoyed the varied and hearty breakfasts at the Homeland County House, which received top marks all round, and we set off at 9 am. We once again settled into the new found rhythm of a professional peloton. Mark Cavendish, if you are reading this blog you are free to join our newly formed team (All feel free to propose a team name via the comments feature on the blog).
We started to power our way through the Scottish countryside noting that the 'God's Country' refers to the beautiful vistas rather than some of the towns that we visited. The quaint village pubs from the southwest and the lakes have been replaced by breeze block pubs with shutter fronts. Still, the half cut locals have been very useful in navigating our way to our lunch stops.
Talking about lunch, today's stop provided a potential alarming insight into the world of Big Mike. The local butcher in Hearthill was convinced that Mike was an old customer that hasn't been in for a while. When Mike, unlike his normal self, terminated the conversion abruptly and speed off (pies in tow) Dicky was left visioning what might have happened in this wee Scottish town in Mike's formative years. All fears were allayed a few miles down the road when we saw Mike's car in a lay-by but without Mike who was scampering towards the nearest hedgerow due to nature's calling. Scotch pies in bellies and the "professionals" were off.
At this point another editors note on the morphing into a professional peloton: hand signals. We have all developed our own interpretation of the signals that the Fylde Coast cyclist taught us. Ace has begun to resemble the umpire Billy Bowden on his pre-test match Wednesday morning cycle. Dicky has begun to invent his own, including the salute which means 'no potholes but I am top of the world'. I have been informed that I have begun arm-cartwheels for a row of potholes. I am sure Cracker could give an assessment of what this means on our personality.
At this point we had our one disruption of the day, a temporary traffic lights indicating a reduced one lane of traffic. When the lights went green we were presented with a poor team of workmen who had managed to wedge a telephone pool across the road and spent the next few minutes making a bad job worse (see Dicky's tweeted picture). All was redeemed when they commented "nice beard" as I passed.
Prior to navigating our way through the central residential belt of Scotland we arrived in West Shieldhill. Two funny points of note arose in this place. Firstly, we spoke to two locals who were admiring our bikes. They seemed impressed. Likewise, they seemed impressed that we had cycled from Lands End. The seemed puzzled that we were heading to John O'Groats. Maybe they thought it was the poor cousin to the Lands End To West Shieldhill tour.
Secondly, when trying to direct Big Mike to our impromptu stop, Dicky displayed the symptoms of tiredness that sets in after a ten day tour. The award winning geographer directed Mike east out of Shieldhill to West Shieldhill.
Big Mike left the peloton to ensure that Paul's first accommodation was a better standard than Dicky's last, leaving us to navigate the last few miles to Stirling. Thankfully we were not met with an irate Big Mike and we cruised in at 2:30. Still enough time us to discuss cattle farming and the difference between cows, bullocks and bulls after encountering the largest bull we have seen on tour. All in all a Stirling effort. Boom boom!!!
Stats:
- Mile cycled: 61
- Total mileage: 729
- Funny towns: California, Bogend, Bog Way and Cockridge
- Beard and Barnett updates: less said about my beard the better. Dicky's has gone beyond the post-pubescent teen and is looking like a tramp. Paul is resembling a World War II spiv and I am waiting for him to start trading sugar and suet in the towns that we pass. We also have 'Beardgate' based on the fact that Big Mike is continuing to shave whilst on tour.
- Beers consumed on route: zero again...
- Times past a West Lothian sign: three
Richard Finn Beer contest: Light Orkney 6.5/10 and Dark Orkney 7/10
Final addendum to today's blog is a quick food update. As this is the last main conurbation before the End we once again opted for Italian. Unfortunately I was unable to find any Michelin starred restaurants and ended up in a traditional Italian trattoria.
Sunday 21 August 2011
Special Charity Reminder
As you can hopefully tell from reading this blog, we are having quite an adventure and managing to enjoy ourselves in between the hills. However we just wanted to remind you that we are each doing this to also raise money for charities close to our hearts. So if you haven't done already and are enjoying following our progress, please throw a few quid our way.
Ian can be sponsored at www.justgiving.com/Ian-Deane-Lejog-Ironman
Paul can be sponsored at www.justgiving.com/paul-richards3
Dicky can be sponsored at www.bentrendgetinvolved.com
Cheers
The LEJOGers
Ian can be sponsored at www.justgiving.com/Ian-Deane-Lejog-Ironman
Paul can be sponsored at www.justgiving.com/paul-richards3
Dicky can be sponsored at www.bentrendgetinvolved.com
Cheers
The LEJOGers
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