JOGLE – Stage 7

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Oh thank god…. for flat ground. I woke up and went though the routine, 4 Ibuprofen, 10cms of anesthetic gel into my back, and a very large toothpaste squeeze of Butt Butter to be applied liberally into areas no one should ever go.

The stage was flat to start with, so good progress was made until the rain set in. Hour upon hour of dire pissy weather (not cold) Miles after miles of rain. It was a good job I haven’t touched a salad for days, I mean you dont want to risk that in weather like this.

There were 2 nasty digs before the end and then we sat in the local pub in Clun sampling all their poky beers. Back at the hotel the salad rebellion continued. I had a steak, jimbo had a mixed grill (KUDOS) meat fest. Paul had a steak  but he declined chips !!!!!!!!! and had something called a “Gratin Potato” .. I hope they liquidize the chips and add mayo ? even so its not right !!!..

We may make it over the bridge tomorrow…    we shall see.

You see that he cleverly skipped around the one part that is pertinent to the discussion Clun.  A lovely little town and all but 45 minutes away from the evenings accommodation.  Why 45 minutes, well the mornings conversation went:#

Driver: Hey there are no hotels in Clun — you need to push on a bit more so we can get into an area

Donkey 1: yeah got it, go ahead and book it dude

Muppet 2: mmmm bacon

now while i agree with Muppet 2,  the main point here is that they missed the need for them to sack up and push through  their biffin bites and show a bit of resolve.  Instead the driver had to rescue our maidens from the tall tall tower of pints which threaten to engulf them.  

Our poor idiots of course sat there as the driver scuttled back and forth and back and forth wasting his valuable pub time to take care of these two weaklings who crumble at the slightest hill.  So do please send them as many pictures of balls as you can in the hopes that they will be so shamed they might move past Hereford without the need for a welsh dragon appearing to singe these English dandies

 

 

 

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JOGLE – Stage 6

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So today was never gonna go well, maybe because some idiot has been extending our distance quota on each day (Yep … Jeremy Clarkson is  with us) AND today the elastic snapped. Things started bad with some bad assed up and downs and then got worse as we entered the forest of Bowland. Basically a brutal 25km of leg breaking … morale supping evilness.

The road (although very pretty and nice scenery) was a 45 degrees .. wall of death or a 45 degrees decent of crazyness. with the wet weather half the corners were a river. All we could do was limp the bikes though the metropolis of Manchester / Liverpool and finished at Runcorn – where our fantastic driver picked us up and took us to Chester for the stop over.

We booked ourselves into the local pub quiz where we realised we have no chance (although Quizzy McQuizFace as a team name hopefully got a laugh) although not as much as the question…

“How many Toes does a camel have ?”

After an entree of various flavoured crisps / chips / whatever you call em in you country we were so hungry we walked 5k to a local shop and ordered midnight Kebabs (chilly sauce required) We introduced our driver to the custom of eating 5 bites of the garbage and then posting it into the first bin you can find….

(I woke early …. to spend some time in the bathroom “contemplating todays ride”)

Salads out, and kebabs in.. hardcore cycling diet in full effect. | finally getting things sorted on the nutritional front. you are welcome.  Now  look , i like a good kebab at the right moment and was this ever the right moment.  those flavored crisps above were the most awful blend of potatoes since the famine.   Who takes a potato and thinks you know what would be better — lets make this taste like a mushroom/beet vegetable medley — but since the pub couldn’t figure out how to make food and focused their Q&A  on obscure pop song artists from the 1980’s and camel toe the team was flagging.  

So leave it to the kebab man to rally the spirits and stay open late to serve the leftover kebab “meat” into some poor excuses to contract salmonella at midnight.  Apparently the defense for this was to only take of few bites and ditch it in the vain hope that only inserting the tip would somehow avoid the consequences that we all knew would follow.  Surprisingly no ghosts visited in the night, no cupboard rattling or eerie footsteps — also no women–because the stench and thunder that was firing out all night and morning could have kept Lord Nelson himself at bay.

So far this is setting up just like watching England play football.  A fast start, a good moment or three that you hope is more than it is, and then the slow steady decline into madness– but bloody meaty fueled goodness.  We have finally left the salad days behind us.

 

 

JOGLE-Stage 5

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Ahh the lake district, the serene and peaceful place of quiet reflection in nature… reflecting on the pain in their asses (check out the Biffin Bridge status today) as they realize that lakes are formed between hills.

The duo set off this morning expecting an easy ride over flat ground since leaving the highlands.  1500 meters of climbing time in the saddle later they had paid the penalty for their hubris.  Hubris indeed, as the butt butter had lain unused since a rather unfortunate experiment for us all early on in the trip.  now with five coats applied each they can barely manage to sit and drink a beer and eat a steak or in Paul’s case a salad –a green leafy salad so he could watch his figure.  For those of you gambling at home the over/under on his km for tomorrow is +/-85 before his body rebels and demands that he sacrifice a sheep. 

But for those of you interested in the actual people cycling well they are bathing in the joy that is their much anticipated return to England — Say Cheese 🙂

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(I lost Paul at the border – but picked up this chinese cyclist from Fuk Mae Bam provence)

and in case you thought that the madness had not taken hold of this ride, let me direct you to the following example of bigamy in the highlands — Mark and Alisha his darling bike were engaged to be married at 1202 local time.  So raise a toast to this unfortunate coupling as Alisha has proceed to pound him rawer than fine shashimi in her excitement over the announcement.  After the ceremony the best man stole off with the bridesmaid and rode her hard all the way to Burton travel lodge were he spent the night… well better not look in to closely at that room.  (pictures to follow on snapchat only)

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As for our editor in chief he blew out his back tire at the end of the day and spent a long time this evening in quiet reflection with the local vicar.  He asked were the tarts were but we saved him before almost certain temptation.

