Story 21: Being given our marching orders by the military

A combination of busy weekends and a lingering cold have been keeping me off my bike, but those are poor excuses for the absence of blog posts as there are still plenty of wee stories from the saddle to tell.

My last post referred to us being ordered off a military base while we were in the States. Now, that might have been a slight exaggeration...but we were stopped, searched, ID'd and told we could go no further on our bikes! 

Alex had read that there was an old lighthouse nearby, called Fort Story, that was worth a visit and we'd figured it wouldn't take us long to cycle there from our hotel. Sure enough, after a pleasant jaunt along the boardwalk and then on through the leafy suburbs of Virginia Beach, we arrived at a big set of gates on the road beside a sign saying 'Fort Story'  However, instead of being met at the gates by your local friendly guardian of  the lighthouse, we were met by your local not-quite-so-friendly gun-carrying guardians of a military base! Had we examined the guide book and map a wee bit closer, we would've realised that Fort Story is the name of the base, and not the lighthouse contained within its grounds. Undeterred, we pedaled to a halt at the gatehouse and smiled at the two soldiers walking towards us. For a tense few moments we thought we were going to be turned back but - after a bit of negotiation, close scrutiny of our ID (which, luckily, we carried with us everywhere) and the securing of our bikes to a lamp post outside the entrance - we were allowed to pass through. We had to leave our bikes behind as cyclists were only allowed on the base if they had a helmet on. 

There was, of course, a list of conditions attached to our permission to enter: don't step off the road, don't approach anyone, don't go past the fire station and, of course, don't dare take photographs or videos until you reach the lighthouse...



The most exciting thing we saw on the walk through the base was, em, well, nothing really. A few buildings and an empty road. That was it really. So, we passed the time by concocting all sorts of crazy scenarios about what might happen if we dared to step off the road, or if we were spotted filming, or if we said the word 'b--b'. It was all a bit of an anti-climax when we finally - and uneventfully - reached the lighthouse.

Is that it...?!

There was a nice view from the top, especially of that busy, busy road that we'd walked along. Good job we didn't cycle along there without a helmet on, eh...?!

Since there wasn't much else to do, we wandered back along the road and out of the base. I was really happy when we were back on civilian soil, and even happier to be back on my bike. And, as you can see, it looks like we weren't the only folk that day who'd been given their marching orders by the military!

Story 20: Bouncing and braking on Bonnie's bike

We're in Virginia Beach at the moment on the first leg of a short trip to the States. We've not actually been on the beach as yet because we've been distracted by the first thing that we stumbled upon when we wandered down to the boardwalk:

So, for the past two days we've been sitting on a saddle rather than sitting on the sand, and what a comfy saddle it is too! Bonnie's bikes are a bit different from our bikes back home with the best thing about them being the big curly springs that attach the saddle to the bike frame. Not only do the rusty springs provide brilliant shock absorption, they also emit a nostalgic kind of squeaky noise as we pedal along. The thing I've found most difficult to get used to on Bonnie's bike is the brakes. You slow down, or brake, by pedalling backwards and there are no brake levers on the handlebars. I was doing pretty well with this system - or so I thought - until yesterday when we were cycling along a beautiful but bumpy forest trail.

I've still not had any punctures while we've been out cycling, but I have had my fair share of 'chain-off' incidents. Yesterday, unfortunately, was no exception. Fortunately I wasn't on a downhill stretch of the trail as there was no way of pedalling backwards once the chain was off the cog, i.e. I couldn't brake! The chain flew off and I couldn't figure out how to slow down. Letting my foot drag along the ground was out of the question as I was wearing thin-soled white gutties; I wasn't risking hurting my foot or wrecking the wee shoes that I'd like to last me for the rest of the holiday!

So, I had no choice but to free-wheel to an eventual stop. I stood sheepishly aside while my knight in shining armour (poor Alex) battled to hook the thick-with-oil chain back onto the cog (much of which was hidden under a big rusty metal guard). Oh dear. The air turned a delicate shade of blue, unfortunately not for the last time on our cycle along the forest trail as bumps and a not-so-serious-cyclist who loves hitting the bumps and a dodgy loose chain simply don't go too well together...

However, once we were off the trail and back onto the smooth cycle path, all was well again. Well, all was well with my chain and my braking system, but stumbling upon a military base and being ordered off our bikes was another matter altogether! But I think I'll keep that particular not-so-serious story for another time...

