I mostly have trouble thinking up my own stuff to do.
When I was in India Dean and I went north to Rishikesh on the advice of an Indian waiter (known as PS), instead of going south to Agra as we'd planned (and I'm glad that we did), and I've been trying to cycle round the Isle of Arran for three years (not constantly of course) on the advice of Carol Burr from North Tees Medical Illustration, who I met once when I was delivering some leaflets. .
Last year Ruth and I cycled round the southern half of Arran and across the String Road and the Ross Road, but we never made it all the way round the whole island in a day, a fact which annoys me every time I see the Isle of Arran on the weather forecast.
So I went back to have another go last week. We planned to combine 2 days on Arran with a trip to Islay. I had wanted to go to Islay anyway, but an extra reason was that I needed to go and shake the hand of Lorna, the local youth hostel manager. Another by product of being sent to Rishikesh by PS the waiter was that I met Lorna picking up rubbish in the streets. She wouldn't shake my hand in Rishikesh because her hands were covered in street garbage, so I said I'd have to go to Islay to see her in her summer job to get my handshake. But that's another story...
We arrived in Arran late on Monday, and cycled over to the Youth Hostel at Lochranza from Brodick. 15 miles. Pretty flat except for one big hill, or it may be a mountain. I'm never sure what the definition is. It was high though. Ruth slept pretty badly on Monday night, and we struggled to get going on Tuesday. In fact, the youth hostel door was virtually being locked behind us at 10 am as we left.
I knew we'd have to start with a headwind, and finish with a tailwind, but I still expected to average 10 miles an hour for the 56 mile trip. In the event it took us over two hours to do the first 13 miles.
Then trouble. I knew there would be. Last year Ruth wanted to visit Machrie Stone Circle, but we didn't, so I knew we'd never get past it without the subject coming up again. We asked an American couple who'd just come from there and who were running for the bus how far it was, and they said '20 minutes, but worth it'. They were on the bus before I could ask if it was 20 minutes each way. At this point it was already 20 past 12. After a brief semi-altercation, we decided to go, and in the event it was more like 30 minutes each way, and then we took an extra half an hour brewing up a coffee on the Trangia, and eating some Crinkly cake which Ruth had been given at Rutland. I think it's safe to say I didn't enjoy the stone circle as much as I might, as I was worrying about the time.
Just as we were arriving back at the bikes, around 1.40, we got caught in a hailstorm. It was that sharp stabby hail that hits you like freezing cold needles, and it wasn't long before my hands and legs were blue. My hands had been cold anyway. Convinced I'd left them on the bike, I hadn't worn my gloves to and from the stone circle, but it turned out Ruth had been carrying them all along. When I did get them back off her, in the time it take to put them on, they were soaked. Trying to force blue hands into sopping wet gloves is no-one's idea of fun, and, already stressed about the time, I set off cycling again in a foul mood.
After about another 3 miles, we stopped at the local shop in Blackwaterfoot, and we bought some lunch and a cup a soup and the sun came out, and I didn't cheer up, and I said a few dumb things, and Ruth was already hatching a plan to head home, change the locks and call a solicitor.
After I made another brainless comment heading out of Blackwaterfoot, I knew I was probably in for an imminent verbal lashing, so I thought I'd at least ride out of the town, so no-one would hear. I didn't ride far enough, as it happened. Some decorators were painting the outside of a house on the outskirts of the village and they overheard the whole exchange. I'm sure if they were surveyed they would agree I came off worst.
Ruth basically told me to snap out of the mood I was in, or I was in danger of getting killed. I made some vague protests about being hours behind my schedule, and I also said that I felt she wasn't really up for the whole round the island in a day thing, but mostly I wanted to get away from her stare and the decorators, so I rode off a bit further up the road. To be honest, I had no bloody idea what to do next, whether to carry on, or give up, and I rode on about another 300 yards, stopped and leaned my bike up against a fence, and had a look back down the road.
I was really hoping Ruth was following, because as much as I wanted to ride round the Isle of Arran, I didn't want to ride another 40 miles by myself, with nothing to look forward to but getting a pasting at the Youth Hostel at the end of the day.
Thankfully Ruth had decided to go the same way as me, at least for now. Just as she came round the corner, I decided to have a fiddle with my left pedal that had been making a funny noise all morning, and it was at that precise moment that I got electrocuted. For some reason, I thought it must be static, but then Ruth pointed out that I had been leaning the bike against an electric fence.
