On 6 October 2013 I submitted my score card and photographs to the organisers of the Round Britain Rally. Each landmark is allocated a number of points based on location, how difficult it is to find and how close it is to other landmarks. In 2013 there were 88 landmarks throughout Britain offering a total of and 2100 points. Awards were given based on the number of points gained:

100% All Rounder – all landmarks visited (no errors)
All Rounder – all landmarks visited (some errors)
Platinum – 1700 and over
Gold – 1200 to 1699
Silver – 800 to 1199
Bronze – 400 to 700
Standard – 200 to 399
Finisher’s Certificate – 0 to 199

I had 665 points which equated to a Bronze Award. I scanned my score card into my computer, uploaded my photos and emailed the whole lot to the organiser. A short time later I got an email back saying I’d got one of the landmarks wrong and that my total had therefore been reduced to 640 points. Apparently, I’d got the Manner’s Stone in Skye wrong. Whatever I’d photographed, it wasn’t the Manner’s Stone. Fortunately, I still had enough points to get a Bronze.

A couple of months later, the Final Results and the Rally Newsletter came through. I’d come 92nd out of a total of 157 entrants. I had been one of just 38 contenders that had made it all the way to the Kyles of Tongue Crossing Cairn, but then again, I hadn’t done any of the English or Welsh landmarks. Nevertheless, it was still a great achievement and as I had never won anything before I decided to make the trip to Lichfield in February 2014 to collect my award in person at the official Presentation Dinner.

Although it wasn’t actually freezing, it was still far too cold to ride my motorbike down to central England so I hired a van – it was cheaper than a car.

Arriving in Lichfield I checked into the hotel and soon discovered I’d been allocated the “Bridal Suite”, a huge room with a king sized bed and a Jacuzzi bath. Surely this wasn’t all for me? It occurred to me that if I managed to snag myself a man, all sorts of fun could be had in that room.

The Bridal Suite

With a few hours to spare I took myself off to see what Lichfield had to offer. The cathedral was just a few hundred yards from the hotel and beyond that was the town centre filled with a mixture of red brick Georgian villas and ancient Tudor houses. A small lake flanked by formal gardens bisected the village. It was a bustling town, full of locals and tourist alike flitting in and out of shops and the outdoor market.

Lichfield Cathedral

Content that I had seen its main attractions, I returned to my suite to relax in the Jacuzzi – well, I mean, you can’t have a room with a Jacuzzi bath in it and not use it, that would just be ungrateful.

I arrived in the bar at the appointed time, 6 pm, and started chatting to an older couple who had done the rally several times. In fact, it seemed quite a lot of people did it every year. At 7 pm we made our way in for dinner. I was on a table of six people who all seemed to be about the same age as me and were very friendly.

Half way through I got called up and handed my trophy. I was delighted and bounded up just managing to resist the temptation of throwing my arms in the air and doing a victory lap of the function suite.

Receiving my Award

It was a great trophy – a heavy wooden frame on which an aluminium plaque embossed with the words “Round Britain Rally 2013” and the rally logos on either side was set, with my details engraved on a smaller plaque below. Coming in 92nd out of 157 might not sound like much, but I was thrilled.

My Trophy

Pity I didn’t manage to find someone to share that fabulous Bridal Suite with though. That would definitely have been the icing on the cake!

Wednesday 4 & Thursday 5 September 2013

View Trip 10 – The North Coast in a larger map

At the end of the last trip I had 533 miles/857.5 km left to go so I needed a trip that would cover a lot of mileage. And I knew just the thing. I’d been dying to do this since the start – the very north edge of Scotland.

I really wanted to do the Bealach-na Bo pass to Applecross in Wester Ross. This is a very steep, hairpin pass which zigzags its way up a mountainside. You get to it by taking the A87 to the Kyle of Lochalsh then a series of single track and secondary roads which eventually come out at Ullapool from where I’d be able to continue on to the north coast. But it would add a lot of time to my journey and, as I’d done it before, years ago, in a car, I decided against it and to go straight to Ullapool via Inverness. This would reduce the trip to two days instead of three meaning I wouldn’t have to leave Cozy, my cat, alone for more than one night.

It was still a huge distance to cover, so I was up at first light and on the road by 8.00 am. Straight up the A82 to Fort William, then on to Invergarry. This is where I could have turned west to Applecross but I continued straight on to Fort Augustus, where the Caledonian Canal meets Loch Ness. The canal locks were bustling with people but I didn’t stop and continued until the road started to run parallel with the Loch. I kept wondering where the spot was that that couple saw Nessie all those years ago.

