Cycling in Midlothian (and elsewhere)

With some DIY duties lined up for this afternoon and the next day, and having missed out on some cycling opportunities already this week due to gardening, it was imperative to make the most of this morning. The forecast was for sunny intervals and there wasn’t a breath of wind in the air, so we decided on a trip to Peebles, taking in the Meldons on the way.

We headed out in the direction of Gladhouse Reservior, and quickly noticed that it was quite a bit cooler than we expected, and that the sun wasn’t actually managing to break through the clouds. This meant that we were relying on hill climbing to warm us up a bit. Luckily, there were quite a few on our chosen route!

From Gladhouse, we continued in the direction of Portmore Reservoir and after passing that, we went down the hill to Waterheads, where the road meets the Penicuik to Peebles main road.

We turned left onto the main road and cycled on a few miles till we reached Eddleston, where we turned right onto the Meldons road. It was a bit of a relief to leave the main road behind, even though the traffic wasn’t all that busy. In fact, quite a large proportion of the cars were carrying mountain bikes, presumably bound for the Glentress mountain bike centre.

Our route took us gently uphill into some territory that was new to us. There were some lovely vistas, but it wasn’t the best of days to capture them in a photo, due to the rather overcast nature of the day. Despite this, we stopped to take in one particularly fine view, where we met some very photogenic sheep.

Here’s looking at ewe…

As we passed through the highest point, I noticed that Colette was no longer with me, having stopped some way back to try some more photos of the scenery. I paused too, waiting for her return, when I was sure I could hear the sound of what seemed like distant jungle drums. When Colette caught up and we set off again, I wondered what was in store round the corner.

The Meldons on an overcast day. That white speck in the middle was emitting some thumping beats

As it happened, the first thing that I noticed was a cattle grid, which I went over a little too fast, bumping me so hard that one of my water bottles flew out of its holder and skidded across the road. When I stopped to pick it up, I could hear some loud rave music, which was coming from a small marquee some way up the hill on the right. Was there a rave in progress at about 10.30am on a Saturday morning? There was just one car parked next to the marquee and nobody to be seen other than a middle aged man in a wooly hat who emerged from the tent as we passed. Strange…

Along this part of the road, there were quite a few places to park and set up camp, and a caravaning family reminded me of the Granites during the summer, when families from Midlothian decamp to spend time in the countryside. The Meldons must be Peebles’ version of that.

The picturesque (on a good day!) Meldons road came to an end all too quickly, turning us out onto the A72, where we went left and headed in the direction of Peebles. A mile or so later, catching sight of Neidpath Castle, we just had to stop and take a photo. It has a wonderful location, overlooking the River Tweed from its lofty vantage point. We decided to take a closer look, but the gate was locked, due to a wedding being held that day.

Neidpath Castle as spied from the A72

Arriving in Peebles, we made a slight excursion over the bridge to use the facilities, then headed back through the town going in the direction of Innerleithen. After passing Peebles Hydro, we took the next left, leading up to a newish cycle path. This takes the general route of the old Tweed railway, being mostly flat and very smooth, making for some fairly rapid progress. At one point, the path goes down through a tunnel, and when you’re halfway through, all you can see is the light at the other end, not the path beneath your wheels. Quite an odd feeling, especially if you are going quite fast!

The path continued through Cardrona; the countryside between there and Innerleithen was like Scotland on a calendar, with golfers golfing to the left and anglers salmon fishing in the Tweed on the right. We pulled in to Innerleithen at what looked like an old station, then got back out onto the road, stopping in town at the bakers for a selection of cakes. We then found ourself a nice bench at the waterside and ate our lunch.

The final part of the cycle trip was up through the Granites in the direction of home. We have done this quite a few times already this year, but we got our biggest scare this time, when a car overtook an oncoming van, apparently oblivious to our presence. It only just pulled back over in time to avoid wiping us out. It’s the sort of thing that can spoil your day if you let it – best to just put it out of your mind rather than dwelling on it. Still, I’d had enough of fast cars for one day, so we went home the quiet, hilly way, rather than rejoin the A7 for the last half mile or so like we normally do.

Easter Monday was set to be a sunny one, at least in the afternoon, but the rest of the week wasn’t looking so good, forecast-wise. So this was a day for fitting in a good long ride. Our previous longest was a 58 mile round trip to North Berwick, and we were dead on our feet at the end of that one. But the thing is, if we had just ridden for 4 more miles, we’d have done a total of 62, or to put it another way, we’d have hit the impressive sounding milestone of 100 kilometres.  If we were going to reach this milestone without risk of medical emergency, a few things were going to have to change compared to our previous longest ride. Firstly, we would use our road bikes, which are lighter and should be less tiring to ride. Secondly, the route (another North Berwick round trip) would take a much less hilly route overall. Thirdly, we were going to take a much longer break for lunch and eat and drink plenty during the ride, as lack of rest surely contributed to our problems last time. And finally, the ace up our sleeve: the wind was coming from an Easterly direction (quite appropriate, for Easter Monday). That meant that for our final few miles, the wind would be helping us rather than sapping our last reserves of strength.

We headed off down the A7 on a slightly misty morning, with me feeling a little chilled after deciding to leave my windproof jacket at home. The route took us through Newtongrange and into Dalkeith, where we mostly followed the cycle path to Musselburgh. After riding through the town centre and past the racecourse, we turned left at the roundabout, bringing us onto the coast road to North Berwick. We took a brief break at Longniddry Bents to share the first of four cereal bars that we’d brought along for extra energy. As we cycled along, the sun very gradually burned off the mist and it began to get warmer. However, on the more exposed areas, the headwind made its presence felt, and we slowed down quite a bit.