My hand was really hurting, and as I hopped around clutching it for a bit, Ruth didn't offer any sympathy whatsoever. For ages she could barely stand, or speak, and I thought she might fall over with the bike on top of her. When she could form full words again between the giggling, she said, not only was it fully deserved, and a punishment from God, but also possibly the best thing she'd ever seen, and also the highlight of our marriage so far. Considering we've been married for nearly 13 years, I thought that seemed a little harsh, but the good thing was, it relieved the tension, and the mixture of the laughter and the sun and the hopping around a bit, made me forget all about times and schedules and plans and planning. All I could think was 'Ow!'. .
It took quite a while for Ruth to be stable enough to ride a bike, but once she stopped convulsing, we set off again. The weather had improved, and as we rounded the south of the island, we got lovely views of Pladda and Ailsa Craig. We stopped around 4 pm at at bench in a small clearing, to eat the lunch we'd bought at Blackwaterfoot, and the sandwiches were actually pretty good. We'd still only done about 26 miles out of the 56, but I was starting to relax.
We stopped again for ice cream at the Kilmory cheese shop around 4.30, and the lady behind the counter obviously thought I was a nutter, partly because Ruth had set me up by sending me in to ask for pineapple ice cream, but also because I told her we still had to cycle the other 28 miles back to Lochranza the same day. She didn't seem reassured when I told her we had lights.
We picked up speed through Whiting Bay (where I stopped to buy some tinned curry and rice pudding while Ruth kept pedalling), Lamlash and Brodick and then my crank started to fall off. I kept reattaching it, with the 8mm Allen key I keep for just such eventualities, but I must not have tightened it enough each time, because it kept coming loose. Although I'd caught her up after buying the rice pudding, Ruth had gone on ahead, to try and get back to Lochranza before dark, and it was then that I realised she had the lights.
I needn't have worried. As I rode up the hill or the mountain between Sannox and Lochranza, there was a beautiful sunset lighting my way, and I could see deer silhouetted against the horizon, as they were running across the road at the brow of the hill. I got back 8 pm, just before dark. We ate tinned curry and rice pudding with fruit, in the company of lots of thin and fit young people eating much healthier meals, and it started to sink in, that this idea that I'd had for 3 years, of riding round the Isle of Arran in a day, an idea fostered during a casual conversation I'd had while delivering some boxes of leaflets, well, I'd finally done it.
As it finally got dark outside the youth hostel and as I was still digesting my rice pudding I reflected on how the day had gone. On the whole, I was glad I'd achieved my goal, however arbitrary and unimportant it was, but the main achievement was I was still married, alive and on holiday. Some or all of them could have not been the case after the way the day started. And now that one was out the way, we could head off to Islay tomorrow, knowing that it won't upset me anymore, looking at the Isle of Arran on the weather forecast.
When I was in India Dean and I went north to Rishikesh on the advice of an Indian waiter (known as PS), instead of going south to Agra as we'd planned (and I'm glad that we did), and I've been trying to cycle round the Isle of Arran for three years (not constantly of course) on the advice of Carol Burr from North Tees Medical Illustration, who I met once when I was delivering some leaflets. .
Last year Ruth and I cycled round the southern half of Arran and across the String Road and the Ross Road, but we never made it all the way round the whole island in a day, a fact which annoys me every time I see the Isle of Arran on the weather forecast.
So I went back to have another go last week. We planned to combine 2 days on Arran with a trip to Islay. I had wanted to go to Islay anyway, but an extra reason was that I needed to go and shake the hand of Lorna, the local youth hostel manager. Another by product of being sent to Rishikesh by PS the waiter was that I met Lorna picking up rubbish in the streets. She wouldn't shake my hand in Rishikesh because her hands were covered in street garbage, so I said I'd have to go to Islay to see her in her summer job to get my handshake. But that's another story...
We arrived in Arran late on Monday, and cycled over to the Youth Hostel at Lochranza from Brodick. 15 miles. Pretty flat except for one big hill, or it may be a mountain. I'm never sure what the definition is. It was high though. Ruth slept pretty badly on Monday night, and we struggled to get going on Tuesday. In fact, the youth hostel door was virtually being locked behind us at 10 am as we left.
I knew we'd have to start with a headwind, and finish with a tailwind, but I still expected to average 10 miles an hour for the 56 mile trip. In the event it took us over two hours to do the first 13 miles.
Then trouble. I knew there would be. Last year Ruth wanted to visit Machrie Stone Circle, but we didn't, so I knew we'd never get past it without the subject coming up again. We asked an American couple who'd just come from there and who were running for the bus how far it was, and they said '20 minutes, but worth it'. They were on the bus before I could ask if it was 20 minutes each way. At this point it was already 20 past 12. After a brief semi-altercation, we decided to go, and in the event it was more like 30 minutes each way, and then we took an extra half an hour brewing up a coffee on the Trangia, and eating some Crinkly cake which Ruth had been given at Rutland. I think it's safe to say I didn't enjoy the stone circle as much as I might, as I was worrying about the time.
