CC Ecosse - Island Adventure 4-Day Tour 2014 (or 10 go mad on Islay!)

[Fubar]

PROLOGUE
The day had finally arrived. 8 months in the planning with various changes along the way, 2 forum members down before we started and the fates doing their best to try and derail my best laid plans (damn you wet kerb!) – The morning of the CC Ecosse trip to Islay via Arran had dawned, not sunny but dry at least.

The germ of this idea had grown in the dark days of January when daydreams of endless summers leads to imaginative cycle planning (I’m still regretting the Etape Pennines decision round about then), and this trip had seemed to take an eternity to come around – now it was here, as the ride organiser (note I don’t use the word “leader”) I was feeling a tad apprehensive: What if there were mechanicals? What if someone struggled? What if we just didn’t get on…? But there was no backing out now and as my mum used to say “if if’s-and-and’s were pots-and-pans…” She would never finish that phrase, I suspect she never knew the ending!

It came about thus: before I was born my folks lived on Islay, a Hebridean island off the west coast of Scotland so I had grown up on tales of island life and ways – having been born in the East of Scotland, never having visited Islay and my parents no longer alive I was keen to get there someday and see if it matched my childhood imagination, and how better to do it than by bike?!? In particular a black and white photo of Bowmore High Street seemed to sum up the island for me, so if I did nothing else I would attempt to recreate this picture:



Strangely 9 other people had nothing better to do than follow me to this remote island on this most tenuous basis so I assumed organisational responsibility.

It was decided early on due to the numbers involved we would utilise the Scottish Youth Hostel Association accommodation (the irony of the word Youth is not lost), and rather than a long trip to Islay in one go we would stay on Arran for the first night with 2 nights on Islay completing our 4-day tour.

A bit of planning went into the ferry and ride times and it all seemed doable with an average speed allowance of 10mph, on paper at least. Much to Pat’s amusement I gathered together emergency contact numbers for the participants and their “In Case of Emergency” people – you can never be too prepared!

Having lost @Brandane to work commitments and @mcshroom to an encounter with a stone bridge we were down to 10 intrepid souls - @Edwardoka (Ed), @Harry_Palmer79 (Ross), @MikeW-71 (Mike), @DougieAB (Dougie), @Scoosh (David), @Pat "5mph" (Pat), @Ellebells (Michelle), @heather68 (Heather), @Fiona MacNeill (Fiona) and myself.

This therefore is my story of that ride, laid down for your enjoyment, amusement, ridicule and jealousy.

 

[Fubar]

DAY 1 – DUNFERMLINE TO LOCHRANZA
The plan for day 1 was fairly straightforward – meet at Ardrossan for the 12:30 ferry to Arran, with at least 2 hours allowed for cycling from Brodick to our first nights’ accommodation in Lochranza, plenty of time as we would not get into our rooms until 5pm at the earliest.

I was still feeling the effects of my comedy fall in hot-pants the night before (but that’s another story!), so a quick rethink of my packing reduced me to one pannier bag and a rack bag for the things that needed to be easily accessible – jacket, overshoes, wallet, jelly babies, etc. Waterproof trousers were a last minute “impulse” pack. It felt strange pushing off for 4 days wondering what I might have forgotten.

Needing to be at Edinburgh Waverley for 09:30 I set off just before 8am to give myself plenty time, having made the rookie error of not doing a loaded trial run beforehand. Nevertheless my Revolution Country Traveller is my normal commuter bike so I was accustomed to the weight of the bike, I just had to get used to 1 extra pannier.

This being a tour not a commute I acted like a tourist and took a photo on the Forth Road Bridge:



Around this time I made the decision to re-name my RCT to RoadWarrior for rest of the trip, hoping that the naming ceremony I held in my head would elevate it’s status sufficiently to ward off any mechanicals or visits from the dreaded p* fairies.

I made the station in ample time and met with David and Dougie for the train to Glasgow - David and his recumbent would, not for the first time cause a bit of head-scratching how to get the best fit into the sole-bike area on the train together with our “normal” steeds.

