Hello from the middle of nowhere. Other than a few bridges, there really isn't much else here, which meant there was no great fanfare when I arrived at Findhorn Bridge, although there was one friendly supporter welcoming me to the finishing line of this stage...
I called her Bridget.
The ride itself wasn't too bad - hot, but after the previous ride of 100km it felt like a stroll in the park only having 70km to do. Having said that, I did do 45km of it at increased resistance with 10km of that at level 13! I forget the exact breakdown of the distances at other levels, though I did at least 10km at level 12 as well, so I made it tough for myself to replicate some of those mountains I would have been cycling through if I hadn't been doing it at Pop-Up Gym. I completed my ride to Findhorn Bridge in two hours and twenty three minutes, which I thought was pretty good going.
My leg symmetry was good throughout Wednesday's ride too, and whilst it isn't consistently around 50/50, it is certainly improving, and without doubt my general fitness is much improved.
So yes, there isn't very much to see at Findhorn Bridge other than Bridget, the River Findhorn, and the bridge. When I arrived my initial reaction was to be pleased that I could camp so close to the river near the bridge, but then I discovered that the ground immediately by the river is very poor, which is why the second span of the bridge goes over the grass after the first has gone over the river - it isn't robust enough to take the weight of the bridge. Now I'm not saying that I weigh the same as a reinforced concrete and steel girder bridge, but I didn't want to risk sinking into the ground in the night. Plus, it seems that the river can be prone to flooding, which is why the bridge has pedestrian refuges built into it. If the bridge needs pedestrian refuges then that suggests the water can flood the bridge, not just the riverbank next to it, and another good reason not to camp directly beside it. Instead I chose a spot a little further along the road where I could still get a good view of the bridge, but didn't seem quite so risky, to pitch camp.
It's actually nice to be a little way from the bridge because it means that I get a better view of its interesting architecture when I go for a wander, and I do like the look of it from this angle...
...and the little 'windows' nicely frame the surrounding scenery...
So, without there being very much obvious to do here, and yet needing to keep myself active so that I don't seize up before I get to John O'Groats, I decided to unpack the canoe. No, I know you can't see my panniers on the photo, but that's because I'd taken them off and left them at the tent so that I didn't have to cart everything - including the canoe - around while I was having my little venture back to the bridge. I'd heard that the River Findhorn can get quite vigorous and offer excitement for white water canoeists, but it didn't look like it was about to offer me anything like that from here...
All was fairly tranquil, and although a little rocky, I knew that they wouldn't be a problem for the canoe. I'm not a very experienced canoeist, having not done any since I was a teenager, and the canoe was a packing after-thought, but it felt fortuitous that I'd stuffed it into the panniers at the last minute, and it wasn't really any extra weight when I considered the four poster camp bed I was carting round with me.
I tossed a few bits into the back well of the canoe in case of any emergencies, though I was sure there wouldn't be any and I'd be fine, but I long ago learnt to be prepared for the unexpected. A good thing considering some of the situations I've found myself in during this epic ride.
Of course, the thing I'd forgotten about rivers is that they change as they travel, and while it was fairly tranquil when I set off from Findhorn bridge, it got a bit friskier a little way downstream...
...and before long I was slightly out of my depth with the rapids that had appeared...
I couldn't work out how to get the canoe to the riverbank, having never done any white water canoeing even all those years ago when I had had a few lessons. In fact I'd only just learnt how to escape from a capsize, so I really couldn't even call myself proficient, let alone a master. Still, here I was in the middle of nowhere, in a canoe, in an increasingly rapid and, er, dangerous river (it's rare that I admit that I'm doing anything dangerous, so don't get used to it), and all of a sudden I found myself at the top of a waterfall. A huge waterfall. No amount of paddling backwards was going to stop me going over the top, so I clung on tight and set my mind to enjoy the ride...
...but as soon as I reached a miraculously calmer spot of water I had to celebrate...
The trouble with the kind of canoe trip I'd just had from Findhorn Bridge to wherever I was now, is that there was no way I was going to be able to go back the same way. For starters, how do you go up a 100ft waterfall in a canoe? Nope, it wasn't happening. Luckily I was well equipped with the emergency supplies I'd stuffed in the canoe's rear well, so unpacked it all and made a start on reminding myself how to use the equipment...
...It took a bit of practise to get the hang of it...
