Mull of Kintyre, oh…

Mull of Kintyre, oh…

... please leave me alone, you annoying song.

So far I haven’t cycled with headphones on, as usually there is enough to see and hear anyway, and also I want to hear the traffic.  What that means is end up subconsciously playing music in my head, and what is stranger still, the music has often been related to where I have been travelling through.  For example, when I went through Runcorn (which is near Liverpool), I had the Beatles’ Back in the USSR going through my head, and I even started whistling it.  I haven’t thought about that song for donkey’s years, but it was just there.  Same going through Warrington, not far from Manchester, and I had Wonderwall in my head.   I don’t even like that song it is so over-played.  

It must be a subconscious thing, but my finely-tuned geographical mind knows the co-ordinates of my bike and looks up an appropriate sound track.  Which all went wrong today, as I left Carlisle, racing for the Scottish border (and I was racing – I was very excited to get to Scotland!) and all I had in my mind was Mull of Bloody Kintyre.  Ignore the fact that Paul McCartney is not from Scotland, that his wife (at the time) was American, and even then that the Mull of Kintyre is probably 500 miles from the English-Scottish border, but that’s all I had in my mind and I couldn’t get it out.  I even, consciously, tried to think of the Proclaimers’ 500 Miles, which is probably a more apt tune – but the Bloody Mull of Bloody Kintyre never left me today.  Having written this down, I know I will now go to sleep with it in my head.  I need to think of more Scottish songs otherwise I will go bananas.  Recommendations please?

Back to the ride, and I left Keswick a bit later than planned.  When the B&B owner said ‘what time would you like breakfast?’ and I replied ‘as early as possible',  the ‘8.30?’ response was not what I was looking for.  I negotiated an 8.15 but she wasn’t going any earlier.  Out of Keswick and I knew I had 15 miles of climbing, so was immediately focussed on pushing through that.

The climb started gradually…

  

… when a Tornado flew really low through the valley and banked right – just as I was taking the previous picture, so I managed to get him.   What an amazing sight.

 I was thinking I had the best life, cycling on a lovely summers’ morning through the Lake District, but thinking about what that Tornado pilot was doing – well, it’s not comparable, is it?

More climbing, and the view was great.

I then went over a few hills and came across some more, smaller, lakes.

More climbing…

… and a few small descents into little valleys where streams would run through.  

When I took this photo I had been running down the hill and left the bike in its highest gear.  I should have put it in the lowest gear as the hill immediately went up again.  When I got on the bike, and tried to ride up the hill, it wasn’t going anywhere, whereupon I tried to unclip my pedals.  The only problem was that I put new cleats in my shoes yesterday, as the old ones were worn out, and new cleats always feel different unclipping until they are ‘worn in’.  Clearly I tipped over and fell off, as I couldn’t unclip quickly enough!  Nobody saw, thank goodness.

Eventually at the top of the hill, which was more of a plain rather than a peak.

It was surprisingly quiet and peaceful at the top, other than the sound of the birds and sheep, so I took this short video.

June 2013 - Lejog day 9 - on top of the hill from Zub on Vimeo.

Past an enormous TV antenna and the view looking North was fantastic.

A quick word about washing.  I have two sets of cycling clothes.  When I left, Jo asked me what I was going to wash my clothes with.  Being a bloke, I hadn’t thought about that – probably a manly washing powder like Swarfega or something, and maybe a bit of truck axle grease as fabric softener.  Anyway she gave me some hand washing soap which I used to clean my kit last night, where I hung it out of the window of my B&B (very stylish, I know)…

… but this morning it wasn’t quite dry, so I used my excellent, patented, ‘Bike-o-Dryer’ which is basically the clothes in a net bag, bungeed to the rear pannier.  I feel like a bit of a hobo dangling my washing on the back of my bike, but it works!

Down the hill, the sign said 9 miles to Carlisle…

… and I went on a really fun stretch of road with lots of dips and brows.  It felt like a roller coaster, if you keep the momentum, you slow down near the brow, whizz down the dip and try and make it to the next brow without slowing down too much.

Eventually I hit Carlisle, which I think is the most Northerly city in England.  I passed this amazing brick chimney; it was absolutely massive. 

Over the Eden Bridge…

… and I went past some pokey music hall where Blondie is playing on 23 June.  My word, what a fall from grace!

Out of the city I was now really looking forward to getting into Scotland, and I started pushing.  I was on a pretty busy single carriageway for about 5 minutes, which started to worry me as most of this trip has been on back roads, when my route said I needed to turn off.  I turned off, and then it said ‘turn right onto the 7’ at a particular bend.  All I could see was a farm gate, and I went back and forth confused, but eventually I noticed a small track, which was the National Cycling Route no. 7.   It started with this milepost, of which there are 1,000 across the UK:

… and then I enjoyed a really nice ride along a narrow track, away from all the traffic.  Whilst my average speed was much lower, this was so much more enjoyable.

Finally, I made it to Scotland!

Bye-bye Cumbria, hello Dumfries & Galloway.  I need to learn the Scottish counties now.

Quick stop in Gretna Green to write some cards to my boys and enjoy an ice cream in the sun.

And then a long, long road along the B7076, which went parallel to the M74 motorway.  The road had a very good cycle lane, at least a metre wide, so I had lots of room from the traffic, but it went on, and on, and on.

It felt like the cycling equivalent of a motorway, and this feeling was heightened by the fast that I had the M74 next to me most of the time, and I occasionally went over it and had it on the other side.

Some wind farms and cows broke the monotony…

But the scenery wasn’t particularly exciting, especially after leaving the Lake District that morning.

Because the road was so boring, I made a detour and pulled off into Lockerbie as I wondered whether there would be anything about the Pan Am flight that crashed there.  I didn’t have time to look around, so continued though, but these evening looked online and the main memorial is about a mile outside of the town.

I hadn’t had much to eat, so stopped outside of the Fire Station and scoffed a packet of shortbread.

Back on the road, and mile upon mile of boring straight road, occasionally criss-crossing the M74.

Finally I reached Moffat where I am staying.

And rolled up at my B&B, which is the white house on the right of the picture.  

It is very nice, and I convinced them to serve me breakfast at 7.15 tomorrow so I can get an early start.  Tomorrow is a big ride all the way up through Glasgow up to Loch Lomond – about 85 miles.

Here’s today’s route.

I averaged 13.6mph today, which is my fastest ride.  Much of the time I was doing 15-25mph but the climb at the start of the day slowed me down.