10

Interesting number, 10. 10 fingers, 10 toes, we count in 10s, we talk about top 10s, 10 things to do before you die and then, of course, there was Bo Derek.

I don't know what Dudley Moore saw in her

I got to thinking about it recently, looking at some folk who were competing in the Tour Divide Race and watching their ability to sustain a good overall average speed. Now 10 miles per hour doesn't seem very fast in that regard. Most reasonably fit cyclists will be able to average 10 mph. Sit on a bike, start pedalling and you'll soon be at 10 mph. But it's sustaining that over longer distances and durations. What becomes obvious is that trying to maintain an average of 10mph also means reducing stopped time. Every second the wheels aren't turning eats into your overall average speed and maintaining 10 mph suddenly isn't so easy. 

I recently had the opportunity of a free lift to John O'Groats so I planned to ride down to Inverness on National Cycle Network Route 1. I was keen to do this as we lots of customers going this way (though normally northbound) and the Cromarty-Nigg ferry service had just re-opened, making the Black Isle section of NCN 1 a good through route again. However, after a phone call from home relating to a family illness, the ferry option became untenable. The last evening ferry is at 18:00 and the first morning ferry isn't until 8:15. Frankly, I was never going to make the former and I didn't fancy hanging around all night. I therefore opted for plan B -  I'd stick to the "standard" NCN1 route through Alness, Evanton and Dingwall and I'd see what was needed to do to get through a long days riding at that target of 10 mph.

With a bit of route planning I was able to come up with a nice ready-reckoner for when I would have to be leaving a few points en route and this would be my quick look-up for the day. Mainly, these were places where I might find food. I was carrying a little with me but was also hoping to see what I could shop-forage as I went. As back-up, I also had my bivvy, sleeping bag, mat and tarp (all having been packed when the ferry option was still on). The weather forecast was for light westerlies and showers. I knew I had 60-odd miles of riding west to start with but this sounded perfectly fine. 

Fabulous still evening on the Saturday night before departure

Standing at the famous John O'Groats signpost on the Sunday morning, I was very aware that the "light" winds were a bit stronger than ideal. It was knocking a few degrees off the temperature too as they seemed to have swung more towards the North West. On the upside, the skies didn't look too threatening.

Not quite so pleasant the following morning.

Undaunted - and with little option - I set off up the hill and onto NCN 1. It was 8:32.

I'd cycled this bit fairly recently, doing a signing check for SUSTRANS so it was quite familiar. I was though, struggling with my gears. Stupidly, I'd not checked them out after fitting the handlebar harness. The right shifter was a little stiff - though this loosened up after I jiggled the cables about a bit. The left shifter stayed stiff even after this - a sign that everything was not well.....  

Looking down to Gills Bay I could see the morning ferry from Orkney just arriving. As a result, there was quite a bit of traffic on the main road. I was glad to be up on NCN 1 and away from all of that. Initially, the headwind didn't seem too bad, but as I approached Thurso it was already beginning to get a bit annoying. My first "checkpoint" was Strathy. I arrived a whole 53 mins ahead of schedule, having averaged 12.6 mph. This was easy.

There's a  change in terrain as NCN 1 reaches Sutherland, the flat, rolling moors giving way to some real hills

Into Bettyhill and checkpoint 2. Due to hills and the headwind my speed had dropped a little to 11.4 mph and it was obvious my options for grabbing food were going to be very limited. Being Sunday, the only shop in the village was closed, a pattern that was repeated throughout the day. I did manage to find a hotel and bar offering lunch so opted to climb off the bike for a while. With an overall average speed in mind, it became a frustratingly slow experience. Find staff, explain requirement, wait to be seated, wait for menu, select food. wait for staff, order food, wait for food, eat, wait for staff, ask for bill, wait for staff, offer payment, wait for change. Every minute sat waiting becomes 1/6th of a mile not travelled. As a result my 45 minute stop had dropped my speed to 9.7 mph so I was now behind schedule. 

Just for good measure, the wind also seemed to be getting stronger, however it was blowing all the cloud and rain inland so at least I was staying dry. I was, though, glad to reach Coldbackie where the route turned south, even though that meant I was heading into darker skies. I'd been having to pedal downhill in places and I was looking forward to being able to freewheel a little more often. In fact, so happy was I about this prospect that I stopped for a celebratory coffee and cake. More delay, but I hoped that not fighting the wind would make a difference to my moving average. A short stop here meant that I went through Tongue 36 minutes behind schedule, an average of 9.6 mph, despite all the hard work along the coast road.

