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Saturday 30 July 2011

Day Two: Friday 22nd July 69km

After a good night's sleep we woke, ate a hearty breakfast of oats, had a cup of tea, fed the midges and packed up ready for another day in the saddle. My broken spoke was still playing on my mind as I knew that there was a good deal of off-road to cover today. Would it hold out?

After a short, fast road section down to Arnisdale with only a few undulating hills it became apparent that the spoke was the least of our worries. We were quickly faced with an incredibly steep and loose, rocky ascent. Even Sven couldn't pedal the trailer up. In fact, I was ready to push my bike up at the first sighting of this mega-hill.


Eventually we reached the top of the first section having both pushed the bike and trailer up. Sven had to put his weight under the saddle whilst I pushed from behind the trailer. It turned out that there were about 3 more sections like this, if not steeper, before we reached the top. This was not a good omen. We quickly realised that this trip was not going to be possible with such a heavy trailer. We had no idea whether the other ascents today would be as hard as this, let alone the following days. To be honest, I had a fleeting moment where I though "this is it, the trips over" as I contemplated getting stuck in the mountains with a trailer neither of us could shift.

Over the day there were a few steep hills but none so steep as the first. A few more pushes but Sven's legs managed to get the trailer up most of the hills. The challenge of getting the trailer up the hills made our first river crossing almost insignificant as we pushed the bikes across hopping dry-footed along after them.

Without the trailer the trails would have been great fun. Lots of loose rocks and small splashes across burns. Before one such splash Sven suddenly braked. Thinking he'd found some amazing example of highland wildlife I quietly crept up next to him. Sven had 'caught' our first wild lunch. Chanterelle mushrooms were gently loaded into the mesh of his rucksack and we set off again, Sven thinking about his lunch and me wondering how experienced was this friend who I'd only met 3 days previous. Dialysis machines are not included in any aspect of my bucket list!

Finally, a lovely steep descent. Except it would be if not for the you-know-what! I slowly stayed behind Sven as he negotiated the bike and trailer down an extremely steep, loose and hairpin bend-filled section of track. The route guide for today warned about this.  Often letting the brakes off and riding it out proves to be the safer option as the bike becomes more stable and more capable of riding over obstacles. With 60lbs on the back this was not the case. We took it easy and made it to the bottom in one piece.

From then it was a lovely little descent through the trees and down into an estate. Unfortunately that came to an end when we were faced with a digger that had dug an enormous hole in the track which we could only cross by carrying our kit across.

 Having made it down the mountain, across the hole and past the estate, we decided to stop for lunch. More Norwegian flatbread and goat's cheese but more exciting was the wild mushrooms which Sven fried up. They had little in energy or nutritional value but they tasted lovely and were a real treat. It also gave me time to pick several tics out of my leg. God knows how they got there but they were not welcome to stay. I'd never had a tic before. At the time of writing this a week later, I've had around about 9 tics now. A seasoned veteran of burrowing, disease-spreading insects!

The following miles and miles were tarmac roads with a few steep climbs. My legs were aching by the time we arrived in Invergarry. It was here that we had to decide whether or not to continue to Fort Augustus in preparation for the Corrieyairack Pass (Britain's highest mountain pass. No longer accessible by even the hardiest off-road vehicles) or to camp in preparation for a longer low-altitude route.

With the trailer it would be impossible to take the pass so we found a picturesque picnic area and pitched our tent. We were not supposed to but it was only for one night. It seemed we weren't the only ones to have that idea. However, we were the minority who chose not to foul the immediate surroundings with human feces! What a way to ruin a beautiful country.

We made contact with home and decided that we would take the low level route tomorrow and ditch the trailer after that. We just had to convince someone to come and collect it once we'd convinced someone to look after it for us! A long rest was needed before that point though.



______________________________________________________


(appologies for the soundtracks. I've used youtube video editor to quickly put these together and the music available is, well, limited! However, at least the videos won't be taken off for breach of copyright!)

Friday 29 July 2011

Day One - Thursday 21st July. 63km

Having packed the trailer the evening before, I think we both had an inkling that it was going to be like hauling a wild boar across Scotland. The boarding routine was established - bikes on, wheel off trailer, both haul the trailer on to the train and find somewhere to store it out of the way. Easier said than done!


