Cycling in Midlothian (and elsewhere)

As the coronavirus pandemic rages on and we stay safely indoors, people have looked to home-based challenges to give themselves something to focus on. We have had 99 year-old Captain Tom doing laps of his garden, and also Geraint Thomas doing three 12-hour shifts on Zwift in his garage, to mimic an NHS working week. Both of them were fundraising for NHS charities.

I joined G on Zwift for a small part of his challenge and when I finished after 2 hours, I found that I was feeling tired but fine. And by “fine”, I mean that my bum wasn’t sore!

The dreaded sore bum is a common occurrence, and well known to anyone who has ever used a static bike indoors. However, since changing saddles a few months ago, I have chanced upon a combo that is really comfortable. (…and if I might digress for a bit, that is specifically the Vertu saddle, a dirt cheap knockoff of the Tioga Spyder. It is basically a plastic saddle with a web-like mesh of holes. This makes the saddle that bit more flexible and springy, and therefore comfortable. However, it is essential to have some good padding between the saddle and your buttocks, otherwise they will end up with a crazy-paving-like imprint. So for belt and braces, I have added a gel saddle cover on top, and always wear padded shorts, of course.)

OK, all this meant that I could think about doing my own Zwift challenge. Not for any particular cause, but just to see if I could do it. I don’t exactly have much else to do. So I decided to aim to ride 100 miles in the virtual world of Watopia, all from the comfort and safety of my own home.

It would take a certain amount of planning, although not as much as a real-world 100 mile ride. First and foremost, I wanted it to be as genuine an attempt as possible, so I transferred the power meter crank from the road bike to my turbo trainer bike, as it is far more accurate than the power meter built into my Satori Smart trainer. Then I went to bed the night before wondering whether 2 or 3 breaks would be best, and when to take them. It began to niggle during the night that I hadn’t done any build-up rides. After all, I wouldn’t dream of riding 100 miles in real life if I hadn’t done any rides of much more than 20 miles in the past couple of months. The caveat to that was that I wouldn’t actually be moving an inch, so I could abort any time I liked. That settled it, and I was able to get to sleep.

I was up nice and early next morning, aiming for an 8am start. I had a good breakfast and got set up on the bike with a bunch of snacks alongside and two water bottles. I set off along the “Tempus fugit” loop, which runs through the desert and is popular because it is just so flat. It should be the speediest way to reach 100 miles.

Additionally, I was careful not to go too fast at the start, in order to conserve energy. I planned to keep the heart rate below 130, but even so, I felt my legs weren’t happy, which was a worry.

After two and a half laps of Tempus fugit, I decided to have a change of scene and headed downtown. That involved the odd short incline, during which I pushed a little harder, to save me slowing down too much. The increased effort made my legs feel better, so I decided to stick with the slightly increased work rate.

I ended up at the volcano and found myself riding round the counter-clockwise volcano loop.  This turned out to be a good idea, as it involved a bit of downhill, where I could stop pedalling and stand up on the pedals for a stretch while my avatar freewheeled. At that moment, top AG2R rider Romain Bardet and some of his teammates swept past me. Always good to spot some pros when on Zwift, and most of them are doing it now, even Chris Froome.

At 40 miles in, I had decided to take a break, so I went upstairs and made myself a sugary espresso, refilled the water bottles and also put some potatoes in the oven for lunch. After I’d finished my coffee and a small snack, I went back to the “pain cave”, picked up towel number 2 and got back at it.

It seemed like a good idea to stick with the volcano loop. Each time you complete a lap, you pass a counter that increases by one. There is a special achievement for going 25 laps, so I thought I might as well aim for that.

By somewhere around 50 miles in, fellow Zwifter James O’Neill had spotted that I was up to something, and commented on our Zwifting WhatsApp group: “Alan P smashing in a big Zwift effort currently”. So the cat was out the bag and I had to fess up about going for the century.

I passed the metric century mark (100 km = 62.something miles) and was still feeling good, so it was full steam ahead (well, about 2/3 steam actually) for the 100 mile goal. Messages of encouragement came in, keeping me focused.

Colette had been out riding in the real world, then returned with an espresso in hand. The potatoes were nearly ready, so I decided to pause for lunch at 75 miles. I bounded upstairs, still feeling surprisingly sprightly. My baked potato was was lovely with cheese and coleslaw. I took time for a cuppa, then water bottles were refilled and towel number 3 taken.

I rode night and day…

When I got back on the bike however, my legs decided that they had other ideas. I was able to continue cycling, but at a lower intensity, which was steadily decreasing. Then at about the 90 mile mark, my bum finally started to feel uncomfortable too. The encouraging comments over WhatsApp were really helpful to keep me going.

It wasn’t until nearly 99 miles that I reached the goal of 25 volcano laps, and I was officially “On Fire”! You’re not kidding! After that, I just had to limp on slowly until I pedalled past the 100 mile goal, continuing for a little more till I got to the downhill section and stood up for the final time before dismounting.

So it was over, taking a total of 5 hours 25 minutes of cycling time, at an astonishing average of 18.5 miles per hour. There is no way in real life that I could complete the distance in that time, but I know my watts were as accurate as I could get, and not exactly stratospheric at that (126 W average)! It’s just the way Watopia works and it’s the same for everyone, so I’m not complaining. I’m certain that I couldn’t have kept going for another hour!!!

It was a good feeling to have achieved the challenge, so I put my feet up for a good long rest, only disturbed by a couple of bouts of cramp (ow ow ow!!!). Will I do another Zwift challenge? Well probably not this one again, but if the lockdown continues for the foreseeable future, I’m sure to find another…

Coronavirus, social distancing, self isolation, unprecedented; just some of the candidates for word of the year 2020. It came out of the blue and turned our lives upside down, as we all stay at home to prevent the spread of the virus. Some people have had it really hard, but as a retired couple whose main pastime is cycling, Colette and I have been less badly affected than most. On one hand, we’ve missed out on two big foreign cycling trips that we’ve been looking forward to for months, but at least we can still continue to cycle locally.

That’s because cycling is one of the permitted exercise activities (in addition to walking and running) during the lockdown that started on 23 March. The number of times a day you can exercise, and for how long is not specified in law, but in providing clarity, government minister Michael Gove stated that one session a day of duration 1 hour for a walk, 30 minutes for a run and between 30 mins and an hour for cycling would be appropriate. Though he did say that it depended on an individual’s fitness.

How to interpret these guidelines is down to the individual, but as long as social distancing can be effectively observed during the exercise, I can’t see a problem with going out for more than an hour, especially for someone of above average fitness. For my own part, I have decided to plan rides that should take about an hour, but not beat myself up if it takes a little longer to complete.

In a way, we have gone back to the beginning of this blog, where we were cycling exclusively in Midlothian. Luckily, there are plenty of local roads to devise rides of 15-20 miles distance, and I can mix it up a bit so that we’re not doing the same routes all the time.

For some reason that we haven’t figured out yet, Colette and I prefer going out on our rides separately now. Maybe we just need some apart time, and it means that we can concentrate on going at our own pace, although strangely, Colette seems to be going faster on her own than she would with me!

Moving on to the day in question, Colette got out nice and early while I was still pondering whether to go at all, as I’d had a bad night’s sleep. The news that the prime minister had been taken into hospital the night before with worsening Covid19 symptoms was worrying. That, combined with a pulsing septic finger (the result of a chainring bolt tightening accident), made for a poor night’s rest.

