Edmundbryers to Jedburgh - 61 miles, 6:10 hours in the saddle, 8:30 hour journey time
Today to distract myself from mile counting and the mounting pain in my left knee, I took to counting Road Kill (RK). It is amazing the detail of the road you get to see when you are 3ft from it for 7 to 8 hours a day. I have noticed more dead animals than live ones on this trip so far.
47 rabbits, 4 hedgehogs, 18 pheasants (4 female and 14 male), 3 grouse, 6 blackbirds, 19 squirrels, 2 bluetits, 1 mouse, 8 crows and 9 unidentified objects/beings (either too decomposed/squashed or I didn't know the species to identify them.) I also saw a small yellow and black lizard but wasn't sure if he was dead or alive, he didn't move but also he wasn't squashed flat. He might have been paralysed by fear as the deep and wide tyre tread of a truck went over him and only tore a toenail in the process.....well it could happen!
So if you convert 60 miles to kilometers (best to do RK calculations in metric) that is 96kms and then divide 118 dead animals into 96kms, you get 0.81. So that is a piece of RK every 810 meters. Now you know how you spend 40 days cycling alone to Iceland...its lonely you have to occupy your mind with something.
They say when camping, after a hard day in the hills and it is wet and cold, the world is a brighter place and you feel rejuvenated once you have had a shower and the frist brew on the stove you have carried with you for miles.......B******S!!!! No it doesn't make the world feel any better. I am in the municipal caravaning and campsite in Jedburgh, so cold and wet after 60 sodden miles that I can hardly grip the pen to write this (I write in my journal and then type up when I reach civilization.)
Whatever lofty ideals I spouted on about why I wanted to make this journey, did I say some drivel about wanting to reconnect with the inner me, or was it, to push myself to see how far I could take myself....well fancy that....I am so full of S**T. I would pay anything to be in one of the caravans next to me, in fact I dream of staying in a caravan (name that sketch?) Me wanting to be in a white box, in the same room as your kids and have to poo in a bucket....luxury....where do I sign? I did ask at the Tourist Office for a B&B and there were no rooms left in town due to the Northern Vespa and Lambretta Club annual meeting.......what the F!
My apologies for my language, but I'm having a bad day - promise I'll clean my act up.
The other downside is that I have drunk so much fluid to stay hydrated after my long day, that I need to pee every 5 minutes (no surprise there to some of you) but this involves army maneuvers, putting on full wet weather gear, which hangs in the atrium of my tent and then the Cresta run dash to the toilet block 200 yards away (with very sore legs) then getting back and stripping off and getting back into the tent without getting all the dry stuff wet - very complicated.
Now lets talk about the tent - well its a green tube really, not high enough to sit up in properly and just wide enough for me and my dry gear, its made of some space age fabric that is meant to keep me dry - lets hope so!
HIGHLIGHTS OF THE DAY:
- None, piss off and leave me alone!
No I jest, after the 3 mile climb up the A68, in the P*****G rain, being buffeted by lorries, I was quite emotional as I reached the summit of Carters Bar and passed the border into Scotland. Any tears I had were quickly washed away by the rain and any elation evaporated when I heard the bag piper and the hordes of Australian tourists awaiting me at the top.
A damp lady in a kagool asked me in her abrasive Australis accent, had I pushed the bike up the hill as surely I couldn't have cycled up it. No I b***** didn't b****, why don't you go back to Kangarooland and leave me alone, unless you have a towel and hot cuppa of tea then you can stay a while, I retorted. She was most offended and called over these three huge ex Ozzy rules football players and they started a fight with me, so I killed them all with my mini-pump and strangled the old lady with a spare inner tube, then put the bodies on my trailer and rode into town looking for my reward..........sorry I am a bit delirious, must have drifted off there from the hypothermia.
Sorry, I am tired, grumpy and hungry, and I am seeing an aggressive side venting in my blogging. I do have a funny story to tell and the evening got better when 3 Geordie girls arrived to pitch camp. I'll start a new blog later as I need to eat (currently in Edinburgh writing these last few days up.) Darryl kindly gave me the perfect present for a touring cyclist, it weighs nothing and tastes amazing - a Burger King voucher for a free Whopper Meal.....see you later.