Just as we were arriving back at the bikes, around 1.40, we got caught in a hailstorm. It was that sharp stabby hail that hits you like freezing cold needles, and it wasn't long before my hands and legs were blue. My hands had been cold anyway. Convinced I'd left them on the bike, I hadn't worn my gloves to and from the stone circle, but it turned out Ruth had been carrying them all along. When I did get them back off her, in the time it take to put them on, they were soaked. Trying to force blue hands into sopping wet gloves is no-one's idea of fun, and, already stressed about the time, I set off cycling again in a foul mood.
After about another 3 miles, we stopped at the local shop in Blackwaterfoot, and we bought some lunch and a cup a soup and the sun came out, and I didn't cheer up, and I said a few dumb things, and Ruth was already hatching a plan to head home, change the locks and call a solicitor.
After I made another brainless comment heading out of Blackwaterfoot, I knew I was probably in for an imminent verbal lashing, so I thought I'd at least ride out of the town, so no-one would hear. I didn't ride far enough, as it happened. Some decorators were painting the outside of a house on the outskirts of the village and they overheard the whole exchange. I'm sure if they were surveyed they would agree I came off worst.
Ruth basically told me to snap out of the mood I was in, or I was in danger of getting killed. I made some vague protests about being hours behind my schedule, and I also said that I felt she wasn't really up for the whole round the island in a day thing, but mostly I wanted to get away from her stare and the decorators, so I rode off a bit further up the road. To be honest, I had no bloody idea what to do next, whether to carry on, or give up, and I rode on about another 300 yards, stopped and leaned my bike up against a fence, and had a look back down the road.
I was really hoping Ruth was following, because as much as I wanted to ride round the Isle of Arran, I didn't want to ride another 40 miles by myself, with nothing to look forward to but getting a pasting at the Youth Hostel at the end of the day.
Thankfully Ruth had decided to go the same way as me, at least for now. Just as she came round the corner, I decided to have a fiddle with my left pedal that had been making a funny noise all morning, and it was at that precise moment that I got electrocuted. For some reason, I thought it must be static, but then Ruth pointed out that I had been leaning the bike against an electric fence.
 |
| Here is the moment faithfully recreated on a later trip |
It took quite a while for Ruth to be stable enough to ride a bike, but once she stopped convulsing, we set off again. The weather had improved, and as we rounded the south of the island, we got lovely views of Pladda and Ailsa Craig. We stopped around 4 pm at at bench in a small clearing, to eat the lunch we'd bought at Blackwaterfoot, and the sandwiches were actually pretty good. We'd still only done about 26 miles out of the 56, but I was starting to relax.
We stopped again for ice cream at the Kilmory cheese shop around 4.30, and the lady behind the counter obviously thought I was a nutter, partly because Ruth had set me up by sending me in to ask for pineapple ice cream, but also because I told her we still had to cycle the other 28 miles back to Lochranza the same day. She didn't seem reassured when I told her we had lights.
We picked up speed through Whiting Bay (where I stopped to buy some tinned curry and rice pudding while Ruth kept pedalling), Lamlash and Brodick and then my crank started to fall off. I kept reattaching it, with the 8mm Allen key I keep for just such eventualities, but I must not have tightened it enough each time, because it kept coming loose. Although I'd caught her up after buying the rice pudding, Ruth had gone on ahead, to try and get back to Lochranza before dark, and it was then that I realised she had the lights.
I needn't have worried. As I rode up the hill or the mountain between Sannox and Lochranza, there was a beautiful sunset lighting my way, and I could see deer silhouetted against the horizon, as they were running across the road at the brow of the hill. I got back 8 pm, just before dark. We ate tinned curry and rice pudding with fruit, in the company of lots of thin and fit young people eating much healthier meals, and it started to sink in, that this idea that I'd had for 3 years, of riding round the Isle of Arran in a day, an idea fostered during a casual conversation I'd had while delivering some boxes of leaflets, well, I'd finally done it.
As it finally got dark outside the youth hostel and as I was still digesting my rice pudding I reflected on how the day had gone. On the whole, I was glad I'd achieved my goal, however arbitrary and unimportant it was, but the main achievement was I was still married, alive and on holiday. Some or all of them could have not been the case after the way the day started. And now that one was out the way, we could head off to Islay tomorrow, knowing that it won't upset me anymore, looking at the Isle of Arran on the weather forecast.
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