Cycling in Midlothian (and elsewhere)

In early June, I plan to join some others in attempting to ride a full 100 miles in one day, for no other reason than to be able to say that we’ve done it. A bucket list kind of a thing. Afterwards I will return to the average 30-40 mile jaunts, but before doing the 100 miler I need to build up to it with one or two rides in the 70-80 mile range. That is what today’s 75 mile ride was all about.

The lead-up wasn’t ideal. I had been off the bike due to gout of all things, but was on the mend due to a course of colchicine from the doctor. I did a short ride the day before and all seemed well, so I was up bright and early for an 8.30am start. My breakfast was just a couple of slices of toast and jam, but I packed two cheese rolls, a banana, two cereal bars and a bar of fudge in my backpack, plus plenty of money to buy more food if necessary. Also two full bottles of water on the bike.

I set off up the A7 on a cool, sunny morning just as Colette was leaving in the car to spend a few days with her mum (she isn’t taking part in the 100 mile challenge due to her bad back at the moment). I was consciously trying to pace myself, selecting a nice easy gear on the uphills and freewheeling on the downhill. It wasn’t long before I got to Stow and took a big drink – got to stay hydrated.

Between Stow and Lauder there is a whopper of a hill, with a 15% gradient for the first part. It felt quite hard but I just eased my way up in bottom gear till the view opened out. The final part of the climb was much easier and I stopped at the top to admire the view over the moor stretching out in all directions with lots of interesting paths to possibly explore sometime. I rewarded myself with some fudge then got myself ready for the high speed descent into Lauder.

After Lauder, I took a left turn onto a road that joined the A697 which heads towards Coldstream. Duns wasn’t signposted so I stopped at the junction to double check on the map – taking a wrong turn was unthinkable as doing 75 miles seemed hard enough without having to add on any unplanned detours.

The road was moderately busy, but it got a lot quieter after taking the turnoff for Duns on the B6456. The road through open countryside was pretty flat with very gentle undulations and I was feeling good. I made sure to have plenty of swigs from my water bottle and eat one of my cereal bars, and even though I was taking it easy, I seemed to whizz along, effortlessly eating up the miles. At the junction with the A6105, I turned left and freewheeled into Duns.

A glance at my Strava showed that I’d done an average of about 15mph so far which was much faster than expected and could only mean one thing: I’d been pushed along by a following wind. I tried not to think of what that would mean for the second half of the ride and went in search of a shop to buy a bottle of water.

Leaving Duns in the direction of Gifford was uphill: a theme for things to come. It wasn’t too hard although I did my best to resist attacking the smaller hills and stayed sat in the saddle, pushing a low gear. There were some downhill stretches too, which were spoiled somewhat by clouds of big black flies making high speed impacts with my face. I felt envious of the passing motorcyclist with his full face visor!

The Gifford road left the cultivated fields behind to wind its way through woods until it crossed the Whiteadder Water, where it entered open moorland and I felt the full force of the headwind for the first time. Well, it wasn’t exactly a gale, but it definitely slowed things down and made progress that much harder.

I pushed on and went through the village of Cranshaws, with it’s picturesque old kirk. It was getting to lunchtime and I’d not had my picnic yet. Whiteadder Reservoir was close and I planned to stop there, so I had some more fudge to keep me going and carried on.

The sight of the hill on reaching the east end of Whiteadder Reservoir filled me with fear! I’m sure it is much steeper than the 14% stated on the sign. Or perhaps my legs were beginning to fail. In any case, I struggled to stay upright to the top and only just made it. A stop was definitely overdue, so I pulled into the car park at the sailing centre and unpacked my picnic.

Taking a break at Whiteadder Reservoir

I ate one of my cheese rolls and a banana and forced down some water, and felt incredibly full. In retrospect, maybe I should have hung around for longer to let everything digest, but the sun had gone in and it was feeling a bit cooler, so I decided to get a move on.

I found I could pedal fine along the few flat parts, but the uphills just seemed to get harder and harder. Unfortunately after leaving the reservoir behind there was a big long uphill ahead. The strength in my legs just deserted me and even in lowest gear, I was struggling to make progress up the 6% gradient. It felt as if I had somebody else’s legs and they were on strike. So I just had to stop and sit down on a grass bank next to the road.

There’s this fabled thing called “hitting the wall”, which some cyclists prefer to call “bonking”, where you use up all your energy supplies and simply can’t go on. It is supposed to be accompanied by dizziness and a clammy feeling, but I felt absolutely fine apart from my legs being on strike. I wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, but having a rest and eating more seemed to be the best option. So I ate my other cheese roll and the last of my fudge. I’d actually chosen a lovely place to stop, so waiting there wasn’t so bad. There were still 25 more miles to go, with some steep climbs so that was worrying, but with just a bit more strength I thought I should be able to manage it, albeit VERY slowly.

After my rest, I slowly cycled up to the top of the climb, then was able to rest my legs for a good long while as most of the remaining 5 miles to Gifford were downhill. There were two steep little uphill sections that I somehow managed to struggle my way up, and you don’t know how relieved I was once they were behind me!

Once at Gifford, I bought some emergency Mars bars from the shop then went to the tea room for a cuppa. I also ordered a slice of carrot cake for yet more energy. The rest must have done me good, but I left the tea room feeling uncomfortably stuffed.

The hills after that were marginally easier but I was still nowhere back to normal. It was a real slog covering the remaining miles and I wasn’t really enjoying it. Actually I was hating it! Added to that, the headwind seemed to get stronger and I started to feel chilled. I would have accepted a lift back home in a shot!

Approaching Borthwick, I had one last steep climb to negotiate and could only envisage myself doing it by pushing the bike up. I stopped next to the old school for a final drink of water and looked over to our house in the distance to take some encouragement before getting back on the bike. In fact, I didn’t find the final climb too hard, and a passing jogger even commented that I was doing well. Thanks for that, it gave me a boost, and I began to feel a little stronger again as I finished off the last mile to home. But strong enough to do another 25 miles, definitely not!

