Day 14 - Edinburgh to Pitlochry. 67 miles, hilly bits 4200 ft

Given the bridge we left Edinburgh upon, have to say we set Forth… Bit weird though cos it’s now closed to general traffic, though bicycles don’t appear to count. And as no Billy Goats accosted us, we enjoyed its emptiness. And all the lovelocks.

On the Fife side of the bridge, another hill soon rises to melt me. Yet again, Alan is there with mental breathing apparatus. I think of Simon. No matter how ill he was, he never stopped trying. To talk, to swallow, to not be a burden. He hated the toll his illness was taking on me while I hated that someone who had always said for god‘s sake shoot me was now forced to live through a worse state of decrepitude and dependence than he could ever have imagined.

If Simon could bear it, I could manage a bloody bicycle. So as Alan coaxes me back to the road, our journey resumes.

Today is Scotland proper. Into the highlands, the hills brooding either side of the road and as tiring as the Cornish equivalents. My back is screaming from gripping the handlebars, as I try to haul myself up the hills. I imagine it’s where it would hurt if I had wings and I’d spent the day flying.

Then just when it seems we were making progress, we see a sign, suggesting we’re going the wrong way. Do what you do best and spread some joy, Puppet Pig.

Today’s lessons:

1. Great cake make most things better

2. 1000 miles isn’t so far…. Not compared to the solo female cyclist whose next stop was Norway

3. If you don’t like liver, don’t order it

4. Just because Pitlochry YHA gives you a towel, doesn’t mean you can get a shower