Loch Ness

I was in Inverness by 1pm. This is where my map let me down as it wasn’t detailed enough and I had to ask a man in a car park how to get onto the Ullapool road. He gave me directions and, when I then pulled level with him at a roundabout, he pointed me to the correct exit. Over the Moray Firth bridge and I found the A835 which I followed all the way to Ullapool.

The A835 was a fabulous road – a nice, wide carriageway with no pot holes and well graded bends that required no reduction in speed. As I came to an impressive dam I pulled over to take a photo.

Dam

God, it was so quiet. I couldn’t hear a thing. As I lined up my shot, suddenly, BANG, there was this almighty explosion as a Tornado jet rocketed across the sky.

I reached Ullapool at 3 pm and had a quick break.

Ullapool

The skies were clouding over and it looked liked rain ahead, so I went in search of something to eat. Fortified with chocolate and a cup of lentil and cumin soup (quite the oddest combination I’ve ever had) I headed for the petrol station. Here, I met a German lady who was also touring Scotland on a motorbike. She’d come with a friend but it seemed they’d had a parting of ways and she was now having the time of her life exploring every single track road she could find.

After a few minutes cars started to queue up and the owner came out and gave us the evil eye. We wished each other bon voyage and I continued north as she went south.

Riding up a series of narrow, winding, back roads through the hills and glens of Scotland’s north western coast was a true delight. It was raining but I didn’t care, it was breathtakingly beautiful.

Ardmair

Public services in the highlands

Ardvreck Castle

Ruined croft

As I approached Durness, I saw a sign for the Passenger Ferry to Cape Wrath. Unfortunately, that was the closest I was going to get to that corner of the country as it was 4.30 pm now and, I suspected, too late for the last ferry.

Reaching Durness, I was overcome with joy. I had made it to the north coast of Scotland. I felt utterly elated.

From here I decided to continue on to Tongue, a short distance on judging by my map. I didn’t look very closely though, as if I had, I would have noticed the road goes down one side of Loch Eriboll and up the other and adds an extra 20 miles to the journey.

Coming into Tongue, the road crosses another inlet, the Kyles of Tongue, via a man-made causeway called the Kyles of Tongue crossing.

Kyles of Tongue Crossing

I stayed in the Tongue Youth Hostel that night and got talking to an Aussie bloke called Phil from Moruya. By a remarkable coincidence, he knew Steve and Jan, the couple I’d met when doing my tour there in 2010/11.

I was on the road for 7.30 am the next morning. The petrol station in Tongue didn’t open till 8 am but a sign informed me there was one in Bettyhill. I figured by the time I got there, this would be open. It was so tiny, I rode right past it without noticing it and had to turn round and have another go.

Filling up, highland style

I continued along the coastal road, the A836, taking in the sights, when suddenly I saw what had to be Dounreay nuclear power station. It was in the process of being decommissioned but judging by the number of cars there this obviously involved quite a lot of people.

Dounreay Nuclear Power Plant

Next stop was John O’ Groats. Somehow I was deeply disappointed by this. It was just a car park really surrounded by a visitors centre and a few shops.

John O’ Groats Harbour

John O’ Groats First and Last Shop

After a cup of tea and a wander around, I got back on the bike and headed south. Travelling down the east coast, my mood became sullen. The wild, untamed, ruggedness of the west coast was replaced by a more cultivated environment of fields and organised villages. It was pretty but not in the same way as the west.

It was a long ride down to Golspie where I turned off the A9 onto the A839 to Lairg and on to Bonar Bridge and Ardgay. From here I went in search of the final landmark in the Round Britain Rally that I was participating in. Ten miles of single track road and I found the spot just as a group of school children doing their Duke of Edinburgh award arrived at the scene. One of their teachers kindly took a photo of me.

Me, at the end of my Round Britain (or in my case, Scotland) Rally

Rejoining the A9 it was a long, cold slog, back to Inverness. I was cold, hungry and grumpy and I still had over four hours of riding to do. All I could think about was food. What I needed was a nice, hot stew. I was salivating just thinking about it. But there was no stew to be found so I had to settle for an egg mayonnaise sandwich in Fort Augustus and a pot of soup at the Green Welly in Tyndrum.

I got home at 8.15 pm, just as it was starting to get dark. Going north, I had loved it, but coming south, it was a real trial to keep going.

But I’d done it. I’d completed my 5,000 km (5,310.5 km/3,300 miles to be precise). Alas, I’d failed miserably to raise £5,000. But I’d seen Scotland in all its glory during the best summer we’d had in years, so all in all, it was a fantastic experience.

