If there was one text which summed up last weekend it was the one I received from my friend Jinny at around 8pm on Saturday. It read ‘Arnica here, Prosecco poured’, which meant it was time to heave my aching limbs out of the bath in our hotel room in Perth and make my way downstairs for dinner. And arnica and Prosecco, obviously.
Fresh as daisies – the team all set to depart from Inverness Castle on Friday morning
We were two days into a 165 mile cycle from Inverness Castle to Edinburgh Castle. Cycling between the cities was a long-held ambition of Jinny’s and Mr Marr added the ‘castle to castle’ detail one night before it seemed at all real that we would be doing it. To be honest I thought it would be one of those pipe-dream plans that we talk about which will probably never come off, like travelling round Europe in a convoy of camper vans, or all moving in together once the kids leave home and before we’re too old to enjoy each other’s company and cooking. I imagined I would only ever travel the A9 route by road or rail, staring wistfully out of the window at the cycle paths at Drumochter Summit.
But then the email came through confirming the dates and the hotel bookings and it was too late to back out. Mr Marr and I squeezed a summer’s worth of last-minute training into a fortnight, bought new cycling shorts (with deliciously thick padding) and invested in a selection of different chamois creams. My favourite of those turned out to be the less than coyly named ‘Cyclists’ Butt Balm’. I will never cycle without it again.
Last Friday morning we set off from Inverness Castle, a team of five on bikes, supported by Maria with our overnight bags and a comprehensive bike repair kit in the car. Thank goodness for Maria.
Birdseed Cake
It was a great first morning. Granted, the weather could have been kinder, but our legs were fresh, our spirits were high and we were powered by home-made ‘bird-seed cake’ – full of dried fruit and condensed milk for a quick energy boost, slow-release oats, and nuts and seeds for protein. It was a useful fuel, but also a useful distraction from the hills over the next few miles as our tongues sought out those pesky seeds and bits of coconut which had become trapped between our teeth…
Drivers were courteous and accommodating where the National Cycle Routes coincided with the roads, all apart from one. Hang your head in shame, you Chivas Regal tanker driver who thundered up behind us just north of Aviemore before lunch last Friday, almost knocking three of us off our bikes as he overtook us far too close, before honking furiously at the other two, who were cycling two abreast, in full accordance with the best advice in the Highway Code.
30 miles before lunch was fine. 30 to Dalwhinnie in the afternoon was tougher, especially the final six uphill along General Wade’s Military Road into a head wind. Never was a shower more welcome. Never did a pint of ‘local’ Belhaven Best (no Cairngorm Brewery Beer in our hotel, sadly) taste better.
Approaching Drumochter Summit
You’d think it might be all downhill between Inverness and Edinburgh. If Slochd Summit did its best to disabuse us of that notion on Day 1, Drumochter Summit did the same on Day 2. It was a stunning 30 miles to Pitlochry for lunch. Then we had the most beautiful afternoon, following the Tummel then the Tay on the wee B roads west of the A9. We saw pheasants and squirrels, and a variety of interesting and fragrant roadkill, but hardly a car.
North of Dunkeld the route diverted off-road, and with two punctures in as many minutes, the air was blue with David’s expletives as he questioned the Scottish Government’s (and in particular Nicola Sturgeon’s) investment in the cycle network. The signage left a lot to be desired too, particularly on Route 77 north of Perth, where fingerpost signs told us for 90 minutes that we were six miles from the city centre. Unless we really were going round in circles by this stage? The wee roads via Waterloo and Bankfoot were bonny, but hilly. The more direct A9 was calling. We resisted.
Day 3 dawned bright, and with 120 miles behind us and a mere 45 to go, the prize was in sight. Eggs, baked beans and huge pots of tea fuelled us up and over the Lomond Hills and down (and up and down again) through Fife to the Forth bridges. Well-used cycle paths took us from South Queensferry through Crammond to the centre of Edinburgh, but we had to dismount for the last stretch and push our bikes to the Castle gates; the Royal Mile was too dense with Festival tourist.
A well-earned pint in Edinburgh’s The Pear Tree.
And then a pint. And a toast to friendship and the miles behind us. And then a fantastic night’s sleep before Monday’s train home.
It took us three days to get to Edinburgh and a little over three hours to get home. Yes, I have a sore bottom. Yes, my legs are tired. But would I do it again? Absolutely. In a heartbeat.
This column first appeared in six SPP Group newspapers week ended 2nd September 2016.
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