Ok…This is my Blog

…..I’m not too sure what a Blog is but…

This is where I’ll put really important, up to the minute stuff, like when I’m going to be away on holiday and when I'm planning to be off sick

So check it regularly.

I'm just back from a weeks holiday. Thought you might like to know what I got up to:

My plan for my week off was to:
a/   Do some different exercise, ‘cause my back’s been a bit sore lately,  and
b/ Get some cardiovascular in, ‘cause I’ve done very little lately. The other thing I haven’t done lately is get on my bike, so that seemed to be the perfect holiday activity.

Monday - Back quite sore. Gentle cycle through the woods near us. Beautiful evening. Drink in the beer garden at The Clachnaharry.
Tuesday - Bit longer cycle, close to home. On the downhill, hit fallen tree branch. Heard  ‘crack’ as I hit the ground and lay there, not moving for a while, thinking ‘This is fine. Nothing hurts.’ Then I moved.
There was a definite pain in my ribcage.
Now, there’s no point expecting my partner, Robin, to come back. I’ve done that before - laid there for ages clutching my blooded knee or elbow thinking ‘He’s bound to come back to find me soon.’ And then, after a while lying there, mostly looking at the sky, but occasionally lifting my head to see if he’s coming, I say out loud, ‘May as well get up then.’ Two or three miles on, when I eventually catch up with him, I’m usually greeted with, ‘What kept you?’ - so I know, don’t bother lying there, get up.
Yep, definite pain in the rib cage.
The rest of the down hill was - interesting - but I did notice, my back wasn’t sore any more!
Lunch at The Clachnaharry.
Wednesday - Back seems to be fine. Ribs - sore. Proposed that we went for gentle cycle and even suggested the route. This started off alright until Robin (have I mentioned him before?) decided we should ‘trail blaze’ and disappeared off up (a big UP) an overgrown hillside. I can tell you, carrying the bike’s not easy with a potential cracked rib.
Lunch at the Golf Club.
Thursday - Along the Great Glen to Drumnadrochit. When we were up in the woods at Abriachan we noticed a cycle track of to the right. Now, Robin (alarm bells ringing?) has, for a long time been talking about a Great Glen Cycle Path through to Drum, but we have never found it. ‘That must be it.’

‘Ok,’ I say, memories of yesterdays ‘trail blaze’ fresh in my mind, ‘Let’s just do the track we know on the way there and maybe we could try that on the way back.’
Had a lovely cycle to Drum, along the usual, normal Great Glen route, only interrupted by Robin’s idea of taking photo’s of me on the way, for the website - this included,
‘Do a Down Dog between those two tree stumps.’

Stand on the edge of that 20ft drop there and do a Dancer.’

‘Stand on that rotting fence post over there and do an Aeroplane.’

You will notice that this one didn’t happen.

Lunch at The Fiddlers in Drum.

Uh-Oh. Robin’s got the map out. ‘If we go up this hill here, we can connect to this track here and that will take us across to here, which must be where we join onto the Great Glen Cycle Path… Ready?’
The first ‘up this hill here’ took us up about 1,500 ft to - nothing. At which point Robin heads towards a gate with a big ‘Bull in Field’ sign on it. In my wimpiest voice I say, ‘We can’t go through there.’
‘It’s just a sign,’ he says. ‘Anyway, you’ll just have to peddle faster.’
To my relief and delight, 100yds into the field we met an irate farmer. I could have kissed him!
‘You can’t get through here,’ he says, ‘There’s no way through.’
I had my bike turned round and was heading back towards the gate when I heard Robin explaining that we were looking for the Great Glen Cycle Route. The farmer had never heard of it. ‘But,’ he said, ‘I’ll tell you what, go along this track, through the next gate, stick to the track, keep bearing left, don’t take the right-hand track, through the next gate …………..….. you’ll come out onto the Great Glen.
The ‘track’ wasn’t cycleable, so we pushed the bikes through bog and mud. Some how we missed the ‘bear left’ track and ended up, I guess, on the right-hand track, which then disappeared, leaving us pushing, carrying, wading, clambering, through very thick foot high heather (which was in full bloom, by the way, absolutely beautiful) and very black, foot deep bog (which wasn’t so beautiful.) This went on for an hour and a half. I’m not sure which I enjoyed the most, the clamber up the hills or the scramble down the other side.
At one point my son phoned Robin, who stopped at the top of one high point and chatted to Mike as he watched me manoeuvre my bike down the steep incline on the other side. My foot disappeared into a bog (you couldn’t see the bog for the heather) and my bike and I rolled off down the hill like a haggis that had tried to go round the hill the wrong way. I heard Robin exclaim as I went. (Bless him. That must have been a sign of affection.) Then I heard him say, ‘No it’s not me, it’s your Mum. Her bike’s on top of her.’ Then they carried on talking!

We arrived back on the Great Glen very close to the point where we had noticed the cycle track. On closer inspection we noticed the ‘Abriachan Trust - Forest Walks & Cycle Tracks’sign. The cycle track was just a wee cycle around the Abriachan woods.
There was no Great Glen Cycle Route. There is no Great Glen Cycle Route (well I think there is, but it goes along the road) so don’t try and take it.
Arrived home. Sat in garden with feet in large tub of hot water and drank beer.
Friday - Yes, ribs sore. Don’t think I’ll go cycling today.
Dinner at The Clachnaharry.

I would just like to say that, despite all I have written, Robin is just ‘the best’ and I wouldn’t have him any other way. (And, of course, there is a chance that he’ll read this!)