Day 10: South Laggan to Tain

Total: 75.9 miles
Time in saddle: 5 hrs 12 mins
Average speed: 14.5 mph
Maximum speed: 38.7 mph
Cumulative: 863 miles
Chafing rating: 3/5 (Huh?)

Nigel, I’ve got my mojo back! What a difference a good night’s sleep makes. I was in the top bunk of a room for four, sharing with John, Nick and Colin, who was understandably nervous about sharing a room with Nick again. The last time I remember sleeping in the top bunk I fell out, so I too was slightly nervous, especially as I landed on my sister who was on a camp bed below, and then got back in the lower bunk, waking my mother. John was in the lower bunk. This would not have been pretty. But I had my best night’s sleep of the whole tour and woke up knowing I was going to have a better day. I felt much more alert and positive and my legs were fully operational again. To make matters better, my chafing rating has gone down overnight from a 5 to a 3. This is only painful now rather than excruciating and I can handle that. I felt like I did on Day 1.

The only thing that disturbed my sleep during the night was the rain lashing against the window. This continued throughout the morning. We all trudged down for breakfast in the hostel without any real idea what it was like outside as it was still dark. But we were confident it was going to be wet.

A line of 21 cyclists left the hostel at 8.15, for the 76-mile journey to Tain, via Fort Augustus, Drumnadrochit, Beauly and Dingwall. The atmosphere was surreal. It is one of the abiding images of the whole ride and I will never forget it. 21 high-vis jackets snaked along the dark lane, illuminated by flashing red lights, occasionally silhouetted in the headlights of the cars rushing the other way. The car lights also revealed the curtain of rain lashing down from the sky. Surface water flowed across the road and the spray from the rear wheels of the cyclists in front ensured that, within the first mile, we were soaked from below as well as from above. Speeding juggernauts heading south ensured we were drenched from the side too.

The cycling peloton is a thing of beauty. When you are in a line of riders all working in unison along twisting and undulating roads, the line takes on a momentum of its own, sweeping left and right and up and down. The sound of the wheels whirring over and over almost takes you into a dreamstate. It is a physical meditation. When you are at the front of a peloton and are looking back to make sure it stays together, it is a wonderful responsibility. It feels like writing calligraphy with wheels.

But I decided to break up the peloton today. Riding in darkness on unfamiliar, wet roads, whose pot-holes were hidden under flash-floods was, in my view, too dangerous for such a large group. When someone eased off, the others would bunch suddenly as the rain made the brakes slower to respond. Cars and lorries were struggling to get past the long line of riders on the cliff-edged road to Drumnadrochit. I was worried someone would come off, or get knocked off. So I went to the front and stretched the line until it broke into smaller groups of riders of similar speeds. John, Philip, Colin, Craig and I rode together for the rest of the day. I had so much more power in my legs today. The group has had a lot of conversations about how miraculous it is that our bodies keep recovering from what we are putting them through, and I really felt that after yesterday.

As promised, my son’s cuddly toy, Nessie, got to see her former home. I had to pinch myself to think I was on the shores of Loch Ness, and then pinch again to think I had cycled there from Cornwall. Little fella, take note of Superdad’s dedication in stopping for a photo in the pouring rain, above Castle Urquhart, and reward me with a hug when I get home please.

We looked hard but unfortunately there was no sign of the real Loch Ness Monster.

 

Around the corner, after 27 miles, was our first drinks stop. There was very little shelter and we did not stick around long. Straight after this stop was THE CLIMB, the mightiest incline on the whole trip, which should only be attempted with warm muscles. The hill was colossal, 3 miles long at a gradient of 17%, and took us on the road from Drumnadrochit up over the mountain to Beauly. Most of us went straight up it, including John who had been so nervous of the big hills before we set off. John has a 16 stone frame to carry up the hill so this was no mean feat.

John’s prowess on the hills is matched by his enthusiasm for creative photography. He and I got detached from the group so that … wait for it … John could take a close-up of a puddle.

Alright, it's pretty good

This left us alone to ride high up the mountains feeling as if we were on top of the world. It introduced us to a new experience, cycling in the clouds. Maria spotted a garden that contained a shed, a climbing frame and a cloud. John and I then went like the clappers to reel in Craig and Colin before lunch which we just managed with about 2 miles to go. It was really hard work as they do not hang around.

Riding in the clouds

Lunch was in the gym of the Dingwall Leisure Centre. Everyone was drenched from head to toe and shivering. I was enjoying it, in a manner of speaking, largely because I felt so different from yesterday. Colin got the shivers and did not look happy at all. Then I started shivering and the pair of us found blankets and wrapped ourselves in them. Craig placed a plastic cup at our feet and put a few coins in it. Nick, a man as prone as I am to quoting the immortal Edmund Blackadder, walked in looking utterly dejected and took one look at us and said, “I think the phrase ryhmes with clucking bell.”

Warm and happy: Colin and me

We were warmed however, by the fact that Loch Ness was now south of us. We saw the first sign for Thurso on the north coast. This seemed hard to digest. If yesterday was a slog, today felt like a massive leap forwards.

John went to extraordinary lengths to keep himself dry during the lunch break, wringing his clothes repeatedly, laying others all over radiators in the leisure centre and changing into the spare set he had managed to stow in the DA van. He looked immaculate by the time he was ready to leave. He put on his helmet and it deposited half a pint of water over him. He then dropped his glove in a puddle.

A steep climb straight after lunch set cold thighs burning, but the weather had started to relent a little and we had a fantastic afternoon’s ride through countryside that more resembled the Cotswolds than northern Scotland. We stopped to make a phone-call beside a field containing around 400 geese, which all took off and swept over the river inlet all flying in time, like a massive peloton!

Peloton of geese near Dingwall (photo by John)

The atmosphere as we head higher and higher up the map suggests a bit of tension is being released. Craig is showing signs of going slightly mad. He followed an attack of hysterical laughter at lunch when he was spotted at tea photographing a jelly baby on a fence post.

The last 15 miles were down country lanes that were beautiful, often straight and long and slightly downhill. We had a wonderful run in to Tain where we are staying in the Royal Hotel. It is a lovely old-fashioned place and to make it better, we dined in the same room that is being used to store our bikes. John and I had cleaned ours and they were sparkling and looking their best for the occasion.

I cannot quite believe we only have one more full day of cycling to go, plus a short 30-miler on Saturday. Excitement is building in the camp. I am trying not to think of John O’Groats as we have a tough 90-miler tomorrow. But it feels a little like the day before Christmas Eve.