Midges, billions of the bug – gers, hovering around our campervan sniffing the faint human odours (of which there are plenty now) seeping through tiny seams in the fuselage of the vehicle. All the windows are shut. We learnt at cost that the midges are small enough to easily climb through the netting.

 

 So, stuffy air, wafts of whisky, mars bars, socks soaked in bog, all working in conjunction with a stiff breeze blowing across the nearby loch, sending out a stream of scent along which tiny feelers are navigating in search of a bit of us.

 

Day 22 is over. One more day to go. A mixed bag of emotions I guess. I am enjoying the cycling, the open surroundings, at one with nature and all that. We have a routine that works. It allows us to eat as much as we want. Breakfast for instance… Porridge, followed by more porridge. Then a bowl of cereal. Next up, beans, bacon and fried egg. Two slices of toast, jam, and at least 2 cups of tea. We snack energy bars throughout the day, eat 3 sandwiches and cake, plus of course any delicacies we discover on the way. Scones, shortbread, chips, bacon butties, all these have found their way onto our daily plates at some stage. Supper at the end of the day of course, two courses, repeated, as in seconds.

 

So as you can see, this cycling thing has its plus points. Granted, we have to sit on our rear-ends and pedal all day long, bumping over uncountable rocks, stones, roots, logs, etc. But on a culinary basis it is certainly worth the effort. 

 

However tasty it may seem, the routine does not allow for family, friends, pets, day to day suburban life. Strangely, it feels a bit threatening to be going back to all the responsibilities and decisions, etc. I am not threatened by the people, I really miss them, and the pets. Its all the rest that seems heavy.

 

Here life is straight forward. At home there are all sorts of extras. Some I am looking forward to! Others, probably not so much.

 

Take for instance the matter of the allotment. A failed crop, severe hayfever, and lots of necessary training for the bike ride, all these things have meant that I have not managed to tame the weeds that have enjoyed years of freedom seeding the plot I was allotted. The landlord is after me – want’s to know what I intend for the future. The neighbours have probably been at him. Oh dear, real life stuff – will I have the gumption to sort out the problem, even if it means submitting my resignation from the allotment family?

 

See what I mean. With that kind of pressure – I’d rather be cycling!

 

I suppose you want to know a bit about the ride today. Well, despite the TF of just 18, it was hard work. We waded through miles of bog. There was a path, but it was underwater and undermud. The landlady at Crask Inn, last outpost before we set off into the boglands, said that we would be able to find the way. She did not predict my mini disaster at 1 mile. Seeing a large muddy puddle, I decided to risk the unseen and to cycle forth into the gunge. Bad move. Half way in and the front wheel jammed up – leaving me no option but to slowly topple like a felled tree.

 

Bracing for the impact I put out my hands, only to see them disappear until I was up to my elbows in it. Add one leg in the drink, one side, and half a bike. I had no option but to pose for a photo before fighting through the undergrowth and rinsing off in the river. 

 

We were far from anyone as we cycled from one isolated valley to the next. The views were stunning, not for general consumption, making the opportunity to be in these places something of a privilege. If you want to see them you will need to start offroad cycling, or go hunting at an expensive hunting lodge – they are the only buildings/signs of life in the area.

 

Once we cleared the bogland we encountered much more civilised farm roads that allowed us to make full use of the tailwind hastening us on to our destination for the night – Forsinard. I spotted Stuart’s van from about 2 miles away, and charged forth with renewed strength to get to the snacks tin he puts out on the table for us to peck at.

 

Not long after arriving the bugs came out, and we went in. I am breathing Raid fumes as I type. Stuart is keen to use it and we are too scared to complain. His answer if we do complain will probably be along the lines of, “if you don’t like it – go outside”. No thanks!

Paul has opted to sleep indoors tonight – a wise move. I suspect he will have to do the same tomorrow night. It seems the bugs are everywhere.

 

Time to upload this blog entry, and then to sleep. We have another 56 miles to cover and a celebratory meal to enjoy.

 

Gavin