We had almost a hundred miles of riding ahead of us when we left the AirB&B in Moffat, on a greay Friday morning. The ride had been timed so that we would be in Perth on a Saturday, as so many people who knew Julia wanted to come and support us, friends, family, neighbours, colleagues, cyclists and a load of people from church. That meant that we had diverged from the stages recommended in the guide book which had served us so well (mostly!), and a major ride was ahead of us. I think that by this stage of a ride, you are either at breaking point or getting stronger - and I think we were the latter. I had had a couple niggles in a knee and groin early in the ride, and had feared that these might escalate into an injury, but the opposite was true and we were by this stage strong but tired.
The ride was also strating to feel something like a pilgrimmage. There had been times (especially on the day I'd been ill) when keeping going was a matter of digging deep. The chidren in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe (At least in the film version) went into battle shoutng "For Aslan and for Narnia!". Somewhere just North of Tebay I had been sick and was struggling to keep going and was saying at one point, "For Julia and for Africa"! As we came closer to home, and sponsorship money was pouring into the Vine Trust, and friends and family started to meet us on the road, it seemed more significant than ever to do this. So we pushed on!
Although we didn't have to climb up the notorious 'devils beef tub' - (we were one glen over the the west), our day started with long ascent up into the hills which roll through the Scottish Borders. A repeated theme of conversation had been how much more beautiful the countryside looks from the high, minor roads on a bike than blasting up and down the M74. The borders are really, really beautiful - this was wonderful cycling.
Another conversation topic was what Julia would have thought of our antics over these 13 days of cycling.... she (I am sure) have laughed at us repeatedly. I'm sure she would have thought the sight of us trying to reinflate Stewart's tyre my the side of that canal in middle-England, rather comical. What she would have made of the day I got covered in pigeon poo - I can only imagine.
Coffee stop and restart in the Borders.
Somewhere after the New Lanark area our route left the Clyde and climbed up and over the western end of the Pentland Hills towards the Forth Valley. As we made the watershed and saw the view North it was strangley moving. The Forth wound its way across the view like a vast dark snake, beyond it The Trossach loomed dark, and mysterious through clouds, and the three 'sails' of the Queensferry Crossing caught the few rays of sunshine on offer. Beyond the Forth Bridges the Paps of Fife stood tall, beckoning us home.
Flying down into West, then East Caulder - we picked up the cycle route that winds its way through the Lothian towns towards the bridges. Grant appeared - having cycled down from Perth to guide us through this warren of paths - and offer us some powerful slipstreaming too! At the old Fort Road Bridge (now closed to traffic, but open to bikes) Wendy joined us. I've known Wendy for thirty years, but never cycled with her before!
Then The Yarney's appeared with a banner and snacks - and a photo stop on the Forth Bridge! Progress was slow - but it was a lot of fun. Then at the far end of the bridge a small crew of Stewart's cycling pals joined us for the run to Perth. Wendy turned back for home at Kinross - just before the heavens opened and drenched us for the climb up the hills near Milnathort and the final pull up from the Earn over to the Tay and the run into Perth.
Home - for one night!
No comments:
Post a Comment