Today to distract myself from mile counting and the mounting pain in my left knee, I took to counting Road Kill (RK). It is amazing the detail of the road you get to see when you are 3ft from it for 7 to 8 hours a day. I have noticed more dead animals than live ones on this trip so far.
47 rabbits, 4 hedgehogs, 18 pheasants (4 female and 14 male), 3 grouse, 6 blackbirds, 19 squirrels, 2 bluetits, 1 mouse, 8 crows and 9 unidentified objects/beings (either too decomposed/squashed or I didn't know the species to identify them.) I also saw a small yellow and black lizard but wasn't sure if he was dead or alive, he didn't move but also he wasn't squashed flat. He might have been paralysed by fear as the deep and wide tyre tread of a truck went over him and only tore a toenail in the process.....well it could happen!
So if you convert 60 miles to kilometers (best to do RK calculations in metric) that is 96kms and then divide 118 dead animals into 96kms, you get 0.81. So that is a piece of RK every 810 meters. Now you know how you spend 40 days cycling alone to Iceland...its lonely you have to occupy your mind with something.
They say when camping, after a hard day in the hills and it is wet and cold, the world is a brighter place and you feel rejuvenated once you have had a shower and the frist brew on the stove you have carried with you for miles.......B******S!!!! No it doesn't make the world feel any better. I am in the municipal caravaning and campsite in Jedburgh, so cold and wet after 60 sodden miles that I can hardly grip the pen to write this (I write in my journal and then type up when I reach civilization.)
Whatever lofty ideals I spouted on about why I wanted to make this journey, did I say some drivel about wanting to reconnect with the inner me, or was it, to push myself to see how far I could take myself....well fancy that....I am so full of S**T. I would pay anything to be in one of the caravans next to me, in fact I dream of staying in a caravan (name that sketch?) Me wanting to be in a white box, in the same room as your kids and have to poo in a bucket....luxury....where do I sign? I did ask at the Tourist Office for a B&B and there were no rooms left in town due to the Northern Vespa and Lambretta Club annual meeting.......what the F!
My apologies for my language, but I'm having a bad day - promise I'll clean my act up.
The other downside is that I have drunk so much fluid to stay hydrated after my long day, that I need to pee every 5 minutes (no surprise there to some of you) but this involves army maneuvers, putting on full wet weather gear, which hangs in the atrium of my tent and then the Cresta run dash to the toilet block 200 yards away (with very sore legs) then getting back and stripping off and getting back into the tent without getting all the dry stuff wet - very complicated.
Now lets talk about the tent - well its a green tube really, not high enough to sit up in properly and just wide enough for me and my dry gear, its made of some space age fabric that is meant to keep me dry - lets hope so!
HIGHLIGHTS OF THE DAY:
- None, piss off and leave me alone!
No I jest, after the 3 mile climb up the A68, in the P*****G rain, being buffeted by lorries, I was quite emotional as I reached the summit of Carters Bar and passed the border into Scotland. Any tears I had were quickly washed away by the rain and any elation evaporated when I heard the bag piper and the hordes of Australian tourists awaiting me at the top.A damp lady in a kagool asked me in her abrasive Australis accent, had I pushed the bike up the hill as surely I couldn't have cycled up it. No I b***** didn't b****, why don't you go back to Kangarooland and leave me alone, unless you have a towel and hot cuppa of tea then you can stay a while, I retorted. She was most offended and called over these three huge ex Ozzy rules football players and they started a fight with me, so I killed them all with my mini-pump and strangled the old lady with a spare inner tube, then put the bodies on my trailer and rode into town looking for my reward..........sorry I am a bit delirious, must have drifted off there from the hypothermia.
Sorry, I am tired, grumpy and hungry, and I am seeing an aggressive side venting in my blogging. I do have a funny story to tell and the evening got better when 3 Geordie girls arrived to pitch camp. I'll start a new blog later as I need to eat (currently in Edinburgh writing these last few days up.) Darryl kindly gave me the perfect present for a touring cyclist, it weighs nothing and tastes amazing - a Burger King voucher for a free Whopper Meal.....see you later.
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