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”→
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”→