Arriving in Glasgow we met with Pat, Heather, Michelle, Fiona and Ross for the train to Ardrossan then on arrival at the ferry terminal met with Mike and @Brandane who had managed to make it just for the day – it was a pleasure to finally meet him. Ed was still going through some well publicised traumas with his Triban so was hopefully going to join us via a later ferry.

As we headed for Arran everyone was in high spirits, discussing who was taking the long way round (clockwise, around 44 miles) or the direct route North over The Bouglie (approx 15 miles but hard) to Lochranza. I was feebly protesting but knew I couldn’t resist the longer challenge, despite my bruises from the day before.

After disembarking the ferry and before we split into our 2 groups Pat asked for some final words of wisdom from their “Intrepid Leader” (her words, not mine). Flustered at the sudden attention I said the first thing that came into my head – “Don’t die!!!”

So it was Dougie, Ross, Mike and myself set off the long way round while the others took off for the challenge of The Bouglie, determined not to die on the way.

The South road round Arran hadn’t got any easier (made worst by a stiff headwind) and the RoadWarrior’s weight wasn’t helping so I was quickly left behind by the others, with the sight of the distant rock of the Ailsa Craig stuck in my vision and the gentle sound of chain-rub from my granny ring mocking my lack of prowess. Even when the others let me catch them it wasn’t long before I was passed and dropped again – they all looked far too smug for my liking, especially Dougie playing on the swings.

Eventually, and quite suddenly the mirage of the Machrie Bay tearoom appeared in my view – is there any greater sight on a bike ride than a café stop?? Tradition dictates this compulsory refuelling stop before the final push to Lochranza. Fired back up by cake and fizzy juice I, erm quickly got dropped again but plugged manfully on for Lochranza with my Garmin ticking nicely towards 100k, stopping only for a quick chat to @Brandane who was now heading back to the mainland.

Unfortunately someone moved Lochranza closer since the last time I was there and on arrival at the Youth Hostel I was only at 96k so there was only one logical choice – turn around and cycle 2.5k back! Of course it helps if you remember to restart the Garmin when you set off again… Luckily I only lost 0.5k before realising and I clocked a satisfying 101.94k for the day, my 18th 100k ride of the year – and I didn’t even remove my pannier bags!

With the irrepressible Pat in charge of dinner reservations I didn’t realise it had been brought forward an hour so with no option to rest I quickly showered and changed and we walked the half mile down to the distillery for dinner, stopping on the way to admire a herd of red deer munching their way through the gardens and golf course.



Just at the point we were giving up on ever seeing Ed again and with no mobile signal to check, he appeared right on time to place his food order, having changed to his carbon Focus and time trialled himself from the ferry terminal with pack on back – he loves a dramatic entrance! It was brilliant to see him and meant our happy band of 10 were all finally together – an extremely pleasant night was had by all, followed by a pitch-black walk back to the accommodation lit only by Ed’s front light (on his bike, Ed himself doesn't have a front light).

DISTANCE: 101.94K
AVERAGE SPEED: 21.2KPH
GARMIN LINK: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/568482737

 

[Fubar]

DAY 2 – LOCHRANZA TO PORT CHARLOTTE
The thing about Youth Hostels is that you often have no choice who you are sharing your accommodation with, so with us 6 guys being bunked with 2 rather noisy fellow residents (there were some choice words had in the dead of night) we were all a bit bleary-eyed in the morning which was matched by the bleary weather – by contrast the ladies who were sharing twin rooms had had a great nights’ sleep so were fit and raring to go.