Story 19: Appreciating what's on my doorstep

One of the things I love most about our cycling trips is that we're always moving along slowly enough to take in and appreciate the scenery round about us. And we're extremely lucky in that we don't have to travel very far to find some of the most scenic routes. Today we decided to leave from home and head into Stirling for breakfast (in a wee place called Toast, where Claudia - the lovely owner - and her staff make the best French toast with bacon and maple syrup I've ever tasted!) before deciding where to go from there. But before we'd even left the house, I was appreciating the view in front of me. We're very lucky to live in an ordinary house with an extraordinary view, and I never take it for granted:


After pulling on my gloves and pulling up my balaclava, we set off along one of the quiet back roads to Stirling, nestled in between the fields and the hills all the way:



After breakfast - did I mention that Toast make the best French toast with bacon and maple syrup I've ever tasted...

- we decided to cycle through the Riverside area of Stirling, across to Cambuskenneth then on towards Bridge of Allan. Looking resplendent as ever, The Wallace Monument sat on the crag ahead of us. I see the Wallace Monument most days and it's a sight I never grow tired of (the same could be said about the legs and the rear of the cyclist who's peddling along in front of me...):

From Bridge of Allan it was quite a hard cycle - uphill and in to the wind most of the way - on the main road to Dunblane. That road's also surrounded by lovely scenery, but I was panting like an old wifey with my head down all the way to Dunblane so, the view of the tarmac below me had to suffice for this wee section! Coming out of Dunblane, we carried on towards the village of Kinbuck. Fortunately for us cyclists (but not so much so for folks in their cars) this road's closed to vehicles at the moment as there are some stone repairs being carried out on the Kinbuck Bridge. It's a quiet road anyway, but it was lovely being able to cycle along without having to take the usual precautions for traffic. From Kinbuck we headed over the scaffolded bridge to head back towards Dunblane on another of the quiet back roads. Yet again, the surroundings were glorious:

I absolutely loved the downhill-most-of-the-way next few miles back to Bridge of Allan and the cows and sheep would've heard a fair few Wheee's and Woo Hoo's along the way! A welcome cup of coffee while sitting outside Jam Jar (al fresco style in almost mid-October!) set us up nicely for the last leg home. We took the quiet back road again and enjoyed being blown along it for most of the way.

We cycled about 37 miles today and we were enveloped in greenery and gorgeous scenery for almost every one of those miles. How very, very lucky we are to live where we do, and to have found the perfect way to soak up the scenery that's right on our doorstep. And, how very lucky we are to have had so much sunshine - even when it's baltic - since I became hooked on cycling! Yup, if you'd told me a few months ago that I'd be leaving my house - in full sight of my neighbours - wearing a balaclava to keep me warm whilst riding 37 miles on a road bike I'd have laughed out loud and told you not to be so silly! Three months on from our first cycle I'm still loving every trip as much as the last, and today was a brilliant reminder that we don't have to travel far from home to find the perfect way to spend a Sunday.

Story 18: Hint and you will get

Alex, my husband, has been my right hand man since we were 15. We'd had the odd fling or two between the ages of 13 and 14, but we didn't get serious till we were the ripe old age of 15! He's my soul mate and I'd simply be lost without him. I mean, who would put my chain back on my bike, or lift it up on to the cycle rack or fix any of the punctures that I'm bound to start getting?! (Yup, still no punctures!!) And I would never have contemplated cycling around Arran that special day in July - the one that started it all - without his encouragement and his dogged determination to make the very most of things. He's just the pools.

So, after bemoaning the fact that I was struggling to figure out a way of including personalised basic maps of our rides on this wee blog - without having to worry about copyright and such things - it should've come as no surprise when I arrived home the other night to a kitchen table covered in hand drawings of map outlines. But it did! I was chuffed to bits with them and so grateful that Alex had spent so much time and effort (while I was out gallavanting) sketching them out for me. And I can't wait to start adding some details before figuring out the best way to incorporate them into the blog. I'm beginning to think this is all a bit much for a blog and maybe I should think about a website...

Before I get carried away with myself, I'll stick to bringing the maps of the routes we've already cycled up to date and figuring out the best way to utilise them here. In the meantime, here's a wee sample of the kind of thing that Alex, my wonderful Man of Many Talents, rustled up for me:

Story 17: or, should that be, Poem 1...

