Cycling to John O'Groats-8
27/04/17
It's been raining since the moment I started pedalling today. It's nice and cold and mapping my route isn't too far from obvious. There's a surge of positivity in me and I feel like a whole new person from yesterday. Yes, I can do this.
Existence doesn't necessarily mean only physical, it can be mental as well. In fact, impact is existence.
'Buck up, kiddo, you're almost there!'
..
The stretch of road which is straight is the most boring part of the day and I can only see trees on one side and grass on another. The cows are eating something off it and I wonder if cows ever 'hang out' or 'chill out with friends' without eating grass? Never seen it before. I chuckle at my hilarious imagination of cows smoking weed and discussing human existence.
There's an arch bridge which makes me think that it's gonna be a nice uphill on the other side but I'm disappointed by how subtle it is.
Alright then, bring on some cold winds and rain, I'm up for any challenge! Straightforwardness ain't my thing.
I'm too jumpy. I need to do something about this.
The higher I climb, the colder and windier it gets. It hasn't stopped raining still. In a bit, I come across a road that says that there's gonna be no food or shelter for next 30 kilometres and the cycle route is liable to snow and rain and bad weather even in summer. The only reason I spare time to read that thing is cuz my front tyre has completely deflated and now that I've bothered to stop, I need to click a pic of that board. I pump up the tyre and head off. The scenery has changed. There's a river flowing from the uneven stony formations and there are trees with no leaves on both sides. As I go further up the hill, the trees disappear and all I can see is brown and ochre on both sides with the river flowing some distance down the valley. It's windy but manageable. It's cold but tolerable. It's rainy but not undesirable. So basically, I'm fine with the weather. After you've been through worse, Something like this just seems subtle. I'm pedalling to the rhythm of "Early Morning May" and that thing is on repeat.
As I cycle on, I come across another cyclist pedalling towards me and that uplifts my mood.
He points his thumb backwards and asks, "John O'Groats?"
I nod a yes and he says, "Land's End!"
We both come to an abrupt stop.
"Tough weather,eh? It might just get worse as you go further up!", he says.
"Not an issue as long as I get to see some snowfall or hail. Up from Inverness, is A9 a good route to take? Been told it's taking my life in my hands and stuff. Which route had you taken?"
"A9" he says and I scream a 'Yesss'
"Is the cycle route so narrow till Perth?", he asks and I tell him that he's soon gonna merge to a really beautiful B-road. I almost tell him how lucky he is that he's cycling with the wind and he's gonna be flying soon but then I think of keeping it a surprise. So yeah, we talk routes, weather and everything but names.
"You look very young to be cycling by yourself. How old are you?" he asks concerned of my maturity level and what not.
"18" I smile.
"Well, you ARE too young. Good luck then! Ride safe!"
"Ride safe!"
Well, it is indeed nice to know that I don't have to cross the coast and then pedal North and then pedal to the east to reach my destination. Bring on the risks, I've made up my mind now!
After a bit, I come across a huge board of 'Welcome to Highlands' and I realise that it's a pass- Drumochter pass. I stop there and stare at the thing for five whole minutes because I can see snow-capped mountains around me and it's beautiful how the A9, the Sustrans cycle route and the railway line sit parallel to each other at the pass. It's a straight route for a bit and a bit of an uphill when I see a cottage at a distance and wonder if that's where I'm staying for the night. Well, I do realise that I'm right. Because I've stopped pedalling, I'm shivering and the wind seems stronger now. Can't complain, I'm on a mountain pass still! I press the doorbell and stand there numb and shivering. The lady who opens the door lets me know of the check in time and that I'm too early. I can't think of anything because I'm really hungry. She lets me in anyway, shows me the room, gives me the wifi password and makes me some hot soup, sandwich and coffee. I couldn't ask for a better b&b. I feel pampered. We have a long chat about my journey and this feels like a place to be.
After a while, I'm offered pasta for the dinner and carrot cake for dessert. Full and happy, I feel like some sort of new energy is passed on to me.
..
This newly found positivity, optimism, cheerfulness, fearlessness and strength will keep reminding me that Molly only doesn't physically exist anymore. She did manage to inspire an 18 year old who'll keep the wheel spinning!
