clairedavieswriter

After a cosy evening by the fire, I woke refreshed and looking forward to pedalling on through the Highlands. Hopefully yesterday’s bonk was a one-off (if that sounds like an unduly personal non sequitur, you need to read yesterday’s entry).

My self-catering breakfast was a banana and two portions of Oat So Simple, purchased in Aberfeldy yesterday and decanted from their bulky pots into a plastic bag #planningahead.

The forecast suggested the day might be ‘a bit damp’, and I duly set off in the rain, wondering whether neoprene overshoes might have been wise. The sky looked very unlikely to clear:

Remarkably though, within 20 minutes it did, and stayed that way for much of the day. What’s more, on the sections I was travelling north, I had a fresh southerly breeze to help me along.

This morning’s motivational music of choice picked up yesterday’s Welsh theme, with We Keep a Welcome in the Hillside, followed by Guide Me, O thou great Redeemer. For some reason that led me on to Lord of the Dance, for which I unaccountably knew more of the lyrics than Chiquitita. As an ABBA fan and non church-goer, I found this perplexing.

At Kingussie I crossed the broad valley of the Spey and came across this Skyfall-esque ruin of the Ruthven Barracks, built in 1719 after the Jacobite rising ‘to keep the King’s peace’ and destroyed by the Jacobites on their retreat from the Battle of Culloden: doer-upper anyone?

There were fine views looking back to the west:

And lovely autumn colours. I saw several clusters of beehives nestled among the heather.

After Aviemore, my route diverged briefly from the trusty NCN7. I’m not sure why, it was quite likely user error. But a couple of miles on a busy road – which included one shoulder-skimmingly close pass by an HGV and an alarming overtake-and-turn-left manoeuvre by a woman in a Mini – were a useful reminder of how relaxing the NCN routes have been. Although in fairness to Scottish drivers, I have found the vast majority of them patient, respectful and generous in terms of the space they allow on overtaking.

At this point the route got hillier, but also afforded some fantastic views of the Cairngorms.

As ever, I found amusement along the way.

You had to admire this young lady #proudtobedifferent:

I enjoyed learning the Scottish for free range:

Archie of Aviemore really had nothing to apologise for today:

This made me laugh: Royal? Butter cream? As long as it’s not fondant I don’t mind.

But as a porridge lover, this was my Sign of the Day. And a spurtle, according to Google, is not something that you might find in Hogwarts, but rather a wooden stick for stirring the stuff.

For the last few miles the weather turned a bit interesting. The weatherman might call it blustery. At the top of the Slochd Pass I was calling it something rather different, repeatedly. The side wind was doing its best to blow me right over, to the extent that I unclipped my right foot so that I could save myself if it succeeded. Meanwhile the rain, propelled and chilled by the wind, was attempting to drill icy projectiles into my eyeballs via the side of my glasses. This all coincided with a short spell when the cycle path was directly beside the A9 (as in the picture). Fortunately there was a crash barrier between us, which I was fairly confident would prevent me from being flipped into the traffic. In the moments when I wasn’t just trying to survive, I did find time to laugh at how hilariously ridiculous weather it was to be cycling in.

Tomorrow: a short ride into Inverness. I’ll then get a train to Forres where Sarah will meet me. Looking forward to seeing her and Alan, and to my final day off before tackling the last stage of my journey next week.