Scotland 2025 Day 14 - Cafe Racers
We're home. Me and Brad the Lad arrived back in York just before 8pm last night. I bought my final calorific take away and entered my house.
Hello Wayne, she said. Did you have a nice time dear?
Yes I did thank you very much..
And Sleeeep...
The way she said it was long and drawn out as though being put under the influence of a hypnotist - so low was her tone. It put me into a coma. There is something about being back in ones own bed that gives such a welcome rest. A deep sleep in which I did not dream? No, perhaps I did. The last 2 weeks were but a dream, surely? The days have gone so fast.
Perhaps I didn't make it too clear in yesterday's mad update but the ride into Moffat was bloody stiff. In that uphill all the way kinda stiffness into a very stiff wind. It almost gave me an erection. And squally rain. No other option though to get to Moffat as there are no trains serving that route and it's where Southside and his wife Geri live. Southside passes the time walking his hyper fit crosser dog 500 miles every day. Geri (her maiden name is Rafferty) is a wannabe Scottish singer, songwriter, musician and exceptional lasagna producer. She was a founding member of 'Steal His Wheels' - a fanatical bikers band and is often found singing to herself in the kitchen her favourite song 'Stuck on the tandem with you'.
We're on the A701 aiming for Moffat. It's a forsaken road where all bits related to cycling are the smashed up gnarly teeth of a monster climb. Proper broken and rough made only the worse by the occasional driver who even with an empty 30ft wide road to play with would still insist on leaving paint scrapes down the side of our panniers.
We met Southside atop the first 1000ft climb. Now there's a racing snake if I've ever seen one. A very cold racing snake mind going by the shivers. Nonetheless were away down the other side for I seem to remember something that GOOGLE does not - that there is a cafe in the village of Broughton. And there was. I'm now particularly frightened by the thought of being caught by the ZULUs!
This is the kind of riding that surely tests yer mettle and muscles and your willingness to ride a bike even to the local Tesco store on a windy day. However to a now hardened Scotland cyclist you just set your mind and body to the task and grind along in a way that Brad the Lad might with any of his GRINDR female friends.
He's a fit lad nowadays. I encourage him to join local riding clubs but no - he's just happy to go for rides with his uncle Wayne. He's mad! For I will take him to places where a Tesco meal deal has never been heard of. Nonetheless he wanted to show off a bit methinks and he's away up the final 1400ft climb into the Devils Beeftub. I'm saying nowt. Other than Southside I think felt obliged to ride along with slow old me being that I was the one riding a tank of a thing. As I normally might I encouraged Southside to go play with the Lad and teach him to ride his bike fast. And he's away leaving me dreaming of meeting a woman one day with clean shaven bits and an attraction to fat hairy men in string vests.
Well there have been 3 eyeball poppin moments on this ride. One with the Lad and two others with London Alan.
Southside caught up with the Lad on the Beeftub climb. I eventually get to the top and find them both huddled together like snakes in the grass and in a quiet moment I ask the Lad did you enjoy riding to the top with Southside? Now he has become a fast rider in my eyes. Oh to have 26 year old legs again I so often say. It's not often the Lad confesses to owt but he did this one time. About the moment Southside accelerated to approx 18mph on the climb into a headwind where his eyeballs popped out and so feigned taking a call from his dad so as not to even attempt to catch up. Southside is ever so slightly older than me. Dammit!
The other 2 moments - well - there we are spinning along on Uist with me and the Lad at the back and London Alan and David the Gentle Giant ahead of us. We're not hanging about. I call over the secure intercom and say 'Fatman calling the Lad, (zzzzhhhh - sorry radio interference - or might have been the wind...) ready for a two ship buzz of the tower, over?' to which the Lad replies 'Okay Roger Wilco!' We push out throttles up and quickly catch them flying past in a beautiful sweeping two ship formation. Whooosh!
No that's not the moment. We're on a small incline still side by side and I spy in my mirror a VERY determined London Alan all head down and arse up pushing hard to catch us up. I call the Lad up on the radio again. Are you ready to make London Alan's eyeballs pop out? Okay, Roger, Wilco was his reply. We kicked the afterburners in and took off stratospherically into the dark blue rainbow encrusted sky. I watched in my mirror as London Alan disappeared towards the vanishing point, give up the chase, stopped his mule and commenced fumbling around at the roadside trying to find his peepers in the dimming evening light.
