THE BIG RIDE
A Week Today
"A week today, I'll be cycling to Skye", the thought just entered my head followed by a feeling of dread - have I done enough training? - will I be able to make it? - will my backside be able to cope with sitting on a saddle for that amount of time? - shit - what have I let myself in for? - can I make a good excuse up not to do it? A million and one questions enter my head and another bead of sweat trickles down my glasses as I struggle up the hill from Neilston to Newton Mearns. I'm gubbed, as I sit back down on the saddle.
When I agreed to do this run several months ago, I was full of excitement (to tell the truth, I was full of whisky!). I had planned to do several long runs to build up the miles and stamina, but now that I've only got a week to go, it’s suddenly dawned on me that I've forgotten to do them I've only done one long run, and I was knackered after it. Could I do the distance? I've beginning to wonder.
Campbell has been getting quite excited about the prospect of this run, but I suppose after riding from Paris to Brest and back again, or riding the equivalent of Glasgow to London in 24 hours, this is just a short run for him, he’s even started looking at the on-line Little Chef menu and working out what he’s going to eat. “I'll start with the Olympic Breakfast, followed by raspberry pancakes and ice-cream with lashings of coffee” - and that was only his breakfast at Tyndrum! This brings another dilemma to mind - if I shelter behind him I'll be hit by the chemical warfare emanating from his behind; if I go at the front, sure I'll have fresher air, but I'll tire quicker. Oh what will I do?
Anyway, at least I'm at the top of this hill now, all down hill and easy riding as I head for another day at work.
Tomorrow
Last night I got the feeling that I had a sore throat coming, this morning slightly worse, so it’s plenty of fluids and Vitamin C for me today, hopefully I'll feel fine tomorrow.
This week, I've just been riding easily to and from work, in the aim to be fresh - well, easy apart from Tuesday night when I did a 10-mile time trial. If only I could keep that pace up all the way to Skye. 27+ mph - it’s not worth thinking about as I was coughing like an old tramp and could hardly walk at the end of the 10 miles, but it would be nice to be able to do it in 7.5 hrs instead of the expected 16+.
Wonder, excitement, trepidation, dread - these are just a few of the words that could describe the way I feel at the moment. One moment I'm really looking forward to it, the next moment, I'm nearly wetting myself with fear of what lies ahead. My biggest worries are my back and my bum, both I reckon will be very painful - best pack a few painkillers, and maybe a rubber ring to sit on afterwards.
The rest of the climbing club, including Big Ian and his car load of Ardbeg-swigging maniacs, Bob and Stewart, Ronnie or as we know him “sareleg” (raw knee), are leaving at various times of the day; I wonder when they will pass us? Ian has managed to get us all a free bottle of whisky and polo shirt if we wear the shirt on the climb of the Inaccessible pinnacle. It should be fun, at least that part of the weekend should be fun.
I'm meeting Campbell just after 5.00am, so hopefully I'll manage to get to bed early tonight, for at least a few hours sleep. I think the worst periods for me will be the start and finish, but if the weather is bad the whole journey may be a nightmare. The forecast doesn't look too bad, we'll probably get wet, but at least the head-wind shouldn't be too strong.
The Big Day Arrives
It’s 5.15am, Friday, 7th May 2004 and I'm waiting on Campbell's arrival so we can start our journey. I didn't get much sleep last night, I kept waking up, looking at the clock, partly due to excitement and partly due to Campbell's insisting that I would sleep in. He arrived at 5.20am and we set off. There’s a lovely feeling of the world around you waking up at this time of the morning, just before dawn, there is hardly anyone about, no pedestrians, no cars, but as the sun rises, slowly but surely, cars start appearing on the deserted roads and pedestrians leave their nests, making their way to the first morning bus. It feels calm and peaceful and a hundred miles away from the hustle and bustle of the rush hour traffic that will ensue.
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Our first stop was Tyndrum's Little Chef, about 57 miles into our journey. We arrived at roughly 8.30am after a relatively uneventful journey, apart from Campbell picking up a puncture just after Helensburgh. Campbell had been looking forward to this stop all week. “Olympic Breakfast and a large pot of coffee” - for those that aren't familiar with the Little Chef, the Olympic Breakfast is 2 of everything plus a pile of fried potatoes on top… I wasn't as adventurous and[New Replace Term]for a more standard-type breakfast.
