Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. What a day.
I woke in Stirling to a text pointing out the terrible weather and after much discussion decided that Wattie (who was going to cycle with me for the day) should stay at home rather than subject himself to the wind and rain and my inevitable bad mood. I have to say that by now, I am heartily sick of the rain. Everything I have with me is soaking and it is rather taking the joy out of cycling. But, my mood is philosophical; there is nothing I can do about it so I might as well just peddle on.
I planned my route over another expensive excuse for a continental breakfast and was off by 10. I spent a considerable period of time hunting around the shopping centre to find the post office (upstairs in WH Smiths) and posted some gear and maps home. I also got myself some M&S whole food salady things and some juice. By the time I had done all of that it was past 12 meaning a rather late start.
Stirling and the surrounding areas are not the most cycle friendly roads in the country. I negotiated round about after round about, sometimes following the road and sometimes following the far less quick and not necessarily safer cycle paths. After battling on for an hour the rain had finally soaked through and my mood had not improved. By this time I was skirting round Falkirk. Imagine my relief when I saw a great big Asda sign on the far side of a round about. After a 10 minute traffic negotiation task I eventually made it to the building underneath the sign, only to find it was a distribution centre. A little later, my relief at seeing a Tesco was short lived; it will open next week. In the end, I had lunch in a bus shelter.
Not content with the range of weather I had so far experienced on my sopping wet and wind swept Jogle, the gods decided to throw another one my way. Nice, dense fog. Now, fog is a pain because you can't see. Not only that, you are more than aware that you can't be seen. Add to this the fact that I was climbing over some Pentaland hill and that it seemed to be a main thoroughfare for HGVs and you may begin to understand my despair. And as by now I was tired and soaking and cold and just generally pissed off, I think I did reach despair. And I kept on passing signs for Edinburgh.
After the world's slowest climb I eventually found my turn off and managed to drop down a little, out of the fog. I stopped to eat and phone Steve. And cry. By this point I had done 30 miles of a 60 mile day. I didn't want to give up and wasn't going to but, I had no idea how I was going to make it to the end. It seemed to summarise my whole Jogle so far. I have been cycling for 7 days, most days have been windy and not one of them hadn't involved rain. Everything I have read about cycle touring has said that it isn't the cycling that is the challenge, its the psychology and right now, I fully understand what they mean.
Steve phoned the accommodation to let them know I would be late and I pushed on. At the bottom of the hill was a sign saying 24 miles to Peebles. I think if I had passed a vacancies sign there and then I would have taken it. 24 miles seems impossible, but what choice? At Blythe Bridge there was a 10 mile sign. A doable distance. A not far now distance. I stopped to eat and watch as 3 buzzards (?) circled in the rain. As the thunder started and the deluge of rain cleared away the last of the fog, my mood began to lift.
By this point, I was on a bit of my map that had disintegrated in the rain so was blindly following the road. My usual habit of looking out for landmarks to pinpoint myself on the map was useless. I find it all rather disorientating and despite the mileometer and road signs, have no idea how far I have to go.
Eventually I pass into the town, give myself a little cheer and again, have a little cry (this is an ongoing theme). I gently take out the sodden town centre map and navigate my way to the hotel. There, they cook me some tea even though the kitchen is closed. I have a bath and the heated towel rail dries my wettest clothes. I go to bed reflecting on what a horrible day it has been. I'm sick of the rain but can't stop grinning because I got myself here then surely, I can get myself to Land's End.
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