The second moment? This was an easy one. We're at a Toby Carvery in Edinburgh where you take a plate and help yourself. London Alan thought he was doing well. At least 900 calories on his full dinner plate. Me, well I'm last back to the table with the extra extra large plate piled high. I sit next to London Alan who with mouth open and eyes agog first looks at his then at mine then back at his then back at mine before fumbling again under the table. I tell him, I am a fat bloke for good reason and that I used to beat 4th year kids in school dinner eating competitions when I was in the 1st year. I am not proud of this fact. No, I am really :-)
We met Mark and Geri for dinner of course later that evening. The lamb shank sounded nice so I turned and said to each of them cos I was buying - lamb shank? lamb shank? lamb shank? - before turning to the waiter and saying 4 lamb shanks please. Which probably left him with a rather large lamb sausage to dispose of the next day... BAAAH!
In fact the whole of this ride has been about just how fast we can go to make it to the next cafe stop. We're continually perusing GOOGLE Maps trying to find the damn things. Star ratings are ignored. If there is one then we are going to it.
For example we're on a hard hill climb and can't figure out what's taking London Alan so long to get up the hill. When he arrived he told me he had found a new trick. You know how reverse gear ratio's in cars are lower than first? he says. Yeah? Well, he'd stopped and refitted his cassette on backwards and made the whole ascent waving and folk as he wobbled up the hill in reverse.
Anyway we arrive at the Island Arts and Coffee Shop - a remote place south of Stornoway inhabited by - according to GOOGLE - a one woman band who is somewhat off with the faries. Well I think that is just cruel. Perhaps a little too long living in the wilderness but nonetheless a lovely lass who was only spared the embarrassment of showing her boobies cos she tucked her shirt into her belt. She made crackingly crunchy toasties though. I know not where the cheese came from.
And that seemed to be the nature of the ride. Whatever state we were in - whatever the weather we were continually on the hunt for cafe's. They were all very welcoming to us. Gobsmacked even when we told them of our adventure. And in fact became a crossing point with other cyclists we'd met on the one and only route through the Outer Hebrides.
Mmmmm just had lunch. A home made potato and leek soup with a bit of sausage chopped in.
Did you enjoy your lunch dear? she politely asks
Yes I did thank you very much!
And SLEEEEP!
Wow! What just happened? Out cold again. This time it was a very definite demand that I went to sleep. For it was needed. I'm sat here now with muscle aches. And feeling pretty damn tired too. 12 days of cycling with none of it on the flat for approx 8 hours per day is damn challenging on a sixty something body. I seriously need to re-energise myself. Next time as you normally do Wayne, plan in a day off!
Hello Wayne, she said. Did you have a nice time dear?
Yes I did thank you very much..
And Sleeeep...
The way she said it was long and drawn out as though being put under the influence of a hypnotist - so low was her tone. It put me into a coma. There is something about being back in ones own bed that gives such a welcome rest. A deep sleep in which I did not dream? No, perhaps I did. The last 2 weeks were but a dream, surely? The days have gone so fast.
Perhaps I didn't make it too clear in yesterday's mad update but the ride into Moffat was bloody stiff. In that uphill all the way kinda stiffness into a very stiff wind. It almost gave me an erection. And squally rain. No other option though to get to Moffat as there are no trains serving that route and it's where Southside and his wife Geri live. Southside passes the time walking his hyper fit crosser dog 500 miles every day. Geri (her maiden name is Rafferty) is a wannabe Scottish singer, songwriter, musician and exceptional lasagna producer. She was a founding member of 'Steal His Wheels' - a fanatical bikers band and is often found singing to herself in the kitchen her favourite song 'Stuck on the tandem with you'.
We're on the A701 aiming for Moffat. It's a forsaken road where all bits related to cycling are the smashed up gnarly teeth of a monster climb. Proper broken and rough made only the worse by the occasional driver who even with an empty 30ft wide road to play with would still insist on leaving paint scrapes down the side of our panniers.
We met Southside atop the first 1000ft climb. Now there's a racing snake if I've ever seen one. A very cold racing snake mind going by the shivers. Nonetheless were away down the other side for I seem to remember something that GOOGLE does not - that there is a cafe in the village of Broughton. And there was. I'm now particularly frightened by the thought of being caught by the ZULUs!
This is the kind of riding that surely tests yer mettle and muscles and your willingness to ride a bike even to the local Tesco store on a windy day. However to a now hardened Scotland cyclist you just set your mind and body to the task and grind along in a way that Brad the Lad might with any of his GRINDR female friends.
He's a fit lad nowadays. I encourage him to join local riding clubs but no - he's just happy to go for rides with his uncle Wayne. He's mad! For I will take him to places where a Tesco meal deal has never been heard of. Nonetheless he wanted to show off a bit methinks and he's away up the final 1400ft climb into the Devils Beeftub. I'm saying nowt. Other than Southside I think felt obliged to ride along with slow old me being that I was the one riding a tank of a thing. As I normally might I encouraged Southside to go play with the Lad and teach him to ride his bike fast. And he's away leaving me dreaming of meeting a woman one day with clean shaven bits and an attraction to fat hairy men in string vests.