...but it wasn't long before I was scooting back up towards Findhorn Bridge...
I tell you, that's the way to travel! It's so much fun.
It didn't take me long to get back to Findhorn Bridge by water jet, and before I stowed the jet away in the panniers again I thought I'd try a little experiment - attaching my bike to the water jet...
It worked a treat, and now I can say that I've ridden my bike on water. Teeheehee.
Fun over, it was time to think about food, and after such an active couple of days and exhilarating/terrifying time on the river I needed a good, hearty, Scottish meal. There wasn't anywhere around to buy a meal, but I'd stashed a few things from the celebrations at Dalwhinnie, done some prep before leaving Dalwhinnie, and now I was quietly back at the tent I had some time for experimentation.
When I was a child/teenager we spent most of the summer holidays camping in the Lake District with my Dad and a random assortment of folk from various different aspects of his life who would come and go, changing with the weeks. We spent much of this time occupying ourselves, playing with friends we met year after year at the campsite, and mostly swimming in the lake - Windermere - windsurfing, canoeing, sailing, paddling, playing in rubber dinghies, and generally having quite a Swallows and Amazons existence. Dad was off doing much the same, either on his own or with his weird wife (not my mother!), or with his friends. We'd all merge back together in the evenings, usually gathering for a huge bonfire barbecue, so spending time gathering wood first. However, after hours of playing in the lake we'd all be freezing and hungry well before the barbecue was ready, so we'd invariably meet in dribs and drabs around the various camping stoves earlier in the afternoon or evening looking for something to warm us up. One of my brothers favoured the Pot Noodle option (bleurgh!), but I think there's nothing better for warming you from a wild swim than a hearty soup. Of course, we didn't get a hearty soup in these 'grab something quick' moments, we got a cuppa-soup, but today, after my time in the River Findhorn, I thought I'd love nothing better than a hearty cock-a-leekie soup to warm me up from the inside. A good, foody soup full of chicken, leeks, prunes, and barley with plenty of pepper for spice...
I'm not usually a big fan of prunes, but they add a hint of sweetness and a different texture to the soup. Yummy. Filling too, but I'd used a lot of energy clinging onto that canoe for dear life, so I filled the remaining niggle of a hole with a delicious Scotch pie, with a big dollop of creamy mash and a puddle of gravy on the side, and a patriotic Scottish flag on top just for fun.
I think this is the only way I've eaten mutton ... unless I had it as a child without knowing. Perfect comfort food, and really good fresh out of the oven. Oh, did I mention that I'd packed the camping Aga?
It's ideal for warming the tent during these cold Scottish summer nights, and it cooks perfectly every time.
What better way to finish a Scottish meal after an active day than with a scrumptious dish of cranachan? It was either going to be that or shortbread, but I've got whisky to use from Dalwhinnie and I doubt shortbread dunks well in whisky, whereas cranachan is soaked in the stuff, with cream, raspberries, sugar, honey, and toasted oats...
Oh man, it's lush! The memory of it is making me salivate, but I'm so full now that I couldn't possibly eat any more ... which is just as well because I haven't got any more. It was divine, though, and I'm looking forward to some more traditional Scottish fair after the rides I still have ahead of me. Only four more to go and then I'll be at the top of mainland UK! I can hardly believe it, although I think my legs can - they're tired, but so much fitter.
Most unusually, I move on tomorrow, Saturday. I usually ride on a Friday, but this week I'm in for a weekend cycle up to Fyrish, Alness. I think I'd better look at the map to find out where that is before I set off in the morning because I don't want to end up getting lost and adding an extra hundred miles to my ride. 1,022.5 miles is quite enough for me, thanks. Yes, that's the total length of this epic virtual cycle ride I'm doing, or if you prefer it in kilometres it's 1,636km. The next stretch of it up to Fyrish is 70km, the same as my ride from Dalwhinnie to Findhorn Bridge, so I'll aim to do it in a similar length of time. I'll let you know when I get there. In the meantime, if you'd like to sponsor me for my epic ride from Land's End to John O'Groats you still can at my Just Giving Page. It's very easy to do, and the page gives more information about my own story and tells you more about Pop-Up Gym for which I'm raising the funds. Please do donate if you can, and be assured that every single penny is hugely appreciated and will help all those folk who use the vital services Pop-Up Gym provides.
**All photos are from Google Images, except those of the MotoMed and my tent
