Hell - Part 2 (Hell hath Wings)

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For a long time people have been trying to prove or disprove God's existence. Well I've done it. If God existed then scotish flies wouldn't, because no benevolent, all-knowing and wise creator would EVER create those bloody things. I've never been so close insanity. I mean, midges, I can survive, leaches, nothing ... but those flies, shiver ...

We woke at our (favourite) campsite this morning to the pungent smell of sewerage. yes, that great screeching machine next to us was a sewerage treatment plant or some such ... and it was leaking big time. God, it stank.

So we packed up quickly, and cycled the three miles back into Ayr and encamped in a good coffee shop, ordered a mega-sized cafe latte and cappachino, and entombed ourselves in the free newspapers whilst enjoying the warmth of the heaters about us. we even got chatting to a local guy who had ridden the route 7 cycle route which we were about to follow. He told us there were some hills ahead with a nervous look in his eyes, but I assured him we were used to hills, while Chrisitie looked at me strangely. Anyway, after a long break, we set off around 11am to see what this day would bring.

The first section along the coast was really nice, then after a short section along a busyish B road, we turned left and set off into the hills. That's when they arrived, first one little fly buzzing around my head, then 2, then a dozen, then a squadrillion of them. This hill was steep, think 20%!g(MISSING)rade, it went straight up and you were in bottom gear, clinging to the handbars, pushing the bike upwards, every once of your willpower focused on turning the pedals ... and flies were landing in your eyes, up your nose, in your ears, in your mouth, on your back ... they were everywhere.

Christie stopped first, her arms manically flailing in the air, trying to clear the brown mass of air around her, but I put everything into getting to the top of the hill without stopping, I pushed around the corner triumphant, expecting to see the top, only to see the road stretch ever upwards ahead of me. I pushed on, my heart rate was soaring. I was going crazy, flies just everywhere. I prayed for God to give me a headwind, rain anything but these flies!!! It probably only took 10 minutes to get to the top of the hill, but it was the closest I've ever been to insanity. At the time I swore I would live at last night's campsite for the rest of my life rather than face five more minutes with those flies. God it was awful.

I deserted my bike near the top of the hill and ran to a viewing point where a precious breeze helped keep their numbers down, I took some rushed photos (only to realise I'd photographed my thumb when I looked at the pictures later that night) before sprinting back to my bike and trying to find a speed that left those horrid creatures behind.

Finally, we got to the top of the hill, and plummeted down the other side luxuriating in the loss of those pestilent beings.

I got to the bottom, and started heading up the next hill, only to realise after a minute or so that Christie wasn't behind me, I waited, and waited, and then began to worry ... finally turning around, I slugged back up the hill I'd just come down to find, to find Christie five minutes back trying to change a flat tyre and keep the flies at bay at the same time. Between us (and some rain which brought some welcome relief) we managed to get her back on the road and 30 minutes later cycled into a small town where we had some lunch and recuperated from our mornings ordeal.

It was still another 40 miles to the next town where we planned to stay the night, so we set off after a brief lunch, and after mailing off some postcards that we wrote sitting on the side of the street. My pleas for "anything but flies", was greeted with thunder and lightning - quite literally, as the skies opened up, and we were deluged with rain. Strangely, I was thankful as we had a long slog up over two passes (about 15 miles up) and I couldn't begin to comprehend how bad it would have been with those flies. The scenery was also quite beautiful, especially in between the showers with rain running across the roads.

However, today was a day in hell. Half way down the hill, Christie asked me if her rear tyre looked OK, and a quick glance showed me it looked anything but. The rims were nearly touching the tarmac. We stopped and after a quick check found that the brand new tube we'd bought over in the Netherlands (thanks to Jack) had a slow leaking valve. I think the language I used then scared even the flies away. Thankfully, the tyre lasted for the rest of the day, but we were again in the position of having one flat tyre and a spare which had no less than four punctures in it (When Christie gets a flat, she gets a good one).

We eventually rolled into Minnigaf, where we decied to spend the night in a small Youth Hostel, and again the scenery was magnificent along the way.

The hostel manager must have known what we had been through, as after telling us that they had no private rooms at the hostel, he proceeded to put us in a room that he was 'fixing up', so we had it all to ourselves. He also let us put our tent up to dry in the backyard, and the hostel had the cheapest washing machine so far in Europe (and a dryer which kept on magically extending its drying time). After a hot cooked meal of chinese chicken wings and vegetables, and knowing we had clean, warm clothes tomorrow even a day in hell in Scotland didn't seem so bad.

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