Glencoe Village to Drumchapel (John Boy Devlins) Day 22 notes. Route Kings House, A82, Loch Ba, Lochan Na H Achlaise, Loch Tulla, River Orchy, Bridge of Orchy, Crianlarich, Tyndrum, Tarbet, Loch Lomond, Luss, Balloch, Renton, Bowling, 135 miles, 1999 miles, Accommodation John and Lindas Midges attacked me heavy in the night. Early hours of morning packing tent up. Sugar level is worrying me as blood in urine. 135 mile ride to barbeque at johns Tent just rolled up had to escape midges First 2 or 3 hours was crawling up incline hard drag Deer wildlife amazing, odd hiker every hour or two Dangerous narrow twisting A82 road Saddle slip slow puncture re pack pannier and tent Definitely exceeded my expectations Astounded another long distant cyclist when he learned how far I had travelled today Nearly missed John on Lomond route as I hit golf course path 11-10 No wonder the weight was dropping off me I was suffering from Culicoides Impunctatusaphobia syndrome, an ailment I have just made up; evil midges had eaten a few more pounds of flesh in the night. It is obvious that I had chosen the right campsite to reside because 500 billion midges can’t all be wrong. Packing the camping gear with the rest of my equipment before setting off was an experience to behold, and it was a bit of a nightmare to say the least. I took break dancing to another level in the very early hours of the morning, I am pretty sure that your most ardent street artist or even the late Michael Jackson, bless him (Woo Hoo!, Shamone!) would have even been proud of me. Don’t these buggers ever sleep? I must have broken the world record for packing up a one man tent and then jumping on a bicycle this particular morning. I didn’t time myself because I don’t know what the world record is, but whatever it is I would sure be close to it. I even reverted to switching my music headphones off; I could not bear to listen to anymore Ultravox. Just thinking about lead singer ‘Midge’ Ure made me itch, oh Vienna. There was more bad news for me, a bit more serious than the female midges; there was blood in my urine, Urine trouble with a bladder problem! Pardon the pun, it was not good. This was the first time this had happened. For several months previous to the run up of my challenge this had been a constant problem for me. I felt my ride was actually helping me alleviate the problem someway; I’m pretty sure of it, this was until today that is. It was a little concerning but I put it all down to the mini feast I had the afternoon and evening before, at my own personal one man party. It was not too clever of me, a diabetic who feasted on several sweet items including a whole bottle of fizzy pop. Some people drink from the fountain of knowledge and some like me just gargle from it, if you know what I mean. I had actually overspent at the supermarket buying far too much stuff than I actually needed. I don’t know what I must have been thinking, der brain. It was the sight of those fish and chips that I didn’t get, that did it, I’m sure of it. It must have triggered my ludicrous decision making me go and over indulge like I did, that is my feeble excuse anyway. Most of the food I could not carry on my bike anyway. This was a problem for me, I always seem to over indulge at parties, even if my only guests were a million uninvited midges. What was I thinking? The items I couldn’t carry instead of throwing them away I either drank or ate. I decided to adhere to my diet properly again after this incident and hopefully alleviate the concerning problem all together. Stupidity is far more fascinating than intelligence, after all intelligence has its limits. So having packed up in record time, I set off at about 4.30 am; John boy had rung me the previous evening. He had invited me to a barbeque the family were having back in Drumchapel. John boy had anticipated I was going to be a lot nearer to his drum than I actually was. I sure would have been a lot nearer had I not had an early day spent on feasting instead of fasting. He speculated there was no way I could even get to Drumchapel by today. My mistake was I had stayed at Glencoe village and not Glencoe; therefore I still had well over 100 miles to reach his pad. I must have Gargled some more water from the fountain of stupidity, I honestly thought this is what John meant by Glencoe, anymore decisions like this I will drink the fountain dry. It was only a 20 minutes cycle ride from the campsite until the riding got really spectacular; it was still dark when I set off in the early hours. The morning mist soon started to rise; the startled deer were abundant and one would often dash across the road right in front of me. I would catch a glimpse of their silhouettes as they scampered across the highlands. It was absolutely stunning even if sometimes the scenery was a little eerie; all the quiet and all the history of the place goes through your mind as you cycle through it. It seemed I was cycling above the clouds as the mist rose from below, like I was on a self propelled aeroplane without any wings.; On a bicycle you see, feel and