29/04/17
Claustrophobic, I decide on heading off early from the lodge I'm staying at. Not like I'm not sleepy anymore.. I just feel too restless and that kind of energy is better to be spent than stored. Breakfast bar opens at 9 and it's 7 still. I'll just eat somewhere else in that case. There's coffee and all but no sugar sachets in the room. Without sugar is certainly not how I have coffee. Pumped up with purely insane music and thoughts, I leave the place. I wonder if I've got acclimatised well or the weather's got better. Today, I'm not gonna let anything or anyone screw with my head. I ask someone 5 miles later if there's any restaurant around. That guy tells me that there's nothing for next 15 miles. Alright, If I'm fast enough I can cover that in an hour. But my bike's front tyre has half deflated and I've been riding with that. I need to fix that first. I soon find a mountain bike shop open and I get that done. Wow, a bike shop can be opened as early as 8 am and a food shop can't. I'm on a highway and this road is bypassing all the towns. I wonder if the highway emergency services can be told in case someone is starving while on the highway. After a bit I finally find a cafe just opened and order a full Scottish breakfast with coffee and a chocolate mousse cake.
Cafes get awkward at times. There are couples and families sitting around and I sit there with a poker face. Right since the beginning of the journey, I've had food while reading something on kindle. That way I feel like I'm talking to someone or, well, playing a movie in my head. I like how it feels to not be alone when I, in reality, am. I'm served the thing and, trust me, I've never had that amount of food in such less time. In fact, that still doesn't fill me completely so I get another chocolate mousse cake packed for having somewhere on way. I fully intend to eat it outside that shop because it'd quite weird for them to see someone eat so much in one go.
It's quite a comfortable and beautiful ride today. I'm passing forests and hills and then climbing a mountain pass. Forests get quite intimidating, at times, on the country roads but they're just as beautiful. The road is quite nice. Not too straight and with some incline always. This bike ride feels like a conversation with something that doesn't exist. I feel alive!
There are quite a few horses on way.
"You're certainly having a good hair day, mate!" I tell one of them who certainly has longer and silkier and way better hair than mine.
Finally the country road joins the A-road and I'm thrown off onto some cycle route 7 by google maps. That route is parallel to the highway and full of moss, horse shit and mud. It's cycle-able though, so why not!? I'm day-dreaming of where I might camp when I get here the next time and just admiring the beauty of everything around when I happen to come across the fact that I just climbed a pass. Oh cool, no wonder I see the next range of mountains from here.
Just as I turn on the curve, I slip off some moss and mud with horse shit and painlessly land on my right shoulder with feet still clipped in and face full of mud. Wow, horse shit sure is slippery and stinky and now I have to have a shower. But before that, I need to clean the mud from my face and horse shit off my legs in order to be let inside the youth hostel. Either I'm too numb to feel anything or I have perfectly mastered the art of crashing painlessly. I'm gonna go with the latter. I pick the bike up with it's right brake hood turned inwards and get it straightened. Cycle routes definitely ain't my thing. I get onto the A9.
There's a nice pass before Inverness and 'welcome to Inverness- the capital of the Highlands' just makes my day.
..
Leave me on the highway, country roads or wherever and I'll find my way to the destination somehow. Leave me in the city and I'll lose my way 1 lakh times. I mean, Google maps is telling me where to go but it's still confusing how I've to find my way through one-ways and signals and rules. I check in at the Youth hostel finally, only to leave my stuff in the room and head off to eat.
As I walk to the high street, I realise that I'm way better on bike because I'm following bike rules instead of pedestrian rules. That's just embarrassing how I can't do simple things like crossing the road without looking like a lost and confused 7-year-old lost in a shopping centre. Never mind, I make my way to the Indian restaurant which I know isn't Indian.
That guy looks at me from top to bottom. Probably he's wondering who's lost their kid or whether I'm a guy or girl. I don't mind anyway as long as I'm getting my food. After ordering my food, he manages to muster up enough courage to ask me my nationality. He follows that up with if I'm cycling or something and I tell him where I'm headed to. He looks shocked.
"Do you even know how far John O'groats is from Inverness?"
"Yes, about 125 miles"
"That's not the distance you can cycle. I mean... seriously!"
I can't help but chuckle.
I'm hungry and this gentleman here isn't a gentleman. I can sense that. He's so bloody intrusive!
"I knew you were a cyclist or something the moment you entered. I mean who else dresses like that. Well, sexy legs,yeah! Aren't you feeling cold?"