However, the sun was shining, so I got my bike out and tried holding the bars and changing gear. The finger was fine, so I had no excuse – it was time to get off my backside.

I got ready and set off. It was quite a chilly morning, but the sun cut through that a little and the first hill, heading south from Middleton lime works warmed me up proper. Not that I was going hard at it, I had already decided to take it a little easier and enjoy the ride.

By the time I reached Esperston and turned left alongside the green conveyor belt, I was feeling great. You don’t need to cycle for long to appreciate the uplift to the spirit. Out in the countryside, all was carrying on as normal. The birds in the sky. the lambs scurrying back to mother when they noticed me getting close, and the sun warming my back. I was so glad that I decided to get out rather than sit on the couch and watch another hour of News24.

I turned right at the T-junction just before Yorkston. I often rush at the steep little hill that takes you there, but this time I approached at moderate speed. That soon became a crawl in bottom gear, but it didn’t bother me. Turning left at the houses took me through the farm and down to Rosebery Reservoir on the rapidly deteriorating single track road.

The reservoir was predictably quiet. The fishing season is now upon us, but nobody is allowed to go fishing. I carried on past the reservoir and turned right onto the B6372, followed soon after by a left turn onto the saw mill road. That road is really a rough track, with large patches of loose gravel. Gravel really is one of my least favourite surfaces to ride on, and my 25mm tyres didn’t really cope with it that well.

After the gate, it was more of a standard landrover track, with two parallel lanes of hard packed earth either side of grass. It was a brief but fun off-road interlude, ending in a steep descent to the bridge at Edgelaw Reservoir and a bumpy finish taking me back to tarmac.

A short climb to Edgelaw farm was followed by a long, straight and highly enjoyable downhill freewheeling opportunity, taking me out at Parduvine. I then headed to Carrington, and started to meet quite a few individual cyclists, out for their daily exercise quota. We kept well apart! In Carrington itself, there was a council team out filling potholes with the hose that blows hot tar in. That’s the type of temporary fix that doesn’t normally last long, but with the lack of vehicle traffic in the current lockdown, who knows, it may even still be there the next time I go past!

After Carrington, I headed for Birkenside, passing Arniston House. The wind was behind me, aiding my progress, as did the traffic light which turned green on my approach. I turned right there onto the A7, which has been noticeably less busy in recent weeks, but even so, I took a right turn at Fushiebridge to go up the hill on the minor road. I much prefer it to the A7, as it’s so much smoother. It’s also much prettier, with the double hedges at the bottom and the pond near the top, where it’s always nice to have a quick stop to see what kind of birdlife is currently in residence.

From there, it was a quick pedal home, where I arrived feeling recharged in body and spirit, and so glad that I’d made the effort. You certainly don’t need to ride far to feel the benefit. Let’s hope that outdoor cycling remains on the permitted list so that we can stay sane until life eventually returns to normal.

Our winter escape to the sun venue this year has been Gran Canaria. Colette and I were joined by Lynne and Keith, Susan and Alison, and we all stayed at the same hotel in Maspalomas on the southern tip of the island.

On day 2 of our holiday, we felt ready to explore the mountainous interior of the island. The chosen route involved first cycling east along the coast. We began by navigating the busy roads through Playa del Ingles, pausing to look at the views when we arrived at the seaside.

We cycled very carefully and slowly along the seaside promenade which was thronged with people, before making our way out onto the main road (GC-500). Apart from a couple of short climbs, this road was pretty flat and fast, but on the other hand, it was not very picturesque, and was busy with traffic.

When we arrived at El Doctoral, we started looking for a coffee stop before we headed into the mountains. After a bit of looking, we found a small bar on a street corner and decided to pop in for a quick caffeine hit.

Next, we took advantage of a cycle path for the next flat mile or so, before turning sharp left onto the GC-65, which heads into the interior of the island. The road immediately started to climb, but only very gently to begin with.

The scenery wasn’t much to write home about to begin with. “Fifty shades of brown” would sum it up quite nicely. It wasn’t helped by the drab light due to a covering of cloud at about mountain top height. However, the temperature was in the high teens, so we certainly couldn’t complain about the weather!

As we progressed, the climb began to get steeper and more winding, and the mountains began to open up before us, with their jagged, tree-lined ridges. Passing through Era del Cardon, we could see the road ahead running up the other side of the valley to a pass at the top.

It took a few twists and turns before we got onto that section, and as we were plodding our way up, we were passed by a Team Ineos rider, who shouted out a friendly “Hello” as he passed. The accent sounded like Michal Kwiatkowski to me, and Colette recognised the ears, as the former World Champion sailed past us at great speed.

At the top of this section, we regrouped on the far side of a channel cut out of the rock, after which the gradient was flatter for a while, although the road was full of twists and turns. The rock face made it hard to see round the corners, and there was a fair amount of traffic up here, so you had to stay well in on the right. The local drivers made good use of the horn to warn of their approach.

Nearing Santa Lucia de Tirajana, the road climbed again, meaning we were all getting weary by the time we reached the village. It was definitely time for lunch, so we stopped at the first place we could see: a bakery with tables outside. They did drinks, filled rolls and pastries. That sounded just perfect, so we made a good lunch out of that. Initially, we sat in the sunshine, but the cloud came over again and a bit of wind made us start to feel a chill, so arm warmers and jackets went on.

Our lunch stop in Santa Lucia

We needed the extra clothing to mitigate the cooling effect of the downhill section that followed. That descent just meant that we had more climbing to do (nearly 1000 ft) before we could reach the high point of our ride just beyond San Bartolome.

It was quite a lot of climbing for us, but we took it easy and got there in one piece. Alison had forged ahead and had quite a long wait at the San Bartolome junction before we all gathered together and headed up the final section to Alto de Fataga, our high point at approximately 3140 ft.

On the descent

Any clothing that had been removed on the climb was replaced for the descent, which was getting on for 2000 ft, running through the village of Fataga. At one point, Susan and Keith went past me while I was stopped for a photo. I then rejoined them, and Susan gladly led us down, making a great job of finding the best lines through the corners.

Looking back on the impressive last bends before the final summit

Sadly, it wasn’t downhill all the way back to the hotel. I knew in advance that there was a little uphill blip in the profile to get over first. In reality, it was quite a major blip, with some steep gradients round a spectacular double hairpin to be negotiated into the bargain. After that, a short but fairly steep slope took us to the viewpoint Degollada de las Yeguas. There really was a spectacular view from there into the mountain range, especially as the sun was getting low and highlighting the cragginess of the terrain.

From there, another fast decent took us back to civilisation, busy traffic, and finally our hotel for a well-earned sangria.

After a week of riding in Gran Canaria, there was a general consensus was that this place wasn’t really for us. We’d had a good holiday, but speaking for Colette and myself, the overall package isn’t as good as elsewhere, such as our recent trip to Ibi. The mountain roads in Gran Canaria are phenomenal for sure, but we like to get away from it all, and it was difficult to get completely away from the traffic. Saturday seemed to be “relatively” quiet on the coast road, but beware Sunday in the mountains and the scores of motorbikes roaring around at high speed. We probably won’t be coming back, but if you are a strong cyclist looking for challenging mountain roads and don’t mind busy traffic, this place is definitely for you!

I have a vague memory of someone writing about cycling holidays based in Alcoy, and they mentioned that visiting the Sierra Mariola was a must. So that’s what we set out to do on this cycle.