Dirleton Castle

As we passed Dirleton, we paused on the verge for a quick piccie of the castle, but then found it hard to get back onto the road again for the traffic: everyone seemed to be heading to North Berwick. There were some roadworks leading into North Berwick which held us up a bit, but finally we got through them and made a bee-line for the chip shop, as it was lunchtime. Colette and I shared fish & chips, along with cups of very hot tea which took a while to cool, forcing us to take a decent long break. We sat on a wall to do that, eating our lunch in the warm sun and watching the world go by. After that we moved to the beach front, where Colette spent a while taking photos and I shivered in the cold onshore wind, finally taking refuge in a bus shelter.

Kite surfing at North Berwick, with Bass Rock in the background

Leaving North Berwick, we followed the coast road round to Tantallon, past some spectacular scenery. We then cycled up close to Tantallon Castle get a better photo, but to get right up would have required parting with the cash for the entry fee. As I was worried about the rest of the ride, I persuaded Colette to leave it for another day and we carried on. Getting a membership for Historic Scotland would be a good idea, so we could drop in on such places for as short or as long a visit as we like, and not feel the need to get our money’s worth on the entry fee each time. Watch this space…

Tantallon Castle, from a distance…

Next, we followed the road away from the coast, past Whitekirk and Tyninghame, feeling the benefit of the wind behind us for the first time. We then turned west at the A199, riding along the adjoining cycle path to East Linton, where we took the cycle route headed towards Haddington. That went us past Hailes Castle, where we stopped for another break and shared another cereal bar.

We continued along quiet roads until we reached Haddington for a comfort break. Our route took us south out of Haddington, then west, passing south of Pencaitland and through West Saltoun. Here, we encountered some positive gradients which felt unfamiliar to the legs, the route having been predominantly flat up till then. We zig-zagged along a few minor roads, taking us past Windy Mains saw mill and down to the ford at Costerton, where our final cereal bar was dispatched.

It felt like the pace was slowing quite a bit as we continued towards home. However, the A68 as we approached looked very busy, so we had to keep our wits about us for the few hundred yards of main road that were needed before turning off onto the B6458 to Tynehead. A few minutes down that road, Colette said the wanted a break because her wrists were feeling sore after absorbing all the shocks from uneven road surfaces and potholes.. Taking stock of my own aches and pains, my right albow was quite weak and sore, but to be honest it was like that from just a few miles in, although gradually getting more noticeable as the ride wore on. My wrists and hands however were holding up much better than on previous long rides, possibly down to having drop bars on my road bike which lets me shift to different hand positions every now and then.

The final few miles took a bit longer than expected, due to very long waits at the roadworks traffic lights, but once onto the A7 and heading for home, the wind was at our backs again and we sped along at quite a lick. Before long, we were home with very satisfied smiles across our faces! We had a well deserved big dinner and an early bed. So early in fact, that when I was woken later by agonising cramp in my thighs, at what I thought was the middle of the night, the clock said it was just 10 past 10! Despite the aches and pains, it was well worth it, but that means we now have to start aiming at the next milestone!

Megget, Talla and Fruid – they sound like they could be the three witches from Macbeth, but actually they are three reservoirs in the Borders. There is no circular route that links up all three, so we decided to start at Megget and cycle to the end of Fruid, then reverse the route.

We parked at the viewpoint / car park just beyond Megget dam and got our bikes ready. A high pressure area had slipped over the country and we were going to make the most of it. The sky was clear and the sun shining, but there was a fairly stiff westerly breeze which we hadn’t anticipated. No matter, we set off into the wind and made our way sedately along the single track road. Pretty soon, we passed a house that had an unusual display of wellies in its front garden. Cue first photo stop of the day!

Old wellies re-gnomed

At the end of Megget reservoir, the road started climbing and winding through some very picturesque countryside. The slight gradient and headwind conspired to slow us to a crawl till we finally got to the top. We then started descending towards Talla reservoir but as soon as the next valley came into sight, we stopped in our tracks to admire the magnificent view.

Talla reservoir, just perfect…

We then descended carefully – the road here had a 20% gradient, so much brake rubber was used in slowing us down to a manageable speed! We then passed the head of the loch and skirted along one side in the direction of the dam, on a flat, straight road. The hills towered above us on either side, their improbably steep grassy slopes dotted with grazing sheep.

Talla dam and associated quaintness

At the end of the reservoir, we came to the dam with a cute round building situated in the water just off-shore and a white painted cast iron walkway leading up to it. In all probability, it houses some stout metal winding gear for controlling the flow of water, but I’d like to imagine it occupied by some eccentric fellow who might invite us in for tea and share the view through the panoramic windows.

After a pause to admire a rather larger stately home for sale close to the dam, we headed downhill again and came to the small village of Tweedsmuir. There we turned left, following the sign for Fruid reservoir. The Fruid road went through some forestry and suffered from terrible potholes for a mile or so before returning to good quality again as we got closer to the reservoir. We approached the dam end first, so the road rose steeply for a short while before reaching a car park at the top of the dam. This reservoir was built in 1969, and the accompanying squat, utilitarian, concrete building was very much of that age. It does feel very out of place but I kind of like it, and the fact that it is taking on a natural weathered stone look.