At Kyle of Lochalsh it took a little faffing around before we were ready to head up to the Skye Bridge, our starting point for the trip. Sven kindly lent me a pair of lycra shorts complete with shoulder straps. Without my TK Maxx wickable t-shirt on top you'd be forgiven for mistaking me for an amateur wrestler!


After persuading a passer by to take our photograph - possibly the only person I've met who genuinely looked frightened at the prospect of using a camera - we keenly rocketed off down the bridge and onwards into our journey, the trailer fishtailing behind me.

Not long up the road I had to stop having learnt that in proper cycling-land one doesn't wear one's underpants under one's lycra. Ouch! So I snuck up a little track and took off the t-shirt, allowing me to take off the bib-shorts allowing the removal of underwear. So now standing pretty much in the buff, watching the roofs of cars speeding past the other side of the bush, it was then that I heard the unmistakable sound of a large vehicle. Yes, a coach and it's tourists saw more of Scotland's wildlife than I think they were prepared for as I struggled to step back into the lycra shorts.

I was surprised at how much the trailer really changed the handling of the bike. Although the centre of gravity was lower than if wearing a rucksack, it really felt like the frame was flexing under the weight and sideways force. I managed to tow our possessions up the first ascent before having to admit defeat and swap bikes with Sven.

Having completed our first climb of the trip, albeit small and smooth in comparison to the off-road climbs we were soon to endure, we tucked in to some of Sven's fantastic Norwegian flat bread rolls filled with Norwegian goats cheese. I'm not a fan of goats cheese but these were special and I could have quite happily lived on them for the whole week. Yum!


Then came the biggest climb of the day. Sven rhythmically stormed up the winding, hillside road whilst I stumbled, panted and wondered what that tinkling sound at my back wheel was. It was a spoke! A matter of hours into the trip and I had broken a spoke in the back wheel. The nearest bike shop was Strathmashie on the other side of the Corrieyairack Pass and we weren't crossing that until day 3! Oh well, onwards and upwards.

The descent was smooth and fast as I tried to discipline myself into not shooting ahead of Sven who, nevertheless, was making good speed with the 60lb trailer making the most of gravity. The kilometres (I happily adjusted to metric for the trip) went flying by and following a flat section with only a few short climbs we pitched our tent a few kms from Corran and enjoyed the view of Skye with it's jagged peaks in the distance. It was tomato pasta, oats and midges amongst other bits and pieces for dinner. My stomach was happy for the sustenance and my legs, well they were just ok!


__________________________________________________________________________

Here's some video clips of day one:


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Wednesday 27 July 2011

We did it a day early! Coast to Coast complete

At times gruelling, at times frustrating but never dull. It took us only 6 days and we even cycled the extra mileage to end up at my house in Stonehaven. We have cycled from Skye Bridge at Kyle of Lochalsh, over rocky ascents, through glens, alongside lochs and over heather-topped mountains to cover over 240 miles of mostly rough off-road tracks.

In the coming days I'll publish my diary with photos and videos. In the meantime, here's a little slideshow of our adventure.

Coast to Coast 11 Slideshow: Charlie’s trip from Kyle of Lochalsh, Lochalsh, United Kingdom to Stonehaven was created by TripAdvisor. See another Stonehaven slideshow. Create your own stunning slideshow with our free photo slideshow maker.

Tuesday 26 July 2011

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Monday 25 July 2011

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Sunday 24 July 2011

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Saturday 23 July 2011

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Friday 22 July 2011

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Thursday 21 July 2011

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Ready to go!

It's half past midnight after picking Sven up from Edinburgh airport, double checking bikes, minor tweaks and packing our kit.

38lbs of 'basic essentials' makes me nervous but its too late to back out know.

The next blog post will likely be the start of the GPS check ins which hopefully will indicate that we are.safe and making progress. Coast to coast here we come!


Wednesday 20 July 2011

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Monday 18 July 2011

Final Training Ride: up and over Mt Keen

So I have now conquered my third Munro! That to me is satisfying enough but I'm feeling particularly pleased with myself as I did this one by bike. Sounds good doesn't it?