So that was a landmark ride for me, being my longest yet (75.9 miles), with the most feet of ascent (4643 ft) and longest time spent riding (6 hr 9 min) but the “failure” in the middle makes it one to forget. Still, there are lessons to be learned and I will be sure to stoke the boilers better before starting and definitely won’t insist on waiting till lunch time to eat my picnic! As for the 100 miler, I’m now more worried about it than ever, but at least the route will be flatter, with 1000 less feet of ascent than today’s run, and doing it with others means we can support each other through the hard bits. OK then, bring it on…

Our recent trip over the Lammermuirs reminded us just how much fun it is to get away from the main roads and explore the quieter tracks running through the countryside. For today’s ride, we decided to investigate a couple of tracks running in and around Lamancha.

On a bright and sunny but cold morning, we set off heading west past Gladhouse and Portmore reservoirs and went south on the A703 for a mile or two before turning right onto the first minor road. A steepish climb that followed took us past Shiplaw Farm, where we paused to look at an old water wheel on the side of the building, Somehow, we’d managed to miss that on all the previous times we’ve gone past. I suppose it’s because we are normally going in the other direction and whizz past going downhill!

Disused waterwheel or just decoration?

Soon after that, we arrived at a crossroads, with the “main” road going right, and another, signposted “Old Post Road to Eddleston”, going left. However, we headed straight on, ignoring the “No Through Road” sign…

First thing to see is a domed observatory, sited close to a house on the right. It’s a fantastic location for astronomy, with no lamp posts for miles around to spoil the darkness at night time. Moving on, we passed a quaint green wooden shack on our right before the road became a rough(ish) forestry track. Predicatably perhaps, this took us into an area of forestry, the Cloich Forest to be precise, which is situated in the Cloich Hills.

After maybe half a mile, we were presented with a choice of roads at a junction. Having seen this on the map, I was ready to take the middle of three options, but I could only see two at first. The pond that lay between them was, on closer inspection, the start of the middle way. Colette and I managed to edge our way past the large section of flooded road then got back on our bikes to carry on. I was slightly concerned that there could well be more of the same lying in wait further on!

One of today’s water hazards

A few hundred yards further however, we came to a gate allowing access to a fenced-off area of forest called Grassfield. The track beyond was of good quality, taking us initially through trees, before coming to an area that had been clear felled. It looked devastated as if nobody cared about what happened to the land after felling the trees. Of course that surely can’t be the case, and I suppose that the mess of stumps and tangle of broken branches that currently blight the landscape will eventually rot away to nothing as newly planted trees grow through and engulf the remains of the old forest in their damp shadows.

Beside the road we also found many hides, presumably for deer shooting. Luckily there were no hunters around this time to chase us off the land. The road continued reasonably gently to a high point, from which it descended quite rapidly, particularly as we approached the gate across the end of the road. I was glad that I’d given Colette’s bike some new brake blocks!

The forest road came to an end at Noblehouse farm on the A701. We turned right onto the main road and cycled past Whitmuir and onwards until we reached Lamancha. There, we paused for tea and scones at Lamancha Hub (for reference, this place is only open Wed-Sat; 10am – 2pm). My fruit scone was lovely and gone all too soon. We then realised it was nearly lunch time and that we should maybe have opted for soup and a sandwich instead. Next time maybe, at least we were fuelled up sufficiently for the next bit of off-roading…

From looking at the map prior to the ride, I knew that we were heading for an outdoor activities place called Don Coyote. What I didn’t realise was the steepness of the road taking us there. It was about 15% gradient and a hard-packed stone / gravel surface. I actually enjoyed the challenge, though I went up at a nice slow pace. Colette chose to push her (heavier) bike up instead. It was a surprisingly long way up, but we were rewarded with some lovely views to the west and east.

Heading east after Don Coyote

From the top, it was downwards in the direction of the Don Coyote place. This turned out to be a large building surrounded by 4WD type vehicles, so I presumed it was an adventure off-road driving sort of place (but actually it’s a shooting range; I just looked it up). We passed through and onto a track that doesn’t appear on some maps but most certainly was there, and took us all the way back to the three road junction that we had first come to an hour or two earlier. Well, it was actually a 4 road junction if you include the one we had arrived on originally. We got onto that same road and headed back in the direction of the observatory.

However, before we got there we paused at a side track, which was signposted “Cloich Forest Loop” (or something similar). There was still time for a bit more exploring, so we started off up that road to find out where it went. We presumed that being a loop, it would bring us back to where we started.

The road into Cloich forest looked like it just kept on and on…

After a mile or two with no sign of the road looping off either to the left or the right, we began to wonder how long this so-called loop was going to be. Clearly longer than just a mile or two. So we decided to play safe and turned around to head for home where an overdue lunch awaited us. I have since investigated and we were wise to give it a miss: it would have taken far too long. So that is something to explore next time…

I’m going to start with a word of caution that despite being a great day out, I can’t unreservedly recommend today’s route. The reasons will come clear later on, so you follow our footsteps at your peril!

The weather has been kind of late: cloudy but with very little rain, and now a handful of warm sunny days thrown in before it’s all due to break down at the weekend. All the off-road tracks have dried out nicely, so this was the perfect time to explore some new cross-country routes with the least chance of having to deal with the dreaded mud.

The route for today was an attempt to join up Fountainhall with Oxton, going up and over the hill that separates them, then crossing the Lammermuirs to stop off at Humbie for a cuppa. First of all, we had to get from Middleton to Middletoun…

If I had more time and was feeling more confident about my abilities, then we would probably have reached Fountainhall by going over the Granites and via Heriot on the minor road. However, it was quicker and easier to just ride up the A7. It was warm and sunny and the traffic was light, so we got to the turnoff for Cortleferry (just after Fountainhall) without any problems. We then followed the decent quality minor road that leads to Middletoun farm. It was pretty steep at one point, after which Colette and I both removed our outer layers so that we were riding in T-shirts. Maybe that’s winter behind us at last!

Getting going again, we came across a pregnant ewe in the road that got very afraid and started running away up the road ahead of us. We didn’t want to terrify the poor thing, so we slowed down to walking pace. We proceeded to follow it for a good while till it finally found a field entrance and we could shoot past quickly. By that time we were almost at Middletoun, where the path to Threeburnford was signposted.

This path uses the bed of the long defunct Lauder Light Railway that at one time ran from Fountainhall to Lauder as a spur from the Borders railway. Where we joined it, the railway path was rutted, hard packed earth, but it showed signs of having been a muddy quagmire during the winter.

