Distance: 59 miles.
I am going to have to stop setting out in this Blog in the morning where we plan to be in the evening. It seems every time I do that we do not make it. Today has been similarly cursed.
We set off this morning from our guest house in Glasgow somewhat late, having fallen foul of the fact that it was Sunday (I am not sure that we were really aware of that as all days seem to be blurring into one at the moment). Being Sunday, breakfast was later than normal and we had not arranged anything earlier. So it was not until 9.45 that we set off to do battle with the Sunday morning traffic on the A roads and dual carriageways that would take us out of the city to the northwest and thence up to Loch Lomond, a total of some 20 miles. It was just a bit busy and we felt like we were taking our lives in our hands; cycling along roads with potted kerbs, stopping at traffic lights with competing cars and having to unexpectedly cut across lanes to get to the right slip roads is not much fun on a bicycle and proves a bit wearing. It was with some delight then that Paul spotted a sign for a cycle route to Loch Lomond disappearing off into the bushes as we were tackling yet another dual carriageway. It was a wonderfully smooth and flat track that avoided the main road entirely and went off for a mile or so through some woods before breaking out onto the edge of the river Leven and following this all the way to Loch Lomond. From here we picked up another track along the edge of the Loch (although in reality this proved to simply be the pavement running along the side of the road for most of the time). The weather held and the views across the Loch were fabulous; our route followed its banks for about 15 miles so it is pretty impressive. It was all going so well.
We had our first puncture on the shores of the Loch; my rear wheel. We changed this but before we headed off again Paul noticed a problem with loose gears on his shiny new bike so out with a rock and a multi-tool to fix that with some judicious banging. By the time we moved on we were worried about the time we would be in at Glencoe. But we pressed on all the same, all prepared for a late arrival. We had planned a short stop at Crianlarich before heading off on the road toward Bridge of Orchy. Unfortunately a mile outside I had another puncture; the front wheel this time and it went with quite a bang. We stopped on the grassy verge to do the repairs and this is where we found out about the Scottish midges.
We had been getting the occasional nip from these wee beasties as we cycled up the Loch but nothing to worry too much about. But stopping by a grass verge in the middle of nowhere, well that is just asking for trouble. They scented our blood. They passed on the news. And within a couple of minutes three men, trying to change a wheel on a bike, were surrounded by a swarm of midges. This is no exaggeration; the flesh eating zombie midges were swarming all around us. Three men trying to avoid midges were dancing around like a group of demented Morris Dancers, hopping from one leg to the other and slapping their legs and faces to try and get rid of the creatures, all to no avail. This would not have been so bad if two of us were not up to our arms in grease and oil from the bike. So by the time we had finished we looked like we were just about to go out on military night manoeuvres and blacked up for the event. But we were not going to hang around, these midges are a real nuisance, so it was straight on the bikes and off as quick as possible. For about three quarters of a mile when my front wheel went again. We got into Crianlarich where fortunately Geri was waiting for us with some of our extra kit (we were running out of inner tubes) and we set about repairing the third puncture of the day on my bike. That was when the tyre blew. So something else to fix and meanwhile Paul was also still having problems with his gears. By this time we were regretting having changed our plan from Bridge of Orchy; we still had some 40 miles to go and it was now 6pm. We would not even make it to Glencoe in time for dinner. And so a cunning plan was hatched. We would go to Bridge of Orchy, get picked up by Geri and taken to Glencoe where our rooms were booked and then be returned to Bridge of Orchy early tomorrow morning in order to cycle back to Glencoe for breakfast. It meant departing at 6am in the morning but would certainly focus our minds. The route to Orchy was a dream, 5 miles of smooth down hill, and we were duly met by Geri. Bikes loaded we headed for Glencoe, 20 miles further along the road and it gave us the opportunity to see tomorrow’s early morning route. It looks fantastic: smooth, gentle inclines and long gentle descents through some magnificent Scottish valleys with imposing mountain scenery all around. We are all looking forward to it.
So it is now 11pm and I am currently sitting in the bar of the lodge at Glencoe where we are staying. I am tired and dirty (we did not have time to change) and my legs and face look as if I have chicken pox from my many, many midge bites. But we have eaten a great dinner of haggis, neaps and tatties and I have a whiskey in hand and the most glorious views of the Glen through the window in front of me. You can not put a price on things like this. How could it not be worth the effort?
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