I look straight into his eyes with a death stare. The kind of stare which describes 'angry' without expression. My bruised and scarred legs are anything but sexy and trust me, I've got my moves. But I choose my fights carefully. Moreover, such remarks don't bother me anymore.
As a girl, I perfectly am able to recognise the intention by mere intuition. I know what kind of remarks on sexy legs and booty that I've got by far are genuine, humorous and typically cheap.
"No! Where are you from, if you don't mind me asking? Are you an Indian?", I ask, knowing he's of Asian origin.
"Hahaha, No Indian restaurant in the UK is owned by Indians. They only sell Indian food. My parents were from Bangladesh but I was born here. "
"Alright"
"In India do you get to wear shorts like this? I mean, people touch, don't they?"
At this point I'm frustrated because I want food which I've ordered and what anybody wears in India isn't bloody his business. I have a choice to make, ruin my day over this by getting into a full-fledged fight or handle this like a matured human being and calm the hell down first. I'm counting to 10 in my head.
"Do you even get to see this kind of beauty in India that you're seeing here? Isn't that what you're here for?"
"Have you been to Ladakh ever?"
"Where's that?"
"It's in the Himalayas."
"It's in Pakistan then, no?"
I just chuckle again.
It's difficult to argue with idiots who do not have basic knowledge of history, or geography, for that matter. I calm myself down. Nope, If I get angry today, I'm gonna have another sleepless night and fucked up mood before I leave.
Count to 10, Vedu.
One thing's sure, he doesn't dare to look right at me again. No, you just don't fuck with me.
Further on, food has arrived and I finish it off as soon as possible. As I walk back to Youth Hostel, I think I made the right decision by not ranting on him. I mean patience isn't particularly my virtue but I don't really have a point to make here. I'm doing this for myself. From the books I've read so far, everybody has made similar remarks about things happening in India. What the hell can I, personally, do about that? Nothing. It's the mindset and if you go at the right places in India, you do find the best kind of people you'd ever meet.
If I was to decide, I'd just know people by their individual identity rather than their nationality. I don't really believe in religion, cults, divisions by countries and anything that would basically imply one person not being as good as other. At this moment though, if I don't stop writing this, I'll probably not stop talking at all. So shush, Vedu, go to sleep!
It's been raining since the moment I started pedalling today. It's nice and cold and mapping my route isn't too far from obvious. There's a surge of positivity in me and I feel like a whole new person from yesterday. Yes, I can do this.
Existence doesn't necessarily mean only physical, it can be mental as well. In fact, impact is existence.
'Buck up, kiddo, you're almost there!'
..
The stretch of road which is straight is the most boring part of the day and I can only see trees on one side and grass on another. The cows are eating something off it and I wonder if cows ever 'hang out' or 'chill out with friends' without eating grass? Never seen it before. I chuckle at my hilarious imagination of cows smoking weed and discussing human existence.
There's an arch bridge which makes me think that it's gonna be a nice uphill on the other side but I'm disappointed by how subtle it is.
Alright then, bring on some cold winds and rain, I'm up for any challenge! Straightforwardness ain't my thing.
I'm too jumpy. I need to do something about this.
The higher I climb, the colder and windier it gets. It hasn't stopped raining still. In a bit, I come across a road that says that there's gonna be no food or shelter for next 30 kilometres and the cycle route is liable to snow and rain and bad weather even in summer. The only reason I spare time to read that thing is cuz my front tyre has completely deflated and now that I've bothered to stop, I need to click a pic of that board. I pump up the tyre and head off. The scenery has changed. There's a river flowing from the uneven stony formations and there are trees with no leaves on both sides. As I go further up the hill, the trees disappear and all I can see is brown and ochre on both sides with the river flowing some distance down the valley. It's windy but manageable. It's cold but tolerable. It's rainy but not undesirable. So basically, I'm fine with the weather. After you've been through worse, Something like this just seems subtle. I'm pedalling to the rhythm of "Early Morning May" and that thing is on repeat.
As I cycle on, I come across another cyclist pedalling towards me and that uplifts my mood.
He points his thumb backwards and asks, "John O'Groats?"
I nod a yes and he says, "Land's End!"
We both come to an abrupt stop.
"Tough weather,eh? It might just get worse as you go further up!", he says.
"Not an issue as long as I get to see some snowfall or hail. Up from Inverness, is A9 a good route to take? Been told it's taking my life in my hands and stuff. Which route had you taken?"