smell so much more and it makes you feel alive. It was extremely tough going for the first 3 hours. It was a relentless, arduous, and tortuous but strangely also very therapeutic at the same time. This feeling never changed as I cycled up the incline the whole of the way to the top. When I eventually got to what I call a midge free zone, which was not signposted, I stopped. I re adjusted my panniers and repaired an annoying slow puncture that I had. I did this in a lay bye as quietly as I could. I had intended to do the repair before I set off in the morning, had I have done that I would probably have overfed the midges, and that would be cruel. My handle bar fingers were making repairs quite difficult, added to the niggling pain in my bladder this meant it took longer than normal to do these relative simple tasks, but at least I wasn’t being savaged as I did them. My fingers were constantly numb making it hard to the pinch. Just levering the tyres off was becoming more difficult job now. I kept changing my grip on the handlebars when cycling and did a lot of muscle toning up exercises. This may have helped somewhat but with constant cycling, day after day, hour after hour, a quick remedy would not be at hand, pardon the pun. There was a camper van parked where I stopped and did my repairs, the curtains were still closed, not surprisingly as it was only 6.45 am, Hence this was the reason for being as quiet as possible. Some irony here in the vast highlands of Glencoe, I find myself being as quiet as a mouse. My hasty get away from the midges in the morning meant that I had not even packed my tent up properly I had just folded it up the best I could and strapped it on the back of Intrepid. Intrepid was ok though, he is a tough sort and was immune to the mini wild beasts. Back on the road again, tyres inflated, panniers all sorted, tent rolled up and back in its bag I cycled on in a more sedate manner through the magical Glencoe. The sun was rising between the mountains making the panoramic vista amazing. I tried my best to get some great shots with my camera. The cycling in Lochaber (Glencoe) is all about enjoying the tranquillity of the quiet Scottish highland roads whilst trying to capture some of it on camera. It was so early in the morning that I had the whole road to myself. I had counted just 3 cars passing me all day thus far. The A82 took me via loch Achriochtan, Loch Ba, lochan na h-Achlaise and Loch Tulla and the scenery never diminished. Glencoe combines world famous scenery along with an abundance of history that made for a great cycle ride and definitely the best highlight of my journey through Scotland. The wonderful world of Glencoe, located within the ‘outdoor Capital of the UK; Fort William, is situated on the main route through the highlands. The region boasts a great collection of high mountain peaks, ridges, rushing rivers and waterfalls which altogether create a magical and mystical land that offers a unique range of activities and plenty of space to roam free. The description ‘spectacular’ does not really convey the beauty and magic of Glencoe. On the road I cycled climbing over the bleak expanse of Rannoch Moor that dropped down the steep sides of Glencoe. Amazing mountains loomed up on either side, with bustling river scenery at the bottom of the glen. This is a true Mecca for walkers and cyclist alike, epitomised by the famous pyramid of Buachaille Etive Mor, the guardian at the entrance of the glen. The highest peak is the great multi- summit massif of Bidean nam Bian whose three great buttresses rise impressively above the road and are known as the ‘ Three Sisters’, whereas the north wall of the glen is on the notorious ridge of the Aonach Eagach where you can sense the history of the magical place. It was 1692 when the massacre began simultaneously in three settlements along the glen; Invercoe, Inverrigan, and Achnacon although the killing took place all over the glen as fleeing MacDonalds were pursued. 38 of the MacDonald clan were slaughtered by the guests who had accepted their hospitality, on the grounds that the MacDonald’s had not been prompt in pledging allegiance to the new monarchs, William and Mary. It was this act of treachery in response to the prior hospitality which makes the massacre such a heinous crime back in 1692. Another 40 women and children perished and died of exposure after fleeing to the hills after their homes were burnt to the ground. There is not much in life that I will cherish as much as this bike rides through history. John had asked me to let him know when I arrived at a town called Tyndrum. There was still another 80 miles to go and I had been on Intrepid for over 4 hours already. Then I hit a descent and fairly flew. In next to no time had I covered a staggering 80 miles the same distance as from Calverton to Ingoldmells and I arrived at Tyndrum just before 10 am. Thinking it maybe still too early to phone John Boy I continued on towards Tarbet, here I had a cuppa and then rang him. I managed the Tyndrum to Tarbet 18 mile stretch which I had noted by the signpost