Looking over Tongue Bay to the Rabbit Islands

Heading south definitely seemed easier and, despite the impact on my speed, I also stopped for a couple of photographs. The view over the Kyle of Tongue is superb, often matching that of some of the Hebridean beaches. Today,  the overcast sky had knocked much of the colour out of it but Ben Loyal stood to the south looking like some mischievous god had plucked it out of Skye, dumped it in Sutherland and thought "this'll keep them guessing". 

The route skirts right round the bottom of Ben Loyal

Heading towards Altnaharra on the "main" road.

As the road wound up and down past Altnaharra and lonely Crask Inn I felt I was going a little faster and passed through the latter now only 15 minutes behind schedule. Digging into my food bag I found a Eat Natural Protein bar and managed to rip the wrapper open with my teeth. What followed was 15 minutes of laborious chewing. It was dry as a budgies litter tray and barely more tasty. I reckon I actually consumed more calories eating it than it gave up.

On the faster descents towards Loch Shin I was in the big ring and as I hit Lairg all attempts to shift out of it failed. I knew that staying in a 52-tooth sprocket was never going to work so stopped in Lairg to see what could be done. Despite fiddling around with cables and trying everything I could, the only option available was to reset the front mech so it was over the middle ring. Despite it being gala week, Lairg was pretty dead. I knew there was a hotel serving food but I was now very aware of how much time delay that would cause so I passed it by, leaving Lairg 14 minutes ahead of schedule, average speed now 10.2 mph. 

I now knew that the only option for hot food would be at Invershin so pressed on arriving 24 minutes ahead, 10.4 mph average. The menu had a limited range and I struggled to work out what I wanted and what wouldn't take too long, eventually opting for a burger. Though it arrived promptly enough, I found I really struggled to eat it. It felt more of a necessity than a desire and so it took me quite a while. I also had to call home at this point, further delaying my departure. As a result I was now 29 minutes behind schedule, overall average 9.6 mph. On the up side, the weather had taken a turn for the better and it looked like I might make it back to Inverness dry. 

NCN 1 takes an unconventional line

Across the weird bit of cyclepath by the rail bridge and I was now on some very quiet roads, becoming familiar as I hit Ardgay. 

Long evening shadows heading almost due south at this time of year

Coming on to the A9 at the Dornoch Bridge was a bit mind-jarring though. It's hard to believe Britains premier long distance cycle route is routed on the A9 trunk road with no path, markings or other form of segregation. Mind you, it's a wide enough road and at 10pm on a Sunday evening it's not like there was too much traffic. 

Looking back over the Dornoch Bridge as the sun finally sets

The turn off to Tain soon appears and what's then required is some careful sign-watching as this is where the optional route via Nigg and Cromarty peels off. Tain also marked a return of westward riding and hence of the headwinds I'd been sheltered from for several hours. I'd made up some time on the last leg and just hoped this wind wasn't going to be a problem as I was now only 7 minutes behind schedule, 9.9 mph, tantalisingly close to my 10 mph target. 

It was about now that the lights came into play. I'd had the dynamo running  all day (attracting a few flashers) and now switched on my helmet mounted lamp too. This proved essential on the run into Evanton where the cycle path flits around from one side of the road to the other with lots of 90 degree corners and road crossings. Frankly, I found it all a bit frustrating, slowing me down unnecessarily, although I can see why it would be a great thing for kids cycling to/from school etc. The road rises away from the A9 for a while before quickly dropping into Dingwall. Again, a wee bit of careful observation for NCN signs is necessary but I was past the railway station 11 minutes ahead of schedule and now at 10.1 mph. I knew it was now just about the climb over the Black Isle. The westerlies were now crosswinds and there is a decent path/track all the way to Kessock. With that in mind I just kept a steady pace up to and past Tore roundabout (where some workmen were completely mystified by this late night cyclist) and to my penultimate checkpoint just before Kessock where I found I was 24 minutes ahead of schedule, 10.3 mph. 

