Rained off

Having just re-read my previous blog entry I find myself asking why we haven't been spending all our spare moments riding our new bikes. 

The explanation is summed up in the image opposite, an illustration that highlights clearly a distinction between England and Scotland's weather. And this is not just about rainfall. There are similar maps showing temperature variations across the same area which show a pattern highlighting the places across England and the European countries further south that are experiencing heatwave conditions similar too, or worse than, what brought our cycling holiday to an early close a few months ago. However this grim picture painted by the weather forecasters does not necessarily represent a reality for us. Movements within the earth's atmosphere must make forecasting the weather for the days ahead difficult, especially for those places which lie close to the border between the wet and the dry, or the hot and the cold. The south west corner of Scotland that we live in frequently lies on that border, the Atlantic Ocean bringing a milder air stream which reduces the impact of European weather systems.

So it was that just days after the rainfall accumulation image was released the sun emerged from behind the clouds and soaked us with its radiation, which was soon to become rather too much.

Typical for where we live would be variable weather, difficult to predict days ahead, but recently we have been locked into one weather pattern or another, days of rain or days of heat. To avoid the heatwave that found us whilst we were on holiday we took avoiding action - an early ferry back to a cooler place called home - but this solution is not available to those living in France or Spain any more than avoiding endless days of rain is possible for us.

Our solution when it comes to cycling has been to grab whatever short interval we can between showers and ride locally on the few quiet roads we have. The road through our village ends at a beauty spot, a viewpoint where there is a bench looking out across Loch Fyne, and it has become a convenient place to ride to when the clouds threaten but the rain just about holds off. Then again we have carried the bikes folded up in our van to the start of a ten mile bike ride on the level towpath to Crinan where we grab a coffee before returning the same way. We now have kickstands fitted to both bikes which make things easier when we stop for a rest and we are both getting used to the folding up process too. There is a four part sequence of moves that follows the acronym 'BFHS' (Backwheel/Frame/Handlebars/Seat in case anyone is interested). In order to remember this we say 'Brompton Folding Has Stopped' whilst performing the fold. (Unfolding has a slightly different sequence so we have to remember 'How to Start a Folded Brompton'.)

 

We are trying to avoid the temptation to attach accessories to the bikes beyond what is necessary, particularly anything that might constrain the folding process. Every gram of extra weight is important as once folded the bikes become luggage that has to be carried. However a well designed bag attached to the rear carrier is a must for carrying essentials like extra clothing or snacks on a ride. Fine details like getting the right tyre pressures and saddle height for maximum comfort also have to be resolved, these all being part of our Brompton journey. As it happens the makers have thought of this last one, an elegant solution which enables the saddle to be returned back to the same position as it was before being folded away by means of a piece of plastic, cut to length and inserted inside the seat tube. This is just one example of the many clever features that our bikes come with.

So to test out some of them we needed a ride that would challenge the bikes and enable us to know our limits whilst riding them.

Finally the weather delivered us a run of dry days although the south of England was suffering a heatwave which was threatening to creep northwards towards us. We made a decision to take the ferry across the loch and ride ten miles northwards to Otter Ferry. The name implies a crossing point over the loch but this no longer exists although there is a pub there, the 'Oystercatcher', which was open when we arrived. Was this the challenge we wanted, just ten miles? Surely not.

Had we looked more closely at the route we might have noticed the rivers we'd be crossing en route and realised that these run in valleys between hills, some of them being quite high. Then just after setting off from the Portavadie ferry terminal the route offered by the app on my phone sent us along a steep gravel pathway through the forest which had us bouncing about and worrying about how long it would be before our tyres punctured. Thankfully the full heat of the day had yet to arrive so we managed this part quite well and the bikes just seemed to take it in their stride.

We did decide, however, to stick to the tarmac roads for the return and this was just as well since by the time we had lunched at Otter Ferry, chatting with a motorcyclist outside the pub in the sun, the day had warmed up to the point where we would normally decide not to go riding.

We set off again from sea level, inevitably up a long hill, then on reaching the top we took off downhill again at speed, although we could see the road ahead where it went uphill again. Indeed the hills seemed endless and although there was a cooling breeze we were riding straight into the wind for the whole return, not making it any easier.

The ferry was a welcome sight at last and here we chatted with a friendly Dutch couple to whom we were able to brag about our adventures in their country. They were visiting Scotland in a large campervan but without bikes, which seemed strange, coming from a country that lives by them. When asked they confessed to being put off by the thought of cycling up Scotland's hills, something that actually made us feel quite good about our achievements that day.