Advertisement
I've heard vicious rumors to the effect some of you dear readers are under the impression that we've had horrible weather and suffered incredible trials and that our trip has been one obstacle after another. Not true. We are having a great time. We are feeling stronger every day and we do smile and we do laugh often. Really.
Of course, we know that nobody really wants to hear about the good times - how boring! What we (meaning you and I) really hunger for are those miserable times, those times when surly reigns supreme, when mother nature laughs at our expense and we doubt our capabilities and wonder why the heck we decided to do this adventure anyway.
So, in order to satisfy your lust for those kind of adventures I present an account of one of our two miserable weather days. I hope you enjoy.
We awoke on that morning full of hope. The previous two days had featured glorious weather and were our first taste of the Scottish Border Lands. Sunny skies. abundant forests, glorious vistas of nearby hills and farm fields dotted with sheep. But on this morning we were a little tense. The
weather forecast had called for a strong chance of rain. We were traveling from the village of Innerleithen north to Edinburgh and we were concerned because we had close to 1500 feet of elevation gain in the first eight miles. If we could get up that big hill then it would be a lead pipe cinch - the last 40 miles we could just about coast into Edinburgh. We wanted the weather to cooperate and we hoped our bodies were up to the climb.
We rode that morning from Innerleithen in quite heavy fog. The road had very little traffic and followed the course of a fairly large stream that lead us into the mountains. The wind was pretty much in our face and slowed us down to about five miles per hour. But, we considered ourselves lucky because it wasn't raining. So far, so good. About a mile out of town we rode through, because the road went in that direction, the length of a Scottish golf course complete with lots of Saturday morning Scottish golfers - all men - all seemingly oblivious to the wind and cold and the rain that was beginning to fall.
Mile
after mile passed. We continued our trek up the mountain at a slow but steady pace. The wind continued to be stiff but was blocked fairly often because the road would bend this way and that. The rain never really got going hard and we started feeling hopeful. By the time we finished the first climbing part of the ride we were feeling very good about ourselves. We felt we had finished the hardest part and judged ourselves to be in much better shape than we had been four weeks earlier. We stopped at the top for our mid-morning break optimistic - we were strong and, besides that, the weather forecast was wrong - this was going to be an easy day - we had just one more little hill to do and the it was going to be downhill all the way to Edinburgh. Piece of cake. Right? Uuuhh ...
You can probably guess the turn this story will take and you would be correct. As we approached the last hill the wind picked up and so did the rain. Each of us tightened the hoods around our faces. This last hill was only a half mile long
on the map but in this weather it seemed to last forever. Our bike speed plummeted and so did the temperature. The rain turned to sleet, almost hail, and really stung our faces. This was truly miserable. Karen was blown off her bike and couldn't trust her balance and had to walk her bike up the last quarter mile. As it was, she could almost walk as fast as the rest of us could pedal. What the hell were we doing?
Finally, we made it to the top. As we started down the other side of the hill the going got a bit easier but now we were pretty well soaked despite being supplied with wet weather gear. Dropping in elevation, the temperature rose a bit and the rain flying in our faces stopped stinging. We still couldn't see very well with our glasses covered in raindrops and our faces peek-a-booing out of our hoods but we were making some progress.
Our intermediate destination was Dalkeith which, according to the information we had, was the first place were food and drink could be had, some twenty miles down the road from Innerleithen. But we we're tired and discouraged.
We needed to find some place fast. We came upon the little village of Bonnyrigg - just a dot on the map and supposedly without any amenities for the rain-soaked pilgrim.
It was then that Kit rose to one of his greatest triumphs - he found us a drinking establishment - no food served - and persuaded the hostess to let us come in, dry out and be served coffee. As we trooped in six older fellows at the bar and one dog turned and stared at the bedraggled, thoroughly wet procession of crazy Americans. To them we must have looked like aliens from Mars.
Anyhow, we were most welcome. The coffee never tasted better. We brought in some cookies from our stash on the bikes and we're able to spend the better part of an hour getting dry and refreshed and getting our confidence back. When it was time to leave our hostess refused to accept any payment. She said they only served alcohol there and she couldn't charge us for the coffee. We joked with the patrons at the bar about the weather and left them with something else to talk and smile about that day. Rejuvinated, we again mounted up and resumed our journey.
The rest of the ride into Edinburgh was pretty uneventful except for one very minor moment. Riding through Dalkeith, a fairly large town with parks and tall apartment buildings, I kept hearing the music of what I knew must be an ice cream truck! But, it couldn't be. It was freezing cold, the wind was still blowing fairly briskly. Who would want ice cream on a day like this? What idiot would be outside on a day like this thinking anybody would buy any ice cream? As we rode closer the music became louder. There would be pauses, as if a sale was in progress, and then it would again start up. Yankee Doodle Dandy. I'm not kidding.
I never did see the truck. As we drove by it was off our path about a block away. But I did see a kid, about ten years old, the hood of his sweat shirt pulled up over the top of his head, walking away from us working on his ice cream cone. It may have been cold and windy, but that kid had his ice cream cone.
-- Jim
Advertisement
Tot: 0.147s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 22; qc: 92; dbt: 0.1022s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.3mb
Nancy Vedder
non-member comment
Oh Jim Bob! How in the world did you pass up ice cream?! I'm shocked. Thanks for this entertainment - at your expense of course.