I was now pretty sure I'd done enough and was feeling elated but the rain I'd mostly managed to avoid all day finally caught up with me crossing the Kessock Bridge and then I was suddenly into the various twists and turns of NCN 1 again. I was eager to get back to the van and dry but also dreading making a wrong turning and having to back-track  at this late point. 

A final photo stop alongside the River Ness and I arrived at Bellfield Park at 00:39. 28 minutes ahead of schedule and with a final overall average speed of 10.2 mph.

Almost there

Target met then, with a little to spare, but quite a few lessons learnt or at least driven home. 

The most obvious conclusion is that stopping for any length of time really knocks back the average speed in a way I'd not really been consciously aware of before. A couple of minutes here and there will always add up. Minimising stop time makes for faster times or less effort for the same time.

The second was that sitting down to eat a meal is often almost instinctive rather than logical. That burger at Invershin seemed like such a good idea before I had to eat it (and it was a lovely burger). Eating little and often, especially if undertaken while pedalling, doesn't place such a sudden big load on the stomach.

Third was remembering not to panic if a leg or two is a bit slower than planned. If you're not taking hills and winds into consideration then expect the average to ebb and flow a bit.

The fourth lesson only really hit home the following day. Although it's been years since I did a ride of this length, a steady easy pace saw me through it with no major pains and aches. I was comfortable during the whole ride and was still able to enjoy it all. There's something to be said about not underestimating your abilities.

Metric schmetric

The "what if"s. 

What if I'd set out to do the whole ride in one day, I'd have not had bivvy gear and overnight clothes with me, the load would have been lighter and less of an effort required. 

What if I hadn't suffered that headwind for the first few hours. I'd have been quite a bit quicker and my legs would have been a lot fresher later on.

What if I was actually fitter and had a few long rides like this under my belt?

What if the route was a bit longer - 200 miles, 240?


And the shifter problem? Turns out it was nothing at all to do with strapping the harness on the front. A little "nut" has managed to dislodge itself, going AWOL somewhere. As a result the shifter is basically now a pile of spares

So, will there be a follow-up blog entry for "11"? I think not. I give you this instead.....

Ch..Ch..Ch...Changes

Since starting my new job at Ticket to Ride in Inverness I've seen quite a few tourists come in and head off on of our hire bikes to do a wee tour. It got me to thinking that I've been very much concentrating on the mountain biking during 2014 and not any road riding. With the end of August fast approaching and the need to head off for another night under the stars I decided it was time to ring the changes and do something about that.  

Another reason for wanting to get out and about was that I'd just built a new set of wheels to be used on both the touring bike and the 29er. The front wheel incorporates a dynamo hub. Teamed up with a good LED light from Exposure this would finally eradicate all that unnecessary stress I give myself whilst riding in the dark and worrying about how long my batteries will last. 

The chosen route was simple enough. I'd always fancied a circumnavigation of the Cairngorms and an overnighter would make it a fairly easy-going pace. Fortune smiled on me as the weather forecast for the only two days I had available turned out to be excellent so I could go lightweight too. 


In a previous post, I outlined my bikepacking gear list. That included a tent and a winter-weight sleeping bag. Ditching the former for a bivvy bag and the latter for a lighter, less warm bag, along with a couple of other tweaks reduced my load quite a bit and it easily fitted into the Viscacha seat pack and a dry-bag mounted into a Revelate Harness on the handlebars. 

Compact handlebar luggage

Heading off south from home I was immediately aware of the headwind. Still, I wasn't in a hurry and planned to take things easy so I was unlikely to be running late. As it was, I soon reached Dalwhinnie (noticing that there's now a cafe in the old hotel building) and then on to the run along to Drumochter. I was just going through the gate onto the cycle path at the summit of the pass that I met this lady cycling north. As it turned out, she'd set off from Kirkmichael that day and that was, roughly, my destination. We had a wee chat about possible eating places and then I noticed the electric hub and battery on her bike. After a wee jibe from me about that being "cheating" she assured me it wasn't as it only cut in whilst she was going uphill :-)

The descent to Blair Atholl was lovely. It's a great ride along the old road into Struan and then a short spin to the Watermill cafe in Blair itself. Although clouding over a bit since Aviemore, it was still very warm when the sun came out, though cold when it was blocked. In fact, there were times when one layer of clothing felt too much and others when three seemed barely sufficient. My initial target of getting to Pitlochry before 6 pm seemed pessimistic now and I was soon through it and heading up my first real climb of the day to Moulin. This went in fairly quickly and the undulating road to Kirkmichael was both quiet and scenic so time passed fairly speedily too. As it was, I found myself at Kirkmichael just before 6., well ahead of schedule and earlier than I'd planned to eat. However, I was aware that there would be no other option between here and Braemar and with the Cairnwell climb ahead of me I reckoned it was better to eat now. 

