Brave hearts and sore bums

Today was a day of many-a-battle.

The first battle was the battle of calculation. Despite my careful planning, it seems I underestimated our journey by 10 miles, meaning we were suddenly faced with the prospect of cycling close to 100 miles.

The second battle was the battle of Lochs Cornish, Skelloch and Bradan (Ayr's water supply reservoir). After using the local fresh water to cleanse our cloths, we had not realised how wet it was. The fire in our dwelling had not been turned on over night, so they were still sopping wet in the morning. The prospect of embarking on the day already wet was not very appealing. However our trusty inn keeper came to the rescue with his tumble dryer and we set off at 8:30am with warm socks.

The third battle was the battle of the bums. Despite our war armour being well padded, cycling 92 miles on our trusty steeds was taking its toll on our behinds. Then the unthinkable happened - we ran out of bum cream this morning. Despite calling into several villages along our way, we were unable to acquire any. We contemplated using my lip balm however decided we should tough it out.

The forth battle was not so much our battle, but rather a battle of a fellow clan. Whilst wizzing our way through Loch Lomond National Park, we stumbled across a young peasant boy whose horse and cart was stationary (car in middle of road with hazard lights on). As we approached, Lord Thomas, with genuine concern, stopped to check if he was ok. It turns out he was simply a local shepherd guiding his sheep across the road and that unless Lord Thomas had herding experience, we would be of no help.

The final and most brutal battle was the battle of mental strength. As we approached the final loch of the day, we see our destination in the misty distance. If we were to go where the crow flies, it would only be 3 miles away. Instead, Loch Fyne forces us to cycle 10 miles East before we come around the edge and cycle another 10 miles back West to our final destination of Inveraray. As we round the final corner to head home, the ground suddenly begins to rise, the heavens open and God decides to blow in our faces. But victory is within our grasps.

After 6 hrs and 33 minutes of cycling, we finally roll into town, drink a goblet of mead (strawberry milk) and immediately make preparations for a celebratory feast.

Route: Ayr to Inveraray Distance: 93 miles Weather: Grey but mild. Rain and headwind for the last 10 miles.

7 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All