RAB write-up, day 6: Carlisle to Edinburgh

Planned route: 105mi, 4,144ft
Actual route: 104.45mi, 4,144ft

As it turns out, applying gauze pads and Rock Tape to your own saddle sores, in the confines of a small tent, in the dark, at 5am, is not easy. I must have resembled a stranded turtle, lying on my back with all my limbs in the air. But I got it done, and that's the main thing. Getting tight overshoes on wasn't easy either, but they were needed, as day 6 began with the threat of rain... and then rain. Thank goodness for my excellent Altura NV2 jacket - dry, warm and breathable. Nearly everyone else seemed to have Gore Shakedry jackets, and good for them - they are certainly more packable. Shame they are also four times the price. But I digress. Day 6 was the last late start of RAB, late being the start line opening at 7am. I was on my way, Rock Taped and rain-coated, at 6.54; quite a blunt start to a birthday, if ever there was one.

It rained for most of the first hour, if memory serves, during which time the route made its way through a blissfully quiet Carlisle. From there, it seemed like quite a short hop to the Scottish border, and the third country of the ride. It had stopped raining by then, but was still grey and cold. I didn't fancy the long queue for a selfie with the sign, but I did manage to capture it (and the gloomy weather):

From there, the route passed through Gretna Green, where I resisted the urge to get married. Thereon, it was simply a case of following the straight, featureless road adjacent to the A74(M), all the way to the first pit stop, in a lorry park at Lockerbie. Glamorous, right? But much needed, on a damp and dingy day. The route was a bit dismal too, the road just ploughing on, and all the while right next to a very busy road, so there wasn't much peace or tranquility to be had either. There were lots of wind turbines to look at though, and they would have made for some great photographs on a brighter day, but never mind. At least the road was pretty flat, for the first 45 miles.

That didn't last, of course, and things started to get hillier. The weather had, at least, dried up, though it remained murky all day, and I was still glad of my choice to have worn a long-sleeved jersey for the first time.

Finally, at Abington, the route left the A74(M) behind and headed towards the Lowther Hills and Edinburgh! The day's second pit-stop was such a contrast to the first, being in a tiny village called Quothquan (a great Scrabble score right there), and very much needed since day 6 was the day I forgot to take a packet of Blue Fuel with me. Blue Fuel are cola-flavoured caffeine energy gummies, and I had been using a packet of ten every day of the ride as my tea substitute. I drink a lot of tea, every day, and sometimes if I have to go without for any length of time I get crippling headaches that I attribute to caffeine withdrawal. If you think that sounds like an addiction problem, you're probably right: I am a tea addict. I guess that made Blue Fuel caffeine gummies my methadone, but whatever. I'd gone a day without them, so was relieved to see caffeine energy gels and isotonic drink supplements on offer from the High-5 stall at the pit stop. Not tea, but good enough to keep me going.

From Quothquan, it was an increasing scenic plod on to Livingston. Sad to say, however, that Scotland's road surfaces on day 6 were terrible, almost as bad as Cheshire's, and I found myself getting quite sweary again. The increasingly wild and empty scenery was a compensation but my saddle sores were complaining, Rock Tape or not.

Cycling through Livingston gave me cause to reflect on how much my life has changed in recent years. In a previous job, I was responsible for looking after a computer system supplied by a company based in Livingston, and I reminisced happily about past trips there, user group meetings and the like, evenings out in Queensferry, all of that. Seems like a different lifetime.

Anyway, day 6 basecamp was on the Hopetoun estate, just to the west of Queensferry, where the weather was grey and grizzly, and the mobile phone signal was next to zero. The evening's activities were, by now, routine - shower, phone home, eat, prep bike, get medical supplies. To this, I could now a new activity - visit the stretching area, for a session with a foam roller to work the lactic acid out of my tired legs. That's what I told myself anyway, though what was starting to trouble me now, more than legs, was my right hip. In retrospect, I wonder if this was caused by the unusual and unnatural movement required to unclip pedals - I always unclip my right foot at junctions, leaving my left clipped in. Whatever the cause, my hip felt a bit glassy, and I was glad of the opportunity, however inexpertly executed, to stretch out on my yoga mat and move about a bit. I tell myself it helped - a placebo effect is still an effect, right?

Highlight of the day, of course, was phoning home - it was my birthday, after all, and I was missing my partner and son desperately. I phoned my parents too. These phone calls, in terms of motivation and positivity, were more important than stretching and eating; adversity may well introduce a man to himself, but it reminds him of what is really important even more so.

Day 6 ended with a cup of tea and an early night, as day 7 would see the resumption of 6.30 starts. And it ended with occasional light rain too, pitter-pattering down on the roof of Blue 98...