NC500 - General Wade has a lot to answer for!
It's a mad road that can only ever have been the idea of a wealthy bewigged English upper class twat with a pointy hat determined to make sure his army is well and truly fooked moments before being set upon by the local Scottish clans who rather enthusiastically wield and toss their Cabers (1) at the silly worn out red coated English tommy.
Day 1 in the saddle should never be about doing a big days ride as it's the first opportunity to try everything out. It was such a smart idea to cut day 1 down a little and not ride through to Spean Bridge as it is likely we would have fallen off our bikes atop the final 700ft hill climb like dead flies. So test we did. It was a day for it. Hills [tick], legs [big cross], rain [tick], bag packing [er tick on the 7th attempt], squeaky noises fettled [tick] etcetera.
We're out of Inverness in a slow flash cruising up an incline in a rain shower under a broad canopy of trees. I'm leading this leg. All of a sudden I hear a shriek of 'What the fooks that!?' from London Alan. I spun round quickly in the saddle tightening one of my nuts in the process thinking London Alan had been the first person since the seventies to spy the Loch Ness monster! No it wasn't that, sadly. Simply he'd spied, like me, through the trees that the road ahead took off stratospherically as though tarmac and white lines had been painted on a fast approaching cliff face. Nonetheless, up we went. Crunch, whirr, grind, pop... went my knees... Whilst London Alan found some sections a little tough going I'm amazed at his ability to ride up steep grades stood in the pedals. I can't do that! I'd cough my lungs out, which if I did, would look something like a pair of elephant testicles pinned to my chin.
We made it to the top of General 'dickhead' Wade's road. It's a lovely scenic route if yer in a car. Here it is...
It has a good number of hard climbs after a similar number of long uphill stretches. That's about 2800ft of ascent today from Inverness to the military road viewpoint with a very eye wateringly fast ride back down into Fort Augustus at the end of the day. Thank God we weren't riding it the other way as we'd have binned the Mechanical Uphill Leg Energy Sappers (MULES (er... bikes)) and thumbed it! (it's @16% or so gradient from 0 to 1200ft! the other way!)
We arrive at the BnB. My bed has me facing away from London Alan and whilst I expect to destroy the nights sleep for the couple next door I also expect the reverberation will bugger it up for London Alan too unless he's got world class noise cancelling earplugs wedged firmly in all his orifices tonight.
There's also a note in the BnB room. 'Dear Cyclists...' it says. 'Please do not use Deep Heat in your rooms as whilst you might not linger, the smell does...' No, tonight I sleep with Madame Sudocrem. Not used her since I was a baby. Honest! Hairy Melon is a little sore after a day dancing with Bee. And she's much more wrinkly than she was last year which has not helped with the friction. I've told her that Sudocrem is just a different type of lipstick... After a short arguement with my right hand 'OK' she says and on it goes. I expect she won't be able to feel her lips by the morning.
Tomorrow we follow a flatter route to Fort William. Made up of canal paths and forest trails to avoid the dangerous A82. Probably only one third of the ascent compared with today. Hopefully midge free...
The midnight sun is beaming in low and bright through the bedroom window. We're both tired and ready for bed.
Sadly I think one of us is going to have a bad night's sleep!
Ciao for now...
(1) A Scottish gnarly pole of a thing normally hidden under tartan cloth used at Scottish weddings and clam bakes to scare the bejesus out of inquisitive young virgins.
Day 1 in the saddle should never be about doing a big days ride as it's the first opportunity to try everything out. It was such a smart idea to cut day 1 down a little and not ride through to Spean Bridge as it is likely we would have fallen off our bikes atop the final 700ft hill climb like dead flies. So test we did. It was a day for it. Hills [tick], legs [big cross], rain [tick], bag packing [er tick on the 7th attempt], squeaky noises fettled [tick] etcetera.
We're out of Inverness in a slow flash cruising up an incline in a rain shower under a broad canopy of trees. I'm leading this leg. All of a sudden I hear a shriek of 'What the fooks that!?' from London Alan. I spun round quickly in the saddle tightening one of my nuts in the process thinking London Alan had been the first person since the seventies to spy the Loch Ness monster! No it wasn't that, sadly. Simply he'd spied, like me, through the trees that the road ahead took off stratospherically as though tarmac and white lines had been painted on a fast approaching cliff face. Nonetheless, up we went. Crunch, whirr, grind, pop... went my knees... Whilst London Alan found some sections a little tough going I'm amazed at his ability to ride up steep grades stood in the pedals. I can't do that! I'd cough my lungs out, which if I did, would look something like a pair of elephant testicles pinned to my chin.
We made it to the top of General 'dickhead' Wade's road. It's a lovely scenic route if yer in a car. Here it is...
It has a good number of hard climbs after a similar number of long uphill stretches. That's about 2800ft of ascent today from Inverness to the military road viewpoint with a very eye wateringly fast ride back down into Fort Augustus at the end of the day. Thank God we weren't riding it the other way as we'd have binned the Mechanical Uphill Leg Energy Sappers (MULES (er... bikes)) and thumbed it! (it's @16% or so gradient from 0 to 1200ft! the other way!)
We arrive at the BnB. My bed has me facing away from London Alan and whilst I expect to destroy the nights sleep for the couple next door I also expect the reverberation will bugger it up for London Alan too unless he's got world class noise cancelling earplugs wedged firmly in all his orifices tonight.
There's also a note in the BnB room. 'Dear Cyclists...' it says. 'Please do not use Deep Heat in your rooms as whilst you might not linger, the smell does...' No, tonight I sleep with Madame Sudocrem. Not used her since I was a baby. Honest! Hairy Melon is a little sore after a day dancing with Bee. And she's much more wrinkly than she was last year which has not helped with the friction. I've told her that Sudocrem is just a different type of lipstick... After a short arguement with my right hand 'OK' she says and on it goes. I expect she won't be able to feel her lips by the morning.
Tomorrow we follow a flatter route to Fort William. Made up of canal paths and forest trails to avoid the dangerous A82. Probably only one third of the ascent compared with today. Hopefully midge free...
The midnight sun is beaming in low and bright through the bedroom window. We're both tired and ready for bed.
Sadly I think one of us is going to have a bad night's sleep!
Ciao for now...
(1) A Scottish gnarly pole of a thing normally hidden under tartan cloth used at Scottish weddings and clam bakes to scare the bejesus out of inquisitive young virgins.
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