Leaving Ibi to the north, we were straight into a climb. Ibi is lucky to have such a wonderful climb on its doorstep, rising up the hillside in myriad twists and turns, offering a superb view back down on the town, and to anyone further down the climb from you. It is only about 3 miles long at 4% average, but very enjoyable. Maybe because it isn’t so hard.

Here’s a thing… I always feel sad when I come across roadside shrines. I’ve spotted a few on this holiday, but on the climb from Ibi, there was something a little different. About halfway up, written on the road next to the crash barrier, is “Gracias 24-6-17”. Clearly this barrier (or more likely the previous incarnation) has saved a life. That was a nice thought, and put a wee smile on my face.

After topping out, we descended for a while before turning left at a T-junction, heading towards Banyeres. This involved a long, straight drudge of a climb before we got into descending again. Another short rise and a corner followed, after which Banyeres was revealed, with a prominent castle on top of a hill, like so many of the towns in the area.

It was time for a coffee, so we left the main road and started climbing steeply towards the town centre. However, we hadn’t gone far before we spotted a possible coffee stop, the Hotel Meson et Castillo. I poked my head round the door and asked “cafes?”. The answer I received was affirmative, so we quickly tied up the bikes and went in.

We took a seat with a view and soon had our Americanos. The waiter spoke English and asked if we wanted cakes. “Oh God yes!” was the approximate reply. One was a sort of creme caramel type pudding (similar to what the Spanish call “flan”) and the other was similar to a roulade. Both were delicious. I could hardly believe that the bill was just six euros!

Leaving the town, we picked up the Via Verde, or what is marked as such on my map. This is basically an ex-railway track converted into a walking / cycling path, I was a little nervous, as our previous experiences show that the surface can be quite rough in places, not unlike the National Cycling Network at home.

Well, to start off it was proper road, later turning into a well surfaced track, with plenty of people out walking. Then it got rough for a short while before we were deposited back on tarmac again. The decision was vindicated, as we would otherwise have had to ride on the fairly busy main road that we could see in the distance on our left.

We had got quite close to the town of Bocairent by this time, when we intercepted the CV-794, turning right and uphill away from civilisation into the Sierra Mariola. The ascent took us through a forest of what must have been some species of oak, judging by the acorns that were falling onto the road. It was another lovely climb, but slightly steeper than the one out of Ibi. The “official” climb (as marked by signposts) ended and the road flattened out before ascending once more, taking us to about 3000 ft elevation.

Sierra Mariola

It certainly was a lovely ride, with the narrow, quiet road and being surrounded by greenery giving a feeling of peace and tranquillity not dissimilar to riding in the Scottish highlands. After a while, the ride turned into a descent, but the scenery remained just as beautiful. I deliberately went slow just to make it last, as I knew we were heading to busy Alcoy.

When we joined the CV-795 for Alcoy, it did indeed get busy. It was also a little disconcerting to pass a no entry to bikes sign, but that referred to a tunnel ahead, and we took a right just before the tunnel opening, onto Carrer Salt.

This funny little road, only open to bikes and residential traffic, took us through what looked like some ancient, disused industrial buildings and afforded a great view over the valley below. We stopped for a good look, and while Colette looked for cats, I could make out the Via Verde below crossing a couple of impressive viaducts. There were a number of cyclists using the route, so based on our experience of the Via Verde earlier in the day, we made a decision there and then to return to Ibi via the Verde, so I stopped my pre-planned route on the Wahoo.

A very fast descent took us into Alcoy, where we were looking for somewhere resembling the city centre. Using my phone, I navigated us towards a large church, then we got off our bikes to have a good look around. Colette noticed some market stalls, and then we discovered we were beside a vast indoor market.

I peeked in to see what it was like, but didn’t think bikes would be allowed. As if reading my mind, I was followed out by a chap saying something like “parking por bicyclettas”. He seemed to be the gaffer for the place, making sure that things were running smoothly.

Anyway, he ushered us to some fancy bicycle stands, where you turned your cranks horizontal and pushed them into a slot, which held the bike between the crank and pedal. It was a very stable arrangement, and Senor Gaffer was very proud of them, possibly because they were brand new, as he took a picture of the bikes once in place.

We then went to explore… The market had every type of stall: fruit, vegetables, meat, prepared meat products, fish, bread and cakes, sweets, perfumes and more besides. And if that wasn’t enough, there was a little supermarket for everything else. Oh, and what we were interested in most: it had several places to eat.

We sat down with a couple of beers and the best hot bocadillos we’ve ever had. Then espressos afterwards and another surprisingly cheap bill at the end of it. By the time we got up, everyone was packing away their stalls, so we had arrived just in time. If you are ever planning a visit, make sure you get to the market by 1pm.

Trying to find our way to intercept the Via Verde from the market proved quite tricky due to the one way system, but finally I got the hang of it and eventually we were on the cycle track, leaving town. It was paved with a kind of green asphalt and quite smooth rolling. The path took us over a couple of high bridges, which we had seen earlier from much higher up on Carrer Salt. The second bridge was particularly high, and as we crossed, we felt a very strong cross-wind, which was funnelling down the valley from our right. That wasn’t a combination that Colette was keen on!

The green road

After that, the path was very enjoyable, taking us gradually uphill through the trees, with occasional views over to the urban sprawl of Alcoy and Cocentaina in the valley to our left. We also started going through tunnels. They were short to start with, but grew longer as we progressed. Luckily, they had motion sensitive lighting, and lit up as we entered. However, on one of the tunnels, the lights went off well before we were through, leaving us in the dark. We were glad that we had our bike lights and had them switched on already, just in case of such an occurrence.

After the final tunnel, there was about two miles of Via Verde left before we reached proper road. However, the paved surface gave way here to gravel. There was a way of escaping onto the road earlier, but we thought we might as well complete the journey on the Via Verde as far as it would take us.

The gravel got coarser as we entered cuttings, where rain seemed to have washed the finer gravel away. Then it turned to a dirt singletrack, more suited to mountain bikes. I began to ponder the merits of gravel bike for cycling in this area. However we took it carefully and avoided any mishaps.

We had arrived at the service road alongside the A7, and were heading uphill, directly into the wind. That was a bit of a slog, but the road then turned downhill, making it a lot easier. After a roundabout, we had another mile or so till we reached Ibi, where we were greeted by the sight of a clear perspex-like statue of the three kings, backlit in spectacular fashion by the sinking sun. That was a nice welcome back.

This was probably the pick of our six cycles from Ibi, due to the variety of cycling, the scenery, the food, and the fun of the Via Verde. I would certainly jump at the chance to do it again.

We were so pleased to have booked a wee holiday to Spain at the end of November, given the awful weather at home and near absence of outside cycling this month. In fact, this was booked back in August, while we were watching the tour of Spain on telly. The cyclists were in the mountains north of Alicante, and I mentioned that Alcoy would make a good base. Then after a flurry of activity on Colette’s phone, she revealed she’d booked us a week self catering in Ibi at the end of November!

The day finally came when we arrived in Ibi (a few miles to the west of Alcoy) and it was raining, although it was dark by the time I made up the bikes, so we wouldn’t have managed a ride on day 1 anyway. The next day was forecast to be dry and sunny, but the wind was an issue, with a warning out for gusts up to 80 km/h!