From there, a road runs down the length of the reservoir to the other end. We followed it all the way, struggling a bit into the headwind, and found a farm at the far end. The road did appear to continue a bit beyond the farm, but the way it passed through the garden and looped round the back of the farmhouse made us decide that was far enough. We turned round and went back for a short while before stopping and breaking out the pincic on the grass at the side of the water.

Lunchtime at Fruid

It was a lovely peaceful place to stop for lunch, hemmed in on all sides by grassy hills and not a sound to be heard, apart from the occasional bird. After eating, I lay back and warmed myself in the sun for a while.

When it was time to head back, we set off at a good pace, with the wind now at our backs. Back through Tweedsmuir and up to Talla, we started to encounter a few more cars, but they were still few and far between. Riding towards the head of Talla reservoir, the steep hill that we needed to climb was looming large. Finally, we reached it and resigned ourselves to a long grinding climb. It was definitely one of the hardest hills I’ve ever climbed, but somehow I managed to get back to the viewpoint without stalling, so I stopped there to admire the view once more, and more importantly have a good rest! After a while Colette caught up. I thought she might like a good breather too, but she was keen to finish off the climb, so we carried on and completed the final section.

Climbing the “Wall of Talla”. Who’s that handsome yellow dot in the distance?

After that, we had a great freewheel down the other side, leaning left and right through the corners as the road zigg-zagged its way down the hill. We reached Megget again and rode along with a degree of wind assistance, although not as much as we had been expecting, and we suspected that the wind had changed direction somewhat unfairly. The sun however had kept shining throughout our trip and stayed clear of the impressive cirrus clouds that had appeared. Although we were beginning to tire when the car came into view after a total of 28 miles cycling, we felt we’d had a really great day out and were so lucky to have been there in such beautiful weather.

We have ridden up to Portmore Reservoir before and explored some of the tracks running through the adjoining woods, but it wasn’t till recently that I looked at the map of the area closely and saw that there are the remains of a hill fort there. The aerial photography on Google maps shows some impressive rings, known as the Northshield Rings, which are earthworks associated with the fort. So we just had to wait for a dry day to go for a visit…

It was dry and sunny on our chosen day, but there was quite a strong westerly breeze. It was a real struggle cycling up past Gladhouse Reservoir straight into that wind, so we arrived at the bottom of the track to Portmore at least 15 minutes later than usual. Colette was also sporting a compression bandage for a sprained wrist and maybe shouldn’t have risked riding with it, but we hadn’t been on our bikes for quite a few days and she was willing to take the chance just to get out at last.

Our bikes, after lifting over the gate

We rode up the bumpy track to the reservoir then turned right, picking our way round the potholes / puddles until we came to a left turn running steeply uphill away from the main track. I forgot to bring any form of map, but in my mind it was quite simple – just carry on upwards with pine trees on the left of the track and a deciduous wood on the right, and we should get there. On a previous occasion, I think I managed to ride all the way up this hill, but this time I was struggling. The track was steep, rocky and muddy, and I gave up after a while to push instead. I looked back and Colette was doing the same.

Muddy tracks – better off riding on the verge

The track then started to level off and at the top was filled all the way across by a huge puddle. The only option was to cycle across, which was luckily uneventful. At the other end of the puddle, the trees on the left gave way to open scrub and we arrived at a very muddy junction, where keeping pedalling was again the best option. For some reason, I decided to take the right fork rather than going straight on. This took us down through pine trees, which felt wrong, so we stopped after a short while and thought about going back the way. However, there was a clearing between the pines leading upwards to a birch wood. As my memory of the map was the hill fort being at the highest point, that seemed like the way to go, so we wheeled our bikes up the clearing and through the birch trees.

Standing in the rings

Fairly soon, the land ahead opened out again onto heather and the rings came into view. It was to be said that the rings are much more impressive from an aerial view than actually on the ground. It would be easy to mistake them for some kind of drainage works, and indeed I realised that I had done this when we went past this area last year. We walked through the ditches and over the rings till we got to the centre. It was only when we were actually in the ditches between the rings that we could properly appreciate their size, rising maybe 8 feet. The central area was a surprisingly large and could have housed quite a number of families, if indeed it was that kind of place. The heather here was scorched, which might be necessary to prevent the rings from disappearing totally into the undergrowth.

The view from Northfield Rings, out over Portmore Reservoir and beyond

I’m not sure if much is known about the age or history of the place, but it was reminiscent of White Castle fort, an iron age fort in the Lammermuirs that we paid a brief visit last year. One thing they both had in common was a terrific view.

On the far side of the rings from where we arrived was the track that we should have taken to get there. We rode round to it and began our return journey. We now had some steep downhill track to negotiate, which was quite exhilirating. I reached the bottom ahead of Colette and turned onto the main track just in time to see a Land Rover coming in my direction. The driver, apparently a gamekeeper or similar, involved with managing the estate, stopped to have a word. He warned me that they do a lot of shooting in the woods to “control” the deer, and strongly advised us not to use the tracks through the woods, including the one we I had just emerged from. I asked if there was any part of the year when it would be OK, but he said they shoot all year round. But apparently it would be OK to stick to the main track that leads down to Portmore House and the one on the other side of the reservoir, that leads to Eddleston.

I said that we had gone to see the rings; he replied that quite a lot of people do that and he can’t stop them, but basically he doesn’t like it and strongly advises people to stay out of the woods. Colette arrived and we said goodbye to the man and went on our way. He had been extremely polite about it, but I couldn’t help feeling disappointed – I’m not sure I would be happy going back even though we have the “right to roam” on our side. On the other hand, it was good to hear that the main track is still OK to use, and I can think of ways to make a nice circular route taking us round to the other side of the reservoir.

