Day 66: Glasgow, Scotland - Antalya, Turkey

Sunday October 13

Our objective for today was get from cold cloudy Edinburgh, Scotland to warm sun baked Antalya, Turkey. No amount of physical or mental training could fully prepare for the multitude of challenges throughout the day. Simply, travelling with bike boxes in a foreign country can be the most trying of experiences. A bike is normally a source of enhanced mobility and convenience for us, but once boxed, these hunks of metal magically metamorphose into highly visible, heavy and awkward ball and chain. Strangers either want to help you with your burden, or, scorn/shun you for the crime you must have committed to be saddled with such a lot.

It went a little like this...

8:30am - Rise and shine. Jenn shines. Madalene grumbles. Drink coffee, mentally preparing for entering a new country where English will no longer be widely spoken (maybe).

12pm - Event #1: Stairwell challenge. Descend 8 flights of stairs carrying heavy bike boxes and duct-taped 

The cab ride and train to Glasgow went smoothly. However, this is where the fun began!

3pm - Event #2: 200m train platform sled run, 400 m hill climb weighted by bike box, 5 minute cock fight. No rest.

Arriving in Glasgow train station, we were informed that there are no trollies to carry luggage because they all get stolen. Faced with a 200 m train platform (luckily, a very smooth and relatively clean surface), no trolley, 2 bike boxes, 2 'suitcases', and 2 'hand-bags', I opted to run/push both bike boxes while Jenn carried the other bags. Problem was, below a certain speed, friction would stop the smooth movement of the boxes. Ergo, a 200m dash (to the entertainment and amusement of the entire train station). Once we reached the end, we were told the bus transfer was outside the station, and across the street. We headed outside. Sadly, the surface here was not so smooth, so we had to carry everything. 

We found a bus station easily enough, helped by John, a train employee (who took it upon himself to bring one of the bike boxes across the street). The 5express bus to the airport arrived and we loaded our gear. But, then...  'That ticket isn't valid on this bus. You need the 747'. Off the bus we got. Thankfully, John reappeared and generously offered to help us carry our crap all the way up this ridiculous hill to the Glasgow Bus terminal. When a large, strong, proud Scottish man stops 1/2 way through a task like this, and ponders why he offered to help (but acknowledged he cant stop now), you know your doing something that is not easy. Two long blocks later we arrive at the 747. John steps on the bus with the 1st box. Madalene steps on the bus with the 2nd bike. Finally, the driver happens to notice what is going on. Rising up to exit his little driving booth, full of fury: BAM! He can't open the door because the bike box is blocking his exit. Ha ha! Madalene considers... and then clears the way for his escape. Bus driver proceeds to verbally attack gentle John, threatening to report him, that we cannot be on his bus. Jenn attempts to protect John, and take on the fury herself, but Bus Driver is only interested in fighting and threatening John. Meanwhile, Jenn eyes Madalene discretely continuing to load the remaining gear onto the bus while the boys duke it out, and decides to follows suit. By now a supervisor has arrived, John exits and both bus boys turn to see us already settled into bus seat, surrounded by other passengers all silently pleading to just let it go. Resigned to the watching eyes of other passengers, he dowses his fury, retires behind his plastic door, and we're off! For the next hour we sit hoping that no wheelchair or stroller presents itself to the bus. The Glasgow Airport bus stop could not be a more welcome site.

Thomas Cook. After all the fussing with box weight restrictions, didn't even bother to weigh our bike boxes! Not to mention they changed our flight in the 11th hour without charging us a cent (switching both departure airport and day). You know you're flying with a low cost carrier when you enter a check in area that resembles the inside of a portable a la northern Canada. Strangely, while they charge us little for the bikes, 35 each, they make ends meet by charging us 5 each to print boarding passes! Whatever. It was with incredible relief that we see the bike boxes disappear behind the doors of the over sized luggage check in.