We really didn’t want to cancel our first day’s cycling in Ibi if we could help it. So I decided it would be a good idea to cycle to Alcoy with the wind at our backs, then return via the wooded area in the hills above Alcoy, which might give us some shelter on the way back. Sounded like a plan, so off we went…

The wind helped us on the road out of Ibi, as far as a roundabout where we joined the service road alongside the A7 motorway. We fairly motored along there, but some sudden sideways eddies in the wind took us by surprise, so we had to knock off the speed a bit.

A few miles in, and we were at another roundabout, where we could take the road to Alcoy. There were a few spits of rain in the air and great dark clouds hovering over the hills to our left, where we were intending to go. However, to our right, all looked bright and sunny. So sudden change of plan… we headed south towards Xixona instead.

Heading to Xixona

Pretty much straight away, we came to a sign telling of a 5% climb ahead, lasting 5 km. It was a nice, steady climb, taking us though an area of scrub and low trees. The wind wasn’t a problem for most of the climb, but coming towards the top it got more blustery, and at the very top (the Puerto de la Carrasqueta) it was positively gale force.

View from the top

I went over to the “mirador” to look at the amazing view from 3500 ft up, all the way down to the Costa Blanca. Turning around, it was hard to cycle back to the car park. I took shelter behind a small building while waiting for Colette to catch up, and after a second look at the view, we started the descent.

We were now partially sheltered by a ridge in the mountain as we descended, but huge gusts still took us by surprise, so it was a very tentative descent, broken up by stops to look at the view. At one of those, I discovered I’d left my water bottle behind at the top, but we were a mile into the descent by this point, so I decided not to go back for it!

On the way down

This near 2000 ft descent should have been great fun, but on this day it was just a case of getting down in one piece: a tense affair, punctuated by moments of extreme fear. But we made it all the way to the bottom and into the town of Xixona, where we were on the lookout for a cafe. After circling the town for about 10 minutes, we finally found an ice cream shop open and went in.

The place was quite busy, possibly due to it being apparently one of the few places open on the middle of a Saturday afternoon. We had a couple of coffees and just had to try some of the ice cream. It was great. So good in fact, that we came back another day for more.

Back on the road, we had to negotiate some steep switchbacks to get out of town, bringing us to the bottom of the Puerto de Tibi climb (4km at 5% average). The first km was the steepest, at around 10% for quite a while. Luckily, the wind was not a problem here, and maybe was helping somewhat. To the left was another great view down towards the sea, and to the right, impressive rocky outcrops at the top of the mountain were highlighted in the sun.

As the climb progressed, it became windier and windier, especially once we turned the last corner and caught sight of the top of the climb. In fact, the wind hit me like a wall, stopping me dead, alongside a plastic roadside marker / bollard. My bike got entangled in the thing and I stumbled into the ditch, breaking the bollard. Ooops.

It was all I could do to stand up after that. It wasn’t possible to remount, so Colette and I both had to push our bikes against the gale that was funnelled over the top of the pass. We seriously considered continuing to push downhill, but remounted and took it easy. The wind decreased in strength as we carefully descended towards the village of Tibi, where the road twisted and turned downwards, then steeply upwards as we reached the entrance.

Looking down on Tibi

We quickly found a bar where we had lunch. We valiantly tried to decipher the tapas menu before just saying “gambas por favor”. Cooked in garlic, the prawns were delicious. We also managed to secure for ourselves some bread and some patatas fritas, so we ate plenty to fuel us on our way.

The remainder of the ride was still mostly uphill to Ibi, but the gradient was kinder and the wind less brutal. There was a small hitch when we arrived at the outskirts of Ibi, as the road was closed for roadworks. Luckily the A7 service road came in handy for a wee diversion, and we made our way safely back to our accommodation.

It was a brutal day for sure, but we covered some great roads and saw some beautiful scenery to whet our appetite for the rest of the holiday.

Here’s an image of me riding around wearing the Fuego Flats sprint jersey. But did I really earn it?

The days are getting shorter and the rain seems to be falling incessantly, meaning less time spent outside, and turning a cyclist’s mind to Zwift. Not that it’s all cyclists by any means, just a small subset, but I’m one of them, and for that reason, I like to write about it occasionally. So be warned: the following will only be of interest to those immersed in the minutiae of Zwift and turbo training.

It’s hard to believe that I’m now on my 5th winter of using Zwift, starting out using “zPower” with my simple Decathlon turbo trainer and speed sensor, before moving up a little to a Tacx Satori Smart, which has a built-in power meter. That was important, as I wanted to be more confident in my power output. The watts are what it’s all about in Watopia.

After a winter of Zwift, once the weather improves and I get back on my bike more often in real life, I really miss seeing how many watts I’m pushing out. Forget speed – I’d much rather know the watts! The answer to that has been to buy a power meter. It’s a bit of an extravagance I know, but a left crank-based power meter, like the 4iiii Precision model I bought from Mantel.com, can be had for under £300 if you shop around and aren’t too worried about getting an exact match for your right crank. It has to be the same length though, obviously!

I fitted the power meter to my road bike at the end of June and have found it really valuable to know my power. It hasn’t been used for any specific training (I’m not that serious about it), but it helps me gauge my effort on hill climbs and the like, alongside my heart rate, and I’m sure it has helped me beat some PRs.

Soon after starting out with the 4iiii power meter, I did an FTP test, which came in at 250 W. Now, I would have been very happy with that, had I not got a FTP of 277 W when using Zwift with the Satori Smart. I began to wonder whether the Satori was making me seem more powerful on Zwift than I really was…

Recently, I decided to put this nagging doubt to bed, and temporarily set up my road bike on the turbo trainer (in place of the old flat bar bike that is usually set up there), to have a head-to-head test of the 4iiii and Satori Smart power meters. The 4iiii power meter has a claimed accuracy of +/- 1%, compared to +/- 10% for the Satori, so I was going to believe the former and was looking to see how close the latter came in the test.

To start with, I did a calibration of both. The 4iiii calibration involves simply turning the crank to 6 o’clock and pressing the calibrate button on my Wahoo Elemnt Bolt. The Satori needs to have a spin-down calibration done from within the Tacx iPhone app. The tension of the roller is increased or decreased and the calibration repeated if it isn’t right first time.

Once that was done, I started Zwift and did a little ride at various power levels. I let Zwift use the Satori Smart output, and captured the 4iiii watts on my Wahoo. At the end, I imported both sets of data into Golden Cheetah then saved them as .csv files, so I could compare them in Excel.

Comparison of the power outputs from the 4iiii power meter (red) and Tacx Satori Smart (blue). Note how the real-life power spikes are visible in the 4iiii output, while the Tacx transmits a more smoothed power output.

The results were very revealing! It was disappointing, but not completely unexpected, to find that the Satori Smart overestimated my watts by around 20-25%. The higher my watts, the more out it was.

After a bit of reading around, I discovered that Zwift recommend doing a 10 minute warm-up before calibrating your turbo trainer. I tried to do this, but wasn’t able to get the roller tight enough to the tyre. The adjustment is carried out by unscrewing a bolt from a cylindrical captive nut, but the bolt isn’t long enough, and comes apart from the nut before the roller gets tight enough. This is infuriating, as I need to guddle around for ages to get it back on again.

The only way round it was to buy a fatter 25mm trainer tyre in place of the 23mm one I’d been using for the past years. That worked! I was now able to do a warm calibration. The resulting comparison showed that the two outputs were in close agreement at 100-150 watts, but the Satori began to drift ahead of the 4iiii readings as the watts (and presumably tyre temperature) increased. The discrepancy wasn’t as bad as before but isn’t ideal. However, there isn’t a lot I can do about it, short of using the 4iiii permanently on the turbo trainer or buying a better turbo, neither of which is an option at the moment.