in less than an hour despite the traffic that was building up on the meandering road. The road precariously veered away at Crianlarich, I almost took the wrong turning which would have landed me back in Killin. Talk about going back in time. I kept to the A82 where the cycling became much riskier. The trick I had learned was to race around the bends as quickly as possible and then to slow right down to allow cars to overtake me on the less hazardous straight. This particular stretch of road is notorious for cyclists in this part of Scotland, narrow roads, fast traffic and many tricky bends. I was extremely grateful when I finally reached Tarbet via Ben Vorlich the mountain that John and Jim had climbed earlier in the week. I hastily cycled down the west side of Loch Lomond. Even though I was not racing, I did break my rules on this part of the journey as it was so treacherous. When I am questioned about my favourite part of the trip I always refer to this past couple of days. The ride from Glencoe village to Drumchapel via Rannoch Moor, Crianlarich and Bridge of Orchy and one more time around Loch Lomond, life does not get much better than this. Many great places but the magical Glencoe was definitely my favourite of them all. The name Glencoe means ‘valley of weeping’ which is so fitting as this magical place has such a melancholic haunting eeriness clinging to this site of such butchery. I was almost weeping myself as I finished this part of my ride. John arranged to meet me on Loch Lomond’s cycle route which I was obviously now familiar with. So I decided to have another cuppa and stopped at Luss. Here I met and chatted to another cyclist who was proud that he had just completed 50 mile bike ride for the day himself. He was precariously sat on a bin eating bacon and sausage sandwich. It was very busy here with a few busloads of tourists including a convoy of motor bikes and no seats available as to where to sit. He was absolutely gobsmacked when he heard that I travelled from Glencoe village already, he informed me it was 111 miles. It was only 104 miles on my cat’s-eye computer but I was not going to argue with him. His reaction was astounding. It was funny when he asked me where I was heading. I calmly said I am cycling 135 miles today because I have been invited to a barbeque in Drumchapel.”Must be some barbeque then” he said. It Sounds like I am boasting doesn’t it and I probably am, but the sound of a barbeque does that to me .I was certainly ready for sampling some of the jumbo hot dogs and burgers, chicken and whatever else Linda and John had got in stall for me, yummy. I continued right through Loch Lomond on the golf course path, this part of the route I had not cycled before. I was concerned that John may cycle right past me on the other path. I picked up the route where I and John had first met, and within minutes there he was again. He was amazed at how far I had cycled that day (mind you so was I, as well as the guy sat on the dustbin at Luss), I told him that it was only the thought of his barbeque that propelled me here so fast. I was crestfallen at his reply, “Stevie Boy we thought it would be impossible for you to reach us in time, so we had the barbeque last night” and for the first time since I had known John Boy he wasn’t joking. We got back to John and Linda’s and walked in the front door by squeezing past hundreds of yellow pages. It was like Del boys lock up. Yellow pages stacked from floor to ceiling, even blocking a cupboard. John’s son Neil was delivering these yellow pages around the area with a mate and was using the house as his depot. It was absolutely great meeting up with John Boy and his family once again. Over the next few days he showed me parts of the country I would surely have missed had I been on my own; places like Rest B Thankful, Inveraray, Oban, The Gorbals, Glasgow centre, St George’s square, museums the Falkirk Wheel and many football grounds the list goes on. For me this particular day will live in memory forever, the cycling along with all the hospitality shown it was overwhelming. I become extremely emotional; it had been such a very long time since I had been so happy and contented. What a brilliant life it is when you can abandon all your worries and woes, its pure bliss. As well as seeing the country physically by pedal power, the mental aspects of the ride were also empowering. The last few years had seen my life being just one continuous struggle so all this kindness has restored my faith in humanity. This is what my cycle ride was all about not just cycling, the metal and physical aspects as well and it was certainly working out well. I would recommend cycling through Glencoe to anyone. Therapy wise it is up there with swimming with dolphins I should imagine. Saying all this though I will never let John forget about the barbeque, mental cruelty that John Boy. I can never thank John Boy and Linda and their lovely family enough. Linda washed my clothes yet again, I had the use of the telephone, I was fed, showered had a soft comfy bed to sleep in. The only bugbear