Sunday 14 August 2011: Thame to Loch Lomond

Woke up in the Towersey garden where we were camped for Ed and Faith’s wedding, around 6 am, keen to get going but nursing a slight hangover. John woke as well and after packing up in the still morning air I set off on the route to Milton Keynes. It was pleasant cycling to the Thame ring road and then off onto minor roads through the country. The hills were gentle and the roads largely empty. After about an hour of cycling that took me through Chearsley and Lower Winchendon I stopped for a bite of breakfast by a silent farm track leading mysteriously off the hill down to the east. I felt the urge to wander a few tens of metres just to see what lay further down but decided to leave it in the realm of uncertainty. It was nice countryside heading north to North Marston, Granborough and then the scenic town of Windslow where I stopped in a small shop to get a snack while the church bells echoed around the town. Onwards my route skirted round the east of Windslow then north to Little Horwood before approaching the sprawl of Milton Keynes. The destination was not what I expected, but they rarely are, a sizable town with a very well organized network of cycle paths on unusually straight (grid) roads that, as with many cycle paths, actually slow progress but are welcome nonetheless. The town centre had wide roads with numerous carparks, an unusual layout for an English town, a modernist 1960s government solution to ease housing pressure in London. It was 1100 am and I had a burger at Burger King after being directed there by a security guard clearly on edge after the recent riots around England.

            I had some time at the station before the 2pm train that I spent mending a my Christmas Common puncture and gazing at the map of Scotland. My obsession concerned whether I could make it first to Loch Lomond by the late evening and on to Gairloch by Tuesday evening. It seemed too much but I thought it still a possibility. It would require two days of 100 miles of cycling across the highlands with untold hills. I took my bike down to the platform and was told by an official that I needed to wait at the end of the platform, and let an official know I was boarding the train 5 minutes before it arrived so that they could unlock the cycle storage carriage. So 5 minutes before the train was due to arrive I searched the platform for someone official looking. All I could find was a cleaning lady enjoying a snack in the empty waiting room. She took me to a code locked door where after she knocked a uniformed man came out. He told me to go to the opposite end of the platform and wait there. After moving my bike down the platform the train arrived, the man came along and unlocked the carriage with a hexagon like key thing. Not straightforward and so on arrival in Birmingham for my transfer I was a little on edge as there was only 15 minutes to figure out what the bike system was at the busy station. Went up and down elevators, got to the crowded platform, asked some officials about the bike situation and they said they would help when the train arrived. They disappeared so I found someone else who showed where to wait and said no key was needed. Indeed the train arrived after a bunch of people got on I got my bike on and attempted to secure it to various straps. There were not enough seats and my reservation was for another inaccessible part of the train so I just inflated my thermorest and sat down next to my bike. A family was also stuck in this cargo area. They later found seats and so did I, so I enjoyed the journey through the north of England and south of Scotland dreaming about how long it would have taken to cycle the distance.

            Arrived in Glasgow around 720 pm, walked my bike straight out of the station, a man on a mission, and started cycling west past various tempting pubs. After a while I saw signs for the Loch Lomond bike path that I had never heard of. I took a risk and decided to try it out. Initially it was a mess, winding through industrial estates and dodgy neighborhoods with broke beer glass as a hazard. I regretted taking it but getting back on my planned route would be complicated so I stuck with it. I came to a nice fish and chips nestled on a canal dock type area where after some accent confusion I got a pie and chips and a sausage and chips (I had asked for a pie and sausage and chips not two meals). Well no bother I would save the pie and chips for a morning snack tomorrow I thought. Continuing on, the light darkened, and the bike path got more interesting. It followed at first the banks of the canal on a gravelly track not ideal for my bike. Then it moved onto a disused railway line that went under the Erskine Bridge and past the old ferry terminal. Eventually it met river Lomond and followed its west bank along a gravel path. It was wonderful to be cycling alone in the dark next to this large river. The evening’s ride was providing a lot of surprises and this was the most pleasant. There were bats and it was now dark so I had to use lights. I found my way to southern end of Loch Lomond where dark deserted car parks had to be negotiated before I stumbled across the west Loch Lomond bike path. This was not a great path to start with but I was happy to be not on the dodgy looking A82 nearby. It was getting late around 10 pm by this time but I pushed further wanting to find a decent place to throw my tent up. My dream of a scenic location next to the Loch was looking unattainable as the road and path wound along some distance away from the water’s edge. Eventually around 11 pm my perseverance was rewarded as I found a small walkers gate next to the bike path that lead to a country land and a path of land next to the calm waters of the Loch. I quickly set up my tent incompletely and had a quick snack. There was a house, appearing to be on an island or peninsular across the water about ½ km away. As I lay in my tent I got paranoid that I was on private property and my tired mind heard each A82 car to be the angry residents coming to chase me off into the night. Eventually my fatigue won over and I descended into deep sleep.

Tuesday 11 August 2011: Cycling to Leith Hill

This was the beginning of a longer plan to get to Gairloch in Scotland. The plan was this: 11 Aug: bike from Lewes to Leith Hill, 12 August: bike from Leith Hill to Thame, 13 August: attend Ed and Faith’s wedding, 14 August: bike to Milton Keynes, catch a train to Glasgow, bike to Loch Lomond, 15 August: bike ~100 miles to past For William, 16 August bike as far as possible towards Gairloch, 17 August meet family in Gairloch. In the morning I packed up, and waited for some rain to arrive and pass over. It never arrived. After lunch biked to Coldean and dropped off my wedding gear at Ben’s place. We had tea and discussed the relative merits of fig rolls. Ben said that the fig was important in the development of human civilization. Left around 2 pm and biked over and down the steep hill of Ditchling Beacon giving my loaded bike its first downhill test. Followed minor roads, country lanes etc through nice country to Hailsham. Had not been there before, quite a nice town with pedestrian area. Continuing north the going got more hilly and forested as the North Downs approached. I caught a first glimpse of Leith Hill in the distance clearly the largest hill in the region. The view of this, only 300 metre high hill, still managed to induce a sense of excitement. Something about the mystique of the North Downs, the advance planning, the anticipation of completing the first stage in my plan. Off the OS maps now, route finding relied on inadequate Google Maps printouts. I changed route to follow a single track road heading up the west flank of the hill. It climbed steeply through damp, mossy and surprisingly wild forest. Walked the bike up most of it. Eventually after some uncertain turns in the darkening forest I arrived at a car park that had a 15 minute trail to the summit. It was easy to walk the bike along, and soon the tower appeared, a beautiful single castle tower that peaks the hill a smidgen over 300 m.

There was a view north to London in the distance with sparkling buildings reflecting the lowering sun, but too the south was a more beautiful view across The Wield to the just visible distant South Downs.

A strange cloud had formed to the south that took an uncanny resemblance to the silhouette of Mauna Kea:

It was as if to remind me of the greatness of that mountain (14 times higher than Leith Hill) and of the extraordinary Big Island. There were one or two mountain bikers finishing off evening rides but as sun set I became alone and set up a modest camp next to a tree and large log. The hill was in drifting mist, above cloud base the clouds gently drifted through the conifers. I slept well.