Riding along Lauder Light Railway

The path took us through quiet farmland, with rolling sheep-filled hills on either side. There were also occasional remnants from the old railway in the shape of a couple of ruined wooden trackside cabins with brick chimneys. We explored the best preserved one which was situated at the far end of the track. After that, we joined a farm track that took us alongside a daffodil-emblazoned enbankment leading up to Threeburnford.

Approaching one of the trackside cabins

Soon we were on proper tarmac again, though with a few potholes to dodge. Unexpectedly, we also had to dodge a large group of ramblers who were enjoying the wonderful weather and surroundings just as much as we were. Further along we spotted, perched on a telephone line, a couple of swallows (one swallow doesn’t make a summer, but two… we can hope…!). We continued along the lovely, quiet road for a mile or so further, but we knew it had to end soon when finally we caught glimpse of the busy A68 ahead of us.

Our route then turned parallel to the main road and continued to the village of Oxton, which neither of us had visited before. It might be a little isolated and off the beaten track, but it has a pub and shops and seemed like a delightful place to stay. On reaching the crossroads, I was about to consult the map, when a man working up a ladder on one of the houses asked us where we were going and helpfully pointed us in the right direction.

That took us down to the A68 not far from the Carfraemill roundabout. We managed to miss out even that short stretch of main road by taking what appeared to be the remains of the old, pre-roundabout road, which led right up to Carfraemill Hotel. We decided this would be a good opportunity to stop for refreshments, so we ordered tea and scones, which we had outside on the terrace.

This was also a good time to check the map again and take note of which route we were going to follow for our crossing of the Lammermuirs, which lay directly to the north of the hotel. It was somewhat concerning that there was a “Road Closed” sign at the start of the road but experience has shown that bikes can usually find a way past.

It was about noon when we got ready to go again, and I asked one of the workmen who were waiting next to the road closed sign whether it would be OK for us to carry on up the road. “You’ll have to go now!” he said, because they were getting ready to start tarmacking the road. That was good timing, so we hopped on our bikes and went ahead of the convoy of road surfacing vehicles, crossing a big section of freshly “de-surfaced” road that they were about to fill in with the hot, sticky black stuff.

The road into the hills from Carfraemill was tarmac to start with

We then continued through the valley alongside Kelphope Burn on a fairly flat road, trying to ignore the sight of Tollishill farm perched high up on the hillside ahead. I was fairly sure our route didn’t go past that farm, at least I hoped not!

The road meandered through the valley floor till we reached a right turn that went very steeply uphill to the farm we had noticed before. We ignored it! However, the straight on road “ended” just ahead, turning into a private road. There was a collection of 4WD vehicles parked up before this, but we knew it was fine for us to carry on, as we were on bikes.

The track as it continued was a little rough, but perfectly fine for our hybrid bikes, and we followed it past some houses to a gate. A sign on the gate warned that we were entering a firing range, and not to enter when the red flag was flying. Luckily we didn’t see any red flag, but it would have been a serious bummer if we had. We would have had to re-route up that steep hill and take a considerably longer route going in the direction of Gifford.

We were really enjoying the ride through the peaceful hills and followed the track alongside the burn, which criss-crossed our path in five or six places, presenting us with fords to cross. These fords were quite substantial ones, and I would not have liked to try this route after heavy rains! Although Colette and I did moderately well at fording, we both had our “foot down” moments, ending up with wet feet. Luckily the warm temperature meant that it wasn’t a problem. However, we were starting to get hungry, so we were on the lookout for an ideal place to stop and eat our sandwiches.

My fording failure captured for posterity!

As we progressed, the track gradually got rockier and steeper. That slowed us down, and I was just about to suggest to Colette that we stop for a rest and a bite to eat when she noticed cars in the distance. Sure enough, there was a convoy of Land Rovers and other such vehicles coming our way. I managed to cycle up to the high point of our route just before they caught up. There was a gate here, so I opened it up to let them through. Some went through and stopped, while the others parked up on the adjoining verge. The vehicles contained (mostly) men in green clothing carrying rifles. I asked if it was OK for us to continue on our way, and the answer was yes, but be quick about it!

By the time Colette caught up, there were three Land Rovers ready to head down the track which ran through a wooded area. We followed directly behind them on a fairly rapid and very bumpy downhill ride. They pulled over before the track got to farmland, where we waved goodbye and carried on up a steep slope. When we were far enough away, we deemed it was safe to stop at last for lunch.

We had a well-earned rest, eating tuna sandwiches as we looked back over the sheep field to the hills from where we had just cycled. Occasionally, the distant sound of barking dogs (hunting dogs?) broke the silence.  What I didn’t realise at the time was that a substantial body of water (Stobshiel Reservoir) lay hidden deeper down in the valley below. Something to explore on a future outing perhaps.

We finished our picnic and got back on our bikes for more bone shaking descending, which brought us back to tarmac. Humbie Hub was not far away, so we headed there for our post-sandwich tea and cake. Our visit was again well-timed, as the electricity supply was just about to be turned off as we left the cafe.

The route back was a very familiar one, and it came as no surprise that we broke no speed records on the way home, as we were feeling quite tired from our day of off-road exploration. It had been a great day out, but I wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t got lucky with our timing, getting ahead of the road surfacing crew and the hunters by the skin of our teeth, and if we had been much later we wouldn’t have got our cuppa in Humbie.

So a final word for anyone thinking of this route, just be aware of the potential impact of the weather on road conditions, and the possibility that the Lammermuirs Danger Area might be closed due to shooting.

I have fancied having a cycle around the Duns area for a while, but it is just a bit too far to ride there and back comfortably in a day. So we decided to start our investigations of the roads around Duns by first driving there by car. In fact, we enlisted our neighbours Lynne and Keith into the venture and even got a lift there in their car, which can accommodate up to 6 bikes! On a lovely sunny but slightly chilly morning, we drove out to Duns and got parked at the side of the road on Newtown Street. We got the bikes unloaded and were eager to get started on the day’s adventure.

As for the route, the nice people at the Scottish Borders website have detailed a number of circular rides starting from Duns, which can be navigated by following different coloured markers. The yellow and blue routes to the south and east of Duns are short and fairly flat routes, while the red and green routes to the north and west are longer and hillier. I decided to join them all up to make a composite route of about 35 miles (or so I thought), which started from the town centre and initially headed out southwest towards the high school.