It was late morning by now, so it was time to think of heading back home for lunch. The return trip was so much quicker with the wind at our backs – we were zooming along at 20mph+ for much of the return journey!

Looking back on the day, it was great to get out there to see the Northshield Rings up close and to imagine what it might have felt like to live there all those centuries ago, but sadly, I think probably we won’t be going back.

The second of the two outings that I’d organised for the Lothian Cyclists came round quickly, and I was looking anxiously at the weather forecast, wondering if we’d need to cancel. The latest forecast when we set out was for a cold easterly breeze, bringing overcast skies and light rain in the afternoon. Probably not too bad to call it off, but nothing like the brilliant blue skies we had last week.

We arrived at Ormiston Station car park for our departure, having got slightly confused en route by the sight of another group of cyclists massing in the centre of Ormiston. We weren’t the only ones to get confused, but luckily none of our number ended up going off with the wrong group.

Three of our group: Alison, Willie and Stewart cycled in from Edinburgh, so they were in for an extra long day – all of them in training for big cycling events later in the year.

So we set off under Puddle Bridge and along the Pencaitland Railway walk, heading roughly southeast. This route can be muddy at times, but it was quite manageable for the ones who came along with skinny tyres, despite some recent rain. At the end of the railway path, we turned right, climbing gently for a mile or so. The sun was just about breaking through the haze; enough to cast a weak shadow and warm us up a little, so several of us shed our outer layers.

Next, we headed steeply downhill into Keith Glen, then climbed sharply out of it, followed by a more gradual climb until we were almost at Humbie. The group predictably stretched out due to our varying climbing abilities, so we gathered together at the top of the hill before continuing.

Our route then took us along the undulating B6368 in the direction of Gifford, but we were taking the long way round, which involved turning right after Hattonhill farm. We then followed a winding route along the foothills of the Lammermuirs, although views of the hills were a bit hazy.

Make way… if you know what’s good for you!

We passed the multicoloured terraces of Long Newton and stopped when we reached Pishwanton Wood. Willie announced that he was going to take a “comfort break” behind one of the trees, till I pointed out the composting toilet that had been built there, by the Pishwanton Project. After he returned, Fiona said she was going to use it too, but as we were close to our cafe stop, I thought she might prefer to wait, since in my experience, sitting down on a composting toliet was “not as much fun as an ordinary toilet.” That choice of words had them all in stitches and it may take me some time to live it down!

Titter-ye not!

So we carried on our way, passing the low-domed, turf-roofed “hobbit house” on our way. As we looked in, we could see the inhabitants (hobbitses?) looking back at us, apparently having their lunch break. With that in mind, we made a move on and headed for Gifford ready for a good feed.

Mmm… freshly baked fruit scones

Arriving at the cafe “Love Coffee… and Food”, it looked quite busy already, but there were in fact plenty of tables and chairs to accommodate a sudden influx of cyclists. As I had given some advance warning of our arrival, Pam had put a quiche in the oven specially. We were a bit ahead of schedule, so the quiche wasn’t quite ready, but it was certainly worth the wait! Colette and Tony had eyed up the tempting bowl of fruit scones for afters, but there wasn’t any room left after the delicious quiche.

The Gifford Road Race had taken place just 2 days before, and Craig said the cafe was incredibly busy on that day. It sounds like quite a spectacle, with cyclists speeding and battling for position along the main road through Gifford. Worth coming back to see next year…

Enjoying the downhill…

After our extended lunch break, we had a mile long climb ahead of us, which was tackled at quite a sedate pace for my part. After that, we were going predominantly downhill for quite a long time. We paused at a junction at a place called Morham Loanhead, where Tony B made a graceful but unplanned dismount from his bike, rolling onto the grass verge. He was not this first of us to do this, and probably won’t be the last! Fiona missed it, but Tony couldn’t be persuaded to put on a repeat performance.

Who needs a helmet when you can have one of these!

By the time we reached the next junction, it was starting to get chillier and more overcast again. The jackets went back on, and Tony M’s furry helmet made an appearance. We then turned onto some very flat roads and made good speed with the east wind at our backs.

We made our way onto the B6355, which took us along the eastern edge of Pencaitland, then skirted the substantial grounds of Winton House. At the north gates to the house, we stopped and collected together again, then turned left onto a narrow road, which became a dirt track, and took us back to Puddle Bridge. There we said our goodbyes and set off home after a very pleasant amble through the East Lothian countryside. As for the promised rain, it started just as soon as we drove off out of Ormiston.

A few weeks ago I agreed to come up with a couple of rides for the Lothian Cyclists, and this was the first of them. By some fluke of luck, I chose a day where the sun shone pretty much unobstructed from dawn till dusk. That meant that it was still quite chilly when we met up at our start point in North Middleton.

Our group of nine crossed the A7 and skirted past the limeworks on our way up to Gladhouse Reservoir. It was quite a hilly start to the day, but the sunshine, the views and the company meant that we barely noticed it. Soon we reached the reservoir, where there were a few patches of ice in the shaded sections to look out for, in addition to the view across the water. It was also slightly breezy; more than expected from the weather forecast, but not troublesome.

