I knew that I'd given myself an ambitious route, particularly the Saturday which would be over 100 miles if I did all of it - though I was always open to cutting the route short. It didn't go quite to plan though - I ended up cutting more out than I had ever anticipated, and worse, riding on the road where I should have been off it.
Clean and shiny and ready for off.
From the off on Friday, I just felt slow. I made steady but slow progress through the Pentlands. There were good bits, but also lots of boggy hike-a-bike. The weather was as fickle as I've ever known it, with drenching showers lasting just a few minutes, but I wasn't too fussed about that - it could have been a lot worse.
I finally reached Peebles about 4 - a couple of hours later than planned. I had a coffee and looked at the map to make a plan. It was here I decided to cut out the whole western loop out to Moffat, and make a bee-line south for Kershopehead bothy on Saturday. I could also detour into Langholm for supplies to avoid carrying from Peebles. I was disappointed with myself but I the thought of a short day on Sunday and early home was just too tempting.
Feeling a bit melancholy, I rode out through Cardrona (on the road
) and the Glen House estate, hoping to find a nice bivvy spot at the head of the valley (sheltered from the moderate westerly), from where I could make it up onto the ridge the following morning. In the end I hauled myself and my bike right out of the valley, over a mostly pathless peat bog, and picked a picturesque but none-too-ideal sleeping spot. There was no flat and sheltered ground to be found, and moving was slow and energy-sapping, so it was largely a case of sleeping where I fell.
Friday night bivvy
I normally eat enough to feed a normal family for week when I'm biking, but managed only one of my (admittedly not the most appetising) Batchelors Pasta'n'Sauce packets.
Saturday dawned bright, with a few showers passing through early doors but turning into a beautiful clear morning by the time I got going around 7:30. The promise of a new day was strong.
Saturday morning
I stopped at the bottom of St. Mary's Loch and made a quick breakfast of porridge then followed the Southern Upland Way over towards Ettrick. Coming up the doubletrack from St. Mary's, I caught up four older gents walking four abreast - one of the few groups of other trail users I encountered anywhere on the trip. I shouted a cheery good morning, and they returned my greeting and parted to let me through. As I passed them at at least 5mph, one of them asked if I had a bell on "that thing." I think he was joking. I really hope he was joking. I smiled "no room" and pedalled on.
St. Mary's Loch
My original route would have taken me zigzagging through Craik Forest, but despite my early enthusiasm, I could find no motivation to detour up a hilly, winding fire road when there was a perfectly good, almost deserted B road. Not that progress on the road was lightning - whilst the weather was generally better today, the headwind was quite strong. I did eventually cut into the forest, making a route due east for Greensykes bothy where I stopped to make and eat lunch. I read in the bothy book that I'd missed a fellow bikepacker on a 3 week trip the previous night - anyone from here? It was then down the Meggett Water into Eskdale and into Langholm via the narrow lanes and farm tracks parallel to the main road.
I arrived in Langholm on the back of a heavy shower which seemed to come out of nowhere, at about 3 o'clock on a Saturday afternoon. There wasn't a whole lot open but I had a coffee in the only cafe, got some milk from the shop and filled my bottles and the cyclist-friendly water fountain in the main square (a mark of a civilised place if you ask me).
There followed an ~8 mile road slog over quiet back road to Newcastleton, which was made eventful only when I shifted chainrings after stopping and got the chain so stuck it took me a good five minutes to free it.
I dropped into Newcastleton knowing I only had a few miles to the bothy but it was quite early. I realised that the obvious thing to do was to go and ride the trail centre trails. I'm not a huge trail centre rider, but they have their place in my life and I'm not snobbish about them. Despite having 60 miles in my legs, rain threatening, and no clear idea where I was going, the thought of riding some interesting, mildly challenging but well surfaced trails filled me with unexpected joy. I followed the red trail, up in to the forest and back down into the Kershope valley, where I crossed the river, and the border into England, and headed for the bothy.
Crossing the border back into England. No sign to welcome me unfortunately!
I arrived just as a shower came in, and found a nice young couple from Gateshead and their two dogs already settled in with the stove on. Whilst it was a bit awkward interrupting their "romantic" stay, they were perfectly accepting and we had a good chat before I turned in early to the upstairs room.
Arriving at Kershopehead
Kershopehead in the morning
I had a good night's sleep and took my time getting up and off, knowing I only had ~30 miles to do. Trying to keep things interesting when planning, I'd plotted a route down a footpath in Kershope Forest in a bid to avoid more fire road trudging. My Geograph research had suggested it would be passable, if not rideable, and no worse than other bits I'd done, but this turned out not to be the case. I found the odd marker post almost consumed by the undergrowth indicating I was on the right of way, but passage largely involved wading through calf-deep river because it was the only way round the fallen trees and thick undergrowth. Eventually, shattered and despairing, I realised I was about as close as I was going to get to a fire road - about 100 yards away uphill through boggy clear-felled forestry. I decided to bail and hauled myself and the bike (equal parts payload and support) up the hill and crashed out on the track.
Spot the track. This was by far the best bit, and rideable in some places. It got much, much worse.
From here it was a short, downhill forest track out to the sealed road and Sustrans route 10. I had planned to take a byway east off this and follow forest tracks through Spadeadam Forest, but I was wary of finding there was no way through the MOD land there, so stuck to the road.
I used my last bit of motivation to ride to Haltwhistle as planned, rather than to Brampton which would have been quicker. It was a small victory. From there I stood next to my bike (as demanded) on a Northern train with the bike/wheelchair space full of pushchairs and kids' scooters
I like getting out like this because it gives me time to think, but this time I got rather more than I bargained for and the whole thing became a bit existential. Why do I go bikepacking? To camp? To ride a bike? Why do I ride a bike? My short trail centre visit was one of the highlights of the trip - should I have just driven there, ridden for the day and driven home to my bed? But then part of the appeal was undoubtedly riding it with a fully loaded bike which you're not "supposed" to do.
Why did I find it so hard? I usually pride myself on my stubborness. I wondered if the heavy bike didn't help. I packed what I like to think of as minimally, but I took a few comforts (I wasn't aiming for pure speed after all) and lots of my kit isn't the lightest weight available. When I got home, I stripped all the luggage of my bike, made a list, and weighed everything
I often spend a lot of time I spend biking wondering if I'm enjoying it, but that's the nature of type 2 fun. At the end of the day, it's all bikes, innit, and I made it home.
To add insult to injury, I'm writing this sat at home, having been off work the last two days with sickness and diarrhoea, and barely strong enough to sit up in bed yesterday
Perhaps I was just...
due to a badly placed frame bag strap.