Yesterday was National Poetry Day and, after reading some lovely poems, I was inspired to jot down a ditty of my own. My new found passion for cycling - and my strong belief that the path to contentment lies in doing what feels right for you and not what other people tell you is right for you - provided the inspiration! I've recorded me reading it out loud as, like most of my ditties (I feel like a bit of a fraud calling them poems...), it's better heard than read. It's just a bit of fun really (just like my cycling) so I hope you enjoy it:
Click here to listen to my ditty 'The Saddle'

Story 16: Paddling, cycling and soaking up the scenery on a sunny September weekend

The weather over these past few months has been incredible in Scotland and Autumn has started with a flourish of sunshine too. I went paddling on Sunday . Yup, paddling. In a loch. In Scotland. At the end of September. Brilliant!

I could write screeds about the fantastic time we had during our couple of days away, cycling around the Loch Lomond area, but I'm going to be lazy (yet again) and let my video clips do the talking. (I'll never be a published writer at this rate...!)

Day One:

We were based in Drymen for the weekend, a nice wee place frequented by West Highland Way walkers and very noisy Wedding Party guests. The latter kept me awake most of Friday night, but that didn't stop me getting on my bike on Saturday morning and setting off for the 22 mile round trip to Rowardennan and back. And, boy, am I glad I did:



Many moons ago, I studied Zoology at Glasgow University. The department regularly used Rowardennan's field station for student trips and, sitting supping my half-pint in the beer garden of the Rowardennan Hotel on Saturday, I had fond memories of the boozy nights spent in the hotel's pub. How we ever made it back to the field station - after a fair wee walk in the pitch dark and a paddle in the loch - I'll never know. I might be twenty odd years older now but some things never change...



I found the cycle back to Drymen pretty tough. Those pesky undulations! However, the beautiful surroundings definitely helped take my mind off how knackered I felt:



An ice cream stop, amongst the throng of the tourists in Balmaha, set us up nicely for the hilly few miles back to Drymen. I had some gear issues on one of the hills; I'm not great at judging which gear I should be in and, as a result, my chain often comes off - usually when we're half way up a particularly steep hill - because I'm faffing about trying to change gear and forgetting to keep peddling at a rate that'll allow the chain to jump from one cog to another. And, poor Alex sometimes has issues with my gear issues...


A lovely meal in the Drymen Inn finished the day off good style, and I slept like a baby that night. The undulations, the paddling, the fresh air and the good fun on our bikes made sure of that.

Day two:

After stuffing ourselves with buffet breakfast (mmm) we set off for a cycle in the opposite direction from the day before. Our intention was to cycle to Balloch, stop for coffee, then cycle on to Luss (basically following National Cycle Route 7 before joining the West Lomond Cycle Way), stop for lunch, then cycle back to Drymen. It was a lovely route, on quiet cycle paths nearly the whole way, and it was yet another gloriously sunny day:



Coffee in Balloch was followed by a wee detour to Cameron House, one of the really posh hotels on the banks of the loch. Our kids had bought us a voucher for a flight on the sea plane, which takes off and lands by Cameron House, and we'd booked our seats for the flight last Friday (and a room in one of the not-so-posh hotels in Drymen to make a weekend of it). However, Loch Lomond looked like this last Friday:

So, we've postponed the flight till next year (which is great really as it gives us the perfect excuse to have another weekend of cycling at Loch Lomond next June!) But, we couldn't resist cycling down to have a wee look at the plane during our Sunday cycle. As sheer good luck would have it, the flight came in to land just as we arrived:

I really struggled during the cycle from Cameron House to Luss. It's not that far, about 5 miles or so, and it's practically flat all the way. But the wind was in our faces and I think my legs were starting to give out from the day before's efforts. However, we did eventually make it and sat down to another sunny al fresco lunch in lovely Luss. The whole way through lunch I was thinking about the cycle back. And every now and again I'd say things like, "I wonder if there's a bus from here to Drymen...?" As luck would have it, we found something better than a bus:



So, there we go, another great weekend of cycling under my belt. I'm wondering if it's weird that I enjoy recording snippets of our wee trips just as much as I enjoy the actual cycling! Ocht, whether it's weird or not, I love having this wee record of our trips. And, hopefully these not-so-serious-stories and snippets might entice some of you, dear readers, to jump back on to your bikes too? You'll love it - I'm serious!

Story 15: Registering to Ride The Night

An email landed in my inbox inviting me to sign up for the 'Women V Cancer Ride The Night'. I couldn't possibly resist! Especially after I managed to persuade my daughter to take part with me! It involves cycling a circular route from Windsor Race Course then all around London all through the night. I love London, especially when it's lit up at night time, and seeing it from the saddle - with my daughter (who recently moved down to London and is, ahem, about to take up cycling...) riding along beside me - amongst hundreds of other women will, I think, be a pretty awesome experience! It's not till May next year, so we've got plenty of time to prepare for cycling the 100km (eek!!) route.