After my extensive daily briefing (“Don’t F*****g Die!!!”) we were in plenty time for the morning ferry to Kintyre so a welcome coffee stop ¼ of a mile into our ride was called for – the earliest café stop ever! Pat had already availed herself of their coffee several hours before and was now onto the cake:



A much smaller ferry running on “island time” took us back to mainland Scotland and the Kintyre peninsula, a long lump of rock protruding from the West of Scotland – famous for informing broadcasters of their limitations on male nudity! The ferry timetable gave us about an hour to traverse the 6-mile length road with a 14% climb to warm the legs and a lumpy road leading to the Kennacraig ferry terminal – to make matters worse the weather was closing in but my fellow cyclists did me proud, getting up and over with plenty time to spare and no complaints. We were rewarded for our efforts with a fast downhill to the port and the sight of a much larger ferry waiting to transport us to Port Askaig on Islay – the butterflies were starting in earnest.

The ferry interior resembled what I imagine a cruise ship to look like, though never having been on one (except the school ship SS Uganda in 1981, but that doesn’t count) I am not best placed to comment. We were all impressed with this upturn in standards and after a meal for us and more coffee for Pat she proposed re-enacting the flying scene from Titanic – the rest of us nominated Ross to be Leonardo to her best Kate Winslet.

Now, some say that re-enacting a scene from Titanic whilst on a moving ferry is not the best karma but then, some say that re-enacting a love scene whilst heading for Islay means you are legally married – I couldn’t possibly comment, but what happens on the ferry, stays on the ferry…

My much anticipated first sight of Islay was sweeping rain and wind – not what I had imagined in my dreams.



Seeing the climb away from the ferry terminal dispelled any remaining romantic island notions – this was going to be hard work. We had a 15-mile ride to our overnight accommodation in Port Charlotte and it wouldn’t be pretty. Again my fellow CC’ers took up the challenge without complaint (perhaps I’d just stopped listening) and we quickly browed the steep ascent to be hit with monster side-winds and no shelter from the wet stuff. The fast boys had disappeared into the distance leaving the rest of us to plug our way to Bridgend (the next settlement) where we stopped in the road for a discussion as to whether or not we were lost. A police car pulled up and I had a conversation that went along the lines of:

Police: “you canny stop here”
Me: “Yes I know – could you tell me to way to Port Charlotte please?”
Police: “back to the bridge and turn left, you canny stop here”
Me: “Yes I know – thank you!”

Back to the bridge we went and duly turned left, even though there were no sign of the fast boys and no signs for Port Charlotte, until after 500 yards a sign confirmed that Port Charlotte was 8 miles away – hurrah!

We ground our way slowly round the bay learning the art of leaning right whilst still moving forward, though I was starting to quite enjoy the slower pace of cycle touring. The first settlement we hit gave us false hope (again no signs to declare where we were) as it turned out to be Bruachladdich, but after another bay and a couple of lumps we arrived in Port Charlotte, the small white houses seeming to huddle themselves closer together for protection from the leaden skies.



The Youth Hostel was easily found at the edge of the village but with still no sign of the fast boys we stalked our new dwellings for signs of a bike shed and were rewarded with the wardens opening the full basement for our storage! The fast boys soon arrived having made the same mistake as us missing the turning at Bridgend, however the lack of a grumpy Policeman meant a 6-mile detour the wrong way for them – not so fast boys…

David wisely extolled the virtues of maintaining our chains after the soaking they received and suddenly a Mickle cloth appeared and lube was being passed from bike to bike – these are not just cyclists, these are Cycle Chat Cyclists!

Getting ourselves checked in to the friendly hostel we found the best drying room ever (again, I’m no expert on drying rooms but this one had heated rails, plentiful hangers and was roasting, so I imagine it’s up there with the very best) and we quickly filled it with our soaking kit.

Today’s eating “plan” had been to buy some food on arrival to cook in the hostel however in this 2-horse town both horses had been stabled for the night (the shops were shut) so off we went in search of food at one of the 2 pubs. The first one was promising, plenty empty seats and no reserved signs – however our bubble was quickly burst when the owner chased us out claiming a party of “20” was expected – where from, the rest of the island?!? The next pub also told us there was “no chance” so in desperation we tried the only remaining restaurant (Yan’s, tapas/seafood) – success! We were welcome so long as we were in and out in an hour and a half, whew! The food was delicious and highly recommended if you are ever up that way, just remember to book!