One of the pleasures of solo touring is the chance to chat to folk en route and so it was I got into conversation with the barmaid and then the manager of the pub. Not about anything in particular, just that easy-going chatter about the seasons and how busy or quiet things are. Suitably replete, I did a few stretches and set off into the slightly cooler evening to see how far I was going to get before bivvying down. 

Low sun giving the hills of Glen Shee red tones

The road is gentle enough (though longer than I'd remembered)  until the Spittal of Glenshee hotel is reached. This might have made a good eating/camping spot had it not burnt down only a few days previously (though it was already closed at that time). From here, the road turns north and the climb to Cairnwell makes itself felt. As my rate of progress lessened, so did the daylight. By the time I'd reached the building of the ski centre, the dynamo headlight was in full use and it was around 8:30. Now I had a choice. I knew it would be a fast run downhill to Braemar, a pub and a sheltered river-side bivvy spot. However, I could also tell that it was going to be a very cold night at the bottom of the valleys so I opted to stay high, just where I was. I managed to find a suitably sheltered doorway to lay out my sleeping gear - one that also mostly killed the constant drone of a nearby generator too. As the few passing cars became even fewer, soon the only remaining sound was that of the local grouse population. 

It's certainly one of the strangest places I've slept and once again proved the advantage of taking bivvy bag rather that tent. 



My wee corner was tucked away enough that the first light of day had been and gone by the time I awoke but I was still early enough to watch the sun gradually rise over the hills and take the chill off the morning. 

Not your usual bivvy bag view

After a quick porridge I scooted down to Braemar and wasn't surprised to see that my forecast of low-lying dampness had been correct. 

Brrr - chilly!

I was still feeling a bit hungry so popped into the Fife Arms to see if they'd do breakfast for non-residents. After a bit of confusion, it was confirmed this was OK and I stocked up my internal stores for the forthcoming ride. 

First summit of the day - and certainly not the last

The road fairly undulates across some pretty high and remote terrain and it was all looking splendid until I reached Cock Bridge. Here, the road seems to rise almost vertically away from the river so I grabbed the lowest gear possible and started spinning then forcing my way up. 

It doesn't look steep now!

The first steep climb actually went in OK, as did the first couple of bends and then I could see a slight decrease in the angle. Unfortunately, this proved to be a bit of a false dawn and the steepness of the tight left-hander had me barely crawling, with a couple of cars behind me. At this point, I decided to step off the bike and ended up pushing a few metres onto the next straight before getting back on the bike to continue.

The road continues to rise some fair way before the ski apparatus of The Lecht becomes apparent. 

The last big climb

I was certainly glad to pull in again and pleased to see that the cafe was open so that I could refuel. Of course, what goes up must come down, so it was then a full-on dash downhill towards Tomintoul. Once here, it felt almost like being home and I was happy to spin along in the warm sunshine to get back home and complete the loop.

Still time for an ice cream on the way home

Almost home

I'd certainly enjoyed being out on the road again. I guess I'd almost forgotten how nice it is to spin along making a decent rate of progress and enjoy that there's almost always a choice of places to stop, eat or just chill out a while. The new lighting system promises to make more winter riding possible so I'll be looking at possible routes.

Another thing that did go through my head was the fact that I always tour alone these days (poor Paul and David - I think I wore them out). Maybe I need to find a touring buddy for 2015.

Summertime.... and the living is easy

Summer. Long days, warmer weather, drier ground. Little wonder thoughts turn to epic days out. Those long ridges, the summits, the sound of tyres skipping over dry, rocky trails. The unfashionable warm spell has got me to thinking a wee bit about how I've been spending my time out of doors and I've decided to slow it down a little. Warmer weather also means it's nicer to relax, to watch nature in full flow, to dip your feet in the river and just enjoy what's all around you without needing to be in a rush to go anywhere. Sort of reminds me of an old TV ad....