Comparison of 4iiii (red this time) and Satori Smart (blue) after a warm calibration

The end result of all this, is I am now doing a warm calibration, accepting the Satori output for what it’s worth and getting on with enjoying my Zwifting. Having completed another FTP test today, I got 267 W. That’s about 7% more than I got on the road with my 4iiii earlier in the year. For me that’s close enough. Perhaps I would feel differently if the discrepancy were in the opposite direction!

Addendum:-

Sod’s Law… the day after proclaiming myself happy with the current Zwift setup, I jump on for a wee ride in Watopia and get about 3 miles in, when pssssst… I get a puncture! That was the last thing I wanted, as that 25mm tyre from Decathlon is really awkward to get on and off. I punctured two inner tubes trying to get it on in the first place. Taking the tyre off resulted in two broken tyre levers, so by this time I was ready to chuck the new tyre and put the old Vittoria one back on, as it had never caused me any hassles.

But that left me with the old problem of not getting the roller tight enough to the tyre. To solve this, I tried reattaching the roller unit in the position for 26″ tyres, then backing the roller away as much as possible by screwing the adjustment knob in. The roller was still marginally too close to the tyre after screwing it in as far as it would go, but there was another element of adjustment available by unscrewing the locking nut part way down the bolt (see diagram).

That way, I got the turbo trainer adjusted to allow for a warm calibration with the 23mm tyre. All worked fine on a test ride. Hopefully it will behave itself now…

Whenever a pro cycling race comes nearby, we like to go and cheer them on. This year, the Tour of Britain came to the Scottish Borders, starting and finishing in Kelso, so we came up with a plan… I originally hoped to see the race start, then ride out to a vantage point to intercept the race part way through, then ride back to Kelso to catch the finish. All with a sit-down lunch stop in the middle. After trying and failing to come up with a schedule that accommodated all those stipulations, I had finally to acknowledge that it was not really feasible. So it was decided that we should start in Kelso, but get going early and miss the start. 

Normally, I like to park in the wee riverside car park near the Klondike garden centre, but the traffic ground to a halt as we closed in on it. So we turned around and parked on the outskirts of town. Lynne and Keith came too, and once we had got our bikes ready, we headed into Kelso.

I had hoped to pick up my chosen route out of town, but some of the roads were closed and barriered off, so we had to push our bikes slowly along the narrow pavement. It was still an hour before the race was due to start but it was already quite busy. We walked past the start/finish point and finally found a crossing place, where we could get away from the race circus and get riding properly.

We headed northwest out of Kelso with the walls of Floors Castle estate on our left, then took the first left onto quiet side-roads. The sun was out but there was still a chill in the air, so I tried to ride out of the shade as much as possible.

Our route to Melrose was basically a reverse of the Four Abbeys route at this point, so the roads were familiar. One of the plus points of doing it this way round was that we got a great view of Smailholm Tower. What’s more, having taken the pressure off by not trying to see the race thrice, we could enjoy the ride and the views at a nice leisurely pace.

There were a few small ups and downs as we approached Newtown St. Boswells, passing by Dryborough Abbey and then crossing the Tweed, spying a variety of wildlife along the way. We then skirted Eildon Hill North, involving more of a focussed climb before descending into Melrose and starting to look for lunch.

It was a quarter to twelve, and the Ship Inn wasn’t open yet, so we had a wee look round alternative options. The Townhouse Hotel was advertising a soup and sandwich combo, so we enquired and they were ready to serve us a slightly early lunch. We all enjoyed our meal, and since we were making good time, we were able to have a leisurely coffee afterwards.

Next, we headed out of Melrose, past the Trimontium Roman encampment and over the Tweed once more, close to the iconic Leaderfoot Viaduct. After that, we were faced with a stiff climb towards Brotherstone. 

I had originally hoped to see the race go past at the village of Smailholm, which is at the top of a rise which would slow the riders down. You get longer to look when they are going slowly. However, if we were to wait there, we would be stuck on a closed road and unable to make a quick exit back to Kelso after they passed. The alternative was to wait at a crossroads just before Smailholm, which gave us a quick exit route.

We must have got there about 15-20 minutes before the riders were due to pass. A few other people were already waiting, and we found a good vantage point on the wide grass verge.

Also waiting on the verge was a sad looking bumblebee, sitting on a piece of discarded cardboard, and barely able to move. The poor thing was all out of energy, but we knew we could help. You’ve got to help bees: they’re having a hard time of it lately by all accounts. Colette chewed up a sweet and put some of her sugary spit down next to the bee. Luckily it wasn’t a fussy bee, so it started feeding and pretty soon it was buzzing with energy again.

This apoidean interlude kept us busy until we could hear the altogether louder buzzing of a small helicopter, signalling the arrival of the Tour of Britain. After numerous motorbike outriders, the breakaway group of three cyclists came into view.  In front was AG2R La Mondial rider, Gediminas Badgonas, who was smiling over at us as we cheered the riders on.

Less than a minute later, the main group (peloton) arrived and shot past. It was hard to focus on individual riders to try and identify who was who, but luckily Colette and Lynne were taking photos so we could check later. The chase was on, and it would only be a matter of time before the leading three were caught up by the bunch.

As they passed, several riders jettisoned their bidons (drinks bottles) in our direction. They make a great souvenir of the day, but although we’ve been to quite a few races now, this is the first time we’ve been able to pick any up. And we got three! The Movistar one was filled with a super-sweet citrus mixture that packed quite a kick. That would have got our bee going in double quick time!

Once the short-lived excitement died down, we returned to our bikes and continued along a single track road which then led to the main road back into Kelso, a matter of 6 or 7 miles away. In the meantime, the race still had over 30 miles to go, including the long, steep climb out of Melrose.

That gave us enough time to arrive at the town centre, lock up our bikes and get ourselves to the finishing line. The crowds were huge, and we needed to walk to about 100 metres back from the finish line before we could even get a view. 

The announcer got us excited when he described a breakaway by British rider Alex Dowsett. We would have loved to see him get all the way to the finish and were ready to cheer him on. The crowd noise got louder and louder, then finally, I caught sight of a Katusha Alpecein jersey (that would be Alex) in the lead. But just as soon as I spotted him, a Mitchelton Scott rider shot past and I knew Alex had been caught.

That Mitchelton Scott rider was the Italian, Matteo Trentin, who won the sprint and went into the overall lead of the race. We stayed for the presentation afterwards before heading back to the car. It had been a great day out, mixing a gentle wee ride in with spectating on the race. The excitement of watching cycling live is very short-lived compared to seeing it on the telly, but it gives a whole extra dimension to the experience. 

Oh, then we went home and watched the whole race again, as we’d recorded it while we were out!

Day 1: Dunbeg to Salen

Last year, almost to the day, we were due to do this trip, but had to cancel due to Colette’s accident. This year, with a similar spell of good weather on the cards, we decided at short notice to try again. We couldn’t get any accommodation on Mull, so based the trip around an overnight stop at Salen (the Ardnamurchan Salen, that is).

We left home bright and early, arriving in the village of Dunbeg, just north of Oban, around 9am. The car was quickly unpacked, and off we went on a warm, sunny morning.

I was riding my old hybrid bike, loaded up with all the luggage in panniers, while Colette took her regular road bike. That was the deal if she was going to agree to do pannier touring, and I was totally fine with it.

