Day 17. Monday 23rd July 2012. 62 miles 2,518 ft elevation gain.

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We left Pitlochry at about 9:30am (crazy days – late starts AND early finishes!) to set off in the rain and wind to Drumochter Pass. We paused briefly at Garry Bridge to do a BCQ, before heading along a stony, pebbly, gritty track that ran almost alongside the A9. The wind was strong and I struggled to keep up, feeling pretty tired with every wooden gateway and footbridge we had to pass through that were on bends and hills, and really slippy in the rain. I allowed myself to slow down, as it took me all my strength just to keep pedalling whilst shivering in the cold, and the boys had to wait for me as I caught up, braving the treacherous weather as they did so. We were really cold and wet by the top, and relieved to get to Dalwhinnie – apparently the coldest place in the UK - where there was a nice little tearoom. I sat with clothes, gloves and helmet dripping puddles of water on to the floor as I slowly thawed, eating a lovely warm lunch and hot drinks and purposefully forsaking the pre-bought sandwiches that had been intended to see us through the day. My cold, numb fingers felt slightly better when the owner of the café gave me £10 for my charity, and once again on this trip, an unexpected encouragement provided optimism for me to continue on the way! Calum’s brother, Angus, joined us here and would spend the rest of the day riding with us. After lunch, and a prolonged visit to the toilet where the hand-dryer provided some much needed warmth, the rain started to die out. We bumped in to Bob Yorke and his family at Ralia, and as we coasted along the country lanes my renewed burst of energy allowed me to put my foot down and cycle on ahead, enjoying the feeling of being out in the wild alone and earning me the name “Pink Lightning”, a step up in accolade from my previous name of “Penelope Pitstop”… 

Eventually we reached Newtonmore, and whilst cycling along chatting with Angus, I was suddenly distracted by a signpost indicating we were about to arrive at the Macpherson Museum! I babbled excitedly, until we arrived at said museum when I could contain myself no more and dived off my bike yelling at everybody that I would catch up with them. Bert caught on to my excitement, and convinced the boys to wait for me whilst I went in for a photo at the home of my clan.

I was delighted to discover that Angus and Calum were also of Macpherson descent, and that Angus had actually visited this very museum on his 21st birthday! We had a lovely ride down the B970 through picturesque mountains (Cairngorms) and woodland to Aviemore, a few of us die-hards stopping to do a BCQ along the way at Doune. I dropped back quite a bit as I kept stopping to take in the magnificent views and take photos of fields and lochs and animals in breathtaking scenes. The difference was that this was not due to a severe lack of fitness, but the beautiful scenery that assaulted me at every turn. 

Aviemore has a large hostel, but on arriving at my girls’ dorm to discover I was, once again, to be sharing with some European girls who spoke limited English, I dug my heels in and demanded a room for two with Bert. The arrival of the extra boys on the trip had emphasised for me the feeling of being a bit out of it, but Bert readily obliged me and left the boys dorm to share with me. We had a delicious meal made by Calum before heading off to a local pub for some evening drinks. 

Day 18. Tuesday 24th July 2012. 50 miles 2,082 ft elevation gain.

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Woke up to a lovely sunny morning with blue skies, and was set up for the day with some of Calum’s left-over curry. Headed through Boat of Garten to Carrbridge, where we had tea and scones in a lovely little cafe. I still marvelled at these tearoom events, having gotten used to the 10-hour daily slog of England and Wales, and it was lush to be able to pause for scones with cream and hot chocolate after cycling for only an hour or so. 

After this re-fuel, we took a gentle ride up The Slochd followed by a gentle run down to the Clava Cairns – some prehistoric burial Cairns built about 4,000 years ago. Gentle seemed to be the order of the day. It was all very pleasant, and the lack of rain, and views all around felt very foreign to me, but so very welcome! 