After the school, we turned left and straight onto quiet country roads. We hadn’t been going long before we got a bit of a shock on turning a corner and heading straight down into Langton Burn. Beneath the surface of the water was a cobbled ford. There was no going back, so we just ploughed through regardless. Our road bikes were perhaps not the best choice for fording a stream, but we all got through dry and unscathed and after that, we were ready for anything.

The route I’d picked out took us past the outer gates of Wedderburn Castle, but neither of the gates we passed afforded any kind of view of the stately home within. So that was a photo opportunity lost for Colette and Lynne, but there was plenty to focus on later into the ride.

Further on, we passed over the Blackadder Water via a couple of nice old bridges then headed north where we met the A6015. Luckily we were only on the road for a few hundred yards, before picking up the red route markers and turning right onto a minor road that passed through Edrom. We came close by the picturesque Edrom Parish Church, where we made a brief photo diversion.

Paused at Edrom

Moving on from there, we passed over the Whiteadder Water and started climbing as our route continued northwards. We reassembled and took a rest at the crossroads with the B6438 before tackling a really quite steep incline. Once at the top of that section and looking round the corner, we could see the road carry on upwards for a long long way, but thankfully at not quite as steep a gradient. It was very satisfying to finally reach the top and look out over the countryside stretching out below us. The view was quite hazy, so not the best for landscape photos, but the sun was certainly shining on us and the sky was blue, with wispy cirrus clouds.

Next we had a good long spell of downhill freewheeling which took us to meet the A6112. Despite now being on an A road, there weren’t any cars to be seen, and the road swept beautifully downhill till we were close to the village of Grantshouse. We could see the rail line ahead, with the A1 just beyond it, running noisily through the village, and beyond that in the distance lay the North Sea. Luckily, our route didn’t mess with the A1 but instead took a left turn away from the coast and into hilly farming country again.

First sighting of Oh No Hill

The road rose gently at first, until we came over a rise and Colette and Lynne both shouted out “Oh no!” in unison. They had become acutely alarmed by the angle at which the road ahead ran up the next hill. Well, it certainly slowed us down, but only for a few minutes after which we took a breather and started thinking about lunch. It wasn’t too far now.

Once we had stopped climbing, we began to descend toward woods and came out in a delightful narrow valley. The slopes on either side were topped by woods, while the valley floor was grassy meadow with the Whiteadder Water snaking its way sinuously through. Soon we reached a sign for Abbey St Bathans and went past a large farm. We turned left looking for our intended lunch stop, the Riverside restaurant.

In fact, we had turned in too soon and this was the Old Kirk. I left the others behind to explore while I went off in search of the Riverside, a sign for which I found about half a mile further down the road. Turning off the road it wasn’t immediately obvious where the restaurant was, but I only needed to follow my nose to find out which of the buildings was producing those enticing cooking aromas. I popped my head round the door and told them to expect 4 hungry cyclists soon, then went off to marshall the troops.

The point at which Lynne realised I wasn’t kidding about the two mile climb after lunch!

Soon we were sitting down inside the quaint little restaurant, which doubles as a gallery, full of paintings of all sizes and styles.  Being so isolated and with sporadic passing trade, the restaurant doesn’t offer a wide menu. There weren’t snacks or sandwiches, so we went for fish and chips, and burger and chips. Cooked from fresh, they took a wee while to arrive, but the wait was well worth it. My haddock was cooked to perfection with wonderfully light and crispy batter. No room for pudding, we left feeling pleasantly full and delighted to have discovered such a hidden gem of a lunch stop.

Exploring at Abbey St Bathans. The Southern Upland Way comes past here.

We took a while to explore the ford and area surrounding the restaurant before getting back to our intended route. I had made the mistake of reading out the description of the red route while waiting for lunch, so we were all aware of the two mile climb that lay ahead. That took us away from the valley, out through the woods and back into open country. The climb actually wasn’t all that steep but did continue on for a while. Once we had reached the top, we were soon into a very rapid 17% descent. It was a bit of a white knuckle ride taking us all the way down to a T-junction with the B6355.

Here, we had intended to turn tight, picking up the green route going to Longformacus before turning back to Duns. However, our long lunch had set us quite far behind time so we decided to cut it short here, and followed the shorter red route back to Duns. Although shorter, this still presented a few miles of undulations to negotiate, ending in a fast downhill into the town of Duns.

We found the car quickly and got the bikes secured in what seemed much warmer sunshine than when we had arrived. Perhaps some of that was the warm glow of satisfaction from spending such a perfect day out in the countryside. And having missed out the green route gives us the perfect excuse for going back again. Soon!

This March, proper spring-like days have been a rarity, so with low(ish) winds and full sunshine forecast for this day, we decided to make the most of it. With a number of possible routes on the to-do list, we decided to try this one… a trip south in the Borders via Fountainbridge and Clovenfords, then over to Innerleithen and back home through the Granites. About 40-odd miles I thought.

The sun that we woke to had sadly disappeared by the time we set off along the A7. I was riding my heavy Crosstrail hybrid that has recently been given a new lease of life. Firstly, I changed the tyres to a pair of fast but comfy Vittoria Voyager Hypers that I got from Planet X at a bargain price. Then I took off the pannier rack and mudguards, and replaced the heavy suspension fork with a much lighter rigid one. As a result, the bike was about 3 kilos lighter and a lot more fun to ride!

A couple of cars tried to spoil the fun by passing too close but we weren’t going to let that get in the way of a nice day out. Even the drizzly rain that engulfed us as we approached Heriot didn’t seem to bother us much, and thankfully it was all but gone by the time we took the turnoff down the minor road from Heriot towards Fountainbridge.

One odd thing I noticed was that the centre of the road was dry, whilst the tarmac on either side remained wet after the rain. As the road is very quiet, I was able to ride down the middle to minimise the spay kicking up off the back wheel. Maybe I was a bit premature taking the mudguards off so early in the year, but I can live with it.

Lugate Bridge near Stow, dating from the late 18th century apparently.

