Our Stay at the Royal Hotel, Tain was Tain-ted marginally (see what I did there?) by the appalling breakfast service, which left a good number of the team without breakfast and heading off on a 75 mile ride ...empty.
As we pushed our bikes out for the penultimate days riding, we were warned of a 50% chance of fog and rain to come. Choosing clothing, like so many days before became the topic of conversation, most of us decided to brave it and wear arm warmers and gillets...or a combination of this theme. Full coats were rare but the chill of the fog soon made those of us without them, wonder if we had made the wrong choice.
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| The Mist out of Tain |
The road out of Tain soon led us to the Dornoch Firth, a usually tempestuous body of water pulled fast by strong currents and changing tides. Today, however, the Dornoch Firth chose to welcome us with a silky wave.....we waved back, grateful for the sentiment, posed for photographs and then stood, silently in awe.
There was more to come....
Mountains pushed through the clouds to came say hello, the wind respectfully left us to it, the road ran smooth and all the while the sun worked double time to burn off the mist and colour in the surroundings still more.
It seemed the entire World...no the Solar system... was coming together to welcome us along, this mornings ride felt magical so far
...but still there was more to come
The road continued to run smooth, enhanced all along by the misty beauty of the surrounding forests and ferns.
We picked up pace and began to detect traces of a new environment through the muffling fog. The smell of salt in the air, the noise of crashing waves and then, through the fog a sudden and dramatic view... of the North Sea.
The moment wasn't lost on us. Whilst we still had a log way to ride we were moved by the realisation that we had ridden, under our own steam from Atlantic Coast to the meeting of the North sea, across the entire length of Great Britain.
It was an exciting moment and none of us could take our eyes off of the waves rising up as vast, white horses and evaporating in dramatic sprays backlit perfectly by the rising sun.
But....there was STILL more to come.
Our progress was somewhat halted by a small and insignificant issue (insignificant to all but me). As we approached a hill, I shifted down and with a gentle and undramatic clatter, my chain gave out, snapped and fell to the tarmac. It was a relatively simple problem to fix, a quick donning of latex gloves, a break of the chain, removal of the offending link, assisted all the time by a myriad of helping hands all working as a team, relinking a chain had never been so easy and within minutes my chain gang had us on the move again.
This small mechanical moment was a major disappointment to me, up until this point I had suffered no mechanical issues, no punctures, no brake squeal ... I hadn't even had to put air in my tyres for over 900 miles. I was looking forward to reporting a clean ride of over 1000 miles but it wasn't to be. Still, I refused to swap the chain and chose instead to ride on ...intactus... for the rest of the ride.
It was a decision that could cost me dearly. Removing a link isn't a big issue, removing a few is and without a replacement I could soon be in the wilds, without the means to ride. I pushed on and left the group to enjoy the comfort of a local coffee shop. My strategy was to get as far ahead as possible so, in the event of another issue, I could either try to fix the chain without holding up progress, or wait it out for the guys to join me.
As I left Helmsbridge, I rode alone into the wild, wilds of Scotland...and this is where it got really good.
Sutherland, the area of the Scottish Highlands I was now entering, was like nothing I had seen before (in real life) it was a movie set of trout streams and wild, flat fens banked by huge mountain ranges sat far on each horizon. Not a sound existed, save the wind, the streams and the occasional birdlife. It was heavenly and I was strangely happy to be alone to enjoy it.
Occasionally I stopped riding, just to soak up the silence, look around and try to take it all in. It was inspiring terrain and I pushed on, my pace growing faster and faster as I swept over small stone bridges and between fern tracks.
This was the most beautiful riding I had even been privileged to enjoy and was worth the 900 miles before it, I had earned this ride and I was bloody well going to enjoy it. All fears of my chain snapping were put to one side and I grinned hugely as I progressed on and on....stopping only for a short visit to the woods for a...er...comfort break
My last "on the road" lunch was served from a verge, bang in the middle of this glorious area. Bacon Butties were produced as a last super treat and I was grateful to once again be in the company of others as we moved off toward Thurso.
Some 45 miles of glorious head-spinningly beautiful riding later, we finally saw the North coast, which was as far as we could ride on this particular Island, without turning right.
15 miles after our last right turn...we arrived at the over confidently named Royal Hotel in Thurso.
Today had without any doubt been a highlight of this tour, made somehow more adventurous by the jeopardy of my weakened chain, the constant clicking a reminder that it could...at any point...throw in the towel.
I loved it and would love to share it with my family sometime. I promise some day I shall.
That was so disappointing, I was looking forward to a read before settling down! All the best for Friday, you've achieved loads and deserve to have a great day celebrating after your short ride, if the chafing allows!
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