Gathering together at Gladhouse Reservoir

After the reservoir, we took the left turn and rode up as far as the layby taking us into the plantation at Toxside Moss. Here we encountered some bumpy, muddy and puddly bits, which weren’t to everyone’s liking unfortunately. Then we came to two long parallel puddles in ruts on the track. Colette called out “Don’t stop pedalling!” but a couple of the group didn’t take heed and then found out what happens if you do stop. There were some damp feet as a result, but we didn’t hear any complaints of frozen toes later on, so it could have been worse!

Some of us with the benefit of suspension forks took the opportunity to speed along the track for fun, and the rest of the group caught up at the far end of the off-road section. There we noticed a sad-looking little donkey in the field alongside. While we cooed over him, he resolutely refused to look at any of us, and did nothing save for sticking his tongue out as soon as the camera was packed away. Sad maybe, but definitely some attitude going on there!

Donkey!

We then carried on along the road to Mount Lothian at good pace, then turned left at the crossroads going in the direction of Penicuik. The final approach to the town is via a steep and quite windy downhill section. I was pulling my brake levers full against the handlebar and realised that it was time for some new brake blocks! Thankfully there was still enough left to see me safely downhill.

Turning right onto the main road into Penicuik and across the bridge, we promptly turned right again to follow signs for the cycle route that runs along the old Penicuik to Dalkeith railway line. The path was nice and quiet, and I found myself towards the back, looking at the group cycling and chatting up ahead. I think someone wasn’t paying attention, because a cyclist coming the other way had to swerve off the path and stop on the verge in the face of the oncoming group. All I could do was give him an apologetic wave as I went past. It goes to show that just because you’re not on the road, doesn’t mean you can stop paying attention.

After crossing the road at Rosewell, we followed the now paved path into Bonnyrigg, where it got busier with dog walkers. When we reached the new hospital, we rode through the car park and out the other end, where we came to our lunch stop: the Orchard Cafe at Mayshade Garden Centre.

It is a good thing that the cafe has expanded so much over the past year or so, so it could easily accommodate a sudden influx of cyclists. I couldn’t resist the bangers and mash, although Colette’s ciabatta was very well filled with roast beef. I think everyone was happy with their choice and well fed by the time we left.

To get back on track, we left the garden centre, crossed the road and through the hospital car park so we could cross the footbridge leading to Tesco. We followed the detour signs for the cycle route, around the workings for the new Borders railway, then zig-zagged through Eskbank till we found ourselves at Newbattle Abbey.

The ride through the wooded grounds alongside the river was as pleasant as ever. We rode single file there, as the dangers of riding two-abreast were more plain to see: going off-course to the left could have had unfortunate consequences. It was all plain sailing until we attempted to follow the path from the abbey grounds into Waterfall Park. A white van had decided to park itself on the path, completely blocking it. We had to drag our bikes through brambles to get round it, and we were thankful that nobody picked up a p*nct*re.

From the park, we made our way through Woodburn and towards Dalkeith High School campus following cycle route 1. After the school, we noticed signs saying cycle route closed ahead. That started me thinking of alternative routes, none of which were all that obvious, although Stewart had brought a map with him, which would have come in handy. As it turned out, there was work being carried out on electricity pylons, just after the point where the path runs underneath the A68. We didn’t have long to ponder the situation before a man emerged from a van and waved us through. So we manouvered our bikes and ourselves under / over / around the barricades and thanked the chap for allowing us to keep to our original route.

That route, still amazingly going 100% according to plan, took us to the Crossgatehall junction and from there to the start of the railway path that goes to Ormiston and Pencaitland. For our purposes, we only needed follow it for a couple of miles, before taking a small path leading off to the right down a dip and across a small wooden bridge before climbing again on the other side. Colette stood and took photos of us crossing the bridge one-by-one, but there were no dramatic spills to be captured.

At the end of the narrow track, we came back onto tarmac, well I’m sure there was tarmac somewhere beneath all the loose gravel. We had effectively bypassed Cousland and were on quiet roads surrounding the village. So it was surprising that we saw so many cars, until we realised it was the afternoon school run time. At least one of the drivers clearly wasn’t very cyclist tolerant, and appeared to be fuming at having to slow down to pass us safely. It really was quite a surprising reaction, but then again, she might just have been having a bad day.

Meanwhile, we were having a lovely day, gently making our way towards Pathhead. Perhaps the pace was a tad too gentle – Colette and I found ourselves at the front and shouts of “speed up” were heard from the back.

It was like a different world once we reached Pathhead. The A68 was just so busy and the cars behind us were impatient to turn into the stream of traffic. We needed to do that too, but only for a short distance, as we were taking a left turn for Crichton at the bottom of the village. Finally, we got our chance to jump into the river and pulled over at the opposite bank just a bit further downstream. Away from the roar of the traffic, the pace was once again dialed back to “enjoy”.

The road from Pathhead to Crichton starts off level but starts to climb quite steeply by the time you reach the village (“hamlet” is probably a better description). With our climbing legs warmed up, we gathered at the T-junction in Crichton and discussed the various approaches to hill climbing. The forthcoming steep descent and equally steep ascent were foremost in our minds. The submissive approach was the most popular for this particular climb, and most of us chose either to slug it out in lowest gear or to “stop and take pictures of the scenery” along the road. Mind you, some of the best views of Crichton Castle are from this part of the road. Moving on…

A lovely view of Crichton Castle, taken whilst stationary…

The road then took us into Borthwick, via a lovely hairpin bend over the Borders railway line, made a bit more tricky by debris from the ongoing construction works, to a flat valley overlooked by Borthwick Castle. It has to be said that the final hill up past the old school and back into North Middleton was indecently steep for this late stage of the route (sorry about that), but we had all had such a lovely day that nobody really cared.

