Fubar
Guru
A Rock out in the sea (think Alcatraz but a bit more pointy and no Sean Connery) provided a viewpoint for several miles and didn’t seem to be moving very much as we cycled (according to George they make curling stones from it), so progress seemed painfully slow to get to the west side of the island with frequent hills and poor road surfaces slowing the pace further. And speaking of painful we encountered our first accident of the day when Stephen (Louch) took a tumble down an awkward camber as the front group stopped to let everyone catch up. A bit of road rash gave Stephen his trophy for the day, with him adamant his helmet had saved him (a CC Forum sore point!), and with a combination of Scottish finesse and Danish brute force Rasmus and Jamie soon straightened out his brake lever. However this undoubtedly shook Stephen up, and he dropped to the rear to recover.
By now we were on the West coast and with the wind at our backs and mainly traffic free roads the world and the island were flying by, with some lovely downhill straights that make you feel like you are truly a cyclist – rubbish of course, but we can all dream for a moment or two! Happily The Rock had eventually disappeared and the Mull of Kintyre hove into view, and from the beach fat basking seals viewed the fat cyclists with some amusement. On long cycle journeys I often think of my late Dad and how much I wish he was still here, he was never a cyclist but would have loved exploring the watering holes by bus, enjoying a wee rum in the sun and soaking up the island chat (even a 43 year old boy needs an adventure with his old man). George experienced some of this island chat when stopping at a crossroads to ask which was the main road he got the reply “Ah, that depends where you want to go!”. A true island response. By this time we were all cracking on to the cake stop so no-one had noticed Stephen and George dropping off the back, caused by George getting a visit from the puncture fairy. By the time we stopped at Machrie Bay Tearoom a text had been sent advising of the delay. After a short rest a number decided to go back and assist whilst myself, Colin and Ross bravely “volunteered” to stay behind keep some seats warm at the tearoom. Alastair, under strict instructions not to be late home decided it was a good time to continue solo to catch the 4:40 ferry and so it was that we were down to 10. George and Stephen eventually rode in having fixed a second puncture and we sat down to lunch, toasties seemingly the favoured option – bliss!
After lunch we were ready to set off when George discovered a 3rd puncture! Unbelievable. So Ross offered up his spare and 3 of us had a go at changing the inner tube – how many CC’ers does it take to change a tyre? At least 3 it seems, with several others offering words of advice. Meanwhile Ed was busy trying to beat a Strava segment which the café stop was in the middle of, so had set off to cycle 5 miles back then came flying past doing his best Graham Obree impression. I’m not on Strava (yet!) so don’t see the attraction of finishing last in something, but for those that are it does seem like an obsession. Tyrechanged we set off again determined to catch the 6pm ferry, hoping all our bad luck was finally over (it wasn’t). A nasty short sharp wee climb about 2 miles after the cake stop had my toastie and rocky road making a comeback attempt to rival Take That, thankfully that was the end of the hills for a bit and an improving road surface meant that pace was good and all was well again. We regrouped at Lochranza (a nice wee harbour with a castle) knowing that a climb awaited us, some of us in deep ignorance and others who had been here before with knowing glances but typical cyclists’ understatement – a “wee bump” was coming up. The wind had also picked up and the warmth disappeared, no bad thing as we started climbing as soon as we were through the village, a fairly steep section at first which started to flatten out lulling us into thinking the worst was over. Ed was on my shoulder and advised me to “not look up”, obviously the worst thing anyone can say – on looking up I believe string of expletives exited my mouth when I saw the real climb in front, though my body was objecting to the torture too much to remember what I said. In times of trouble on a bike I often find myself repeating under my breath “ride the road, not the hill” and so it was this time around, though seeing your compadres disappearing into the distance does not a confident hill climber make, something I am particularly poor at. Halfway up I met Mike and we ground it out together, our group gathering at the top of the hill for a photo opportunity. Everyone safely up we had an hour to make the 6pm ferry and it was all downhill from here – nothing could stop us! How wrong we were…
As well as being a poor hill climber I am also terrible at descending (why do you even bother I hear you ask? It’s a good point, well presented.), my gung-ho has rapidly disappeared with age, and so it was I sat behind George on the steep descent to Sannox pumping my brakes to ensure I didn’t lose control, a nasty side wind threatening to push us off our bikes. Halfway down we arrived at a terrible scene, Colin waving us down as Ross had come off his bike and into a ditch at 40mph – thankfully Ross was standing up and despite a cut lip and nose, lots of blood and quite a bit of shock he seemed no worse for it and another plus point for the helmet-wearing brigade, of which I am a fully paid up member. Ross’ bike was not so lucky having taken the brunt of the impact, the front wheel buckled beyond use. Perhaps this was no bad thing as Ross probably was in no fit state to get back on it – thankfully his mum and dad were staying on the island celebrating their Ruby Anniversary so a quick call saw them come and pick him and his broken bike up. The others had re-climbed the hill to lend support and we all stayed with Ross until his mum and dad arrived.
I must praise Ross here ‘cos he put a very brave face on a frightening incident and if it was me I’d be blubbing like an X Factor winner (or loser, they all cry no matter what). Hopefully it doesn’t put him off and we see him out again as soon as his bike is fixed.
And so it was our Fellowship was down to 9, shortly after reduced to 8 as
A lovely moment was had at the end of the ride, we slowed to pass a family on bikes just coming into Brodick then put the hammer down again back to the ferry terminal – when the family rolled in 10 minutes or so after us one of the little girls looked at us impressively and said “Dad, I want a road bike!”. I am a fat old cyclist but I love little moments like this – though she obviously needs to get out more! Waiting for the last ferry of the day we indulged in some fine Scottish recovery food – chips and Irn Bru, mine kindly supplied by Gentleman George as I had by now run out of money. I own you George! Again some felt that the food was not up to scratch, however the Bru went down wonderfully.
We boarded the much quieter inbound ferry and headed for the mainland, laughing at the drunken golfers and watching Mike indulging himself in a post-chips steak pie, leaving the rest of us wondering where he put it all. After that we all headed for home, me finally saying goodbye to Colin at 10pm - a long and eventful day was over. We have all subsequently heard from Ross who, after a check up at the local hospital is fine and he stayed with his folks on Arran for the night just to be sure.
The next CC Ecosse ride is in the planning as we speak, lets hope it’s as good as this one with much less drama!
, you set quite a brisk pace down the road from Sannox to Brodick with the lead group, some of who later mentioned that they wouldn't have minded at all if it had been a bit more sedate! 