Another reason I'm excited about the event is that it's helping to raise awareness of (and funds for) three different cancer charities. I guess we've all been, or at the very least know someone who's been, affected by cancer. Over the course of this past year I've lost an aunt (one year ago today actually), an uncle and a good friend from choir, all to different forms of cancer. I've also worked with many lovely people - who are either living with cancer or have lost someone to cancer - through my voluntary work at a local hospice. So, it feels really worthwhile to be signing up for something that's raising awareness and raising money towards funding research and new treatments for this horrible disease.

Having said that, I've only just finished fundraising for the STV Appeal through taking part in Pedal for Scotland, so I think I'd better wait a wee while before I set up another Just Giving page for this particular cycling event! But, in a similar vein to the wee nod I was giving my Dad by taking part in Pedal for Scotland, it seems really appropriate to be giving a wee nod to my Aunt (my Dad's twin sister) tonight by deciding to take part in the Ride the Night event.

So, there we go, another cycling adventure to look forward to. But, not till May 2014. And I'm sure I'll have one or two more stories from the saddle to tell before then...

Story 14: A perfect sunny September Sunday

Deciding to head east for our Sunday cycle yesterday was such a good call. A bit of nostalgia, soaking up the sun, fighting the wind, mucking about on the sand, crossing the Tay Bridge and cycling past a guy taking his owl for a walk all contributed to what turned out to be another good fun day on the saddle.

We started off from St Andrews and it felt really good to be back there again - lowering the tone amongst the Toffs - following our daughter's graduation from St Andrews Uni earlier on this year. We didn't spend too much time in the town though and were soon out on the cycle path, battling our way through the really, really strong wind, on our way to Guardbridge and then Leuchars. The cycle path, that's part of the National Cycling Route 1, led onto a minor road in Leuchars and beyond, before we hit the trail path that took us through Tentsmuir Forest, which holds some pretty special memories for us. Our family have enjoyed a few running club trips to Tentsmuir in years gone by and it felt really good to be back in what was one of our favourite places to run and socialise with our Central Athletic Club friends.



Tentsmuir's gorgeous; it's a forest, with lots of trail paths and nice wee areas for picnics and barbeques, with the added attraction of being right beside the beach. Not only that, you come across the strangest things in Tentsmuir...



A man, taking his owl for a walk in the woods! Awesome!

After all that excitement, we couldn't resist a wee detour off the trail and down on to the beach:
 


And, of course, I couldn't resist a wee cycle on the sand too:

 

It was just as well that we'd opted for the 'old faithful' bikes and left our road bikes in the garage! One of my old pals from Uni has been suggesting that we try some 'real' off-road cycling and, well, yesterday it felt like we made a wee start on that! Forest trails, sand, rocks and general bumpiness made a good fun change from our usual smooth road, or cycle path, rides!

After Tentsmuir, still following Route 1, we cycled through Tayport. I've got some really fond memories of family holidays there in our wee touring caravan when I was little. I can't remember if we took my bike, but I like to think we did and that yesterday I was cycling along the same wee paths that I did as a child many moons ago! While I was reminiscing, Alex was admiring the boats:

After Tayport, it was a few miles further down the cycle path to the Tay Bridge. I can't begin to tell you how much I enjoyed cycling over the bridge. There was just something really brilliant about crossing the bridge (all mile and a third of it) on my bike. I've driven over it many, many times and always enjoy the views; yesterday was a perfect day to be sauntering across on two wheels (even though the wind was fierce!) and have time to really appreciate the scenery all around us.

 And, just when I thought it couldn't get any more exciting, there was more fun to be had in the lift at the end...

                          

We did indeed have lunch next to the Discovery (the last big wooden three-masted ship to be built in Britain) and very nice it was too:

The ride back to St Andrews was much less eventful and very much tougher than I'd expected. But, we eventually made it all the same:



I'm still knackered after cycling those 38 miles yesterday but I can't think of any other way I'd like to have spent that particular sunny September Sunday. It was simply made for another great fun and not-so-serious cycle.

Story 13: It's all relative really

One of the many things that crossed my mind while we were pedaling from Glasgow to Edinburgh last Sunday was that although I feel very much like a not-so-serious cyclist, I might not look like a not-so-serious cyclist to some folk. And I guess that's made me think about how it's all relative really.