We came to a stop after less than a mile, due to roadworks on the A85. Luckily there was a 10 mph speed limit on the affected part of the road, so we didn’t hold up the traffic too badly when we finally got moving. Soon, we had ridden through Connel, over the bridge and away from the traffic as we picked up the Caledonia Way cycle path.

The first part of the route we had done before, but between Barcaldine and Appin, it was new to us. The bridge over Loch Creagan narrows was spectacular, but for some reason, we didn’t stop for a photo.

After cycling for about an hour and a half, we were due a break. We stopped at a horseshoe-shaped stone structure with seating built in. It was designed as a snug windbreak for travellers to stop for a rest, and was the ideal spot to break out the flask of coffee.

Castle Stalker

Once we got going again, we passed the scenic Castle Stalker to our left, then began to feel the force of a brisk headwind for the first time. Luckily it didn’t slow us down too much, as we were fairly sheltered by trees around the cycle path.

There is a stretch of a mile or two where the path disappears and there is no choice other than to ride on the main road. Luckily the traffic was light, so it wasn’t a problem. The route then took us well away from the road through open country. The delight of this route is that it is so varied, not just mile after mile of straight, flat path with a wall of trees on either side, which some ex-railway cycle paths are like.

After Kentallen, there is a steep section leading past a viewpoint. I was concerned that it might be too much with all the luggage, but I had a good low gear and it was no trouble at all.

We then returned to the coast as we approached Ballachulish, before the path took us back to the main road. For some reason, I thought we needed to cross and cycle on the pavement on the other side of the road to cross the bridge. Crossing took an age, as we waited for a gap in the traffic.

The view from Ballachulish bridge

Once we were on the bridge, it was clear that I had got that wrong, and we should have stayed on the left. On the plus side though, we had a great vantage point for a photo looking up Loch Leven.

From this point to Corran, we were cycling on the pavement, designated as dual use. It wasn’t all that pleasant, having heavy traffic passing so close, but at least we weren’t on the road and suffering the ire of drivers trying to overtake us.

At this point, we were thinking about lunch options. We passed the Lodge on the Loch and noticed a sign for their cafe. We hadn’t set foot inside this hotel since our wedding night, so we thought, why not…?

The place was very quiet, but we sat down for lunch anyway, at a table with a great view across Loch Linnhe. Our steak and onion sandwiches didn’t disappoint, though the hotel itself was in need of some modernisation, particularly the toilets!

Soon, we arrived at Corran for the ferry. The north wind was blowing straight down the loch, making it feel a bit chilly by the water. We put on extra layers for the crossing, but after we disembarked at Ardgour, the wind was now at our backs, speeding us along the road towards Strontian.

Before reaching Strontian, there is a bit of a hill. The initial gradient was over 7%, which slowed us down to a crawl, on top of which, the wind had changed to a headwind again. OK, we were going slower, but we were still enjoying every minute! At the top, just past the cattle grid, we chatted to a local cyclist who was out for a quick spin. It was downhill all the way to Strontian from here, and she was going to try for a PR.

Downhill to Strontian and our first view of Loch Sunart

After she set off, Colette decided to try and follow, and so did I, until I was distracted by a photo opportunity. By the time we reached Strontian on the shores of Loch Sunart, Colette was feeling tired after the exertion of doing her best to keep the other cyclist in her sights. We needed a break, and luckily there is a cafe in the village. We ordered tea and cakes there, though Colette was close to hitting the wall, and found she couldn’t eat anything. She drank plenty of sweet tea instead then.

There were just 10 miles left to Salen, but this turned out to be very much up and down in nature, as we were warned by several people. It looked fairly flat on the profile from my route planner, but that was far from the case. The climbs were all very small, but the cumulative effect was quite wearing. On top of that, it was difficult to keep momentum going, as you continually had to pull in to let cars past on the single track road.

It was hard to complain when the lochside scenery was so breathtaking. We just plodded along and finally, Salen came into view, where the Salen Hotel, our overnight stop, was impossible to miss.

After dumping our stuff in the room, the next priority was cold beer, then showers. Our evening meal was great, which can’t really be said for our sleep. It was very warm in the room, but we were warned not too open the windows lest we be invaded by midges. 

Day 2: Salen to Dunbeg

Fuelled by a bumper Scottish breakfast, we got underway the next morning about 8.50am. After less than a mile, phones began to ping, signifying that we had left the dead zone that is Salen (the hotel did have WiFi but it had no discernible connection to the internet). We spent a few minutes in someone’s driveway uploading the previous day’s Strava and dealing with WhatsApps before getting going proper.

The theme of short, sharp undulations along the coast continued, as did the beautiful scenery. I cast my mind back to the last time I visited the area with Oliver on a fishing trip. We motored across the loch on that trip, past the island of Carna and through narrows to reach the isolated Loch Teacuis. It was an idyllic day, accompanied by dolphins and porpoises and the same glorious sunshine as our present trip.

After about 10 miles, the road started to climb more steadily. We paused at a viewpoint where the bay of Camas nan Geall came into view, before getting back onto the climb, which snaked its way inland.

Around a corner, about halfway into the climb, we got a view of the second half, rising fairly steeply to the top of the pass. It took what seemed an age to complete the climb, as we had to stop in every single passing place to let traffic past. That is the penance for cycling on these remote but scenic single track roads. You just need to be in the right mindset to accept it for what it is. I’m afraid I wasn’t quite there, and was heard to say “Oh no, not another blooming car!”, or words to that effect, with some regularity.

We passed Loch Mudle then the road turned to lead back towards the coast. There then followed a joyous descent all the way to Kilchoan, thankfully unencumbered by oncoming or overtaking traffic.

It would have been great to fit in the extra 12 miles or so to visit Ardnamurchan Point, but our timetable for the day didn’t allow it. Instead, we headed down to the jetty at Kilchoan for the ferry to Tobermory.

There was some time to kill before the ferry, so we got out our flask of coffee, which we had refilled at breakfast in the hotel. The small ferry took us over the 5 miles to Mull at a sedate pace, giving plenty of time to admire the views from the open top deck.

We arrived at the bright and bustling port of Tobermory at 12.20pm. We had about 4 1/2 hours to spend on Mull, during which time we needed to find our way down to Craignure. The options were to have a nice long sit down lunch, then take the direct route, or to buy sandwiches and fit in a detour to see some more of the island. We decided on the latter.

Leaving Tobermory turned out to be more tricky than anticipated. My route planner had picked an apparently random zig-zag up steep roads through the houses. One of the roads wasn’t at all suitable, so I had to use my actual brain to get us on the right track, aiming for Dervaig.

After a few miles, we reached Loch Peallach and decided to stop for our picnic lunch on the grass next to the Tobermory Angling Club boathouse. It was a lovely restful place to eat our sandwiches in the warm sunshine.

Continuing west, we stopped close to Loch Torr to admire a golden eagle rising above us, using the updraft from a cliff, then continue its flight along the loch. Sadly, Colette wasn’t able to catch it on her camera.

Next, we approached a climb. I could hardly believe what my Wahoo was telling me. Lots of hairpin bends ahead! And it was right. What a beautiful climb, and just the kind that they build in Europe, while here, the roads usually just run straight and steep up the hill. Add to that, the fact that it was just wide enough for cars to squeeze past, plus the scenery of course, and I was in heaven.