The flight to Antalya was shockingly relaxing considering the 60 children on board (clearly this is one of the Brits cheap all inclusive child friendly resort destination of choice). After introductions and entertainment by one of the pilots, we settled in to watch Pride and Prejudice on the iPad. Next thing we knew, we were landing....at 1:30 in the morning... with no plan for getting from the airport to our hotel, and no idea if our hotel would be open. Initially, the plan was to sleep in the airport until 6am, when it would be light enough to ride into town. However, after checking with a cabbie that the ride would only be 40L (20 Cad) we opted to cab to our hotel. 

2 AM, we ring the bell and a nice young man shows up at the door, big smile looking down at our Ikea bags and boxes saying the simple words "hotel full". Crap....our lovely intuitive taxi driver  stays  close by until we are sorted out. To any spectator watching this "sorting" of information it was anyones guess what would happen. This morning everyone would win. Mehmet (hotel front desk) would win by winning the customer service award of the century, and we win by occupying the couches (his bed) in the lounge area, while he slept out on the patio. 

A rest brake getting from the Glasgow train station to bus stop. Ikea bags going strong.

Antalya airport at 2 AM

The wait for over sized bike boxes.

Sleeping in the foyer of our guest house.

Clearly, still travelling in style.

Day 60-65: A week in Edinburgh

Monday October 7 - Saturday October 13

What did we do for a full week in Edinburgh? A very good question! For the life of me, I can't seem to recall. It involved work (actually, rather a lot of work on two papers-- now accepted!), bike repair, movie watching, flat hunting with Elise, tent waterproofing, a complete change in travel plans (flying to Antalya, Turkey rather than training to Wales... just a slight difference),  going out for drinks at one of the many watering holes around town, going for coffee at on of the many coffee holes around town, OH, and wasting 5 hours of our lives getting not haircuts from practicing hair dressers.

Our snap decision to fly to Turkey at the end of the week was just that, a snap decision. We snapped when the train ride to Wales cost more than the flight to Turkey. For those with poor geography, that 500km vs 4500km!! Not to mention the weather in Turkey: 30C, warm, sunny, amazing! We've had enough to damp molding gear. 

Half pints are so sophisticated.

One of the watering holes we visited.

A little sight seeing in Edinburgh. Deceiving sun was not warm, but windy and cold.

Edinburgh is big on coffee joints, and cakes! We approve.

Elise enjoys the iPad Mini at one of the local coffee places.

Preparing our illustrious Ikea bags for the plane ride to Turkey.

These things are amazing. Also, I'm sad that I had to leave that stolen hoodie in Edinburgh. Turkey here we come!

Day 59: Keith - Edinburgh

Cycle: 6.49km//38min//10.18km/hr

Sunday October 6

The train seems to be where we meet some truly interesting people. Then again, it might be that we spend most of our day cycling, and only in the presence of each other. Arriving in Edinburgh was a little like coming home. A city we know! A warm (arguably) place to stay! 

OK, so I may have dropped my jacket between the train and the platform.

..AND..... my helmet.

Luckily, they train people are prepared for idiots like me. They have a handy stick!!!

There's no place like home! In Edinburgh, with Elise.

Day 58: Aberlour - Keith

Cycle: 36.67km / 2hr52min / 12.72km/hr 

Saturday October 5

The Speyside Way was a brilliant abandoned railway path through old stone tunnels, in the trees, along the flowing rivers between Aberlour and Dufftown. It seemed logical to take it all the way to Keith. Except that it was no longer the railway path, and instead went over a mountain (well, a steep hill).  By the time we got to the worst of it, we were already so committed, we had to ride it out. 200+ pounds of metal, gear and 30 something year old bodies climbing long extended hills then bombing down rooty rocky single track... on touring bikes. 

Later than expected given it was only 25km, we arrived in Keith around 1PM, and were told train tickets to Edinburgh would cost 107 pounds if we wanted to go today, but only 39 pounds if we went tomorrow!! We decided to wait, and returned to explore Keith. 

In typical cycle tourist fashion, this meant squatting at a local coffee shop with good wi-fi. Madalene, always seeking of knowledge, consulted local brochures and lead us along a scenic walking path around the town to find the perfect camping spot. Bingo. A wooden gate opened up on a long tree lined pathway leading to a much bigger, more ornate iron gate, leading to a cemetery. It was along this pathway that we found a bench and a piece of flat grass, perfect for camping.