With that in mind, I've spent some time on easier walks or simply mooching around some fantastic spots in Scotland. Mim and I had a few days in Blair Atholl, including a walk up Glen Tilt. With summer flowers around and a lovely river to cool down in it was just about perfect.

So - not so many words this time, a few more pictures.....

First view up Glen Tilt

Looking further up Glen Tilt

Cooling off in and by the river

Summer is also about cream teas!

The second week of our holiday was spent in the Western Isles. Though I've been through the Outer Hebrides before, Mim never has so we spent some time on North Uist doing some sightseeing, a couple of walks and some paddling in the new kayak.

Horgabost beach. Does it get any better than this?

Lovely quiet campsite at Balranald

Machair

More Machair

Two Oyster Catchers - I love their call

Great sunset right beside the campsite

In the new kayak, exploring the coastline

I'd also long had a hankering to do a specific little walk, following the route set out in a Runrig song - Flower of the West.

I look over Orinsay

To the Trumisgarry shore

To Aloter

And the road to Ahmore

Past Loch Scadavagh and Loch Fada

And the Flatland to the East

Where the dark blue mass of Eval

Meets the rising rock of Lee

Between the Crogary and Maari

I started to descend

Loch Aongais on my left hand side

I look across to Clett

Collies barking on the outrun

Dunlin dancing on the sand

Breakers show round Corran Vallaquie

And empty the Atlantic on the strand

We headed up Crogary Mor on a mostly clear night and took in the sun setting over Corran Vallique before heading down with "Loch Aongais on our left". 

I even got to do my July bivvy-a month,, "escaping" from the campsite one night and heading for a long spit of land on North Uist. My initial plan had been to bivvy down at the trig point on the wee headland but it was thick with flies and I had to find a spot surrounded by sand to finally get away from them. It was a lovely location, with views out over the sea to Harris, but I was strafed by two large owls for 30 minutes or so. I don't know if it was me they were interested in or if there were lots of flying insects in my vicinity but it was fascinating and a bit uncomfortable to have them swooping so close to me.  After a good nights sleep, I was rewarded by a fantastic sunrise.

About as dark as it gets

Sunrise over Harris

Yes, we even have "C" roads here

On my previous visit to North Uist, Paul and I had almost sprinted through on our way to catch the ferry to Harris. This time, in an almost perfect summer week, I'd finally taken the time to explore and experience it. 

Twa Lairigs

Sometimes you just get that urge to do something that everyone says you shouldn't. I guess it's a wee lost remnant of the naughty boy who won't do as he's told. In my case I'd been looking at maps of the local area of the Cairngorms and I kept spotting this obvious way through the hills. To make things worse, I look at this obvious route every time I look out my bedroom window. Regardless of the season, the Lairig Ghru shows as as a deep defile through the plateau, inviting me to explore it. So it was that I decided to incorporate it on a wee route into some unfamiliar spots and to tick off my June bivvy-a-month at the same time. 

Ready to set off - the target behind me

The weather wasn't looking too promising as I headed off towards Glenmore from home. It was warm enough, but a wee bit damp. However, in an effort to stay lightweight, I'd opted for bivvy bag instead of tent and to minimise the amount of extra clothing I'd be taking along. 

The road less travelled (by me, anyway)

After passing An Lochan Uaine (the green lochan) I took the right-hand path signposted for Braemar, pedalled up and down a nice bit of track, then came an immediate cropper. As my front wheel embedded itself in some hub-deep mud, I tried to unclip, got cramp in my thigh, and promptly fell over into a shallow puddle. I was stuck while the cramp released itself, unable to move from my position or get the bike off me. Luckily, my blushes were spared as it was only after righting myself that a hiker came strolling past.

I got going again okay, but my calf was now feeling incredibly tight and that was the last thing I needed for the push up onto the shoulder of Bynack Mor. Leaving the Munro-baggers path I was now on tracks I'd never explored before. There is a fair mix of walking and riding depending upon the terrain but I managed to make fairly decent time towards the Fords of Avon and the nearby refuge. 

Looking over to Ben Avon

Fords of Avon refuge

 It's a terrific wee place. Barely tall enough for me to stand up in and just about large enough to accommodate half a dozen prone sleepers, I can see that it would be a great haven in the event of the sort of adverse weather that could be expected along here.