Refreshed we retired to the Port Charlotte Hotel for drinks and to make a reservation for our last night (Yan’s shuts on a Sunday night), the evening ending with Pat reading from the worst/most bizarre cycling advice leaflet we’ve ever come across – “cows have other things on their minds apart from cyclists” being a particular highlight.

DISTANCE: 35.5K
AVERAGE SPEED: 17KPH
GARMIN LINK: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/568482693

 

[Fubar]

DAY 3 – PORT CHARLOTTE TO BOWMORE AND BACK
A much better nights’ sleep for me was only interrupted by a bit of snoring (inside) and a howling gale (outside), however undaunted by the weather I applied my Bun Run Rule (would I go on the Bun Run in this? Yes I would!). I was determined I would head to Bowmore and get my photo. Bizarrely 7 others were keen to come with me – who are these people?!?

The drying room had done its job magnificently so everything was toasty-warm for a trip of only 11 miles each way, with perhaps a diversion to a Military Cemetery for Michelle (she’s a Genealogist don’t you know) on the way back. Off we hardy band set on another micro-adventure, with the now traditional briefing of “Don’t F*****g Die!!!” being repeated back to me from my willing troop.

The first 8 miles round the bay were negotiated easily enough, the RoadWarrior now freed from panniers and catching a tailwind to Bridgend but then the headwind hit and the next 3 miles to Bowmore was perhaps the hardest 3 miles I’ve done, the wind pushing the bike one way then the other with the traffic not overly keen to give a cyclist a break. However make it to Bowmore we successfully did, Ross finally getting to a cash machine after 3 days of panicking about running out of money.

I was in Bowmore and finally got my picture of the High Street:




It was a poignant moment for me and how I wished my dad could have been there with me, however it was made better for sharing it in the company of friends.

The emotion of the moment was quickly swept away by Ed proposing a race up to the church – “surely a Strava segment” – so silly-boy heads were back on. I started at a streak, though my legs quickly declared their surrender at hauling a touring bike up a hill for no good purpose – “Shut up legs!!!” I kept pushing but when Ross fired past me with 10 yards to go the game was a bogie. Imagine my surprise therefore to find myself sixth overall on the leader-board for that segment! (Ross is third, damn him).

Standing outside the church gave us the opportunity for some more photos, however seeing the bay opposite quickly disappearing into cloud was the warning sign to head for shelter – too late! We floundered the 150 yards down to the nearest Bus Shelter in a hail storm, some choosing to opt for the local Co-op. Luckily the wind was so strong the rain/hail didn’t last long, though it was a timely reminder not to hang around in Dodge.

It was while stuffing my face with a chocolate bar I got chatting to a man outside the Co-op called Willie MacNeill (“they call me Ginger Willie” he told me, with no hint of irony) – I told about my dad being a butcher from Glasgow and him working in the Bunnahabhain distillery on Islay in the 60’s – “what was his name?” Ginger Willie asked in his beautiful island lilting voice, “Tam Allardice” I replied – “Tam from Glasgow eh, I think I remember him!” Ginger Willie was a nice guy and I desperately wanted to believe he remembered a “Tam fae Glasgae” from 50 years ago….

When I told Ginger Willie why we were there and about the photo he gleefully informed me he had Bowmore High Street tattooed on his arm so he “never forgets where he comes from” – I was falling in love with the place but wasn’t about to go that far!



It was time to head back into the wind though this time we had a plan – a café stop 3 miles down the road at the Bridgend Hotel would be our refuge! It was most welcome and we waited to see if the Undying Winds would ever cease – they didn’t.

Ed even declared that he needed to go back to the cash machine in Bowmore as had forgotten to withdraw cash (I’m sure that young man likes to make things difficult for himself), but he was up for the challenge and with no volunteers to chum him he was on his own.