For full photo gallery

Trip 10 – The North Coast

 

I may have covered the 5,000 km I set out to do on this trip, but I haven’t raised anything like the £5,000 I hoped to, so if you’ve enjoyed reading this blog, then please MAKE A DONATION NOW by using the JustGiving link below. You can find out more about my “5K for £5K Challenge” here. Thank you.

Sunday 25 August 2013 – Part 1

View Trip 9 – Fife & Tayside (Part 1) in a larger map

The last couple of trips had been a bit uneventful so things were due for a shake up and, by golly, that’s what they got on this one.

Things started out well enough – the sun was shining, I was on the road early and, as I didn’t have too many miles to cover, would hopefully be home again by mid-afternoon.

Once again, I took the M8 out of Glasgow, then joined the M80 to the junction with the M876 which took me over the Kincardine Bridge to the ancient Kingdom of Fife. It wasn’t as sunny here, in fact, it was quite overcast and hazy which obscurred the views, nevertheless, I wanted to see what I could, so I followed the Fife Coastal Tourist Route (B9037) past the rather unsightly Longannett Generating Station on to the gorgeous village of Culross. From here I could see the refineries of Grangemouth (that I’d passed on Trip 3) on the other side of the Forth estuary.

Longannet Generating Station

Culross

Grangemouth from Culross

Leaving Culross behind, I continued along the tourist route towards Inverkeithing. Suddenly, I saw the massive crane of the Rosyth Naval Shipyards towering over the horizon. Man, that thing was collosal and deserved a closer look. Rounding the headland, the whole shipyards lay below me with the Forth Rail and Road Bridges poking up behind them. It may not have been pretty, by my goodness, it was impressive. Three of man’s huge constructs in such close proximity.

Rosyth Naval Shipyards with Forth Bridges beyond

At Inverkeithing I planned to start making my way north to Tayside. This is where things started to go downhill.

It was slow-going along the coast road and the haze was getting thicker, spoiling the view and I was starting to wish I’d gone north via Dumferline instead – a faster road. As I came into Kircaldy I got stuck in a huge queue of traffic caused by a set of roadworks. Finally clearing these, I made my way along the Esplanade, then got stopped at another set of lights. Just as I was thinking what an unattractive town it was, I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder and almost jumped out of my skin. It was the man from the car behind me.

“Did you know your back tyre is flat?”, he said.

“What?”, I replied, not quite believing him.

As soon as the lights changed, I pulled over and, sure enough, it was flat.

Flat tyre

Now, it’s either a testament to my superior riding skills or a sign of my complete lack of sensory awareness, that I hadn’t noticed this. Either way, there was only one thing I could do. I whipped out my foot pump and started pumping. Five minutes later it was still flat as a pancake so I asked the man who had just come out of the pub if there was a Kwik Fit nearby. He directed me back up the Esplanade. Unfortunately Kwik Fit don’t fix motorcycle tyres, so I had to call the AA who immediately advised me they wouldn’t be able to fix it either and that they’d have to tow me back to Glasgow, I’d just have to wait 2 hours for the recovery vehicle to arrive.

While I waited, the Kwik Fit mechanic offered to pump up the tyre. Once he’d done this he said “I can hear it leaking,” but it wasn’t coming from the tyre but from the where the spoke met the wheel. How the hell had that happened?

Two hours later, the AA duly arrived and winched my bike onto the back of the tow truck.

Poor Bonnie gets towed home

David, the driver, strapped it down securely and we set off for Airdrie, where the plan was to leave it at the garage I usually used. When we got there, however, not only was the garage closed but the entire truck yard in which it was located, was also closed and gated shut, so, even though he wasn’t supposed to, David then took me all the way back to Glasgow (what a hero!).

By the time we got back, unloaded the bike, and I then got the train home, it was 7.30 pm. So much for a nice short day.

Sunday 1 September 2013 – Part 2

After the bike got dropped off, I contacted a mobile motorcycle service (www.mobilemotorcycleservices.co.uk) I’d seen around and Gordon, the owner, came and took my Bonnie away for repair. A couple of days later, it was back, with a new inner tube and looking none the worse for its ordeal. In fact, Gordon had even washed it down for me, so it looked beautiful and shiny. Top service!