Well there have been 3 eyeball poppin moments on this ride. One with the Lad and two others with London Alan.
Southside caught up with the Lad on the Beeftub climb. I eventually get to the top and find them both huddled together like snakes in the grass and in a quiet moment I ask the Lad did you enjoy riding to the top with Southside? Now he has become a fast rider in my eyes. Oh to have 26 year old legs again I so often say. It's not often the Lad confesses to owt but he did this one time. About the moment Southside accelerated to approx 18mph on the climb into a headwind where his eyeballs popped out and so feigned taking a call from his dad so as not to even attempt to catch up. Southside is ever so slightly older than me. Dammit!
The other 2 moments - well - there we are spinning along on Uist with me and the Lad at the back and London Alan and David the Gentle Giant ahead of us. We're not hanging about. I call over the secure intercom and say 'Fatman calling the Lad, (zzzzhhhh - sorry radio interference - or might have been the wind...) ready for a two ship buzz of the tower, over?' to which the Lad replies 'Okay Roger Wilco!' We push out throttles up and quickly catch them flying past in a beautiful sweeping two ship formation. Whooosh!
No that's not the moment. We're on a small incline still side by side and I spy in my mirror a VERY determined London Alan all head down and arse up pushing hard to catch us up. I call the Lad up on the radio again. Are you ready to make London Alan's eyeballs pop out? Okay, Roger, Wilco was his reply. We kicked the afterburners in and took off stratospherically into the dark blue rainbow encrusted sky. I watched in my mirror as London Alan disappeared towards the vanishing point, give up the chase, stopped his mule and commenced fumbling around at the roadside trying to find his peepers in the dimming evening light.
The second moment? This was an easy one. We're at a Toby Carvery in Edinburgh where you take a plate and help yourself. London Alan thought he was doing well. At least 900 calories on his full dinner plate. Me, well I'm last back to the table with the extra extra large plate piled high. I sit next to London Alan who with mouth open and eyes agog first looks at his then at mine then back at his then back at mine before fumbling again under the table. I tell him, I am a fat bloke for good reason and that I used to beat 4th year kids in school dinner eating competitions when I was in the 1st year. I am not proud of this fact. No, I am really :-)
We met Mark and Geri for dinner of course later that evening. The lamb shank sounded nice so I turned and said to each of them cos I was buying - lamb shank? lamb shank? lamb shank? - before turning to the waiter and saying 4 lamb shanks please. Which probably left him with a rather large lamb sausage to dispose of the next day... BAAAH!
In fact the whole of this ride has been about just how fast we can go to make it to the next cafe stop. We're continually perusing GOOGLE Maps trying to find the damn things. Star ratings are ignored. If there is one then we are going to it.
For example we're on a hard hill climb and can't figure out what's taking London Alan so long to get up the hill. When he arrived he told me he had found a new trick. You know how reverse gear ratio's in cars are lower than first? he says. Yeah? Well, he'd stopped and refitted his cassette on backwards and made the whole ascent waving and folk as he wobbled up the hill in reverse.
Anyway we arrive at the Island Arts and Coffee Shop - a remote place south of Stornoway inhabited by - according to GOOGLE - a one woman band who is somewhat off with the faries. Well I think that is just cruel. Perhaps a little too long living in the wilderness but nonetheless a lovely lass who was only spared the embarrassment of showing her boobies cos she tucked her shirt into her belt. She made crackingly crunchy toasties though. I know not where the cheese came from.
And that seemed to be the nature of the ride. Whatever state we were in - whatever the weather we were continually on the hunt for cafe's. They were all very welcoming to us. Gobsmacked even when we told them of our adventure. And in fact became a crossing point with other cyclists we'd met on the one and only route through the Outer Hebrides.
Mmmmm just had lunch. A home made potato and leek soup with a bit of sausage chopped in.
Did you enjoy your lunch dear? she politely asks
Yes I did thank you very much!
And SLEEEEP!
Wow! What just happened? Out cold again. This time it was a very definite demand that I went to sleep. For it was needed. I'm sat here now with muscle aches. And feeling pretty damn tired too. 12 days of cycling with none of it on the flat for approx 8 hours per day is damn challenging on a sixty something body. I seriously need to re-energise myself. Next time as you normally do Wayne, plan in a day off!
Anyway Thursday was the final day from Moffat to Carlisle and was fairy uneventful. Noticeably fewer and flatter hills. The wind was much lighter - probably because of the reduction in carbohydrates the previous day. But we still had intermittent rain. Yes finish as you started Wayne.
We visited the site of the Lockerbie aircraft crash - the second time for me - a place that will always bring me to tears as the place where over 250 people lost their lives in December 1988 as a result of a bomb on a PanAm flight. So terribly terribly sad. Then we passed through Gretna Green where I totally refused to marry the Lad. Finally the twisty route to Carlisle station and the Lads 4th puncture of the ride. Nonetheless in 1 hours time we are on out way home. And that's it... Finito.
