Rolling with 15

On the road

As the road rises the smile broadens.  A beautiful morning in Strathspey last weekend and oh what a coincidence. My road bike just happened to find it’s way onto the bike rack alongside the family menagerie of bikes. Fancied a bit climbing, so headed towards #67 in the official 100 climbs. Cairngorm.  Continue reading “Rolling with 15”

Tour of The Highlands – Part 4

With  ‘Herman and the Hermits’ support band, ‘Fud and the Fuckwits’ trundling into the horizon, we can now relax. Play it as it lies, as we now head onto the next two climbs creatively titled on Strava; A839 climb 1 and A839 climb 2 . To the locals they are BH1 & BH2(Bloody Hard 1 & 2 by any chance?).  We are only starting to climb, but already I don’t think another change to FH1 & FH2 would be remiss, as we are brutally slapped by a 4-5 club wind on clearing the tree line.

Continue reading “Tour of The Highlands – Part 4”

Tour of The Highlands -Part 2

 

PART 2

Stu checks his “Well I’m fucked then, I’m banging oot 187BPM ” he blurts oot with sweat cascading fae his chin. Wish I had kept ma masterplan stoom now!  Anyway it has landed and he’s slowing. I don’t know whether it’s deliberate or psychosomatic.  Not wanting tae upset the climbing rhythm I’ve got going, I start tae slowly edge away fae him.  We turn a corner and the Lawers Dam comes into full view, but just as it does I see a photographer hunkered down beside a big rock, with a long range lens pointing doon the road towards us.  Fuck knows what happens, but a switch in ma head is flicked and I come over all Berty Contador. Springing up out the saddle, shifting up a few gears. In ma mind I’m like a gazelle, prancing across the Savanah. A vision of poetry in motion. In reality, nowhere near it, probably look more like Dan Martin, putting a fire out with his feet, whilst chewing a highland toffee! Never did see that photo. Continue reading “Tour of The Highlands -Part 2”

Tour of The Highlands – Part 1

Day 1 Part 1  INTRODUCTION  CLICK HERE

wee burl

It’s 5am on a Saturday at the end of May and we find ourselves in a Wig-Wam in the Trossachs.

My phone is playing a piano arpeggio. It’s cheesy but better than those needle to the eyeball beeps of the default alarm.

I bolt upright, Frankenstein like.

It’s here, day one of the Tour of the Highlands.

My hand pads the bed to find my phone.   I thumb the home button and stop the alarm.
It’s been a shit night’s sleep; tossing and turning all night long in this Wig-Wam/sauna. I am half-baked with excitement, half seared by the heat. I remember being fully compes mentis since four am. At least that is when the cockerel started cocka-doodle-f*****g-doing. Continue reading “Tour of The Highlands – Part 1”