Well, to be honest with you there was a fair amount of walking involved either due to the loose, bouldered inclines or, in the latter part of the ride, simply down to pure exhaustion! So, here's a brief account of the final training ride before I embark on what now seems like a somewhat ambitious task!

Driving through the heavy rain it seemed like a spiritual sign as I saw a small window of blue sky right above Aboyne. Nevertheless, I had still packed some layers, an emergency kit including fully charged spare phone (as if I'd get a signal!) and my waterproofs. After driving past the start of the route I decided that parking in the town centre would be best although the poor woman jogging through the park as I was standing in my underpants would possibly disagree. After some amount of faffing around and repacking I finally set off at 11am, only two hours later than I had planned.

The forest track through Glen Tanar was a really nice warm up to the ride. Only a gentle incline the whole way and the trees provided shelter from the few showers that occurred. I passed two other mountain bikers who were stopped at the misleadingly names 'Half Way Hut' (depending on where you were going!) both of whom seemed very under dressed for a trip up a 3000ft mountain. Perhaps, I thought gauging their facial expressions, it was me who was over dressed. I waited until I was further up the road before stopping for a banana and taking off the jacket that I was wearing.

Surely I wasn't naive enough to think that this gentle track would lead me to the top of Mt Keen? No, I knew that soon I'd be faced with a bit more of a climb and when I saw the red, dusty-looking path carving it's zig-zagged line up the mountain side I psyched myself up for some hard peddling in the little ring. Did I mention the word naive?

Naive sums up the next few hundred vertical metres of my trip. Firstly, the little ring was not going to forgive my technical ineptitude and I found myself slugging the bike up the rocky path, inanely commenting about my naivety to two walkers who were sitting and actually enjoying the mountain.

As if pushing the bike up wasn't enough of a clue in itself, it was only after deciding to give it a go to the summit (damn the draw of showing off via Facebook status updates!) that I saw the sheer cliff (exaggeration) that I was to scramble up both pushing and carrying my bike all the way. It was horrendous and had their been any families with children down wind of me, I'm sure the expletives would have carried quite well.

Anyway, having stopped for a sandwich and a pat on the back, I left the drizzly, cloud-covered summit and headed down a much easier path. It occurred to me that climbing up from this side would be the way to do it. However, the descent on the other side would be treacherous. Having said that, the descent I took tripped my up. Riding alone I was very conscious of my vulnerability and the walkers I passed were still a long way behind me and I had no way of knowing whether they were following the same route as me. I took it easy and walked some of the rock ladders and even lifted the bike over some of the high drainage steps. However, as my upper body got more tired, a mistake was inevitable and I misjudged the height of one of the steps as it swallowed up the frond wheel sending my over the bars and landing hard on my shoulder. A little lesson from the mountain reminded my of the need to be careful. I still had a fair distance to go.

I soon realised that the bar ends, as useful as they were for climbing, were really impeding the wide grip I'm used to. After taking the bar ends off, the rest of the descent was a flowing, fast roller-coaster ride down loose, rocky tracks. Having used every muscle in my body to ensure I avoided any wheel-grabbing rocks whilst lifting the wheels over the majority of the loose stuff, by the time I got to the bottom my whole body was aching. I now found even more admiration for the downhillers who through their bodies and bikes around much more technical descents.

The track evened out and carried my to Glen Mark and then I arrived via tarmac into the village of Tarfside. By this time the phone battery was very low and I new I wouldn't be tracking much more of my trip. Mind you, with hindsight an average speed of 4.1 mph isn't hugely motivating anyway! I listened to my phone beep a few more times whilst eating the rest of my sandwiches, a banana and a cheeky chocolate bar and headed up the Fungle Road towards the Forest of Birse.

To be honest, the first half of the Fungle Road is boring with little in the way of beautiful scenery. Lots of sheep, some mountains and lots of red, sandy landrover tracks. It was these red tracks that sent me off course and yes, I admit, I was lost for a while. I had not considered that the FungleFungle Road.