As a postscript, while we were waiting on the traffic at Pathhead, Janette reminded me of the ride a couple of weeks previous where I thought I’d lost my jacket, and how she thought the whole escapade was hilarious. I agreed and put it down to getting older, but then guess who should phone up later to report some missing gloves, left on the roof of the car before driving off? OK, so the gloves were genuinely left behind in this case, rather than hiding on the back seat of the car, but luckily Fiona had already spotted them and picked them up. Whether it’s old age or not, and arguably none of us are exactly immune to that, I say just relax and enjoy the cycling!

A few weeks ago, Colette was speaking to someone who thoroughly recommended Kielder Water for a nice day’s cycling, so we looked into it straight away. There is a lakeside track running right round the whole perimeter of the lake, and being the largest artificial lake in the UK, that amounts to a pretty reasonable 26 miles of pedalling. We knew this week was forecast to be calm and clear, so we planned our visit on a bright sunny Wednesday in the middle of March.

The run down to Northumbria in the morning was beautiful, and once we left the main roads behind, there appeared to be endless almost deserted country roads that would be idyllic to cycle along. However, we kept to the plan and arrived at Kielder Water at about 10.30am, raring to go. We parked at a place called Bakethin near the top end of the lake and made the decision to go clockwise, so that we would arrive at Leaplish waterside park about lunchtime; if we went the other way, we would get there too soon.

The Kielder Forest, carpetted in moss

We headed off along the Lakeside Way, taking us into the Kielder Forest for the first time. Immediately we found that out of the sun, it was still very nippy. I stopped and put on another layer almost straight away. We then followed the path up to the north end of the reservoir, along an almost flat and well kept path. Any thoughts of a gentle amble all the way round were soon dispelled when we hit some serious undulations. The short, sharp “hills” were made that bit more difficult by the thin layer of mud coating the surface of the path. It slowed us down a fair bit but didn’t spoil the enjoyment too much. I’m sure the mud will dry out after a good spell of dry weather, making the route much easier.

Colette at the Janus Chairs

The side of the lake is dotted with various artistic installations and other points of interest. We didn’t have time to make a stop for them all, but we enjoyed the Janus Chairs and the Salmon Cubes, and went inside the Belvedere for a wee rest. We might have investigated the Wave Chamber, but the route to it was thick with mud.

A salmon cube – this one represents the shimmering scales

As we cycled along, we started to get glimpses of the dam, but it took a long time to get there, due to the route looping round all the inlets and making energy-sapping climbs up into the woods. Finally, we reached Hawkhope car park at the north end of the dam. The car park was deserted and the loos firmly locked.

We paused to admire the dam, which was completed in 1981 – it certainly is a massive piece of work, and not surprisingly, due to the record rainfall this winter, it was pretty much full to capacity. I wondered whether any villages were submerged beneath the dark, still waters, and I got to thinking about that spooky French series, The Returned.

We pedalled on over the dam then rejoined the lakeside path. After a while, we reached Tower Knowe visitor centre (although at the time, I thought it was Leaplish). There were buildings with massive writing painted onto them, including one with “CAFE”, which was encouraging as we were starving by this point. Unfortunately it was closed, but there were at least some toilet facilities. We used the loos and had a small feast of jelly babies in place of lunch before geting back on the trail.

The trail continued to be well signposted for the most part, although we managed to take the wrong turning at one point, forcing us to push the bikes over some soggy grass to regain the track rather than suffer the humiliation of retracing our steps. Call it an optional excursion from the recommended path.

The lakeside path also employed some of the old road, which was just above water level here. In some places you could see bits of the old road running right down into the water, like a slipway. One thing we noticed however was that Leaplish was signposted ahead, so we realised that the centre we had just visited wasn’t Leaplish after all, and we still had some hope of getting our lunch and a nice hot cup of tea.

Eventually we rolled up at Leaplish and saw some activity round the car park and people using the picnic benches. We headed to the restaurant, where we could hear activity, only to be told by a lady on the door that they weren’t open today. Oh well, that was that, no lunch for us! At least we weren’t too far from completing the loop to our starting point.

Lovely curved bridge

The next bit of the trail was possibly the most enjoyable, being out in the open, with a well dried-out track and taking a pleasantly meandering route. We stopped again just as we re-entered the forest at a peaceful inlet which was spanned by an interesting curved bridge. Then it was back onto the bikes and into low gear for another set of switchbacks climbing back up into the woods. There was the start of a proper “red” mountain bike trail here, but judging by the state we were in after following the lakeside trail, I don’t think we’re up to that level of difficulty! I also wasn’t so sure whether the bikes would have been up to it either, as both of them were making some disconcerting noises of complaint and were kind of “tarred and feathered” with a thick coating of mud and pine needles.

I stopped to check the GPS at one point and found that we were no more than a mile away from the start point, so we pressed on, feeling the end was within reach. So we were stunned and speechless when we found that the trail ahead had been blocked off for tree felling. We could see the lumberjacks at work with their chainsaws and the trees coming crashing down. There was no way of knowing how long they were going to be at work, so we weighed up the alternatives to just sitting and waiting. We could back track to an adandoned car park we had passed a few miles back, which would surely give us access to the road, and could then return by tarmac. But there was also a sort of clearing running through the trees and roughly in the direction we wanted to go. It was perhaps a rash decision, but we opted to carry our bikes over through the clearing.

