Largs - Dalmally (Monday)
Total distance: 67.61 miles; total ascent 4744 feet; Ave Speed 11.2mph; Maximum speed 32.68.mph; total time in saddle 6 hours 3 minutes.
As anticipated, when we peered through our bedroom window this morning the weather was as bad as we could have imagined. Driving wind and heavy rain, all dressed in a sky painted by Baellizibub himself.
Somehow I was up first, Russ looked particularly tired after yesterday’s exploits, but we both had breakfast, which was less than ordinary and I remarked that I have no idea why we felt obliged to cram down so much food first thing in the morning, particularly food of such poor quality.
Anyhow, after the usual pannier packing ritual (this seems to get more taxing every day) we made our way to the bikes that had been left padlocked to some ladders behind the ‘best little whore house in Largs’ (see previous entry).
Here our day’s adventures started to unfold. Whilst securing the bikes last night, I had idly observed to Russ that on Brooks Saddle’s Facebook page an entry had been made about how saddles themselves were being stolen from chained up bikes. This prompted Russ to remove his and I did the same (even worse than me, he seems to trust no one and suspect everyone, particularly in dubious areas, which is pretty much anywhere further than outside his front door). As a result of all this, we therefore had to re-secure and fix our saddles back on. When Russ said “I’ve got a major problem” I sort of knew immediately what had happened. He had over tightened the bolt that secures his seat post to the frame and it had snapped in two. This was indeed serious.
For some unknown reason, I was particularly practical and positive about all this (Larri would be astounded, given my usual glass half empty style, it must be all this fresh air) and suggested that there had to be a bike shop in Largs. Thanks to the iPhone, my suggestion was confirmed to be correct and 30 minutes later we had been sorted. I also purchased some very neat l.e.d. front and rear lights.
We set off at around 9.45am for the 15 odd miles to Gourock to catch the Western Ferry to Dunoon (we had been told this line sails in any weather and for very reasonable rates, unlike the thieving feckers Calmac further up the quayside).
It was on leaving Largs for this 15 mile journey that it soon became apparent today was going to be a bit different. Upon joining the A78 the wind was not only extremely strong, but was right behind us. We polished off those 15miles in just over an hour 10 at an average pace of 14.5mph, quicker than I have ever achieved in training and certainly quicker than anything we had done before on this trip. The rush of feeling like you have a second person propelling you is really quite strange at first, big cog engaged, one can gently pedal with no effort and maintain 15 – 20 mph with ease. The novelty of this was enough to detract from the fact if was raining hard, and with effective overshoes and my top notch waterproof coat all was exceeding well with the world.
We arrived at the quayside just in time to catch the ferry so there was no wait and before we knew it we were in Dunoon stocking up on sandwiches and general provisions for the next 50 odd miles. The weather had improved greatly for the crossing and we were treated to some rare sunshine that hung around for the first couple of miles out of Dunoon. As we continued on the A815 though the weather really began to change dramatically for the worse. The rain set in as heavy as I have ever known and the winds became unbelievably fierce.
We stopped at a remote filling station and enjoyed hot coffee inside whilst watching the rubbish bin being tossed around outside like an empty crisp packet.
We pressed on, but still with the wind behind us and despite the atrocious conditions the miles were being eaten very quickly and much faster than we had become accustomed to during the preceding 10 days. When the A815 met the edge of Loch Fine is became apparent that the weather was extremely serious indeed, the usually tranquil Loch has waves of 7 or 8 feet in height. The wind which at this point was still behind us, meant we went quicker and quicker until we were having the brake to slow down the force that was coming from behind us. Freewheeling along flat and gentle inclines at speeds in excess of 30mph thanks to a wind behind you is a surreal experience and one I’m not sure I’ll ever experience again.