Thankfully Michelle applied common-sense and abandoned the 10-mile detour to the Military Cemetery (though this remains a future ambition for her), and we pointed our front wheels back towards Port Charlotte – the wind however still had other ideas and determinedly tried to point our front wheels at right angles to the rest of us, but we were stoic and wrestled this particular gorilla the whole way back to base camp, Heather being the only slight victim when she was blown off her bike while pulling to a stop in front of me – I recognised the signs of an embarrassed cyclist as she leapt back on her bike in an instant and sped off into the distance, only showing me her bruises and scars the next day.

We all made it back to the Hostel in one piece (Ed passing us on the way) where I pronounced the ladies as Endurance Cyclists, which pleased Pat no end – it had been slightly different to her normal 2-mile commute in Glasgow!

A well earned relaxing afternoon was had by all while we recounted our tales of derring-do, the strength of the wind increasing with every re-telling. An early dinner at the Port Charlotte was enjoyed by all and this being our last night some retired for rest and final packing and others (who shall remain nameless) stayed to enjoy the refreshment and traditional music:



It had been a good day and a fun evening, and I think this island was having an effect on all of us.

DISTANCE: 33.9K
AVERAGE SPEED: 19.6KPH
GARMIN LINK: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/568482650

 

[Brandane]

Is that an early prototype of the space shuttle about to blast off from Bowmore High Street, just above your head?

Edit: Obviously not, as I see from your latest post that it hasn't moved since 1970 (??) ish.... , when the first Ford Anglia arrived on Islay.

 

[Fubar]

DAY 4 – PORT CHARLOTTE TO DUNFERMLINE (VIA ARRAN)
Today was always going to be a day of trepidation for me, with 3 ferries to catch on time and making sure my friends all got back to mainland and their families in one piece. Everyone had been well warned that we would be leaving at 07:30 AT THE LATEST – Sgt Major Dougie was in charge of Reveille and, not a man to be messed with we all made sure we were up by 6am and raring to go.



Thankfully the rain had finally stopped and the wind had died down to a stiff breeze, which would prove to be a tailwind once we negotiated the first 10 miles – we had a 20 mile ride to the ferry terminal in Port Ellen (the sharp-eyed amongst you will note that is a different port to where we arrived), and a bit of discussion took place over breakfast as to who would take to the more direct and seemingly flat A-road and who was daring the lumpier B-road.

We were ready to roll at 07:25 and I had decided to modify the ride briefing slightly in an attempt to lighten the mood – “Nobody Dies Today Because Today We Ride!!!”, with specific instructions to keep Pat on the straight and narrow “no Stopping no Shopping!” We had to make those ferries.

We made our way back to Bowmore sticking together as a group with no-one taking the option of the lumpy B-road, and once up past the church we were on as flat and as straight a road as you could wish for with very little traffic, a nice tailwind and even a bit of warm sunshine – this let the fast boys fight it out for Strava bragging rights and the rest of us to just enjoy the last hours on the island – I even ignored Pat stopping to take a picture.

two childhood stories were fulfilled on the way, as we passed fields of peat with straight lines cut into the bogs by the islanders to use as fuel over the winter – a task, I had been told years before that everyone participated in no matter your actual job – and then passing the airport runway where my mum had learned to drive a car for the first time, though I have to question why they used the airport – there was hardly any feckin’ traffic!

It was a happy crew of cyclists therefore who rolled into Port Ellen in plenty time for our first ferry of the day, though my anxiety was raised when I saw the earlier 7am sailing had been cancelled – was this a bad omen or the fates smiling on us??



Delays docking the ferry then added 30 minutes to our departure threatening to squeeze my schedule like a boa-constrictor, and I could tell by the numerous questions of “how long have we got???” from my compadres the anxiety was spreading – I had the perfect answer, I would go to sleep! The warmth of the sun streamed through the ferry windows, massaging my furrowed brow.