And now with the scotch raided, the beers drunk and the blog posted it is time to once again make fun of Paul for his salad and shandy.  Being the driver tonight might excuse the shandy but a fucking salad will never be forgiven.  May the sheep and cows of Wales find him and show him their best features to bring him back into the fold. 

Through Liverpool tomorrow– more to follow

In my defense, there was some chicken mixed in with the salad and I did have a side order of potato wedges to keep the carb count up…..ok…ok..I plead guilty your honor, as punishment I promise to eat whatever road kill I can fine en-route tomorrow. I am just pleased that today my rubbers did not let me down and I got through the day without any incidents, which was fortunate as I managed to leave my spare tubes and tool kit in the car before setting of this morning!!!

I know you should not laugh at other peoples misfortunes but after the last few days, I did nearly wet myself when big bro punctures less than 2km from the finish. Of course I could have stopped to help but it was still raining and there was a mole waiting at the counter!

 

 

JOGLE – Stage 4

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A late start today due to the fact breakfast was not till 7:30am and we had to drive back to where we finished the day before. (sadly a McDonalds and the smell almost made me do a lap and go through the drive through on my bike)

After a minor detour trying to find the route we crossed it twice and realised it was on the canal beneath us. We dropped onto a great 20 mile cycle path all the way from Loch Lomand through Glasgow city center and out the other side. We stopped of at magic cycles on the canal and his lordship bought a new pump. .. (more on that later)

DCIM100DRIFT

DCIM100DRIFT

After the city the route climbs over Lanarkshire and more more and more sheep. We follow the B road alongside the motorway, which had about 10 cars on it all day. (I am sure when the motorway is shut its a different game)

I plod on and eventually see this character by the side of the road

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Puncture number .. (I lost count )
THE PREVIOUS EDITOR HAS BEEN SACKED, YOU MAY ALL REJOICE NOW…

this was the drivel he had noted to post on next….

I now get my late afternoon legs and bomb it down to Lockerbie at some crazy average speed.

Tomorrow we break for the border… (it looks like it will be a wet one) and then onto the Lake District

see what you were saved from.  Now for those of you who are concerned the driver spent the day in the spa from the previous hotel and on a distillery tour at the Glen Goyne distillery.  After a suitable rest, the intrepid driver bombed down the highway collecting tickets like so many feathers, reaching the accommodation with time to check in and begin drinking for the evening.  

So as our hero were off “bombing it down to Lockerbie”  ( i mean really what kind of insensative idiot uses that turn of phrase)  —  what they really mean to say is that drenched in rain –and other fluids — and were a new level of fresh upon arrival. Seriously, if the white knights of the world showed up like this the Ogre would always get the girl.   

Tomorrow the invasion of England commences again, i fully expect to drive by as the SCOTTS are repelled once more and force to eke out a meager existence cycling the highlands and moaning about it.  They will cross tomorrow at 1000  (ish, only if their legs allow them to get out of bed) See you on the green — have your longbows to hand. 

Younger bro signing on now……all I can say is that if I had used these inner tubes for condoms I would have 25 kids by now!

 

 

 

JOGLE – Stage 3

Apologies… unable to write much due to this…

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I will now attempt to get out of bed to have some breakfast…. see if walking is still an option. I may crawl to the dining area.

Here is a little photo of the top of Glen Coe, I channeled the power of the polka jersey to gert me up and over the highlands.  Its competition time…. wheres wally ?

DCIM100DRIFT

DCIM100DRIFT

JOGLE – Stage 2

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The day started a bit later due to breakfast only being served from 7:30am. Full English again, and James had his 1st taste of Black Pudding. We set off about 8:30 and made reasonable progress to Bonar Bridge where we had to stop for the obligatory silly photo

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We pressed on to Dingwell for coffee and brunch (this is essential to keep the fuel up) There was some tough hills to get over before we eventually dropped down to the shores of Loch Ness where we met up with the support driver for a few coffees.

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The road down to Fort Augustus was pretty hectic (loads of tourist traffic and timber trucks)  but it was a nice 20 mile ride along the Loch where we checked into Morags Hostel – very cheap and full of interesting people. We have a 6 man dorm to ourselves, but apparently there is one other sharing.

I pity the poor individual that has to wake up the smell of us lot (and the sight of his Lordship applying more butt butter)

JOGLE – Stage 1

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Day 1 started with rather different weather conditions to the evening before. We awoke to sea mist and fog and went for an early breakfast. After a full English was devoured (to the sounds of celtic flutes and drums) we set off into the fog.

The sun soon burnt off the fog and by 10am we were at Thurso in cloudless skies. Of course we forgot to put sun screen on and the tan lines are looking pretty good. The Caithness coast is amazing but I can imagine in a bad storm you would not want to be up here on a bike. There is nothing but hardy sheep and cows.

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We rode on and stopped at 11 for a massive sugar intake of apple pie and custard .. and some original Orkney ice cream at the Bettyhill cafe. We rode a beautiful road along the loch to the most remote pub in the UK (The Crask Inn)
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We overstayed our time slot to sample the beers and then had a long descent into Lairg where we are staying tonight. His lordship got a puncture 300 meters from the hotel

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We had some dinner and then watched this spectacle

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Onwards tomorrow to Morags hostel in Fort Augustus (another long ride)