Excitement, extreme adrenaline rush and abject fear all rolled into one as we came across more and more fallen trees, phone and power lines that had been blown like match sticks across the road. The road is tree lined for most of the way, and whilst trying to manage speed, steer to avoid potholes etc and be wary of potential trees coming down, made for multi-tasking like I had never endured before. All of this along with huge lorries and the usual issues of traffic on a truck road meant I was laughing out loud at some points, drinking in the whole ludicrous experience because I knew it was one of those life time moments that would probably never be repeated.
Things were to get worse though.
Anyone that knows Loch Fyne will know that to get to the ‘staging post’ of Inveraray, you have to travel around the Loch. This means effectively travelling north west, then making a ‘u’ turn and travelling south east until you hit the small town.
As we made the sweeping ‘u’ turn at the end of the Loch, there was a brief moment of calm, we saw flocks of birds gently swooping through the low cloud and the trees seemed calm. However nothing could prepare us for the end of the curve as we began the 10 mile South East section to Inveraray. The wind hit us like an army of battering rams. My breath and front wheel were taken away from me and for a moment, I thought I would be swept clean off the road – a main road with cars, trucks and other such potential killing machines. Struggling to keep the bike straight in the face of 70mph gusts took all my physical and mental strength. We paused at the Loch Fyne Seafood restaurant car park and watched as parked cars rocked violently as the winds attempted to tear them away (I’m NOT kidding).
Russ told me that we were stuffed and we had little choice but to carry on to Inveraray. He told me to think of it as some sort of mad computer cycle simulation game. So we continued. I have no idea how we made it, but we did. I was about 3 minutes ahead of Russ and as I crossed the hump bridge 1/4mile from the town I could see blue lights flashing on the twon’s outskirts and watched amazed as waves from the Loch crashed over the road ahead. As I rode into the town, I realised that the police had closed the road we had just endured and drivers wondering what to do looked at me in total amazement as I rode into town like some swaggering cowboy, back from a successful bounty mission.
I pulled up and took what shelter I could in the bus stop as I waited for Russ. The police were speaking the each driver in turn in the queue of traffic and telling them basically they had no choice but the wait - the road we had just ridden was too dangerous for cars and trucks (!!!)
Oh how I wished our original plan of staying at The George Hotel in Inverary had worked out (the hotel was fully booked when we tried to get a room).
As Russ arrived and joined me I realised I was beginning to get extremely cold (remember I only have cycling shorts, my bare legs have been sunburnt, wind shredded and peppered with horizontal rain so far on this trip). Shivering uncontrollably as I rammed a roll and Boost bar down my throat, Russ said we might as well get stuck in and make Dalmally, some 16 miles ahead where our accommodation was booked.
The Police confirmed the road to Dalmally was road was clear and open (but didn’t recommend we tried it given the conditions) but somewhat reluctantly I decided not to argue with Russ but to dig in. For the first couple of miles I had serious doubts and almost turned around. My neck hurt badly, I was tense with pain and I could barely summon the strength the change gears. Stopping at Inveraray had drained my body heat and I knew my only chance of getting through this was to cycle harder and try to regain some body heat. Eventually I managed to settle and get some warmth going as my heart rate quickened.
Someone must have been looking over us, because this piece of road – 16 miles and an ascent of 700 feet, was completed in not much more than an hour. Not a superhuman effort but purely driven by the monumental winds which, by the grace of God, were behind us the whole way.
We arrived at Dalmally to find that the electricity was out throughout the whole village, mobile phone masts were down and as I type this in bed by candle light at 10 in the evening, things are still not returned to normal. There was just enough water for one bath and although I followed him, Russ can be delighted in the knowledge that his dirty water probably just about got my body temperature back to where it belonged.
There’s much I haven’t said, much it is impossible to convey through the medium of this Blog and it is no cliché to say that unless you were there, you cannot possibly understand what we had to endure today. It was a monumental effort on both our parts and took physical and mental strength that I certainly had no idea I possessed.
Oh and on top of it all, one of us ruptured a haemorrhoid.
Goodnight all.
No comments:
Post a Comment