We disembarked on Kintyre with just over an hour to do 6 miles but with a 14% climb right at the start to overcome and the Monday traffic to and from the port hampering our progress this was not going to be straightforward, but again my friends came through without complaint (though by now they knew they would get short-shrift from me if they did complain) and we made it to the next port with time to spare. A bit of fettling and adjusting killed the remaining minutes waiting on the ferry to arrive, some of us trying to banish thoughts of The Bouglie waiting menacingly for us on Arran.




Packing these smaller ferries is an art in itself but not one the Lochranza CalMac boys take a huge pride in, and so our bikes were a bit haphazardly abandoned on the car deck while we took refuge inside – it was only a 30 minute crossing and I was just glad to be on another ferry and roughly on schedule.

We gathered on the shore of Lochranza and said our goodbyes to Fiona who had decided to stay on for a couple of days (wise lady), then set off with a 2-hour window to make our final ferry at Brodick. We all paced ourselves up the hill, jealous of the mountain bikers flying down the other side and again my fellow CC’ers didn’t let me down as we all hit the summit of The Bouglie with plenty of time in hand. A cracking descent into Sannox followed (David hitting 87kph in his bath-chair) with then a flat and gentle 7-mile ride back to Brodick – home in time for tea and medals!

Even Pat, whose bike had a mysterious gravitational pull towards any kind of retail outlet managed to fit in some shopping before it was time to move towards the ferry and leave an island for the final time on this trip. I promptly abdicated my leadership responsibility towards the group as NO-ONE DIED and I danced a jig of joy to celebrate:



I ate like a pig on the ferry (why break the habit of a lifetime?), basking in the warm rosy glow of a successful trip and happy just being one of the lads again. Pat even bought me some cheese, for which I was most grateful.

Mike left us at Ardrossan and after more stupidity on the Glasgow train the remaining trains home were fairly uneventful - we left the Glasgow contingent at Central Station and said goodbye to Heather at Queen Street. I hopped off at Haymarket and caught a train to Inverkeithing where, quite properly I cycled the last 8k home.

It had been a long and tiring day, and as I cycled up the hill back to my house one final thought occurred to me:

I never did use those bl**dy waterproof trousers!

DISTANCE: 71.74K
AVERAGE SPEED: 21.3KPH
GARMIN LINK: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/568482603

 

[Fubar]

EPILOGUE
I had never cycle toured before and neither had the majority of our group, so while the planning may seem excessive I felt it necessary for a first timer and to be fair, most of it went well. Most of the work was done early in the year then it was just a case of collecting payments and keeping the enthusiasm going. Here are some final thoughts:

Accommodation - in future I would be inclined to look into alternative accommodation options a bit more – the group losing sleep wasn’t great, however the advantage of Youth Hostelling is the bike storage, self-catering option and the low cost. It certainly added to the adventure of the trip!

Food – we needed to be much smarter about where we were getting food from (especially on an island) and should have booked ahead / brought our own – we were lucky we got somewhere to eat the first night on Islay.

Weather – the weather was rubbish on days 2 & 3 but there wasn’t much we could do about it, though it does make you realise how remote some places are and I was glad we weren’t camping.

Packing – I got my packing just about spot on, though being in the habit of wearing clean under-crackers every day I could probably have lightened the load even more – not sure Mrs Fubar would go with that idea though. I was glad I didn’t rely on my cycling shoes as my only footwear, as they were soaked on Day 2.

Cycle Clothing – waterproof trousers aside I got this pretty spot on, having the option of arm warmers, leg warmers, long sleeve and short sleeve tops, gillet, jacket and overshoes worked in the conditions which, despite being wet and windy were never cold. I don’t mind my legs being wet if my feet are dry!

Ferries – getting 3 ferries on the last day was ambitious and worked but we were lucky none were cancelled or severely delayed. In future I would probably look to stay another night on the way back for this kind of trip.

The RoadWarrior – did me proud and never flinched through the worst weather, it’s a heavy bike and I’m slow on it but I kind-of welcomed it’s sturdiness and got used to the slower pace of cycle touring – and it’s a different feeling knowing you HAVE to move from one location to another, no matter what and you only have your bike to transport you.