Colette started off and immediately slipped down a ditch. No harm done, apart from soggy feet. I helped her up and we carried on carefully across country. The going was very difficult, as the ground was a meshwork of rotting branches covered with moss. You had to choose your path carefully and also avoid the brambles, which got caught in pedals and feet and clothing. After maybe 100 yards of slow progress, we came out at a path, which turned out to be the other end of the closed-off section. We were very relieved, as the cross-country option had the potential for going badly wrong!

So we hopped back on our bikes, and round the next corner we came back to the car. The filthy bikes were packed up and we headed home where we treated ourselves to a Chinese takeaway to make up for the missing lunch stop. Looking back on it, it was a good day out, although it would certainly be more enjoyable later in the year with a dry track and once the facilities open up. As for the bikes, we gave them a good clean and oiling the next day and they seem to be working a lot better now!

We arrived at Fisherrow Harbour early for this Lothian Cyclists outing. The weather was forecast to be sunny and relatively warm, which made it tricky to decide exactly how many layers to wear. After unloading the bikes, I decided that I would start without my jacket and folded it up neatly to stow away underneath the spring clip of my pannier rack. Everything was ready to go when I couldn’t find the car keys to lock up. So all our bags and coats were searched multiple times as well as inside and underneath the car. I had just about given up all hope of finding the keys when I finally noticed that I’d put them down on the bonnet. D’oh!

Musselburgh Harbour on a fine March morning

By this time the rest had arrived and led by Alison, we made our way, a little late, along the coast going east out of Musselburgh. Our route took us past Cockenzie power station; that familiar part of the Forth landscape, now under demolition. After we passed that, we turned towards the harbour and followed a seaside track until it met up with the road again at Port Seton.

At that point, I noticed that I had a puncture in my front tyre. Luckily, the pavement where I fixed it was like a suntrap, so it wasn’t that unpleasant a delay. Scott helped me by finding the offending article, a sharp thorn-shaped piece of dark glass or stone. We got underway again, with me hoping that I didn’t get another puncture, as I only brought the one spare inner tube.

After catching up the others, who were waiting at the entrance to one of the car parks along Longniddry Bents, I noticed that my jacket was no longer in place on my pannier rack. I backtracked for a bit but couldn’t find it, so made a mental note to return by car afterwards in case I could find it by the side of the road., then I raced on to catch everyone up again.

Route 76 between Longniddry and Haddington

We skirted the edge of Longniddry then took a right which led us to a disused railway track, heading in the direction of Haddington. Colette and I found ourselves towards the front, so after a while we stopped to let the rest of the group catch up. That was when I noticed that Colette’s front tyre was punctured too! Bad things happen in threes after all – two punctures and a lost coat, so I was hopeful that there were no more unpleasant surprises in store. It was certainly very lucky that Norah had similar sized tyres to us and was able to offer Colette her spare inner tube, which we very gratefully received. Thanks also to Tony for helping with the pumping up using his old but very efficient long handled pump.

The puncture fairy paid us another visit

So after all that mallarkey, we arrived in Haddington a lot later than expected. There we met Andrew, who set off a bit early in case we set too blistering a pace. In the end, he was waiting there for about an hour! We found a nice cafe and had lunch with bright sunlight streaming in through the windows. It got so warm that the door was eventually left open, and it was good to find that it was also pleasantly warm outside, as we left the cafe to retrieve our bikes.

The return leg was through flat farmland that lies to the south of Haddington. However, after West Saltoun the road started to get a bit more undulating, and Lisa, who had been having some technical problems with her mountain bike, opted to leave it by the roadside and get the bus back to base. We later found that she got home safely and intends to treat herself to a well-deserved new bike!

We then turned right onto the Pencaitland railway path, which we followed for its full length. At the far end, we regrouped and then divided up into those going back to Musselburgh and those heading back into Edinburgh. Those of us going to Musselburgh were in for a treat, as we freewheeled down past Carberry, then sped on into Musselburgh before the traffic slowed us down in the town centre. Soon we were back at the harbour and packing up to go back home.

We made a detour to trace the early part of the route as much as possible, but my bright green jacket was nowhere to be seen. It was not until we got home and Colette was unpacking the car that she discovered my coat was hiding under one of the seats! Then I remembered taking it off the rack to look for the car keys, and clearly I hadn’t put it back on after all. What a twit!!!

As a little postscript, the next day we went out for another ride, and discovered that Colette’s rear wheel and mine too both had slow punctures, meaning that we accumulated a total of 4 punctures between us in one outing. If this continues, we will have to get ourselves some bulletproof tyres!!!

The first day of meteorological spring started cold, clear, bright and sunny, so we decided to take the bikes to Haddington and ride some new roads. We have done Haddington to Dunbar before, but the return trip was simply the reverse of the outward one. This time I looked up a nice circular route on the computer, but our East Lothian Spokes map has gone missing so I had to scribble down some brief directions to save us from getting lost when we tried it out for real (more of that later).

We parked in Haddington and joined cycle route 76 taking us over the river and out the southeast end of Haddington. We parted from route 76 by taking a right turn and along a more hilly route which took us to the south side of Traprain Law. The ride alongside the massive rock outcrop was beautiful, and spring was certainly in the air, with the first sight of occasional oilseed rape flowers coming into bloom in the south facing fields.

