Glasgow and Dublin

Things all happened very quickly there. One moment bathing in the afterglow of a great week spent with good friends an spectacular country, the next moment airports, taxis and a new city. 

Yesterday was a long drive, leaving Torridon at 9am on empty stomache. Given how much exercise we have done with the resultant calory deficit this was not a great plan. The obligatory whiskey tasting the night before had gone on longer than planned and in fact had only ended when my younger and wiser ( perhaps more battle hardened) partners had led me away from the bar. I think that saved me a significant wad of money as I had drunk just enough to completely disconnect my frontal lobe from any activity that was taking place elsewhere in my brain. 

Anyway, the result of all that was a return to the youth hostel that was too late to order breakfast.. Needless to say, by the time we did have breakfast the appetites were well honed. 

We had a scenic drive back bathed in the afterglow of a massive input of calories of the worst kind. Inverness and then past the Cairngorms, central Scotland with its softer country but still ever present Lochs and finally into Glasgow in the late afternoon. 

Lots of time for reflection. 

I am very blessed. I have a wife who encourages me to go on these little adventures. I have great friends, not just Ben and Stef with whom I am able to create these life long memories. 

We have had a great week of riding, communing with nature, eating, drinking modestly and laughing till the tears rolled. 

Nothing is perfect and so we have had the opportunity to feed the midges of which I have not yet spoken. Mother Nature does not like perfection and therefore there are midges( or sand flies or mosquitos or flies or whatever other bug). The midges gave us something to talk about when there was nothing else. They still remind me now with a million itchy bites needing to be clawed. 

So, the first week of our trip us over. Ben and I are now in Dublin. He is sick and I am reduced to mopping his fevered brow and gently lifting his head to trickle Guiness through parched lips. Man flu is not easy. For women, think labour with a fever. And, unlike labour, there is no one to rub your back in the bath. 

Depending on how riveting our days in Dublin are I may continue to write. 

The pictures today are from our entire trip. 

Beinn Damh

So my day started on returning from breakfast to find Ben facing the window with his pants around his ankles and vigorously doing something to his nether regions. Now cover your eyes children because this is not pretty. Apparently he was applying chamois cream to protect his butt from the impending day's activities (we will go there in a moment, I know what you are thinking). 

He reckons his bum has been hammered in the last week( true story, his words). He and Stef have connected and who are we to judge?

Ok, you can uncover the kids eyes now. 

The plan for the day was to ride around Bienn Damh, which is Scottish for ( insert adjective) large mountain. Of course this is summer and so the below freezing temperatures, rain wind and etc were expected. 

Ben has been playing catch up with his maintenance and so noticed the huge, aneurismic bulge in his rear tyre about 30sec after we planned to leave. Luckily he is a good fixer and so managed to borrow a replacement tyre from a local bike hire shop. Money well spent as his tyre gave up the ghost a long way from anywhere and we would have had to leave him at the side of the track. Awkward conversation avoided as the ride ended with an excellent 5 km downhill and I had no intention of walking it. 

Todays ride was again awesome. Lots of water, rock, big mountains. 

The late afternoon was spent doing the Bealach to the village of Applecross. This is a huge climb and considered the holy grail for road cyclists in this part of the world. Elite athletes such as ourselves were not troubled. Stef was the only one who felt any pain as he had to hold back on the beer as designated and, in fact, only driver. The sun made a brief but beautiful guest appearance on the way back, touching the magnificent scenery with his special palette. 

Torridon Loop

I decided I would blog early today. If you have read the previous blogs the reason why would be pretty bleeding obvious. 

We woke up to grey sky and the threat of rain. Not necessarily ideal for our big mountain day but seeing as there is little else to do in Torridon we went out. Pretty much as we left the rain started. It is Scotland after all. 

To be honest the weather added to an absolutely spectacular day. I'll let the pictures do the talking, although as usual they cannot do the vistas justice. Great day, happy bunnies. 

Torridon

Todays post is happening at 9 pm local time. This is only relevant as it continues a theme I am becoming used to now as I share the week with my younger riding mates. The theme, of course, is the continued pub crawl of the most scenic and remote pubs in the Scottish highlands. 

We are staying in a youth hostel for a few nights. This has a few implications beyond the hilarity this would cause at home. Firstly the average age here tripled as we poked our heads through the door. Secondly, because you can only get into the room after 5pm we thought we would pass the time with a pint. This has had consequences. 

Finally I have to accept that the average 20 year old Swedish backpacker is not impressed with the wit of a collection of mildly paunchy, balding (excepting Legolas) middle aged men who consider themselves fucking hilarious. They are of course wrong, but modern youth does not understand high quality humour. 

So we are in Torridon, in the Northern Scottish highlands. 

We rode our last day on Skye today, the Quirang. Google it if you are on teabreak. 

Actually don't. It is an outcrop of rock with allows for a great walk or ride through some interesting terrain.  There was a lot of riding narrow track on steep contour. Lovely if you like the idea of a pedal clipping a bank and launching you into oblivion. 

The pictures won't tell the tale but let's just say the walkers were surprised to see us taking our bikes for a walk. Truth be told it was a great little ride. 

Tomorrow is our crux day, riding the Torridon loop. With a deteriorating forecast I am comforted by the quality of our preparations today. Carbo loading has been completed and we are parked next to mountain rescue. Nuff said. 

Sligachan x 2

Last time I decided to do a blog about a trip it was with my teetotalling friend Dave. It's just so much more difficult with Ben and Stef. I was determined not to leave Scotland without having had haggis and of course sampling the whiskey. The latter is now done. 

Rewind a bit though and our day started in auspiciously when Stef gashed his shin only 2km into the ride. He was braver than I would have been and shrugged it off as a mere flesh wound although he looked like had had been in a fight with Wolverine. He taped himself together with electrical tape and spent the rest of the day quietly oozing blood. Bless him. 

The ride itself was great, crossing Skye from coast to coast was lovely. The track was technical and fun. It would be hard not to consider Bens slow motion face plant into the creek as anything other than the highlight, especially as he was showing off. Lovely stuff bro. 

Anyway. I feel as if I am slurring and there is no wifi to load this up anyway so I will sign off. 

In amongst a pretty long ride (8 hours) some pub visits and a walk to the Fairy Pools, considered a must see and I suppose they would be if you have never seen a mountain stream, I am shagged. 

Sligachan:Skye

So we left Glasgow with Milo looking wistful as he receded in the rear view mirror. Not before he had given me another heart attack by baying in my face as I came down the stairs. 

Almost immediately after leaving Glasgow I was reminded why I chase mountains. The views around Loch Lomond were stunning in a blustery way. We spent the day wending our way between mountains and lochs. We planned to tackle to the gondola runs at Fort William, but unfortunately the high winds had closed the gondola so we just carried on to Skye. The time saved at Fort William left us the opportunity to do an excellent 2 hour aperitif. Straight out the back of the hotel we tucked into this lovely rocky climb following a mountain stream. Ben entertained us by falling into a bog in front of some walkers. Justice was done for my mirth when I catapulted myself over the bars on the way back down. Sneaky rock grabbed my pedal. 8 km in 2 hours is testament to the awesomeness of our little opener. Not sure if the wispy wifi can cope but check it out.