It was still sunny as we left our sightseeing stop at the Cairns and headed to Culloden, where starting to get complacent, the boys made a very serious navigational mistake. As we cycled past the sign for the Culloden Battlefields off to the left, I assumed the boys had decided not to stop off to see it after spending so long at the Cairns. As we sailed down a long, straight and steep hill, that seemed to go on and on and on, it was great to clock up speed and see the miles ticking by, and exhilarating to feel the wind on my face. What I hadn’t realised as I relished this feeling, was that the, until now excellent navigators, had completely missed the sign I had been looking at, and in fact did still intend to visit said battlefield. 

After a mini-meeting at the bottom of the hill, and waving at the German cycle troupe as they went on by, it was (almost!) unanimously agreed to return to the site. I guess it was completely unanimous if you only counted the male opinions of the group. I kept my cool, and tagged on to the back of the line to circle around and head back uphill to the battlefields by a different, several mile long route, grumbling under my breath all the way! Hot chocolate with marshmallows and sumptuous cake went a little way in easing my upset, and I felt I deserved this unplanned fatty feast to ease my troubled brow. We then set off on foot to wander around a field in the bitingly cold wind and look at flags in the distance. We managed a BCQ in the middle of the field, which went a little way to appeasing me, though even this was unimpressive, so I shivered quietly and waited patiently to continue on our way. Battlefields must be a boy thing. 

It was an easy ride down to Inverness after this, back the way we came and then along a few roads until we stopped off at a supermarket for food. Whilst waiting for the shoppers, I happened to notice a post on facebook showing a cartoon of “Is this the real life, or just a Fanta (orange) Sea”, and ended up humming the great Queen epic to myself as the boys congregated ready for the final leg to the youth hostel. By the time we left the car park, there was a full-blown rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody going on, which seemed quite surreal as we navigated our way around roundabouts in the centre of Inverness in rush hour. 

Tonight my hostelling home was shared with a highly-strung, slightly neurotic lady; a European lady who was keen to announce her impending departure would be about 4am; and the two dear ladies we kept bumping in to who were doing LEJOG with their husbands on tandems! 

Day 19. Wednesday 25th July 2012. 60 miles 2,263 ft elevation gain.

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Once again, we headed out with no rain and after pottering about in Inverness for a while, we pretty quickly crossed a long bridge over to the Black Isle. After doing a couple of circuits at a roundabout, where we were confused to keep coming across the same people, we were pointed in the right direction and continued on through Munlochy. Once again it was exhilarating to head along straight roads, up gentle hills, and with beautiful views all around; I pounded the pedals, enjoying my new level of fitness and powering ahead with a great sense of freedom and joy at being alone in the great outdoors. Calum was some way ahead of me, and we eventually paused at a junction to wait for  the others to catch up; Calum pointed out where his mum lived, off in the distance on the other side of the Beauly Firth. We then cycled on to the north, down a long hill before we turned sharp right to head east along the Cromarty Firth coast towards Cromarty. We hit our 1,000 miles along this stretch and stopped for an impromptu photo shoot. 

In Cromarty we stopped to buy lunch in a bakery and sat by the sea watching the “Cromarty Queen” ferry heading backwards and forwards to Nigg. After eating and drinking, we queued for the ferry and headed across, cycling through Arabella and on to Tain. 

Bert and I stopped to do a shop here, before we went over a big long straight bridge over the Dornoch Firth and continued on to Dornoch, a quaint little village that sold delicious ice cream and where we were also able to do a BCQ!

By the time we got close to Rogart Station the wind was strong and against us, and I struggled to keep going, sheltering behind Bert and Rob, who took it in turns to lead our little group of three. We eventually pulled in at Rogart Station where we met Andy Summers again. We all chose little rooms in our allotted carriage, and Bert and I set to cooking up a meal in very basic conditions! We did however, manage to make a tribute dessert for the team – a rocky mountain road concoction with LEJOG spelled out in dried apricots! After eating, we braved the midges to dash to the local pub, but were sorry to discover it had closed early, so we returned to bolt ourselves in to our carriage with all the windows closed, despite the warm evening. I soon went to bed, and Bert was later bemused to hear Alan being profusely apologetic after getting the doors confused in the narrow passageway and almost attempting to jump into my bed.