was that John forced me to watch a DVD of his beloved Celtic beating the mighty Barcelona. We even played a football game that John had invented and I held him to a respectable 1-1 draw. John Boy and family, cheers you are top people, you will never know how you made my time in Scotland even more enjoyable than I could have ever imagined. Glencoe was pure visual poetry for me, you could sense the eerie history of the place as I cycled through. I was fascinated with this part of my journey. Here is a poem by about Glencoe which is really fitting of the place. I thought that this poem by Tom R Young could sum up the bucolic and mystical splendour of Glencoe far better than my scribbling. The Glen is quiet and peaceful now all soft and white with snow and is called The Glen of Weeping this place they call Glencoe For long ago in days of yore it was a place of infamy where slaughter in the night was done by Clan Campbell treachery Yet they had been MacDonalds guests where food and board were given free for tradition in the hills and glens was for highland hospitality They ate and drank and then they slept in the houses of the clan till they rose up in dead of night and slew them to a man They had been MacDonalds guests with few feelings of discord so why did they, with treacherous guile, put their hosts to the sword? Oh what a waste of precious life as right and left they slew and men and women were cut down by that traitor Campbell crew They slew them as they lay a bed some died fast and some died slow and many clans folk who escaped froze and perished in the snow They put that village to the sword and they left it in some state for after they had done the deed the body count was thirty eight What a stupid senseless slaughter of men and bairns, who did no harm, and no one reached the signal rock to raise the Glens alarm In all the annals of our history there was neer a night so gory For even for those violent times this is a sad, sad story And even today when in that Glen as I gaze upon that scene I can feel the spirits linger there though it is now calm and so serene Come stand with me and feel a sense of foreboding in the snow, as the wind sighs through that Weeping Glen in that place they call Glencoe! It’s really worth building enough flexibility into my plans to engage with the opportunities that will present themselves, as these are the memories that I will treasure the most in days to come, and if all memories are half as good as this, it beggars to believe. Glencoe Village to Drumchapel (John Boy Devlins) Day 22 notes. Route Kings House, A82, Loch Ba, Lochan Na H Achlaise, Loch Tulla, River Orchy, Bridge of Orchy, Crianlarich, Tyndrum, Tarbet, Loch Lomond, Luss, Balloch, Renton, Bowling, 135 miles, 1999 miles, Accommodation John and Lindas Midges attacked me heavy in the night. Early hours of morning packing tent up. Sugar level is worrying me as blood in urine. 135 mile ride to barbeque at johns Tent just rolled up had to escape midges First 2 or 3 hours was crawling up incline hard drag Deer wildlife amazing, odd hiker every hour or two Dangerous narrow twisting A82 road Saddle slip slow puncture re pack pannier and tent Definitely exceeded my expectations Astounded another long distant cyclist when he learned how far I had travelled today Nearly missed John on Lomond route as I hit golf course path 11-10 No wonder the weight was dropping off me I was suffering from Culicoides Impunctatusaphobia syndrome, an ailment I have just made up; evil midges had eaten a few more pounds of flesh in the night. It is obvious that I had chosen the right campsite to reside because 500 billion midges can’t all be wrong. Packing the camping gear with the rest of my equipment before setting off was an experience to behold, and it was a bit of a nightmare to say the least. I took break dancing to another level in the very early hours of the morning, I am pretty sure that your most ardent street artist or even the late Michael Jackson, bless him (Woo Hoo!, Shamone!) would have even been proud of me. Don’t these buggers ever sleep? I must have broken the world record for packing up a one man tent and then jumping on a bicycle this particular morning. I didn’t time myself because I don’t know what the world record is, but whatever it is I would sure be close to it. I even reverted to switching my music headphones off; I could not bear to listen to anymore Ultravox. Just thinking about lead singer ‘Midge’ Ure made me itch, oh Vienna. There was more bad news for me, a bit more serious than the female midges; there was blood in my urine, Urine trouble with a bladder problem! Pardon the pun, it was not good. This was the first time this had happened. For several months previous to the run up of my challenge this had been a constant problem for me. I felt my ride was actually helping me alleviate the problem someway; I’m pretty sure of it, this was until today that is. It was a little concerning but I put it all down to the mini feast I had the afternoon and evening before, at my own personal one man party. It was not too clever of me, a