Having stayed the night in Fort William, this was to be a
proper driving day to cover off the rest of the Scottish climbs. With a little
bit more time, I’m sure there would have been some lovely riding here, but as
it was I had sadly reached a part of Scotland with mobile signal and 3G,
meaning I was already fielding calls from work so the priority was getting the
things done before reality came back to bite any harder…
First up after a few hours in the car (and some very slow
driving around Loch Lomond), I arrived at the foot of a very rainy ‘Rest and be
Thankful’. Surprisingly, I wasn’t too happy to be getting out of the warm
enclave of the Audi
 |
| Not a happy bunny |
The climb? Well, it was long, and not particularly hard. A
bit like someone cranking up the gradient every 500m or so, and a surprisingly
disappointing summit with views back down onto the highway road through the
valley. Going down was interesting, given that the road had essentially turned
into a river. That said, I’d love to go back to the Trossachs and do some
proper riding – there looked to be lots of lovely tiny forested roads through
the hills that I could happily spend all day wiling away on.
 |
| Cloudy, wet, unpleasant - Rest and be Thankful |
 |
| Rivers of water on the descent |
Next up on the list was Mennock’s Pass – another couple of hours away by car, and requiring a trip through the centre of Glasgow. Joy.
Putting your cold, wet kit on while parked up in a layby and
busting for a pee should hopefully show to you all that I’m dedicated to
getting this challenge done and dusted. Is there a worse feeling that dank wet
socks? Fortunately things started to look up as soon as I got onto the Pass – a
glorious vista opened up on a silky smooth road snaking its way through a
valley. Not so much a climb as an experience, I would wholeheartedly encourage
everyone to do this climb once in their lives. Perhaps it was the sunshine that
had come out. Maybe the picture perfect U-shaped valley. The lack of traffic
may have been a significant factor. Or maybe just the friendly cows grazing by
the size of the road – I like cows. Annoyingly, there was a headwind. Something
about this trip meant that wind seemed to be attracted to me. I can only hope
that doesn’t extend to social situations and everyday life, otherwise that
could be annoying/smelly.
 |
| Mennocks Pass - what a road! |
The last bit out of the valley steepens up and finishes just
past the highest village in Scotland,
 |
| Wanlockhead - just in case you didn't believe me |
Descending was a joy – steadily getting faster and faster
and taking the bends on the inside (risky, but no traffic and a certain sense
of giddiness got the better of me) and left me on the last hill in Scotland
only wanting more. I will definitely be back to explore the area.
With a bit of time before I had to be at my next stop, I
decided to take a risk and try to ‘pop’ down to Northumberland to ride Winter’s
Gibbet – a hill I’d neglected to ride the last time I was there, and one which
is annoyingly far from anywhere convenient. Satnav said over two hours to
destination, but then I laugh in the face of Satnav predicted times. Or at
least I hope so, otherwise I’d be climbing in the dark…
Overtaking at a magnificent rate, the Audi was a joy to
drive, aided by a drum ‘n’ bass soundtrack (usually reserved for hardcore
sessions in the gym) and a lunch of chocolate raisins. I arrived in the tiny
village of Elsdon just as the calm of the evening was settling in, and the
light was fading – time to get riding. After a bit of high level orienteering,
I promptly spied the road uphill and sped out the catch the last hill of the
trip:
 |
| Blissful ignorance |
Winter’s Gibbet is so-named due to the rather morbid gallows
that marks the peak – complete with noose. What you may notice from those
pictures is a lack of noose. Which is because my rather basic orienteering
wasn’t great – in fact I had managed to ride in completely the wrong direction
and up the wrong hill. Which is great because I’d spent a while at the top
looking for the Gibbet, and taking pictures of the clouds, as the light faded away…
 |
| "Oh Look! A Bee!" |
So as it turned out, I was to climb the spookiest climb of
the book in the fading dusk – on my own. Not being one for horror movies, I’d
be lying if I said that the hairs weren’t standing on end as I approached the
completely silent and abandoned hilltop in view of the noose. So the only thing
for it was to pull some stupid faces:
 |
| What an idiot |
The hill itself was challenging without being leg-breaking.
Perhaps I’ve been spoiled with great hills, but it wasn’t up there in the
pantheon of the best.
 |
| Winter's Gibbet |
After that, it was time to pay penance for all that
desparate light-chasing driving: I’d been so intent on overtaking and getting
to Elsdon on time that I didn’t want to pull over and fill the petrol tank (why
gain 5 minutes getting ahead of a slow moving tractor only to stop and end up
back in the queue again). But now it was a game of “how far can you drive with the
petrol warning indication flashing” vs “how far away is the nearest petrol
station”. I didn’t fancy being stuck on the Northumberland tops in the pitch
black and worsening weather. Fortunately, I’m here to tell the tale, which is
another way of saying I didn’t spend the night in the car hiding from
axe-wielding nutters (Rather, I was holed up at Grandma’s house, throwing a
ball for a rather nutty highland terrier – quite the contrast)
No comments:
Post a Comment