Wednesday. I occasionally look back at this blog and it does, in places, sound rather negative. Bit of a moan here about the heat and a bit of a grump there about busy roads. I don't think this gives a very accurate picture of just how good LeJoG is. It's just that the small problems become more salient on a perfect day.
Take the brief ride on the A9 today for example. I'm only on it for a short while but it sticks in my mind. The reason is that it's fast, busy and carries the big lorries to Wick. So, I tuck in close to the kerb and this is tricky as this part of the road is littered with glass, car parts, drains, gravel and roadkill that I have to move back into the road to avoid. This would not normally be difficult but, and here I must confess something to those who were a little concerned about my safety on this trip, it is for me. The problem is that, as a consequence of a rugby injury, I cannot turn my head fully to the right and so look behind. When I try to do so I have to turn my shoulders as well and, when I'm cycling, I then drift to the right and end up, for example, in the middle of the A9.
Some time ago I tried to develop a technique to correct this by steering left a bit whilst turning my head right (don't try this at home without a responsible adult present). However, as I then couldn't see where I was going I did, more than once, end up in the gutter (precisely where Old Three Fingers Boon told me, my class and anyone else who would listen, I would end up). So now I simply have to keep an ear out (no IPod for me) and, well, trust to luck.
So, you can see how a minor bit of the day dominates when I'm sitting in The Sutherland Inn in Brora tucking into my tea and thinking back about what I've been up to and hence what might go into this blog. I could try to describe the ride through the Highlands and along the north-east coast but I know I'd just overuse words like stunning, beautiful etc. and then I'd plump for majestic and we'd all have had enough. To avoid this I thought I'd take a photo today of the long road bridge across the Moray Firth with majestic (I did warn you) mountains in the background.
I found the right view, slowed down, clipped out (no meerkat plane spotter moments for me) and was just about to put my right foot down when I realised that there was nothing beneath the long grass next to the road but a ditch. My foot went down anyway and I followed. I sort of crouched to avoid a barbed wire fence and this, rather unhelpfully, ensured that I could fit neatly into the ditch. It was a deep ditch and luckily the mud, filthy water and generally unpleasant ditch contents, broke my fall. I was then pretty much upside down with the bike, still clipped to my left foot and wheels almost vertical in the air, above me.
I paused to check nothing was broken and then realised that I was slowly sinking further into the mire and, what's more, the mire did not smell good. Three questions entered my mind. First, should I stay like this for a bit until anyone who was passing has gone and so avoid a replay of the Bidford-on-Avon humiliation? Second, will the B & B have anything smelly enough to match the Strawberry Shortcake (by Possibility) shower gel that would surely be an effective antidote? And third, in this blog did I disturb the restless soul of Old Three Fingers Boon and so bring this gutter episode on myself?
I thought it might be a good idea to get out of the ditch rather that ponder these issues and so I did (took a while though). Change of shirt, back on the bike and sod the photo. Just think stunning, beautiful, majestic mountains etc. etc. All very lovely but you're on your own on the image front. Far too dangerous. Give me the A9 any day.
Last day tomorrow. Weather forecast is not at all good. Heavy rain and strong winds and just over 100km to go over some lumpy (and no doubt majestic) mountains. Can't wait.
Here we go:
Distance: 137.46 km
Cumulative distance: 1502.84 km
Ride time: 6h 46m 8s
Max speed: 65.2 kph
Right knee: very sore now but, rather worryingly, ditchwater cleaned off the football thing. Kate Price could probably market this stuff in Bodmin.
Take the brief ride on the A9 today for example. I'm only on it for a short while but it sticks in my mind. The reason is that it's fast, busy and carries the big lorries to Wick. So, I tuck in close to the kerb and this is tricky as this part of the road is littered with glass, car parts, drains, gravel and roadkill that I have to move back into the road to avoid. This would not normally be difficult but, and here I must confess something to those who were a little concerned about my safety on this trip, it is for me. The problem is that, as a consequence of a rugby injury, I cannot turn my head fully to the right and so look behind. When I try to do so I have to turn my shoulders as well and, when I'm cycling, I then drift to the right and end up, for example, in the middle of the A9.
Some time ago I tried to develop a technique to correct this by steering left a bit whilst turning my head right (don't try this at home without a responsible adult present). However, as I then couldn't see where I was going I did, more than once, end up in the gutter (precisely where Old Three Fingers Boon told me, my class and anyone else who would listen, I would end up). So now I simply have to keep an ear out (no IPod for me) and, well, trust to luck.
So, you can see how a minor bit of the day dominates when I'm sitting in The Sutherland Inn in Brora tucking into my tea and thinking back about what I've been up to and hence what might go into this blog. I could try to describe the ride through the Highlands and along the north-east coast but I know I'd just overuse words like stunning, beautiful etc. and then I'd plump for majestic and we'd all have had enough. To avoid this I thought I'd take a photo today of the long road bridge across the Moray Firth with majestic (I did warn you) mountains in the background.
I found the right view, slowed down, clipped out (no meerkat plane spotter moments for me) and was just about to put my right foot down when I realised that there was nothing beneath the long grass next to the road but a ditch. My foot went down anyway and I followed. I sort of crouched to avoid a barbed wire fence and this, rather unhelpfully, ensured that I could fit neatly into the ditch. It was a deep ditch and luckily the mud, filthy water and generally unpleasant ditch contents, broke my fall. I was then pretty much upside down with the bike, still clipped to my left foot and wheels almost vertical in the air, above me.
I paused to check nothing was broken and then realised that I was slowly sinking further into the mire and, what's more, the mire did not smell good. Three questions entered my mind. First, should I stay like this for a bit until anyone who was passing has gone and so avoid a replay of the Bidford-on-Avon humiliation? Second, will the B & B have anything smelly enough to match the Strawberry Shortcake (by Possibility) shower gel that would surely be an effective antidote? And third, in this blog did I disturb the restless soul of Old Three Fingers Boon and so bring this gutter episode on myself?
I thought it might be a good idea to get out of the ditch rather that ponder these issues and so I did (took a while though). Change of shirt, back on the bike and sod the photo. Just think stunning, beautiful, majestic mountains etc. etc. All very lovely but you're on your own on the image front. Far too dangerous. Give me the A9 any day.
Last day tomorrow. Weather forecast is not at all good. Heavy rain and strong winds and just over 100km to go over some lumpy (and no doubt majestic) mountains. Can't wait.
Here we go:
Distance: 137.46 km
Cumulative distance: 1502.84 km
Ride time: 6h 46m 8s
Max speed: 65.2 kph
Right knee: very sore now but, rather worryingly, ditchwater cleaned off the football thing. Kate Price could probably market this stuff in Bodmin.
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