Approach to Traprain Law

The scrap of paper with directions served me well until we shot past a left turn that I had forgotten to write down. As a result, we had to climb a stiff hill past a smelly pig farm, leading to a T-junction. The signpost said Dunbar left, but my bit of paper said we should go right. There are lots of roads criss-crossing through East Lothian and there must surely be more than one way to get to Dunbar. So right we went…

After a while, Colette commented that Traprain Law had reappeared on our right, and didn’t that mean we were going the wrong way? I was trying to ignore it, but there was no denying that we were now headed in the complete opposite direction to our destination. So we retraced our steps and headed for Dunbar according to the road signs.

After going through Stenton (which was not on the original planned route, and thus confused me greatly), we had a lovely freewheel ride down to where the road met the busy A1 at a roundabout. Here my pre-planning came good again, as we went straight across and took an exit that seemed to lead to a commercial unit. However, a concrete road skirted past it and joined up with West Barns. We then turned right and rode into Dunbar a little later than planned.

After picking up a couple of packets of chips, we headed down to the harbour to eat them. The drawbridge was up, preventing us from going to the far side, so we just parked ourselves alongside Fisher Lassie and got out our lunch. Colette however was distracted by the sight of dozens of eider ducks in the harbour, diving and coming up with what looked like little fish in their beaks. The gulls were mobbing them to get a slice of the action, but the ducks managed to keep their food for themselves.

Eider ducks

Chuck me a fish please!

There were also a couple of grey seals cruising around the harbour, which distracted Colette further from eating her chips. In fact, I finished mine and took some of hers while waiting, which I regretted as soon as I stood up. After struggling to locate a rubbish bin (there were loads of dog poo bins) I finally got shot of the chip leftovers and we started the return journey.

The sun had gone in temporarily and we were feeling quite cold after cooling down during lunch. The wind, light though it was, was against us on the return leg, so the effort warmed us up again. After a while we were passing Traprain Law again from the other side. We paused a while to admire the brave paragliders who were soaring in the breeze / thermals off the western cliff. I can’t imagine how anyone is able to throw themself off the cliff hoping that the parachute thing will do its job rather than just crumpling up and sending them plummeting to a rocky fate!

Just hangin’ at Traprain Law

We arrived back at the car feeling tired but actually glad of the extra few miles diversion, as it took the distance to just over 30 miles. The most wonderful thing of all was the lack of mud on us and the bikes. It is great to cycle somewhere that isn’t caked in gloopy mud, courtesy of the Borders Railway Project – we must do more away trips!

We met up with eight other of the Lothian Cyclists at South Queensferry for a group ride, heading off into the West Lothian countryside on a bright sunny morning. The route was chosen by Fiona, who knows someting about volcanoes as she is a geography teacher.

As we set off, I found my bike was playing up, with gears skipping at the back. This was a bit of a disappointment because I’d spent some time the day before trying to fine tune the gears. While I had been making adjustments, I noticed my chain was worn, so I went off and bought a new one and fitted it in time for the ride. The chain seemed to work perfectly, but I didn’t take it for a test ride. As it turned out, my lowest 4 gears were unusable, and the others only worked if I didn’t pedal hard. I suppose I could have called it a day there and then, but I decided to persevere and treat it as a challenge – and I could always get off and push if necessary.

We started out along the B800, then turned right into Dundas estate. As we turned, I could see lots of blue flashing lights on the B800 ahead, and it wasn’t until we got home after the ride that we learned it was for a 78 year-old cyclist who had tragically been knocked off and killed.

After the estate, we came out near Duntarvie Castle, which is a familiar landmark for travellers on the M9, and which has been festooned in scaffolding for what seems like decades. It was fascinating to finally see it from another angle.

Under the motorway we went, and through Winchburgh where we crossed over the Union canal. We then came to a place called Faucheldean, with a steep-sided bing, and where the road suddenly got steeper too. I stopped briefly when my gears failed me, then got back on in the lowest functional gear and pedalled as gently as possible to prevent skipping. It was like slow-motion pedalling, and I got left behind for a while till the road flattened off again.

Binny Crag (aka Binny Craig)

Another steady climb took us up to a vantage point where we could look over to Binny Crag – a volcanic outcrop, shaped by glaciers. After a short break, we got back on our bikes for a brief downhill interlude, followed by more climbing as we passed close to Cairnpapple Hill, the second of the day’s volcanic features. Then it was downhill all the way to Torphichen, where our line of bikes held up quite a queue of cars. They were all well behaved, but I do think we should split up into two groups on occasions like that, so the cars can overtake easier.

Avonbridge Viaduct

The route then took us past Avonbridge, where we paused to admire the Avonbridge Viaduct. After that, we weren’t far from our intended lunch stop – the Bridge 49  Cafe & Bistro at Muiravonside. We had stopped there on the previous week’s outing and were so impressed that we came back again this time! The cafe has a newly-constructed look to it, and has a fantastic location right next to the canal. On the previous outing, we had arrived during a deluge of rain, but this time there was bright sunshine, and it was almost good enough to contemplate eating outside. That would have been a bad idea, as it clouded over and started raining while we were eating our lunch. But luckily the rain ceased just as we were getting ready to leave.

The return leg took us past another impressive viaduct on our way to Linlithgow. From there, we took a route that led under the M9 once more and through the quiet hamlet of Abercorn. We then went through the Hopetoun estate, bringing us out onto a small road running right alongside the Forth estuary. This road took us past the new Forth crossing, still in its early stages of construction, and into South Queensferry, where our cars were waiting.

I thoroughly enjoyed the outing, despite the mechanical issues. It’s amazing that I managed to get round with half of my gears “missing”, but it isn’t to be recommended! Moral of the story: always do a test ride if you fiddle with your bike before a long run.