"A9" he says and I scream a 'Yesss'
"Is the cycle route so narrow till Perth?", he asks and I tell him that he's soon gonna merge to a really beautiful B-road. I almost tell him how lucky he is that he's cycling with the wind and he's gonna be flying soon but then I think of keeping it a surprise. So yeah, we talk routes, weather and everything but names.
"You look very young to be cycling by yourself. How old are you?" he asks concerned of my maturity level and what not.
"18" I smile.
"Well, you ARE too young. Good luck then! Ride safe!"
"Ride safe!"
Well, it is indeed nice to know that I don't have to cross the coast and then pedal North and then pedal to the east to reach my destination. Bring on the risks, I've made up my mind now!
After a bit, I come across a huge board of 'Welcome to Highlands' and I realise that it's a pass- Drumochter pass. I stop there and stare at the thing for five whole minutes because I can see snow-capped mountains around me and it's beautiful how the A9, the Sustrans cycle route and the railway line sit parallel to each other at the pass. It's a straight route for a bit and a bit of an uphill when I see a cottage at a distance and wonder if that's where I'm staying for the night. Well, I do realise that I'm right. Because I've stopped pedalling, I'm shivering and the wind seems stronger now. Can't complain, I'm on a mountain pass still! I press the doorbell and stand there numb and shivering. The lady who opens the door lets me know of the check in time and that I'm too early. I can't think of anything because I'm really hungry. She lets me in anyway, shows me the room, gives me the wifi password and makes me some hot soup, sandwich and coffee. I couldn't ask for a better b&b. I feel pampered. We have a long chat about my journey and this feels like a place to be.
After a while, I'm offered pasta for the dinner and carrot cake for dessert. Full and happy, I feel like some sort of new energy is passed on to me.
..
This newly found positivity, optimism, cheerfulness, fearlessness and strength will keep reminding me that Molly only doesn't physically exist anymore. She did manage to inspire an 18 year old who'll keep the wheel spinning!
29/04/17
Claustrophobic, I decide on heading off early from the lodge I'm staying at. Not like I'm not sleepy anymore.. I just feel too restless and that kind of energy is better to be spent than stored. Breakfast bar opens at 9 and it's 7 still. I'll just eat somewhere else in that case. There's coffee and all but no sugar sachets in the room. Without sugar is certainly not how I have coffee. Pumped up with purely insane music and thoughts, I leave the place. I wonder if I've got acclimatised well or the weather's got better. Today, I'm not gonna let anything or anyone screw with my head. I ask someone 5 miles later if there's any restaurant around. That guy tells me that there's nothing for next 15 miles. Alright, If I'm fast enough I can cover that in an hour. But my bike's front tyre has half deflated and I've been riding with that. I need to fix that first. I soon find a mountain bike shop open and I get that done. Wow, a bike shop can be opened as early as 8 am and a food shop can't. I'm on a highway and this road is bypassing all the towns. I wonder if the highway emergency services can be told in case someone is starving while on the highway. After a bit I finally find a cafe just opened and order a full Scottish breakfast with coffee and a chocolate mousse cake.
Cafes get awkward at times. There are couples and families sitting around and I sit there with a poker face. Right since the beginning of the journey, I've had food while reading something on kindle. That way I feel like I'm talking to someone or, well, playing a movie in my head. I like how it feels to not be alone when I, in reality, am. I'm served the thing and, trust me, I've never had that amount of food in such less time. In fact, that still doesn't fill me completely so I get another chocolate mousse cake packed for having somewhere on way. I fully intend to eat it outside that shop because it'd quite weird for them to see someone eat so much in one go.
It's quite a comfortable and beautiful ride today. I'm passing forests and hills and then climbing a mountain pass. Forests get quite intimidating, at times, on the country roads but they're just as beautiful. The road is quite nice. Not too straight and with some incline always. This bike ride feels like a conversation with something that doesn't exist. I feel alive!
There are quite a few horses on way.
"You're certainly having a good hair day, mate!" I tell one of them who certainly has longer and silkier and way better hair than mine.
Finally the country road joins the A-road and I'm thrown off onto some cycle route 7 by google maps. That route is parallel to the highway and full of moss, horse shit and mud. It's cycle-able though, so why not!? I'm day-dreaming of where I might camp when I get here the next time and just admiring the beauty of everything around when I happen to come across the fact that I just climbed a pass. Oh cool, no wonder I see the next range of mountains from here.