Once we had passed through Fountainbridge and got to Stow, the part of the road continuing on to Clovenfords was new to Colette and I had only gone down it once myself. Going that way, the rolling Borders countryside continued. We passed over a picturesque bridge then started to climb a hill. After a while though, there was a fork in the road, with a choice between more climbing to the right or a short cut to the left. The previous time I had been along this road with the Lothian Cyclists we went for the climbing option, so in the spirit of exploration we went left.

Gatehouse at Bowland

A fast descent took us to Bowland and the castellated gatehouse of Bowland House. Here we met the B710, which took us up, up, up, then down, down, down to the village of Clovenfords. We continued on the B710 for a short while after Clovenfords, as it took us down towards the River Tweed. Turning right, we cycled along the main road to Innerleithen for less than a mile before we turned off left and met up with a minor road which did the same job as the A707 on the other side of the river, except with much less traffic and much more in the way of undulations.

As we approached Innerleithen, we became aware of a strong headwind which made progress a bit harder, but I was secretly hoping that it would come to our aid on our way back. We were riding along national cycle route no 1 at this point, so we simply followed the signs which took us over a footbridge and round the houses to bring us out at Innerleithen’s main street (Peebles Road), just a stone’s throw away from the Whistle Stop cafe.

Colette announced that she was ravenous, so the cafe stop was very welcome, if not essential. We had a pot of tea and ordered a beefburger each, with the intention of having a cake also afterwards. The burgers were home made and much bigger and better than we had expected. In fact, we were so full that we decided to pass on cake, and instead went to Adam’s the bakers for our favourite of their specialities, which Colette stowed carefully in her saddlebag, to be devoured once we got home.

Then it was “simply” a case of going back over the Granites to cover the final 17 miles to home. Things were looking up, as the sun finally came out, warming our backs as we headed out of Innerleithen towards the golf course. Things then started to look a bit iffy, as we came across a Road Closed sign in the road at the top end of the golf course.

Glorious sunshine at last, as we went over the Granites.

Turning around and going back on the A7 was not something I was willing to contemplate! If necessary, we would have lifted our bikes over a fence and made a detour through the heather if we had come across a properly closed-off section of road. However, it turned out that the pothole filling and road patching work had been temporarily halted, with the machinery lying idle at the side of the road. All of this was a good thing, as there were a lot fewer cars on the road than normal, and the ride up the first long climb was a joy, with the sun on the hills and the wind at our backs.

The only negative aspect was Colette suffering from a sore neck. Maybe something to do with her riding position, which we are trying to figure out. Anyway, we just took it slow and steady to the top of the second hill, before shooting down the other side at over 30 mph.

At the end of the ride, we decided to avoid the A7 and instead finished up going via the quarry at Middleton, where an effort has been made recently to keep the road clear of mud. Trouble was, the wind which had been at our backs for some time was now a crosswind and made coming down the steep quarry hill quite a disturbing experience!

Soon we were back home, kettle on and munching into our treat from the Innerleithen bakers.

This ride definitely conforms to our “elsewhere” category, being one of our days out while on holiday in Spain. The bad weather towards the end of last year spurred us to book some flights for us and our bikes to Alicante. Late Feb / early March was the best time for Elliot and Jenna who came to stay while we were away and looked after the animals.

We then had to choose a place to stay. Looking at the map on the Booking.com site showed self catering appartments in Agost, which appeared ideally located for accessing the mountainous area to the NW of Alicante as well as being close enough to reach the coast itself if we wished. As we expected, the town itself is not at all geared up for tourism, but we were pleased to see so many cyclists passing through as we arrived, so it must be a good cycling area. In fact, as we left to pick up some supplies from the local shops on our first day, we found the roads lined with crowds for a big local cycle race that was finishing in the town centre!

Sprinting for the line!

In planning some possible routes in advance, there appeared to be a tempting road leading from Castalla over the hills and descending towards the town of Petrer/Elda on the other side. On further inspection, the climb to the highest point, Xorret del Cati, had been used as the final climb in stages of the Vuelta on a number of years, and is infamous for being horribly steep. It was so close that we just had to try it, even though we had no idea whether we would be able to make it to the top!

So on the Thursday morning of our stay, we set off to reach the starting point of the climb. Agost sits at about 1000 ft elevation, but the Xorret del Cati climb starts at around 2100 ft. There are two main ways of getting up there: either by a twisty road or by a longer but less steep off-road cycle track known as a “Via Verde”, built on the bed of an old rail line running from Agost to Alcoy in the mountains. I thought the latter might be the best way of conserving our energies before the big climb, so we set off on a minor road out of Agost, past fields of garlic and artichokes, and intercepted the Via Verde at about Km 15. That cut out a lot of meandering through the countryside and took us to the start of the “tunnely” part.

The first thing you notice about the Via Verde is the surface. It’s like hard-packed dirt with a covering of marble-sized gravel: not the easiest surface to ride on if you have a road bike (mountain bikes would be more appropriate) and Colette grew to hate it!

The other thing about the Via Verde is the tunnels. When we explored the route first, a few days previously, I had forgotten to pack our lights. So we walked through slowly by the light of a small LED on our emergency phone charger battery pack thingy. Our bike lights were somewhat better, especially if you remembered to take your sunglasses off when entering the tunnel!

After 5 or 6 tunnels, we then went past a cafe/restaurant which I had high hopes for when planning the route, but which was closed each time we went past. The maintained section of the Via Verde then ended shortly after that at Maigmo. Several roads converge here, including the one from Agost that we avoided (but did try the day after and was actually quite a fast climb), another cyclist-friendly road from Alicante, a very busy highway (the A-7) leading off into the direction of Alcoy, and a lovely quiet road to Castalla.

Our route took us towards Castalla before we turned left and along a fairly rough joining road that quite soon brought us out at the Castalla – Petrer road. This was also right at the start of the long-awaited / feared climb. To the right there was a line painted across the road, signifying the start of the climb, so we went down a few yards to cross that before turning and heading up the climb proper.

The climb started gently enough, but I noticed that I was slowly pulling away from Colette. We had pre-arranged that we would tackle the climb at our own speed and that if I could stay upright, I’d go all the way to the top in one go. But if I had to stop for any reason, then I’d wait for Colette to catch up.