The view down to Dervaig

An equally hairpinny descent took us back to sea level and the village of Dervaig. The road here continued to Calgary and beyond, but it would have taken too long to go via the west coast, so we turned left instead. This alternative minor road runs southeast along a valley that cuts through the middle of the island, and as I expected (and hoped) it was very quiet.

There were plenty of cattle and sheep to be seen, but not much in the way of wildlife. We made our way through gently rolling grazing land and forest, with the view to the right dominated by a mountain ridge line. Then, as we got nearer to the east coast, we rode alongside a river and met a few cars to remind us that we were approaching civilisation once more.

We reached the east coast of the island at Aros and joined the main road, though it was still single track at this point. Shortly we arrived at Salen (the Mull one of course) and stopped for a very tasty salted caramel ice cream.

South of Salen, the road became a proper two-way affair, so we didn’t have to stop every time a car caught us up. In fact, they had to wait to pass us. The boot was on the other foot! I made sure to wave a kind “thank you” to any cars that had to wait before they could overtake.

From this point, it was pretty uneventful as far as Craignure, where the ferry to Oban departs. We had arrived about an hour before our ferry was due, so had plenty of time to buy tickets. We were also on the lookout for a coffee shop, but it was 4pm and we could hear people grumbling that it was closed already. So we just got some goodies from the Co-op and joined the queue for the ferry with a bunch of other cyclists.

The ferry to Oban was a much bigger vessel than the Kilchoan ferry. It swallowed up an unbelievable number of cars and coaches, though the space for bikes was a lot more limited. We don’t pay for them though, so you can’t complain (unless you can’t get on, of course!). We went up to the cafe and watched the world go by with a cup of tea.

It was a very comfortable crossing, and the 10 miles went by fairly quickly. After disembarking in Oban, we took a short detour to Stevenson Street, where Colette’s Dad had an office (now a Ladbrokes) many years ago. Then we rode through the town centre and north along the coast using cycle route 78.

After reaching the car park at Ganavan, we just had a mile or so of cycle path left to take us back to Dunbeg. This also included the steepest little gradient of the whole two days, but our bikes had the low gears and our legs were still working (just), so we made it without pushing.

Soon, we got the car packed up and ready for the long drive home. We were feeling elated at having such a wonderful two days of cycling, but also pretty exhausted. Anticipating that, I had left a can of Red Bull in the car to drink on the way home to keep me alert. I was kind of dreading what that stuff would be like after two days in a hot car, but actually I can attest that hot Red Bull is surprisingly tasty!

Another weather window appeared, and with the west looking best, we decided to try out a route idea that had been lying dormant for some time – a loop of Loch Lomond.

The route involves a boat crossing, so it was important to get the timing right. We needed to be in Tarbet for about 11am, so we made sure to arrive in Drymen for an 8am start. It was lovely and sunny when we set off, but still a little chilly, so I wore my waterproof to start with, to keep the cold out.

We headed south out of Drymen, taking main roads as far as Croftamie, where we turned right onto a cycle path (National Cycle route 7). In fact, we could have taken route 7 from the start in Drymen but it would have been less direct. In retrospect, the surface of the A811 was so awful that I would definitely stick to the cycle route next time.

The cycle path took us out onto a network of quiet country roads, where route 7 zig-zagged southwestward. It then took us through a country park before arriving in Balloch. The road was closed some distance ahead, so the traffic was virtually non-existent here, apart from bikes. We crossed River Leven, where the moorings were jam-packed with pleasure craft, then took a minor road that went past the Cameron House Hotel, currently still undergoing renovations following the devastating fire of a few years ago.

After a short while, we arrived at Duck Bay for our first clear view of Loch Lomond, looking lovely and still on a calm, sunny morning. Cycling further north, the West Loch Lomond Cycle Path took us away from the loch and alongside the busy A82. The pavement was lumpy and uncomfortable, and the proximity of noisy traffic, combined with the lack of view, made it a somewhat unfulfilling experience. I just kept saying to myself that it was a means to an end, and the good part was still to come.

The view at Aldlochy

It took a good few miles, but we finally parted company with the main road to follow a minor road to Aldlochy, where we met the shore of Loch Lomond again. Cue more photos of the picturesque scenery. Further north, we arrived at Luss, where we hoped to stop for a comfort break, but the queue for the loo was enormous, so we just carried on.

For the rest of our ride as far as Tarbet, the route took a mixture of old (disused) road and custom-made cycle path. The latter was much better than the pavement of the first half of the ride, despite being close to the road at times, as it was much better quality and besides, we had a great view of the loch. It was just the last half mile or so before Tarbet where we found the pavement got lumpy again, but our first destination was in sight, and we had plenty of time to spare.

We stopped at the Bonnie and Ben cafe, where we had a bacon roll and coffee, and bought our tickets for the boat to Inversnaid. Our safety margin allowed us time for a rest in the sun next to the pier, while we waited for our boat, Lomond Queen, to appear. Despite there being a large gathering of schoolkids at the pier on a summer outing, it turned out that they weren’t taking our boat, so it was far from crowded. Our bikes were left resting against railings at the stern and we sat on the open top deck.

The fare was a bit pricier than I’d anticipated, but this was a pleasure cruiser, not a subsidised ferry, and it was well worth it for the experience. We were treated to some informative banter and a really restful transfer to Inversnaid on the other side of the loch, where we saw loads of walkers on the West Highland Way that runs along the east side of the loch here.

At about noon, we disembarked next to Inversnaid Hotel and were faced with a steep hill as soon as we got back on our bikes. I had prepared mentally for this, but in fact it seemed a lot less fearsome than I expected. Perhaps this has something to do with the fact that we just rode up Kenmore Hill a few days ago!

After a mile or so, the road levelled off and we reached Loch Arklet, which stayed on our right until we reached a turning that took us onto the now familiar road that leads down to Aberfoyle.

Although it had been sunny up to this point, we witnessed it cloud over, with some heavy rain clearly ahead of us somewhere in the Trossachs. Well, a trip to the Trossachs isn’t complete without a shower!

As we continued our descent, the road became wet, and we spent a few minutes in the rain. By the time we reached Aberfoyle, it was sunny and warm again, but I was a bit soggy, mostly due to spray from the road and fat drops from the trees overhead.

We had another cafe stop in Liz MacGregor’s coffee shop, then emerged into what had become a hot summer afternoon. Before we got started again, we had a chat to a cyclist who had ridden over from Dumbarton. He warned us of the steep hill lying in wait for us before we returned to Drymen. Ah great, just what we wanted to know!

Oh, that looks hard!

It was route 7 all the way there, first taking us through Gartmore, then out onto open moorland. The steep climb arrived, and it was a good challenge, especially this close to the end. It certainly felt harder overall than the climb up from Inversnaid, taking us to our high point of the day, even if it was only just over 600 ft.

From there it was downhill all the way into Drymen, where we packed the bikes away into the baking car and headed back to the cooler east. We really enjoyed our day out and would certainly recommend it, despite the south part of the West Loch Lomond path being a bit tedious. It definitely is worth it for the rest of the ride.

The last couple of weeks have been such a washout that when the forecast showed a dry day, we jumped at the chance to organise a trip away. According to the forecast, there was another low pressure area on the way from the south, so heading north made sense, to maximise our dry time before the rain arrived.

I planned a route from Dunkeld, heading to Kenmore then over a hill and back via Amulree. It all looked good with not a massive amount of climbing, but on further inspection, it transpired that most of the ascent would be crammed into a single whopper of a hill. Ah yes, Kenmore Hill, I remember reading about that in Simon Warren’s Cycling Climbs of Scotland book that I got for Christmas. Colette and I were going to be joined by Fiona and Alison, so I made sure that they were warned about the climb before hand. They were happy to give it a try, so the ride was on…!