diabetic who feasted on several sweet items including a whole bottle of fizzy pop. Some people drink from the fountain of knowledge and some like me just gargle from it, if you know what I mean. I had actually overspent at the supermarket buying far too much stuff than I actually needed. I don’t know what I must have been thinking, der brain. It was the sight of those fish and chips that I didn’t get, that did it, I’m sure of it. It must have triggered my ludicrous decision making me go and over indulge like I did, that is my feeble excuse anyway. Most of the food I could not carry on my bike anyway. This was a problem for me, I always seem to over indulge at parties, even if my only guests were a million uninvited midges. What was I thinking? The items I couldn’t carry instead of throwing them away I either drank or ate. I decided to adhere to my diet properly again after this incident and hopefully alleviate the concerning problem all together. Stupidity is far more fascinating than intelligence, after all intelligence has its limits. So having packed up in record time, I set off at about 4.30 am; John boy had rung me the previous evening. He had invited me to a barbeque the family were having back in Drumchapel. John boy had anticipated I was going to be a lot nearer to his drum than I actually was. I sure would have been a lot nearer had I not had an early day spent on feasting instead of fasting. He speculated there was no way I could even get to Drumchapel by today. My mistake was I had stayed at Glencoe village and not Glencoe; therefore I still had well over 100 miles to reach his pad. I must have Gargled some more water from the fountain of stupidity, I honestly thought this is what John meant by Glencoe, anymore decisions like this I will drink the fountain dry. It was only a 20 minutes cycle ride from the campsite until the riding got really spectacular; it was still dark when I set off in the early hours. The morning mist soon started to rise; the startled deer were abundant and one would often dash across the road right in front of me. I would catch a glimpse of their silhouettes as they scampered across the highlands. It was absolutely stunning even if sometimes the scenery was a little eerie; all the quiet and all the history of the place goes through your mind as you cycle through it. It seemed I was cycling above the clouds as the mist rose from below, like I was on a self propelled aeroplane without any wings.; On a bicycle you see, feel and smell so much more and it makes you feel alive. It was extremely tough going for the first 3 hours. It was a relentless, arduous, and tortuous but strangely also very therapeutic at the same time. This feeling never changed as I cycled up the incline the whole of the way to the top. When I eventually got to what I call a midge free zone, which was not signposted, I stopped. I re adjusted my panniers and repaired an annoying slow puncture that I had. I did this in a lay bye as quietly as I could. I had intended to do the repair before I set off in the morning, had I have done that I would probably have overfed the midges, and that would be cruel. My handle bar fingers were making repairs quite difficult, added to the niggling pain in my bladder this meant it took longer than normal to do these relative simple tasks, but at least I wasn’t being savaged as I did them. My fingers were constantly numb making it hard to the pinch. Just levering the tyres off was becoming more difficult job now. I kept changing my grip on the handlebars when cycling and did a lot of muscle toning up exercises. This may have helped somewhat but with constant cycling, day after day, hour after hour, a quick remedy would not be at hand, pardon the pun. There was a camper van parked where I stopped and did my repairs, the curtains were still closed, not surprisingly as it was only 6.45 am, Hence this was the reason for being as quiet as possible. Some irony here in the vast highlands of Glencoe, I find myself being as quiet as a mouse. My hasty get away from the midges in the morning meant that I had not even packed my tent up properly I had just folded it up the best I could and strapped it on the back of Intrepid. Intrepid was ok though, he is a tough sort and was immune to the mini wild beasts. Back on the road again, tyres inflated, panniers all sorted, tent rolled up and back in its bag I cycled on in a more sedate manner through the magical Glencoe. The sun was rising between the mountains making the panoramic vista amazing. I tried my best to get some great shots with my camera. The cycling in Lochaber (Glencoe) is all about enjoying the tranquillity of the quiet Scottish highland roads whilst trying to capture some of it on camera. It was so early in the morning that I had the whole road to myself. I had counted just 3 cars passing me all day thus far. The A82 took me via loch Achriochtan, Loch Ba, lochan na h-Achlaise and Loch Tulla and the scenery never diminished. Glencoe combines world famous scenery along with an abundance of history that made for a great cycle ride and definitely