Pretty soon, the first bit of real steepness appeared, a 15% ramp, which had me down to my lowest gear. The plan from this point on was just survival – grinding my way up expending the minimum effort to keep moving. This worked well for quite a while, to nearly halfway up in fact. But then came the first of the 22% ramps, and I was really struggling. I got over it with my heart pounding, gasping for breath, when I saw the road open up ahead looking just as steep. I thought I could possibly carry on to the top of what I could see, but that would require such a Herculean effort that I would probably be done in afterwards. So reluctantly, I stopped and got off my bike.

This gave me a chance to look around properly. Through the pine trees that line the road there was a great view over to Castalla and its castle sitting proud from the rest of the town. I stripped down to short sleeves and had a drink and snack while waiting for Colette to catch up. This did take a while, because she had already stopped to catch her breath lower down, but I was very impressed to see her riding as she came into view. Then she hit the 22% ramp and had to get off and walk.

Xorret del Cati – setting off again after a break

After a while, we got going again and I found my legs were feeling fine, until I hit another of the really steep parts. So I pushed up for about 50-100 yards before getting back on again. That really helped the legs and after getting past the last of the crazy steep bits, I was able to continue without stopping to the top of the climb. Time for a big smile and great sense of achievement, and some photos of course once Colette joined me.

Made it to the top!

A few stats: the climb is 2.4 miles long (4 km) rising to a height of about 3600 ft (1097 metres) with 1471 ft of ascent, making the gradient an average of 11% (with a maximum of 22%). So it isn’t particularly long but the fact that the gradient is so consistently steep makes it challenging even for the pros. Our aim, of course, was just to enjoy it at a leisurely pace, and in that, I think we can say we succeeded!

Next stop was to be the Hotel Xorret de Cati, where we thought there might be an outside chance of refreshments, and where we wanted to see the statue erected to Jose Maria Jimenez, who won the first race up the mountain in 1998. The descent towards the hotel was frighteningly fast, and it was all I could do to keep the speed down to a manageable level with the brakes. So we were very soon stood in front of the statue taking photos. The hotel however looked shut up, which to be honest was as much as we expected.

Colette and Jose at Xorret del Cati

The following 8 miles or so down to Petrer I had envisaged to be a fairly uniform gradual downhill, but that did not turn out to be the case. There were more steep descents and a few steep ascents to negotiate. The scenery was more interesting and varied than the other side, with a number of twists and turns, quite often leading you into the teeth of an unexpected howling headwind. The final stretch into Petrer was quite fast however, taking us to a junction leading under the busy A-31.

The descent from Xorret del Cati was steep in places!

With a few stops to consult the map, we made it to the Avenida Don Jose Martinez Gonzalez where the towns of Petrer and Elda seem to merge seamlessly and where I was looking for a particular restaurant to stop for lunch. I didn’t see it though, and since we were hungry and there were so many to choose from, we just stopped and went to the closest.

It was a little wine bar which served us up a selection of tapas and some sweet coffees for energy. After that, we left through Petrer following a route back to Agost that I had pre-planned with the aid of the computer while at home, and was designed to keep us on quiet back roads.

Leaving Petrer behind, we entered an area of small farms; quiet and rural. The road wound its way gently through until the tarmac stopped abruptly. I checked the route, and we were to follow a dirt track for a small way before reaching tarmac again. The path had the look of a washed out river bed so we dismounted and pushed the bikes carefully down a steep slope to the bottom of a small valley before riding up the other side. Then sure enough, just as abruptly as it had stopped, the tarmac started again. This took us uphill till we were cycling alongside a fenced-off residential area with a guarded entry point. A loud alarm was ringing on the wall of a large detached house, watched over by some neighbours from the other side of the street.

The alarm gradually faded into the background as we cycled onwards into countryside and back into hill farming area again. The road got a little rough in places here, with what was apparently mud left by tractors baking into concrete in the sun, and forming random speed humps. Soon, we were into some gradual but consistent downhill, where we let the speed build up for a fun descent.

That took us to a T-junction, with the road running parallel to a major train line. We went left and followed the road for a couple of miles till it took a right under the tracks. There were four train lines, all with their own bridge, amounting to quite a major bit of engineering. This short road ended in a crossroads with the fairly busy Novelda – Agost road. We had ridden along that previously, but although the traffic was courteous, it was still going quickly and the trucks were big and noisy, so we took an alternative way back along quiet roads.

We were cycling along a relatively flat plain about 5 or 6 miles northwest of Alicante through extensive vineyards. On either side of the road, the vines were neatly pruned in regimented rows running for many hundreds of yards, some of which were completely covered in protective netting like vast, low warehouses. It was too early in the year to see any greenery on the vines, far less grapes, although many trees were in blossom and elsewhere, we saw oranges and lemons on citrus trees.

After a while, we reached a left turn for Agost and crossed an absurdly steep bridge over the railway before finally arriving at our temporary home in the small town of Agost. It had been an epic day out, and I was so glad that there was cold beer in the fridge!

On a cold but bright and sunny February morning, we decided to take a cycle out towards East Lothian. We might have gone west, but the mud around the quarry at Middleton has effectively put that road out of bounds for the time being.

So we rode down into Borthwick, then took the climb that followed as easily as possible. The same went for the Crichton hill that came next – our aim being to perfect the slow and steady technique for much bigger hills to come later in the year. I didn’t mention that to the cyclist who zoomed past us at high speed on the way up – he was in a completely different league.

The sun was shining

From Crichton, we freewheeled downhill to Pathhead, then crisscrossed our way towards the West and then East Saltouns. We then headed for the B6368, going in the direction of Humbie. Before reaching Humbie however, we took a left turn and enjoyed a lovely quiet detour which bypassed the village and had only recently been shown to us by our friend Joyce. After a few miles, we rejoined the B6368 to cycle a couple more miles to our cafe stop at Soutra. Those miles are all uphill though, and Colette was feeling tired by that point -it was around midday by then and our meagre breakfast was clearly not fuel enough to get us all the way there.

An East Lothian desert island!

As we sat down with a pot of tea and delicious cake selection, Colette got a text – it was Joyce who had just seen us when passing in her car. She decided to come and join us, so we were able to tell her how much we were enjoying the new roads she had introduced us to. We also talked about the new cafe opening very soon in Humbie, meaning we’ll be spoilt for choice.

