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Published: July 28th 2006
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On top of Ben Lomond
I've had this Exeter Uni vest for years and have since lost it. Let me start by stressing that I have used no artificial products, sun-in, lemon juice - anything - on my hair, as some people are suggesting. It is merely the fact that a healthy outdoor lifestyle and hours of sunshine beating down on my head has blonded my hair.
So I went to Northern Ireland. I booked myself on the 4.15am ferry from Cairnryan to Larne. I slept overnight in the ferry terminal and ending up bedding down on the floor of the children's soft play area. The room was sweltering and swarming with sodding midges and every other flying insect under the sun. So I had to have a sleeping bag over me even though I was losing pints of water in sweat. Every now and then I had to unpeel myself from the floor. If I let an arm or shoulder slip out the bag a midge would be on me in a split second biting a chunk out of me. I had never been happy to get up so early. The crossing took two hours and it was just me and about 50 HGV drivers snoring in the lounge or flicking cigarette butts into the Irish Sea.
The following day was the hottest July day on record in the south and 30C in Ulster - higher than Crete and Rome the Tyrone Herald boasted. That night there were 1,000 lightning strikes in county Antrim and a massive forest fire on Slieve Gullion, one of the mountains I was due to climb. Was finding the cycling hard work in the sun - but then I heard David O'Leary had been fired which cheered me up no end.
Sawel is the highest point in counties Tyrone and Londonderry. In 1943 an aircraft crash landed on the mountain side. The two occupants both broke legs but manged to crawl three miles down the slope to get help, but still died unfortunately. My sixth and final Northern Irish county top was the magnificent 850 metre Slieve Donard, the highest point in the province in the Mourne Mountains. The weather was crystal clear except for a moving mist on the summit. You never know what is in this mist. It could be a vicious thunderstorm or benign cloud. Visibility was soon down to a few metres and the wind was lashing the mountain. On the summit I turned to face
the mist which was being blown straight at me at the speed of a train. It was like being on a rollercoaster but I was standing still.
Near the trig point there was a plaque for a guy who had lost his life on the mountain earlier this year. I assumed he'd walked off a ridge and fell. But someone later told me that he was hit by a bolt of lightning when he was caught in a thunderstorm on the summit. He was carrying a metal walking stick which of course conducted the electric current straight through him.
Back to sunny Scotland and I rode up the glorious Ayrshire coast and crossed to the isle of Arran to climb Goatfell. I hate cliches but Arran is the classic "Scotland in miniature", with jagged coastline, high mountains and rolling moor. The view from the top of Goatfell was sensational, back to the mainland, the islands of Islay, Jura, Kintyre and on a good day the Lake District, Isle of Man and Ireland. One little lad summed it up. His mum asked him what he could see. "The whole world," he replied.
Took a ferry back to the
mainland once again and headed north over the Erskine Bridge to the west of Glasgow. Had to resort to using blasted cycle paths because the alternative was a dual-carriageway. I hate cycle paths. Whoever designed this one is an idiot. I had to stop every few seconds because of pointless gates and signs ordered me to 'dismount' every time the path crossed a road. And there's always stupid people straddling the whole path, often with a dog on a long lead just waiting to trip me up. "Move, it's a bike lane!!!"
Best thing to do would be to rip up every single one of these soulless monstrosities and incorporate them on the roads and put cyclists where they should be. Cyclists shouldn't feel apologetic or intimidated to go on the roads. If there were more riders sharing road space drivers would be more tolerant and I might stop jumping red lights. I'm sick and tired of drivers telling me to move into the gutter because I hold them up for a few of their precious seconds.
Climbed Ben Lomond, the most southerly Munro (the munros are the 284 mountains in Scotland over 3000ft/914m in height) in the
early evening and another Munro Ben Vorlich the following day. Cycled the length of Loch Lomond to Crianlarich and east to Killin. Third Munro in three days was Ben Lawers, ninth highest mountain in the Uk at 1214m. Arrived in William Wallace country, Stirling, last night and appropriately stayed in the Willie Wallace Hostel.
I have now climbed 77 hills or mountains in 76 days covering 3,500 miles. Only nine punctures. In the last nine days alone I've averaged 68 miles on the bike. So I've got 15 left in 16 days to finish on Saturday August 12 on Ben Nevis. See http://www.hill-bagging.co.uk/jonnymuir/CountyTopsSC.php and if you're feeling generous www.bmycharity.com/V2/jonnymuir
On a final note - Floyd Landis - how disappointing!
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