the best highlight of my journey through Scotland. The wonderful world of Glencoe, located within the ‘outdoor Capital of the UK; Fort William, is situated on the main route through the highlands. The region boasts a great collection of high mountain peaks, ridges, rushing rivers and waterfalls which altogether create a magical and mystical land that offers a unique range of activities and plenty of space to roam free. The description ‘spectacular’ does not really convey the beauty and magic of Glencoe. On the road I cycled climbing over the bleak expanse of Rannoch Moor that dropped down the steep sides of Glencoe. Amazing mountains loomed up on either side, with bustling river scenery at the bottom of the glen. This is a true Mecca for walkers and cyclist alike, epitomised by the famous pyramid of Buachaille Etive Mor, the guardian at the entrance of the glen. The highest peak is the great multi- summit massif of Bidean nam Bian whose three great buttresses rise impressively above the road and are known as the ‘ Three Sisters’, whereas the north wall of the glen is on the notorious ridge of the Aonach Eagach where you can sense the history of the magical place. It was 1692 when the massacre began simultaneously in three settlements along the glen; Invercoe, Inverrigan, and Achnacon although the killing took place all over the glen as fleeing MacDonalds were pursued. 38 of the MacDonald clan were slaughtered by the guests who had accepted their hospitality, on the grounds that the MacDonald’s had not been prompt in pledging allegiance to the new monarchs, William and Mary. It was this act of treachery in response to the prior hospitality which makes the massacre such a heinous crime back in 1692. Another 40 women and children perished and died of exposure after fleeing to the hills after their homes were burnt to the ground. There is not much in life that I will cherish as much as this bike rides through history. John had asked me to let him know when I arrived at a town called Tyndrum. There was still another 80 miles to go and I had been on Intrepid for over 4 hours already. Then I hit a descent and fairly flew. In next to no time had I covered a staggering 80 miles the same distance as from Calverton to Ingoldmells and I arrived at Tyndrum just before 10 am. Thinking it maybe still too early to phone John Boy I continued on towards Tarbet, here I had a cuppa and then rang him. I managed the Tyndrum to Tarbet 18 mile stretch which I had noted by the signpost in less than an hour despite the traffic that was building up on the meandering road. The road precariously veered away at Crianlarich, I almost took the wrong turning which would have landed me back in Killin. Talk about going back in time. I kept to the A82 where the cycling became much riskier. The trick I had learned was to race around the bends as quickly as possible and then to slow right down to allow cars to overtake me on the less hazardous straight. This particular stretch of road is notorious for cyclists in this part of Scotland, narrow roads, fast traffic and many tricky bends. I was extremely grateful when I finally reached Tarbet via Ben Vorlich the mountain that John and Jim had climbed earlier in the week. I hastily cycled down the west side of Loch Lomond. Even though I was not racing, I did break my rules on this part of the journey as it was so treacherous. When I am questioned about my favourite part of the trip I always refer to this past couple of days. The ride from Glencoe village to Drumchapel via Rannoch Moor, Crianlarich and Bridge of Orchy and one more time around Loch Lomond, life does not get much better than this. Many great places but the magical Glencoe was definitely my favourite of them all. The name Glencoe means ‘valley of weeping’ which is so fitting as this magical place has such a melancholic haunting eeriness clinging to this site of such butchery. I was almost weeping myself as I finished this part of my ride. John arranged to meet me on Loch Lomond’s cycle route which I was obviously now familiar with. So I decided to have another cuppa and stopped at Luss. Here I met and chatted to another cyclist who was proud that he had just completed 50 mile bike ride for the day himself. He was precariously sat on a bin eating bacon and sausage sandwich. It was very busy here with a few busloads of tourists including a convoy of motor bikes and no seats available as to where to sit. He was absolutely gobsmacked when he heard that I travelled from Glencoe village already, he informed me it was 111 miles. It was only 104 miles on my cat’s-eye computer but I was not going to argue with him. His reaction was astounding. It was funny when he asked me where I was heading. I calmly said I am cycling 135 miles today because I have been invited to a barbeque in Drumchapel.”Must be some barbeque then” he said. It Sounds like I am boasting doesn’t it and I probably am, but the sound of a barbeque does that to me .I was certainly ready for sampling some of the jumbo hot dogs and burgers, chicken and whatever else Linda and John had got