Great cycling, even in the cold

After the cake stop, we headed across the A68 and up past Soutra Aisle. Sadly, the sun had gone in by this time, and we were feeling quite cold. The initial climb was useful in warming us up somewhat. Despite the temperatures rising a bit recently, there was still a fair amount of snow at the side of the road and we certainly felt the chill again on the downhill sections that followed.

We then reached the A7, where we turned right and decided to take the main road all the way home, as opposed to going the long way via Heriot and the Granites road. That was quite a good choice, as the road turned out to be relatively quiet. The fact that there are still numerous road works along the stretch between Galashiels and Falahill has meant that much of the regular traffic has decamped to the A68 instead. There was a convoy system in operation at one of the road works, and we found ourselves easily keeping up with the traffic. Of course they all overtook us as soon as we were clear of the roadworks. Long may they continue!

It was then a quick and easy ride back home where a shower and belated lunch were waiting. That was a lovely ride, but we are getting fed up of the cold – roll on Spring!

This was planned to be a regular Lothian Cyclists Monday outing, starting at the canal and taking in a circuit around Arthur’s Seat before heading west for lunch. The forecast was for dry and sunny weather, but cold. By the night before, there had been a number of call offs: one because of broken bones but mostly due to fears of black ice.

The bike I had planned to take was out of action due to problems with the gears, so I was going to take the Mustang instead. However, I didn’t get a very good sleep, worrying about the slick tyres on that bike and possible ice-slip-crash scenarios, so I got up around 6am and started working on the gear problem. After swapping out the rear derailleur for a spare, the gears now changed acceptably, and I set about getting ready for the ride.

Colette wasn’t with me this time, as she was up visiting her mum, so I put just the one bike on the back of the car and set off for the start point with the dashboard reading -3 C outside. By the time I reached Meggetland, the temperature had gone up to zeo and the car park was bathed in bright sunshine. A lovely day for a cycle, as long as we kept warm enough (and stayed upright, of course).

The run was hosted by Willie, who had invited his friend Grace to come along and experience the Lothian Cyclists for herself. A few more hardy souls arrived and we were then ready to set off east along the canal.

The towpath was dry and free of ice, in contrast to the canal itself, which was topped with a dangerously thin layer of the stuff. As we progressed along the canal, I found myself going slower and slower to stay with Grace at the tail end. Finally she stopped and I went back to see what was the problem. She was feeling very unwell, dizzy and sick, and felt she couldn’t carry on.

The only thing for it was to walk back to the car park as best we could. I needed to let the others know what was happening, but by this time, they were way ahead out of sight. I realised that I hadn’t put Willie’s phone number into my phone, so I asked Grace to hang on while I went to catch them up. After a minute or so, I met Willie coming back, so I explained the situation to him and let him carry on to Grace while I went off to inform the rest of the group who were waiting at Leamington lift bridge.

Once there, I explained the situation, and Colin and Angus joined me in heading back to see how Grace was feeling. Almost there, Willie phoned to say that he was taking Grace back home and that we should just carry on – he would aim to rejoin us at the lunch stop.

So we turned round and headed back to the lift bridge where Fiona took charge of the route. We were now quite a bit behind time, so the decision was taken to drop the Arthur’s Seat loop and head for the coast instead. That meant backtracking along the canal again. There was a sense of deja-vu after passing along the same stretch of tow path for the fourth time!

We left the canal after a while and found our way to the Roseburn cycle path and made good progress northwards, taking the Telford Path then the West Granton access path, to bring us to the coast at Granton. From there it was westwards towards Cramond along the coastal path. The downside was that we were now heading into the wind, and though it was hardly a gale, the windchill made us feel a lot colder.

When we reached Cramond, Fiona said she was struggling with the cold and needed to warm up in the cafe alongside the River Almond. My fingers and toes were freezing too, so I was easily persuaded. So we sat around a big table drinking mugs of coffee and letting the circulation gradually return to the extremities. Willie also got in touch to say that Grace was feeling back to normal after getting back home and warmed up again. He was now on his way to meet us at Craigie Farm cafe…

Our route took us through Barnton then on a couple more miles to our lunch stop. After cycling up the hill to Craigie Farm and stopping at the bicycle racks, we noticed a member of staff wheeling Willie’s bike towards a shed. She said he’s inside the cafe but he’d taken a tumble and hit his head. This came as a bit of a shock, so we went inside to find him being tended to by the cafe’s first aider, Sue. On the other side of him was Alison, one of the regulars who was playing it safe today, but had driven to join us for lunch.

Willie looked a bit dazed and confused, while Sue was cleaning up the blood and applying a blue catering plaster to a cut on the side of his temple. It turned out the Willie had got all the way to the entrance to the cafe when he had somehow skidded and fell off, landing on his shoulder and banging his head on the road into the bargain. Sue was keen to call an ambulance, but since Alison was there with her car, she volunteered to take Willie to A&E herself. And off they went, leaving us all feeling a little concerned, both for Willie and for the possibility of more ice on the way back.

After stoking the boilers, we got back on the road, heading to Kirliston, where Fiona directed us to the cycle path leading to Ratho, before taking her leave and heading home. Now down to four, we followed the route of an old railway bed southwards, skirting past the side of Edinburgh Airport. We then crossed the A8 using a footbridge and headed uphill towards Ratho, where we rejoined the canal once more. After that, it was simply a case of following the towpath all the way back to Meggetland, where we had started.

The ice on the canal seemed a bit thicker now, but nowhere near safe enough to step on, far less drive a car onto, as some lads did here a few years ago! My worry was that with our luck, one of us might end up going for an unintended swim, but we reached our destination with no further incident. Good news came later that Grace was still feeling fine, and that Willie checked out OK at casualty and was back home taking it easy. Phew, what a day! It was great being back out in the sunshine, but it’s no wonder that some of us prefer not to cycle in these conditions.

We had an interesting outing planned for this day with the Lothian Cyclists, heading over to Fife, going east along the coast then returning by an inland route. Sadly, the weather had other ideas. There was a lot of frost and ice around first thing, and after gathering at South Queensferry to discuss the options, the decision was made to avoid going across the Forth Bridge and do something completely different. So Fiona and Willie came up with a shorter run taking us to Linlithgow for lunch.