Not being sure about the parking in the Dunkeld area, I suggested we meet at the Hermitage car park, off the A9 just past Dunkeld. Typically, Colette and I set off way too early, so we arrived with nearly an hour to spare. We went to fill up the car with petrol, find a loo (not easy before 9am!) and get some bits and pieces from the Co-op before parking up (£3 charge for the day). After having a drink of coffee from the flask that Colette had prepared, there was still 30 minutes to go before our allotted start time, so we got on our bikes and had a wee explore along the Hermitage trails.

We cycled as far as a funny circular building, which is known as Ossian’s Hall, overlooking an impressive waterfall and chasm through which runs River Braan. While we were admiring this, Fiona called to say that she had arrived at the car park, so we looped back to meet her. Alison then arrived (perfectly on time as usual) and we got ready for the off.

In order to avoid riding on the A9, we rode a short section of pavement before the path took us into the village of Inver, where we took another path that eventually led us under the main road and into Little Dunkeld. A grand bridge took us over the River Tay and through Dunkeld itself. At the far end of town, cycle route 77 runs off past Dunkeld House Hotel, but we avoided that, since the path would likely be very muddy after the recent rain. Instead, we stuck to route 83, which takes the minor road leading west then north from Dunkeld.

This took us uphill to start with, past Polney Loch, then it was easy going with a few miles of gradual downhill. After that, we came to the A9 and spent some miles either riding on a path parallel to the main road, or taking short offshoots on minor roads past wee villages like Dowally and Kindallachan. When we arrived at Ballinluig, we briefly joined the A827, taking us over the A9 and as far as Logierait, where we cycled over the private bridge and joined cycle route 7.

More easy riding continued, as we followed route 7 as far as Strathtay. At this point, we were ready for a cuppa, so we followed the advice of our cycling friend Lynne, who recommended visiting the chocolate shop in Grandtully. That was just a short way away, down the hill and over the bridge.

We stopped for a moment on the bridge over the Tay to admire the rapids. It brought back memories of the last time I set foot in Grandtully, the best part of 30 years ago, when taking part in a raft race with my work colleagues. Our raft got stuck on a rock in the middle of the rapids and we had to get rescued by men in wetsuits with ropes.

No such dramas today though, as we went for a coffee and scone in the chocolate shop. It was a lovely place and well worth a visit. We sat at a table outside, enjoying the novelty of some warm sunshine.

Dull…, moi?

Moving on, we crossed back over the bridge to Strathtay, and continued westwards along route 7. We caught sight of Aberfeldy as we passed at a distance on the other side of the river, then we came to the village of Dull. It was compulsory to stop for a photo. It was also appropriate that it was now clouding over, reminding us of the weather system heading our way.

It was the plan originally to stop in Kenmore for lunch, but a few miles short of that, we spotted signs for Karelia House, which serves light lunches. Sounded just what we needed, so we went to investigate. It turned out to be a cafe cum sewing/knitting shop. Colette and I were still a bit full after our previous stop, but we did need to refuel, so we went for some soup. It was good, but the cakes looked amazing. They will need to wait for a future visit with better timing.

After lunch, we continued to the lovely little town of Kenmore, where we paused for a short while to admire the view at the bottom end of Loch Tay. The climb of the day was waiting, so we got back on the bikes and rode onward to the junction where the Kenmore Hill climb started. It was a narrow road, running steeply upwards into woodland, so we couldn’t see all that far ahead. The only thing to do was get down into the lowest gear and do your best.

We all went at our own pace. My pace was going to be dictated by my heart rate monitor, where I was aiming to stay below 180 bpm. I had created a heart rate page for my Wahoo bike computer to give me something to focus on, and didn’t dare look at the climbing page, as it would have been demoralising to see such slow progress up the hill.

The slopes were very steep to start with, and even more so at the corners, then there was a long super steep stretch where it was difficult to keep the front wheel from rearing up from the tarmac. That sent my heart rate into the red for a few minutes.

We were thankful for this easy section halfway through to get some respite.

With trees on both sides obscuring the view, it was hard to judge exactly how far you’d gone, but at least they protected you from any wind. After what seemed like an age, a cattle grid sign came into view and the slope eased off. I eased off too, to bring the HR down a bit (AKA having a breather).

That easement didn’t last long though, and after reaching a house, the road turned right and a long 15% ramp began. Alison caught up with me about then and we continued together until a car came up from behind. I tried to keep to the left as much as possible, and as I did so, began to wobble off the tarmac. I put a foot down to steady myself and push off again, but it went down into a ditch. That brought me to an ungainly halt, jarring my left hip. It took a couple of attempts to get going again on the steep slope, feeling a bit stupid, but it didn’t slow me down too much.

The trees had mostly petered out and we were now riding through open countryside into a brisk headwind. Ahead, the road continued at a significant, if somewhat reduced gradient. Alison was pedalling along steadily, as if she could carry on all day. A daft grouse tried its best to stop her though, by throwing itself at her front wheel, whilst putting on a wounded decoy act. Luckily they both ended up unscathed, though it did cause some alarm and a momentary slowdown.

When we passed a small loch, I knew that we were nearing the end. From there, the road undulated across the moor, until we rounded a final corner and started going downhill, when we stopped and waited for the others to arrive.

After Fiona appeared, I backtracked a bit to take some photos and met Colette coming the other way. It took a while to get back with a convoy of 6 cars coming towards us, but once we reached Alison and Fiona, we certainly sped up on the descent. There were two lovely hairpins then a long, fast section where I was glad that no more cars were coming my way.

Alison taking on the beautiful descent to Glen Quaich

I waited at the bottom of the descent on a bridge, then we continued through Glen Quaich, past Loch Freuchie, where the choppy water was looking quite dark. We worked our way to Amulree, where we met the A822 and a bit more traffic, though it wasn’t exactly busy.

The road was mostly flat or slightly downhill, so we made good time as we returned to Dunkeld. A few miles short of the town, I sent us down a minor road to a bridge over River Braan, where we stopped to admire the waterfall.

A short distance uphill from that took us to the start of a path leading to the Hermitage. It was marked on the map as a cycle path and started out OK, but quickly became more like a narrow mountain bike track. I knew this wasn’t Alison’s type of thing, but she didn’t complain, and led the way. Fiona was at the back, and as I waited for her to come into view at a gate, heard the sound of her coming to grief. Colette and I went back to find her inserted into a bush, laughing and trying to get back up.

Fiona in a bush before we untangled her from her bike

Once we got Fiona back to her feet, we continued into the woods and followed a flowing track through the trees, which took us to the actual Hermitage – a very humble abode fashioned out of a small rock cave. From there, we continued on the lovely woodland path on our road bikes. Mine wasn’t the most suitable, as the pine needles kept clogging up the space between my tyres and the brakes.

However, the path took us onto a forestry track for the final descent back to the car park. A bit bumpy maybe but still OK for a 30+ mph flourish to the finish. All that remained was to pack away and say our goodbyes. I was so glad that everyone had a great day out, and despite the climb being so difficult, it was an experience that we all enjoyed.

I was also chuffed to have made the best use of our small weather window, and true to the forecast, we met the heavy rain on its way north as we drove back home. Kudos to the Met Office for that one!