Epilogue
It's now Friday. The next job later today I recon is to strip the bike and give it a jolly good seeing to. David has offered to take photos of the session. He's also our resident bike expert and has written a book - an instruction manual - on just how to wax ones own chain. Where he gets his supply of lube from God only knows. You put the wax on he says. Then take the wax off and promptly offered to help me with this particular step. No thank you. There’s no way I want to lick clean her dirty bits whilst he takes photos of us as he waxes off.
London Alan is also into that game as I think it he who asked if we'd bought the premium bum creams for this ride as apparently the stuff that they use on cow udders to help the milking machine slip on the nipple is just as good. We all declined after we'd seen London Alan fall off his bike every time we passed a cow - or a dairy.
Me, well this time I rode with just a pair of lycra under-crackers as the thin line of defence to stop Brooks giving Hairy Melon a rather big love bite. And it kinda worked. Kinda.
I am a little sore and inspection of the undercarriage when I landed back at my home base has identified a new problem. Have you ever taken a close look at a chicken or more probably a turkey? And you see that straggly bit of skin that hangs from beneath their chins? Well yes. I thought there was something developing on my perineum. If I had another bollock I'd now have some place to store it. It kinda explains a lot and is probably why Tesco Customer Service Agents nowadays show me deference with MUSK style salutes. And I guess why Hitler liked riding bikes.
And that's it for this year's big ride. It's been great! Fab to be joined again by London Alan, David the Gentle Giant and Brad the Lad and having the opportunity to meet up again with Southside Mark and his wife Gill (not Geri - just a silly joke wasn't it..) And that everyone has been game in accepting my musings and writings in this blog with grace and being able to laugh along with me at the fiction that I have written based on what really did happen on the ride. A work of fiction? Was it? Hmmmm..
Me - I'm gonna take a few well earned days off and get on with cleaning the bag of dog sleight that I've dragged back home with me.
And take some time to rest my giblets.
Ciao for now :-) x
It's now Friday. The next job later today I recon is to strip the bike and give it a jolly good seeing to. David has offered to take photos of the session. He's also our resident bike expert and has written a book - an instruction manual - on just how to wax ones own chain. Where he gets his supply of lube from God only knows. You put the wax on he says. Then take the wax off and promptly offered to help me with this particular step. No thank you. There’s no way I want to lick clean her dirty bits whilst he takes photos of us as he waxes off.
London Alan is also into that game as I think it he who asked if we'd bought the premium bum creams for this ride as apparently the stuff that they use on cow udders to help the milking machine slip on the nipple is just as good. We all declined after we'd seen London Alan fall off his bike every time we passed a cow - or a dairy.
Me, well this time I rode with just a pair of lycra under-crackers as the thin line of defence to stop Brooks giving Hairy Melon a rather big love bite. And it kinda worked. Kinda.
I am a little sore and inspection of the undercarriage when I landed back at my home base has identified a new problem. Have you ever taken a close look at a chicken or more probably a turkey? And you see that straggly bit of skin that hangs from beneath their chins? Well yes. I thought there was something developing on my perineum. If I had another bollock I'd now have some place to store it. It kinda explains a lot and is probably why Tesco Customer Service Agents nowadays show me deference with MUSK style salutes. And I guess why Hitler liked riding bikes.
And that's it for this year's big ride. It's been great! Fab to be joined again by London Alan, David the Gentle Giant and Brad the Lad and having the opportunity to meet up again with Southside Mark and his wife Gill (not Geri - just a silly joke wasn't it..) And that everyone has been game in accepting my musings and writings in this blog with grace and being able to laugh along with me at the fiction that I have written based on what really did happen on the ride. A work of fiction? Was it? Hmmmm..
Me - I'm gonna take a few well earned days off and get on with cleaning the bag of dog sleight that I've dragged back home with me.
And take some time to rest my giblets.
Ciao for now :-) x
A brilliant collection (herd, pod, run?) of blogs Wayne. Very funny and insightful. My eye's have now settled back into their sockets. The cow nipple cream has been removed. No more hills in sight, at least for a week. Glad to hear Mark joined up with you on Day 11. It was indeed a fantastic ride around Scotland. Made all the better by the companionship along the way of the Fat Bloke on a Bike, the Gentle Giant and Brad the Lad. See you all at the next cafe stop!! 😁👍🚴🚴🚴🚴
ReplyDeleteAlan my friend. Thank you so much for your kind words and for allowing me to develop the London Alan caricature in this blog. You are the star. Having done 500 miles after your terrible biking accident last year. There are many many many folk half our age who just could not do what we did. Keep it up Sir ! And yes I’m talkjng about biking!! 😁
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