I’d been really pissed off about having to cut this trip short and it was a real battle with myself to get going and finish it off. It was cold and windy outside and I hadn’t really planned on riding this weekend, so it took a supreme effort to get out of bed and head over to my friend’s to pick up the bike. Once I was on the road though, I felt a lot better. I took the back road (the A811) from Milngavie up to Stirling as I didn’t want to retrace my steps from last week. Arriving in Stirling, I could see the castle on the hill – what a magnificent sight.

Stirling Castle

Not much further on is the Wallace Monument, another fine piece of architecture.

Wallace Monument, Stirling

From here I picked up the A91 east. It’s a beautiful road through lots of charming villages and farmlands and next thing I knew I was filled with joy. At Milnathort I had the option of joining the M90 to Perth and then on to Dundee, but where would be the fun in that? Basically, I was a back road rider, so I continued on the A91. Just after Auchtermuchty (another great Scottish placename), I stopped to take a photo of the one of the many fields that had been harvested.

Harvest time near Auchtermuchty

On returning to the bike, the pressing need that had been building for some time, suddenly felt like it needed to be relieved. Now, Scotland is full of beautiful villages, but providing public toilets is something it’s not so good at. I found a bush (which, judging by the number of paper hankies behind it, several others had found too) and squatted down. And just as I let go, wouldn’t a car pull in!!! Concluding my business, I zipped up, wandered past the couple, said “Afternoon,” as if nothing had happened, and rode off.

A few miles further on I turned onto the A92 and followed it over the Tay Bridge to Dundee. It’s not a high bridge so you feel quite close to the water and given how windy it was, it was quite scary riding across it. To my left I could see the Tay Rail Bridge but there was nowhere to stop and take photos. Arriving in the city, the whole waterfront was built up and I had to ride some way out of town before I could find a vantage point.

Tay Road Bridge, Dundee

I didn’t hang around Dundee and followed the A90 north to Tealing where I tool a back road west to Coupar Angus and joined the A94 to Perth. This took me past Perth Airport at Scone, a place I’d worked back in 2001.

Control Tower at Perth Airport, Scone

Planes at Perth Airport, Scone

After Perth, where I could have taken the A9 south, I decided to continue west on the A85 to Crianlarich. By Crief, though, it was getting really cold and the thought of going all the way down the side of Loch Lomond home seemed far too far, so I took the A822 south back to the A9. At Dunblane the A9 becomes the M9. By now, it was blowing a gale and I didn’t want to get blown under a truck, so I came off at Stirling and went back the way I’d come – on the A811 to Glasgow.

I’d covered 269 miles/432.9 km on this trip which meant I only had 533 miles/857.5 km to go to complete my 5,000 km. One more trip should do it.

For full photo gallery

Trip 9 – Fife & Tayside

 

If you’re enjoying reading this blog, then please help me reach me raise £5,000 for charity by donating using the JustGiving link below. You can find out more about my “5K for £5K Challenge” here. Thank you.

Sunday 11 August 2013

View Trip 8: The Borders in a larger map

I was back over to the east coast for this trip, visiting The Borders. A quick whiz over the M8 to Edinburgh, then the City Bypass round to East Linton. This is a really pretty little town with old sand-stone houses and a river running through it. Thinking this was going to set the standard for the day, I raced on to Dunbar, where, as a bigger town, I expected more of the same. Unfortunately, Dunbar missed the fairy dust when the town planners were dishing out quaintness. This was more a mismash of new and old and didn’t quite work. Round from the town centre was the coast and harbour, far more picturesque.

Dunbar Cliffs

Dunbar Harbour

From here I rejoined the bypass (which was, by now, the A1) for a few miles then took the A6112 south into miles of rural farmland. Acres of golden wheat fields speckled with regal farmhouses, quadrangled stables and rows of farmworkers’ cottages lay ahead.

Farmlands

Farm buildings

Round a bend, I suddenly saw a castle poking its turrets into the sky and guarding its kingdom below. Castle Hume it would appear.

Hume Castle

At Kelso I picked up the road to Selkirk and spotted another castle over more pastures. This was Floors Castle (click photo to enlarge).

Floors Castle, Kelso

As I bumped the bike onto the kerb to get a photo, I ran out of momentum and the back wheel caught against the kerb, flipping it sideways. “Oh no, not again” I thought as I wrestled to keep it upright. Wrenching it back to the vertical, I stopped, ate a Mars Bar and collected myself. I was getting tired again and needed a rest. In Selkirk, I bought a sandwich and some Powerade and waited while my sugar levels came back up.