Just as I turn on the curve, I slip off some moss and mud with horse shit and painlessly land on my right shoulder with feet still clipped in and face full of mud. Wow, horse shit sure is slippery and stinky and now I have to have a shower. But before that, I need to clean the mud from my face and horse shit off my legs in order to be let inside the youth hostel. Either I'm too numb to feel anything or I have perfectly mastered the art of crashing painlessly. I'm gonna go with the latter. I pick the bike up with it's right brake hood turned inwards and get it straightened. Cycle routes definitely ain't my thing. I get onto the A9.
There's a nice pass before Inverness and 'welcome to Inverness- the capital of the Highlands' just makes my day.
..
Leave me on the highway, country roads or wherever and I'll find my way to the destination somehow. Leave me in the city and I'll lose my way 1 lakh times. I mean, Google maps is telling me where to go but it's still confusing how I've to find my way through one-ways and signals and rules. I check in at the Youth hostel finally, only to leave my stuff in the room and head off to eat.
As I walk to the high street, I realise that I'm way better on bike because I'm following bike rules instead of pedestrian rules. That's just embarrassing how I can't do simple things like crossing the road without looking like a lost and confused 7-year-old lost in a shopping centre. Never mind, I make my way to the Indian restaurant which I know isn't Indian.
That guy looks at me from top to bottom. Probably he's wondering who's lost their kid or whether I'm a guy or girl. I don't mind anyway as long as I'm getting my food. After ordering my food, he manages to muster up enough courage to ask me my nationality. He follows that up with if I'm cycling or something and I tell him where I'm headed to. He looks shocked.
"Do you even know how far John O'groats is from Inverness?"
"Yes, about 125 miles"
"That's not the distance you can cycle. I mean... seriously!"
I can't help but chuckle.
I'm hungry and this gentleman here isn't a gentleman. I can sense that. He's so bloody intrusive!
"I knew you were a cyclist or something the moment you entered. I mean who else dresses like that. Well, sexy legs,yeah! Aren't you feeling cold?"
I look straight into his eyes with a death stare. The kind of stare which describes 'angry' without expression. My bruised and scarred legs are anything but sexy and trust me, I've got my moves. But I choose my fights carefully. Moreover, such remarks don't bother me anymore.
As a girl, I perfectly am able to recognise the intention by mere intuition. I know what kind of remarks on sexy legs and booty that I've got by far are genuine, humorous and typically cheap.
"No! Where are you from, if you don't mind me asking? Are you an Indian?", I ask, knowing he's of Asian origin.
"Hahaha, No Indian restaurant in the UK is owned by Indians. They only sell Indian food. My parents were from Bangladesh but I was born here. "
"Alright"
"In India do you get to wear shorts like this? I mean, people touch, don't they?"
At this point I'm frustrated because I want food which I've ordered and what anybody wears in India isn't bloody his business. I have a choice to make, ruin my day over this by getting into a full-fledged fight or handle this like a matured human being and calm the hell down first. I'm counting to 10 in my head.
"Do you even get to see this kind of beauty in India that you're seeing here? Isn't that what you're here for?"
"Have you been to Ladakh ever?"
"Where's that?"
"It's in the Himalayas."
"It's in Pakistan then, no?"
I just chuckle again.
It's difficult to argue with idiots who do not have basic knowledge of history, or geography, for that matter. I calm myself down. Nope, If I get angry today, I'm gonna have another sleepless night and fucked up mood before I leave.
Count to 10, Vedu.
One thing's sure, he doesn't dare to look right at me again. No, you just don't fuck with me.
Further on, food has arrived and I finish it off as soon as possible. As I walk back to Youth Hostel, I think I made the right decision by not ranting on him. I mean patience isn't particularly my virtue but I don't really have a point to make here. I'm doing this for myself. From the books I've read so far, everybody has made similar remarks about things happening in India. What the hell can I, personally, do about that? Nothing. It's the mindset and if you go at the right places in India, you do find the best kind of people you'd ever meet.
If I was to decide, I'd just know people by their individual identity rather than their nationality. I don't really believe in religion, cults, divisions by countries and anything that would basically imply one person not being as good as other. At this moment though, if I don't stop writing this, I'll probably not stop talking at all. So shush, Vedu, go to sleep!
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