Story 8: The ride that started it all

Tour d'Arran

Date: 11 - 12 July

Distance: 56 miles 

I've mentioned our cycle round Arran a few times already, but I guess I wanted to record it properly as my first 'Ride to Remember'!

We had headed off to Arran because the sun was shining and we just fancied a wee break away from it all. Alex suggested taking the bikes and I, reluctantly, agreed. When we arrived off the ferry into Brodick I asked one of the locals which was the best way for a novice cyclist to go. ‘Well, if you head north, it’s flat for about 10 miles till you pass Sannox. And the scenery’s lovely. If you head south, you hit a really big steep hill straight away that goes on for miles and then it’s really steep up and down after that. I’d head north to Sannox and back again; that’s a good, easy route for a novice.’ So, that’s what we planned to do. However, Sannox came around ever so quickly and I heard myself saying to Alex, ‘Let’s carry on. I’m loving this and don’t want to head back the way!’ Hm, little did I know that just a few miles past Sannox we would hit two really steep hills (no, I mean it, REALLY steep hills), first through Glen Sannox and then through Glen Chalmadale.  I just about had a fit when we turned the corner and I could see the long and winding road, the breathtaking scenery and a breathtakingly humongous hill stretching ahead of me. But, with head down, handle bars gripped and a few sweary words muttered I went for it. I didn’t do a very good job but - with a lot of pushing (quite literally) and fantastic encouragement from Alex – I did manage to cycle all the way to the top of the Glens. Catching my breath on the many occasions that I had to stop gave me plenty of time to take in the truly beautiful surrounding scenery, so going at dead slow/stop pace does have its advantages! The very best thing though about going uphill is going downhill on the other side. The child in me came well and truly out and I couldn’t resist a fair few ‘Woohoo’s’ as we free-wheeled at what felt like 70 but was actually closer to 30mph (according to Alex's Garmin!) down into Lochranza.

By this time we’d cycled around 15 miles and a very yummy sandwich and real ginger beer from The Sandwich Station went down a treat. We sat on a bench opposite this lovely wee take-away place, gazing into the beautifully clear water and thinking how nice it would be to go for a swim. But, the road was calling and soon we were off again! 

I found it quite hard going between Lochranza and Blackwaterfoot, but was still thoroughly enjoying the ride. It was much more exposed than before; we’d cycled round the top of the island and were now travelling down the less sheltered side of Arran. There were a few more hills to tackle, though none compared to the challenge of the morning’s climbs. The last five miles or so before Blackwaterfoot were really tough; mostly because I was absolutely knackered, but also because some of my ‘bits’ were really sore. Like my hands, my calves, my thighs, my shoulders, my back, my back bottom, my front bottom, my ... basically, everything was sore. But, it was all well worth it. I’ll never forget how elated I felt when I spotted the ‘Blackwaterfoot’ sign and knew that I’d managed to cycle about 32 miles.

I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a beer quite as much as I did that day sitting outside Blackwaterfoot's Kinloch Hotel. I didn’t realise that beer could taste so good. To be honest, it could’ve been the rubbishiest beer on the planet, but it would still have tasted heavenly at that moment! Poor Alex then headed off over The String (the most evil road for cyclists on the whole of Arran) to collect the car so that me and my bike could be whisked back to Brodick the easy way. While he was away, I took myself into the water to help relieve my aching muscles (like a serious athlete!). The sea was icy cold, but I felt all warm and fuzzy inside just having a wee moment to think about how awesome the day had been.

The next morning we drove back to Blackwaterfoot with the bikes and took off again from where we’d stopped. This was a much, much tougher day for me. I was still running on adrenalin from the day before but my butt and my hands were particularly sore. I learned the hard way during our Tour d’Arran that gripping the handle bars really tightly won’t get me up the hills any easier and it’ll leave me with a common cycling injury (check me out!) called ‘handlebar palsy’. I’ll tell you more about that some other time. As for the sore butt, well, that’s a whole other issue that I still haven’t quite got to the bottom of.  I’m sure my quest for the best saddle, best shorts, best padding, best position and any other multitude of things that can help soften the soreness of my down-below bits when I’m cycling will take up plenty of space in my not-so-serious stories to come. For now, it’s suffice to say that the second day of our ride around Arran was much tougher – even though it was a good bit shorter – than the first. The road from Blackwaterfoot to Brodick round the south of the island isn’t as nice a road as the north route. It’s full of potholes and it’s hilly. And I mean hilly. It was a different kind of hilly from the long slog of the scenic glens from the day before. Sharp, steep, unforgiving and way too many of them. I found it really tough and I was oh so close to giving up by the time we reached Whiting Bay. We’d cycled about 15 miles and I was absolutely knackered. Fantastic views, lots of encouragement and the thought of an ice cold beer kept me going.

Lunch sitting outside a wee cafe called Coast (which I’d recommend for the food, but not for the hospitality) provided a bit of a distraction before we set off on the last leg of our tour. Those last ten miles were so hard. I kept shouting at my bike; as if that was going to make it any easier! ‘Come ON you f****r’ (sorry Mum). Oh dear. At least it was only the clegs and Alex that could hear me. And then, the glorious last bit. Hooray! That massive uphill out of Brodick that the local woman had warned us about was, for us, a fantastic downhill and my shouting and swearing turned to shouting and cheering (along with a few wee tears...) as I whizzed down towards the ‘Brodick’ sign. Aw man, I can’t begin to explain how good that felt. The wee clip that I posted on Story 1 probably best sums it up.

So, that was it. My first proper cycle and the one that got me hooked. I may well be a not-so-serious cyclist, but I seriously enjoyed our Tour d’Arran; the first, I predict, of many special (but hopefully not quite so sore) experiences on my saddle.