I was going to take the A72 via Peebles then the A721 back to Glasgow, but had a last minute change of mind and diverted onto the A7 instead as I hadn’t been that way before. The road went through Galasheils which seemed to be more of a series of shopping centres than a town.  Trying to navigate my way through its many roundabouts, I was so busy looking ahead, I almost went straight through a set of red lights.  Slamming on my brakes just in time, the lady in the Mini behind me almost ploughed straight into me.  As if that wasn’t enough, I then mis-read the next signpost, started to go straight ahead at a roundabout, then realised this would take me into a supermarket car park, so jerked the bike left and cut her up again!

As I came into Edinburgh, it was drizzling. By the time I got to the services at Harthill, it was pouring down, so another stop and a cup of tea before the final sprint home.

For full photo gallery

Trip 8 – The Borders

The position so far:

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Monday 22 July 2013

View Trip 7: The North East in a larger map

This was a huge trip – 466 miles in one day. I set off at 9.45 am and after stopping to talk to a friend that I passed in the street, it was probably about 10.15 before I even got on the M8 motorway out of Glasgow. We’d been having a heat wave for the previous 2-3 weeks but the weather seemed to have finally broken as I left Glasgow and made my way north up the M80 to Stirling and then the M9 to Perth.

Dull day outside Perth

Nonetheless, I was in Dunblane by 11 am so it looked as if I’d cover my route quite quickly. From Perth I continued on the A9 to Dunkeld where I took the very picturesque, but somewhat twisty, B923 to Blairgowrie. When I arrived in Blairgowrie, the A93 from Perth crossed my path. Funny? This was the road I intended to take to Ballater, could it be that I could have taken this all the way from Perth instead of weaving my way on a back road? Not to worry, I’d got there in the end.

Having found the A93, I now took this up towards Glenshee, one of Scotland’s ski resorts. I’d been this way before when I was a youth, and kept expecting to recognise it, but I might as well never have taken this road before, as it all seemed new to me. It was beautiful though, even though the authorities seemed to think it was a bit dangerous for motorcyclists.

Beware of low flying motorcycles!

Getting up to the ski fields, suddenly everything seemed familiar. Sunnyside to the right, and the Tiger to the left – happy memories came flooding back.

Glenshee Ski Resort

Getting over the top of the pass, the sun came out and stayed with me for the rest of the day.

A93 after Glenshee

As I followed the road round to Ballater, the smell of pine trees filled the air, castles poked over treetops and rivers babbled alongside me. Suddenly I found I was smiling contentedly.

Ballater, like most of the towns in this area, was a pretty little place with charming granite houses and a well presented village square.

Ballater

Next I took the A939 to Tomintoul. I love the place names in Scotland – Auchterarder, Findo Gask, Ballindalloch. The A939 has got to be my favourite road so far. Golden fields of wheat:

Harvest time on the A939

Purple hillsides of heather:

A carpet of purple heather

And, another ski resort. So this is where The Lecht is!

The Lecht Ski Resort

From Tomintoul I was going to take the B9136 to Ballindalloch but it was closed so I had to divert to Grantown on Spey. From here the A95 took me all the way through to Keith. This is whiskey country and the road was littered with distilleries. At Aberlour the smell from the Walkers shortbread factory almost drove me insane – I’d only had a glass of fruit juice and a Greek salad all day and was starving by now.

A quick trip up the B9016 brought me out near Buckie, on the Moray Coast. I turned onto the A96 and followed it till the turning for Lossiemouth. As I rode into the town, the most almightly roar broke out and just as I was thinking, “What the hell was that?” I saw a Tornado fighter jet rocketing through the sky above me. The RAF have a base here. On the way out of town, I saw another Tornado in a petrol station car park looking somewhat less impressive:

Fighter jet at Lossiemouth

All day I’d been swithering about whether I should camp overnight but as I reached Elgin the clock tower said it was 6.35 pm and a gantry sign said “Heavy Rain Forecast Tuesday”. That did it. I wasn’t going to camp if it meant packing up wet and riding home in the rain, so I spent the next 4 hours, racing down the A9 home again. A quick stop in Aviemore for fuel and another in Pitlochry for chips (it was 8.30 pm and this was the first food I’d had since an ice-cream in Keith) and I was back on the road. By the time I got to Perth the light was fading fast. By Stirling it was pitch black. My visor was covered in bug splatter and I could hardly see a thing. Thankfully I made it back to Glasgow in one piece at 11.15 pm but what a day!

For full photo gallery

Trip 7 – The North East

 

If you’re enjoying reading this blog, then please help me reach me raise £5,000 for charity by donating using the JustGiving link below. You can find out more about my “5K for £5K Challenge” here. Thank you.