Finally, My Fellow Travellers – you went along with my mad idea and never moaned once (well, not to my face anyway) through the whole thing. It was the camaraderie and good humour that kept me going and I hope we do it all again one day. I kept my promise to get you to Islay and back, and you kept your promise not the die in the process – I thank you all.

20 August 2014

 

[Fubar]

Is that an early prototype of the space shuttle about to blast off from Bowmore High Street, just above your head?

Edit: Obviously not, as I see from your latest post that it hasn't moved since 1970 (??) ish.... , when the first Ford Anglia arrived on Islay.

Nah that's the church - and it's not me, it's my brother

 

[Edwardoka]

Fantastic write-up, Mark. Put far more eloquently than I could ever have done! Your glorious intrepid leader skills are showing!

P.S. Sorry I ruined your emotional moment with my Strava nonsense but the hill was there...

 

[Scoosh]

What a wonderful travelogue, @Fubar - thank you !

Your crazy idea/ desire to do the trip (and to organise it ) were a real encouragement for us to join you on it. It gave us all the opporchancity to try this cycle touring thing without needing to organise ourselves - save getting packed and on a train.

At this distance, I'm sorry I wimped out on coming to Bowmore with you - it must have been quite emotional. //

Thanks.


When/ where's the next one ?

 

[Scoosh]

EPILOGUE

Accommodation - in future I would be inclined to look into alternative accommodation options a bit more – the group losing sleep wasn’t great, however the advantage of Youth Hostelling is the bike storage, self-catering option and the low cost. It certainly added to the adventure of the trip! I had earplugs and would highly recommend taking them.

Food – we needed to be much smarter about where we were getting food from (especially on an island) and should have booked ahead / brought our own – we were lucky we got somewhere to eat the first night on Islay. Totally agree - we really needed a hot meal that night. BYO would also significantly reduce the costs ...

Packing – I got my packing just about spot on, though being in the habit of wearing clean under-crackers every day I could probably have lightened the load even more – not sure Mrs Fubar would go with that idea though. I was glad I didn’t rely on my cycling shoes as my only footwear, as they were soaked on Day 2. Maybe wearing compression shorts under the padded ones would eliminate the need for fresh padded shorts each day ... not that this is an issue when sofa-bike riding ...

Ferries – getting 3 ferries on the last day was ambitious and worked but we were lucky none were cancelled or severely delayed. A reasonable assumption for summer, though

Finally, My Fellow Travellers – you went along with my mad idea and never moaned once (well, not to my face anyway) through the whole thing. It was the camaraderie and good humour that kept me going and I hope we do it all again one day. I kept my promise to get you to Islay and back, and you kept your promise not the die in the process – I thank you all.

20 August 2014

Your idea/ plan/ organisation allowed all of us to do our first cycle tours - we thank you.

 

[Fubar]

Fantastic write-up, Mark. Put far more eloquently than I could ever have done! Your glorious intrepid leader skills are showing!

P.S. Sorry I ruined your emotional moment with my Strava nonsense but the hill was there...

It was just what I needed, I was glad I had dark glasses on!

 

[John the Canuck]

a great write-up for a great time had by all

sorry i canna join in any of these, but my asthma is holding me back to 15mile days of very gentle hills
a pity as would love to see the West Coast again by bike - rather than company car

PS
If wishes were horses, beggars would ride; if turnips were watches, I would wear one by my side;
and if IF's and AND's were pots and pans, there'd be no work for tinkers hands.

 

[Fubar]

a great write-up for a great time had by all

sorry i canna join in any of these, but my asthma is holding me back to 15mile days of very gentle hills
a pity as would love to see the West Coast again by bike - rather than company car

PS
If wishes were horses, beggars would ride; if turnips were watches, I would wear one by my side;
and if IF's and AND's were pots and pans, there'd be no work for tinkers hands.

Brilliant! I never knew the rest of it, as I said my mum only quoted the "pots and pans" bit - cheers!

 

[edindave]

Well done Fubar organising such a great trip!