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Off we went again, Campbell farting his way up the hill out of Tyndrum, as he struggled to digest his breakfast. We headed for Fort William and our next stop at Spean Bridge. By this time, the sun was getting hot so the clothes started to get stripped off. I had been a bit worried about the hills and cars but both were a lot easier on me than I had imagined. Campbell had got talking to a couple of women in the Little Chef, they were also heading for Skye and it was very uplifting to see their waves and hear the tooting of their horn as we climbed up towards Rannoch Moor. The descent into Glen Coe was brilliant and a photo-stop for Buchaille Etive Mor was a must. |
 | As we headed past Jimmy Savile's Highland retreat, gold jogging suit on the washing line, we were startled by the sight of a fighter aircraft doing low level manoeuvres heading towards us; the roar of the engines was deafening and I nearly fell off as I tried to turn to see it rise above me.
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Our only near miss of the day was when two buses tried to pass a little too close for comfort, apart from that the traffic was very considerate and friendly, often giving us a wave or a toot of the horn.
The run from Fort William to Spean Bridge was a nightmare, a slightly stiffer head-wind had got up and I started to struggle a little, finding the last 10 miles to be torture. I was glad when we stopped for lunch. |
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After lashings of steak and kidney pie, Campbell and I were ready to tackle the next hill out of Spean Bridge up to the Commando memorial. Again this wasn't as hard as I expected and I felt full of energy again; a quick photo-shoot and we headed on to Glengarry where we would encounter what I think must have been the biggest climb of the day. It’s one of those long climbs that seems to keep going and going, but just as the spirits were flagging a little, Ian Collinson and his car-full passed raising our spirits. |
We had agreed with Ian that we would do a little photo-shoot with him and decided to meet at the top of the hill. It was great fun and a welcome distraction from the cycling. Bottle of Ardbeg in the back pocket, Ardbeg in the bottle cage - looking at the pictures, advertising models we are not, and yes my bum did look big in them - a diet is looming... |
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We had been looking forward to the long fast descent from Glengarry, but it had to be, we hit the head-wind and had to pedal hard just to maintain good speed. Our next stop was planned for the Sheil Hotel, by which time we would have cycled 165 miles. We were starting to tire a little and were in need of some well-earned food. Bob Gardner and Stewart Michie had said that they might be passing at around this time and what a welcome sight it was to see Stewart hanging out the window pretending to shoot us. We agreed to stop at the hotel, but on entering found that they weren't going to start serving food till after 6.00pm. Bob and Stewart were brilliant, they headed off down the road in front of us, looking for the next eating-place that was open, I was beginning to think that it may be the Chippie at Kyle of Lochalsh, but thankfully they had found a brilliant Cafe just after Eilean Donan Castle. The food was brilliant, manna from heaven. We chatted for quite a while with Bob and Stewart about our day so far and what we still had to do. It was a very welcome rest, and I felt back to normal when we departed Eilean Donan on the last leg of the journey.
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 | We only had a couple of climbs left to do. We headed onto the Skye bridge and hit the first and what was to be the steepest climb of the day, the bridge itself. Up out of the saddle, we pumped hard on the pedals and made it over. The signpost said 22 miles to Sligahan, so we would be there in just over an hour and a half. We approached the last big climb and it seemed daunting as we skirted round the bay of Loch Ainort. It looked a killer, but to be honest we floated up it without much bother. Only a few more miles to go! |
Campbell let out a whoop when the hotel came into sight. On the descent I got out my phone and called Bob “tell that barman to start pouring”. We arrived at the hotel to find the rest of the club out on the road applauding. It was a brilliant feeling!
Bob came out of the bar holding two pints - the best pint of the weekend! - and it went down fast and smooth. |
 
I really enjoyed my day, it was great fun and a great sense of achievement, I wasn't too sore, a bit numb in places, but all in all in pretty good shape. If anyone has ever fancied doing it, I would say go for it, it’s not as hard as you imagine it would be, but I suppose we were blessed with brilliant weather.
The rest of the weekend just kept me on a high, the Inn Pinnacle, more male modelling, a free t-shirt and bottle of whisky - what a fantastic weekend!
George.
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