The river crossing itself was OK. I opted to remove shoes and socks and cross barefoot in an effort to keep dry shoes as long as possible and the water never got above knee deep, though it was flowing fairly fast. 

The river crossing. 

The next section had much more walking than I'd suffered so far but I was glad to get to the col of the Lairig an Laoigh and start the fun descent into Glen Derry. This is surely one of the Cairngorms most beautiful spots, the wide flat valley interspersed with patches of woodland and the river carving a way through it. 

Dropping in to Glen Derry

Lovely singletrack along here

I knew I was approaching Derry Lodge when I started to encounter groups of tents, mostly with folk preparing or eating food. It served as a wee reminder that I hadn't been eating much and I wolfed down a couple of chicken wraps as I pondered on where I might stop for the evening.

Should I stay or should I go?

The flats here were certainly a possibility, though it was a bit more crowded than I prefer. However as it was still "only" 8pm, I decided to crack on a bit further and see if I could get anywhere near the Pools of Dee and the summit of the Lairig Ghru before dark. I'm finding that's one of the differences between camping and bivvying. With the former, I'm likely to stop when I see a decent pitch, settle in, cook up some food and relax for the rest of the evening. Bivvying is more about the short stop, finding a wee bit of shelter somewhere and making do in order to get going again quickly. 

Looking back along Glen Luibeg

Passing along the watershed of the Luibeg, I was again alternately riding and walking, though the track improved quite a bit as I was passing Corrour Bothy. I briefly considered detouring towards it but again decided to crack on a bit. 

Corrour Bothy

As the night grew darker, so the path became less and less rideable. I paused at the stones of Clach nan Taillear, tempted to tuck in behind them to get out of the headwind that was now coming down the pass but again decided to crack on. Within 15 minutes or so, the wind started to blow in some rain and as it got heavier, I stopped, unpacked the bivvy bag and sat with it drawn over my head hoping for the rain to pass. This is quite an effective strategy. You stay dry, out of the wind and relatively warm. However, as the rain didn't seem to be abating and a look up the pass showed no sign of it clearing, I reckoned I'd had enough for the night and cast around for a suitable rock to shelter behind. It was, in any case, about 11pm.

What I found wasn't huge, but judicious use of the tarp and a couple of guys gave me a little roof over the mouth of the bivvy bag and somewhere to keep my stuff dry as I unpacked it. One thing I hadn't banked on was trying to get out of my bibtights inside a bivvy bag. Suffice to say that I'm still quite flexible for an oldie! Once in and comfy I found a couple more snacks and just hunkered down hoping to get a few hours sleep until the rain passed and it was a bit lighter.

As it was, the rain and wind stayed on all night and I only really caught a few moments nap between more lucid moments. By the time 4am came, the new day was making its presence felt and the rain had abated. I took the opportunity to pack everything away (managing to reverse the bibtights trick) and head off north.

Pools of Dee - early morning

Summit up

More constant pushing took me to the summit boulder field. Here, it was a case of lifting the bike over and round the various large, scattered rocks. Sometime the way ahead was obvious though not always the best for someone manipulating a bicycle. Other times the path seemed to fade into the rocks themselves and I had to try to spot a decent line. This carried on past the wee lochans that are the Pools of Dee and over the 835m summit  (it's actually quite amazing to think that this obvious low point on the Cairngorms is still higher than most of the hills in Scotland). Neither did it get much better on the downhill, though I would occasionally jump on the bike and pedal or freewheel a few metres as a sort of justification for having brought it.

I can see my house from here!!!

As the path descended, the opportunities for riding gradually increased and so it was that I eventually reached the end of the little track up from Rothiemurchus Lodge and emerged onto a section of the Lairig Ghru path I'd ridden before. 

Reaching familiar territory

From here it's a fun descent all the way back to Coylumbridge. The top part has some rocky and rooty drop-offs and the path just gets faster as it progresses through the forest. By the time I reached the Aviemore road it was 8.30 and I only had a brief spin (buying breakfast en route) to get back home.

All in all, a fairly tough route, with a lot more walking, lifting and carrying than is enjoyable. It was intriguing to be able to look back down at where my house is from the pass but the next (and any future) visit will be on foot only.