Another rocky climb walked and I reached a welcome sign pointing me towards Aboyne. As I entered a much lusher looking hillside things become much more interesting. Traversing around the side of Tampie, Gannoch and Auchnashinn I swooped along the track, bouncing over drainage ditches and splashing through fords. This was an uplifting reward for what had been a bit of a hard slog.

With energy levels running very low, my water finally ran out as I passed Birse Castle. Actually, I was quite pleased with how I'd gauged my water for the trip. I had only filled my reservoir 3/4 full as I didn't want the extra weight in what was already a pretty heavy day bag. Only a few miles to go.

What I didn't expect to find was the single track path that entered the forest. On a normal day, this singletrack would have been welcome. But today, with no energy in my legs and no strength in my upper body, I was like a dummy being led by the bike. I slid off every root, I clumped heavily off every drop and toppled over several times. I even managed to catch a thick root with the top of my foot. Travelling quite fast at the time, I managed to stay on but the root stopped the pedals, the bike, unclipped my shoes and really hurt. Two days on and I'm happy to say I've had no problems with my foot since. I really don't know how I managed to avoid braking a bone!

Reaching the bridge into Aboyne I was in automatic. I reached the car, checked the time, changed into my dry clothes (in the toilets this time) and headed towards Inverurie to be reunited with family, food and a hot bath.

This really has been an eye opener. It follows what looks like the 2nd hardest day of the coast 2 coast trip and although knackered, I was not put off a short cycle the following day to get the legs moving again.

From the time of writing this, there is now only 3 days until we leave for the West and 4 days until we begin pedalling.

Thanks to everyone who has sponsored me so far. If you haven't already, please click one of the donate buttons at the top of the page and make a contribution. Even just the amount that you might spend on a pint, give to Cancer Research or Macmillan instead. Cheers :-)


Monday 11 July 2011

CocaCola and The Art of Bicycle Maintenance

I'm still feeling underprepared for the trans-Scotland cycle but at least I have spent some time cycling longer distances both on and off-road with a bike set-up similar to that of the big trip. Things have changed, flat pedals to SPDs, lock-on grips to grips and bar-ends, thick tyres to skinnier tyres and shock pressure. One thing that hadn't changed in a while was the seat post. It had been firmly up my rear end for some time as I'd been peddling up hills and over a mixture of fire roads and technical singletrack.

Having moved to Stonehaven, I caught up with an old friend Doug Marchant who showed me some of the faster trails in Fetteresso Woods. Once we got up to the top I did the sensible thing and attempted to lower the seatpost. This is essential to prevent a painfull meeting between saddle and nuts upon landing any drops or jumps. This is when I realised the seatpost was seized.

Below are all the different ways I attempted to unseize the seatpost over the next couple of days. Some of these were tried after reading a really useful website from Sheldon Brown (see image!)

1. Soak in all manor of lubricant. I gave it a spray with chain lube as well as WD40. Although WD40 is not recommended for lubing bits of the bike, I was beginning to get desperate after 24 hrs of soaking.

2. Use a screwdriver to expand the gap in the frame where the seatpost enters and get some more lube down the gap. The problem with this is it does damage the frame a little.

3. Use a mallet. Most problems can either be solved or made emotionally less terrible by hitting it with a mallet. This didn't work.

4. Clamp the saddle in a vice and twits the frame. The best tool for levering the seatpost is the saddle itself. However, the flex that occurs when holding the saddle still in a vice and twisting the frame is a heart-in-mouth few seconds where I really wondered what would give first. Hopefully not the frame.

5. Sawing off the seatpost and sawing the post into segments to peel them from the inside of the frame... but no, I was saved from doing this with some good advice from Cycle World Stonehaven's mechanic, Joe. He advised what I have christened The Coke Enema.


6. The Coke Enema. This involved taking off the bottom bracket and feeding coca cola into the upside-down frame until happy that the seatpost is submerged in the sticky gut-rotting fluid. I then left it over night and with the help and strength of my 10 yr old daughter, hey presto, the seatpost was free!

This could have been a major setback to the trip as being unable to lower my seatpost would have made the steep, rocky descents very dangerous.

With that problem solved, it's full steam ahead in preparation for the trip which gets underway in less than a fortnight. Train tickets to Kyle of Lochalsh now booked.