Take the guy we passed somewhere between Dennistoun and Cranhill who was cycling along in the throng without a helmet on. I guess he might've thought I was pretty serious about cycling when he saw me and my shiny white helmet bobbing along. I just thought he was a bit of a numpty for not taking safety on his bike seriously. And, I guess, just because he's not wearing a helmet doesn't mean that he's not seriously passionate about cycling.

And then there was the elderly lady we passed somewhere between Coatbridge and Airdrie who was cycling steadily along on her vintage bike amongst what looked like a few generations of her family. I guess she might've thought I was pretty serious about cycling when she  saw me and my shiny new road bike fly past  (OK, that might be a slight exaggeration...). I just thought she was brilliant for managing to cycle 47 miles in her twilight years on a bike that she's maybe been riding since she was a wee girl! Oh what seriously interesting stories from the saddle she could probably tell! And, I guess, just because she's a lot slower than she used to be doesn't mean that she's not seriously passionate about cycling.

And what about all those people that we passed somewhere between Avonbridge and Linlithgow who were walking; pushing their bikes up the big so-and-so of a steep hill? I guess they might've thought I was pretty serious about cycling when they saw me managing to pedal past. I just thought of them as fellow cyclists who were either knackered or just couldn't find the right gear or the right amount of energy to take this particular part of the challenge on on their bike. I was also thinking that they could easily have been me; I might be managing the hills a wee bit easier than before, but it's still more than likely that there'll be times ahead when I have to jump off my bike and walk with it. And, I guess, just because they had to do that during this particular event doesn't mean that they're not seriously passionate about cycling.

But what about all of those cyclists somewhere between Glasgow and Edinburgh that passed me?  For every one of those cyclists that I passed there were very many more who passed me. I guess I was thinking that they were the serious cyclists. When they passed me as I plodded up the hills, or when I was getting in their way (I'm not quite there with the cycling etiquette in a crowd yet!), or when I was falling off my bike in front of them, or when I was shouting - like a big kid - as I whizzed down the hills "Aw Man!!! This is SOO awesome!!", I wonder what they were thinking of me? Maybe they were thinking that just because I did all of those things, it doesn't mean that I'm not seriously passionate about cycling.

So, it's all relative really. I describe myself as a 'not-so-serious' cyclist because I'm not interested in sticking to any set training plan, or trying to break any records, or being really knowledgeable about some of the technicalities of cycling. But being not-so-serious about those things doesn't mean that I'm any less serious about enjoying cycling than anyone else. Yup, we might be bigger, smaller, older, younger, faster, slower, fitter or safer than our fellow cyclists but most of us have a shared serious passion; for simply getting on our bikes and going for a ride...

Story 12: A potted version of Pedal for Scotland

I've been on a high today after the excitement of completing yesterday's Pedal for Scotland challenge ride. I've also been on an ice pack after sustaining a few wee minor injuries in the process! I could write a big, long story about how amazing the whole day was; how much I thoroughly enjoyed the whole ride, how fantastic it was that the sun was shining, how chuffed I felt when I managed the big hills, how lucky I was not to get a puncture, how unlucky I was to have my chain come off half way up one of those big hills, how brilliant the munch stops were (especially the home baking at Avonbridge - mmmm!), how great the camaraderie was amongst our 8000 fellow riders, how good my butt felt at the end (Hooray! I think I've mastered the padding and saddle combination! Definitely sticking with my big, comfy Miss Marple saddle!), how grateful I am for every donation to the STV Appeal I received, how nice it felt to have a medal put round my neck for a sporting event again (it's been a long time!), how knackered I am today, how gorgeous the scenery was, how funny the wee guy at the side of the road in Glasgow was when he mimicked the supporters who were offering jelly babies or cups of water by shouting 'Ur ye's waant'n a draw o' ma fag..?', how daft I felt when I fell off my bike, how much like a proper cyclist I felt when I heard someone in the pelaton behind me shout 'Man Down!' when I fell off my bike (one of my favourite moments of the day!), how excited I was when I turned the last corner in Edinburgh and saw Murrayfield Stadium in the distance, how close to a mixture of happy and sad tears I was when I held Alex's hand as we crossed the finish line (just like you see in the pictures in all the papers after this kind of event!) and thought about how proud my Dad would've been that I'd risen to a wee challenge to raise money in his memory, and how glorious the cold beer tasted after saying 'Cheers!' to Alex at the end of yet another awesome day's cycling.

Yup, I could write a big, long story. Or, I could just let this wee video clip do the talking while I go off to nurse my injuries and polish my medal...