First, we headed towards Dalmeny, where we came across quite a lot of frost and some black ice. This worried some of us enough to consider turning back. The fact that two of our number were absent after hurting themselves on black ice a few days earlier was foremost in the mind.

However, our leaders reassured us that the rest of our route would be fine. So we carried on in the direction of Kirkliston, picking up an off-road cycle path on the way. The slightly muddy surface with light frosting of ice was much easier to less intimidating to ride on than black ice on tarmac!

Back on the road, we continued through Winchburgh in the direction of Linlithgow at a fairly gentle pace. It was just the right level of exertion to warm me up without breaking into much of a sweat. Despite bright sunshine, the ambient temperature was sitting at a degree or so above freezing, so getting damp wouldn’t be a great idea.

We arrived at Linlithgow around 11.30, which was technically a little early for a lunch stop, but none of us cared about that. The bikes were locked up to the railings outside the Burgh Halls cafe, just down from the entrance to Linlithgow Palace. This was a new venue to me, but the others knew it well and it scored highly due to having much better toilets than the alternative cafe in the town, which I’ve been to several times before.

Linlithgow Palace

The first thing we noticed about the cafe was the heat. I was down to my T-shirt in minutes. “Stop there” they all cried! Several of us chose the stovies, which made an excellent choice on such a cold day. Overall, a pretty good lunch stop: decent food, decent prices and yes, the toilets were much superior to the competition!

Colette snapped a few photos as we got ready to recommence the ride, then we headed north out of the town on the A903. We used pavement for most of that, but needed to keep a wary eye out for sections of ice that hadn’t yet seen any of the sun. Then, after going over the M9, we turned second right, followed by a descent into Blackness.

Turning right along St Ninian’s Way, we found ourselves at a grassy playing field which we crossed to reach the woods of Hopetoun estate. Here, we followed cycle route 76 along a sometimes muddy path; certainly the muddiest I’ve seen it, which was no doubt largely due to the tractors transporting timber along the path.

Riding through the woods

To our left was the Firth of Forth, looking its best at high tide. Across on the other side we could see the hills of Fife, covered in snow down to quite a low level. It all looked very picturesque in the afternoon sun.

The three Forth bridges

After traversing the estate and negotiating the awkward gates one by one (which can take an age when there’s quite a few of you), we made our way into South Queensferry with the two and a bit bridges looming large ahead of us. A few patches of road hadn’t seen any sunlight but the ice didn’t cause any problems. But we got the feeling that the road would only get worse as darkness approached. So we were glad to get back to the cars and call a halt to proceedings.

Winter on the estuary

It wasn’t what we had been expecting, but we all had a very enjoyable day out in the lovely winter scenery. Despite the cold we all felt comfortable on the ride, and most importantly, nobody fell over!

Earlier this year we visited the Northshields Rings near Portmore Loch. At the time, we were warned off coming back by someone from the estate. He said that we should keep away from the tracks going through the middle of the woods, but it was fine to stay on the peripheral paths, including making a circuit of it via Boreland Farm. Today was our belated return to try out that circuit.

We had chosen a pretty benign day for the trip – temperature about 10 degrees C and no wind, with occasional sunny intervals. However, there had been lots of rain the preceding week, so mud and puddles were to be expected.

Our cycle up to Gladhouse was fairly uneventful, but passing the reservoir, we spotted a cormorant out on the water, swallowing a trout in flagrant disregard to the close season. There was also a solitary small dark coloured diver that we had noticed another time but hadn’t been able to identify.  It was a bit dull at this point, and the bird was quite far out, so it wasn’t worth stopping for a photo. We just carried on heading for Portmore.

Once we reached the bottom of the track leading to Portmore, I heaved the heavy hybrid bikes over the locked gate and we set off up the rocky path to the loch. It was lovely and calm, and on reaching the loch, we paused for a moment to look at the hillside beyond the far end of the water, where we were heading; hoping the path didn’t take us too far up the hill.

Heading south along Portmore Loch

After cycling around the edge of the loch to the south end, we continued to follow the path through a field. Our back tyres slipped on the muddy grass, and we wished we had wider tyres, or maybe even proper mountain bikes for this trip. Beyond the next gate we stopped to check out an interesting-looking structure, which appeared to be a decaying old railway truck lying on its side.

Just the iron framework left from this old truck

Then it was back on the bikes, across a small ford and up a muddy slope to the top of the next rise. From there, the view to the south opened up, with our path running in a picturesque way along the side of a narrow grassy valley and down towards Boreland Farm. There was also a rounded hillock to our right, so we went up there for a better view, at which point a pair of ravens flew overhead in the direction of the nearby hilltops (Brown Dod and Dundreich).

Paused to enjoy the scenery

We took our time returning to the bikes, trying to make the moment last. We were really enjoying this outing, as it’s increasing rare for us to find a “new” track this close to home, far less one as nice as this. But once back on the bike, I let gravity take hold on the downhill ride that followed, and made a quick but bumpy descent towards farmland.

Downhill… Whoo-hoo!

Looking back the way we came

After the next gate, we reached Boreland Farm quite rapidly and stopped to consult the map. I decided not to go right past the farm cottages, but instead made a detour via Skiprig, which took us to a road leading to Portmore estate. However, we followed the road away from Portmore in the direction of Eddleston, as our destination was the Scots Pine cafe just outside the village.

Welcome though the tea and cakes were, we had another reason for visiting the cafe. On our previous visit the week before with the Lothian Cyclists, one of the party had forgotten to pay. So we volunteered to go back and pass on the overdue cash on her behalf. That made a great excuse for today’s outing and much more fun than going there by car!

The return leg saw us heading back uphill from the cafe towards Portmore House. Before reaching the house, we turned off left and followed a track that went quite steeply uphill and into the woods. After a while, the path became familiar from previous excursions in the area, and in due course brought us back to the north end of Portmore Loch. A quick, bumpy descent ensued, after which the bikes were lifted back over the locked gate and we were heading for home.

As the sun was now shining, we had hoped to stop and photograph the small diving bird at Gladhouse, but this time it wasn’t in its usual spot. Next time maybe. So there was nothing left to do but head home for a warm shower and a late lunch, and to reflect on what was a really enjoyable ride. Definitely one to do again!