in stall for me, yummy. I continued right through Loch Lomond on the golf course path, this part of the route I had not cycled before. I was concerned that John may cycle right past me on the other path. I picked up the route where I and John had first met, and within minutes there he was again. He was amazed at how far I had cycled that day (mind you so was I, as well as the guy sat on the dustbin at Luss), I told him that it was only the thought of his barbeque that propelled me here so fast. I was crestfallen at his reply, “Stevie Boy we thought it would be impossible for you to reach us in time, so we had the barbeque last night” and for the first time since I had known John Boy he wasn’t joking. We got back to John and Linda’s and walked in the front door by squeezing past hundreds of yellow pages. It was like Del boys lock up. Yellow pages stacked from floor to ceiling, even blocking a cupboard. John’s son Neil was delivering these yellow pages around the area with a mate and was using the house as his depot. It was absolutely great meeting up with John Boy and his family once again. Over the next few days he showed me parts of the country I would surely have missed had I been on my own; places like Rest B Thankful, Inveraray, Oban, The Gorbals, Glasgow centre, St George’s square, museums the Falkirk Wheel and many football grounds the list goes on. For me this particular day will live in memory forever, the cycling along with all the hospitality shown it was overwhelming. I become extremely emotional; it had been such a very long time since I had been so happy and contented. What a brilliant life it is when you can abandon all your worries and woes, its pure bliss. As well as seeing the country physically by pedal power, the mental aspects of the ride were also empowering. The last few years had seen my life being just one continuous struggle so all this kindness has restored my faith in humanity. This is what my cycle ride was all about not just cycling, the metal and physical aspects as well and it was certainly working out well. I would recommend cycling through Glencoe to anyone. Therapy wise it is up there with swimming with dolphins I should imagine. Saying all this though I will never let John forget about the barbeque, mental cruelty that John Boy. I can never thank John Boy and Linda and their lovely family enough. Linda washed my clothes yet again, I had the use of the telephone, I was fed, showered had a soft comfy bed to sleep in. The only bugbear was that John forced me to watch a DVD of his beloved Celtic beating the mighty Barcelona. We even played a football game that John had invented and I held him to a respectable 1-1 draw. John Boy and family, cheers you are top people, you will never know how you made my time in Scotland even more enjoyable than I could have ever imagined. Glencoe was pure visual poetry for me, you could sense the eerie history of the place as I cycled through. I was fascinated with this part of my journey. Here is a poem by about Glencoe which is really fitting of the place. I thought that this poem by Tom R Young could sum up the bucolic and mystical splendour of Glencoe far better than my scribbling. The Glen is quiet and peaceful now all soft and white with snow and is called The Glen of Weeping this place they call Glencoe For long ago in days of yore it was a place of infamy where slaughter in the night was done by Clan Campbell treachery Yet they had been MacDonalds guests where food and board were given free for tradition in the hills and glens was for highland hospitality They ate and drank and then they slept in the houses of the clan till they rose up in dead of night and slew them to a man They had been MacDonalds guests with few feelings of discord so why did they, with treacherous guile, put their hosts to the sword? Oh what a waste of precious life as right and left they slew and men and women were cut down by that traitor Campbell crew They slew them as they lay a bed some died fast and some died slow and many clans folk who escaped froze and perished in the snow They put that village to the sword and they left it in some state for after they had done the deed the body count was thirty eight What a stupid senseless slaughter of men and bairns, who did no harm, and no one reached the signal rock to raise the Glens alarm In all the annals of our history there was neer a night so gory For even for those violent times this is a sad, sad story And even today when in that Glen as I gaze upon that scene I can feel the spirits linger there though it is now calm and so serene Come stand with me and feel a sense of foreboding in the snow, as the wind sighs through that Weeping Glen in that place they call Glencoe! It’s really worth building enough flexibility into my plans to engage with the opportunities that will present themselves, as these are the memories that I will treasure the most in days to come, and if all memories are half as good as this, it beggars to believe.
Posted on: Wed, 26 Mar 2014 22:33:31 +0000
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