The cemetery had a stone wall surrounding it and a classic creaky iron gate. We walked around it with a glass of wine each as the sun was setting.

From Aberlour to Keith, the Speyside Wey takes a mean upturn. You'd be better off with a suspension bike!

This path was not so good for the fully loaded touring bike, as my expression suggests.

Tunnel walls along the Speyside Way. Abandoned railways can make for nice cycle tracks.

Views from the top of the mountain (ok, hill) going to Keith.

Welcome to our humble tree lined abode. Pick a spot, any spot.

Happiness is a warm piece of sandalwood.

Midges flee from sandalwood. Flee! Flee!

The iron gate leading to the Keith cemetery.

An unusually happy Madalene.

More beautiful sunsets!!! Oh, yah, a beautiful Jenn.

Day 57: Aberlour

Cycled: 29.33km//1hr58min//14.80km/hr

Friday October 4

Our campsite it situation on the banks of the River Spey between Aberlour and Dufftown. If you like Whiskey, chances are you know these names. Dufftown is the home to Glenfiddich and Balvenie, just two of the nine distilleries in town. In fact, Aberlour and Dufftown aren't really home to much, other than whiskey distilleries, and the people that work at them (generation after generation). We showed up at the Aberlour distillery, a quaint cute affair on the edge of a babbling brook, and next to a forest beginning it transition into fall attire. We were told that at this time of the year, reservations for tours wouldn't be necessary. Typical, as luck would have it, we arrived on the morning that a large group of cigar smoking Russians also decided to visit Aberlour. Only one spot was available for the tour! After some deliberation we decided that one of us would go, while the other would wait. I was nominated to go (Madalene). 

There isn't a whole lot to see when it comes to whiskey making. But, there is a lot to smell! As I toured the Aberlour factory, every room presented itself with a new and curious small. Baking bread, damp pig barn, vanilla custard, rank cheese, old wood mulch (think decomposing leaves), orange and citrus. And, if running water had a smell, the smell of running water! Sometimes fast moving and crystal clear, other times slow, yellow and foaming with yeast run off. After an hour or so, we ended up in the Aberlour tasting room, what all the Russians were waiting for. Here we tasted 6 vials of spirit. I say 'spirit' because the first was the clear high alcohol content liquid that goes into the barrels immediately after distilling. It tastes like nothing, and could hardly be called whiskey. The second and third were examples of 100% bourbon and sherry flask stored whiskey (both 8 years). Next came Aberlour's for-sale products, a 10 year old, a 15 year old, and something they call A’bunadh. These whiskey's were light smooth, fruity, delicate even. The 10 year was my favorite. By the end, all I could do was smell my 6 glasses, overwhelmed my the fumes and high percentage alcohol entering my (compared to the Russians) small body. Disappointed that I couldn't find a way to transport my unfinished whiskey to Jenn, I tottered away. 

We had lunch in Aberlour next to a swaying suspension bridge and made plans to cycle the Speyside Way (an abandoned train line converted into a footpath) to Glenfiddich in Dufftown. T'was a lovely quiet ride along the river to Glenfiddich, the smells en route mimicking in miniature those of the distillery. We booked ourselves for the 2pm classic tour of Glenfiddich (a much larger, more touristy, high output affair than Aberlour). 

Glenfiddich is an obvious pioneer in the commercialization of whiskey and bringing the public to the distillery. They are a well oiled machine, tromping people through their factory, but yet quickly arriving at the tasting room. Here we tasted 12 yr (pear and oak), 15 yr (honey and raisen), and 18 yr (baked apple and cinnamon) Glennfidich offerings. Afterwards, back to the campsite to recover.

The expensive stuff.

Way too much for me to drink alone.

While I was in Aberlour, Jenn was busy finding cookies. Walkers shortbread is also based in Aberlour!

On to Glenfiddich! Pioneer of the distillery tour.

Mash tun, underback. I know not what you do.

Washback containers. A lot of water goes into whiskey making.

Looking in at the mash fermenting. Bready beer smells abound.

We look very happy. This was before the whiskey tasting too! Behind us the small copper stills used to distill whiskey at Glenfiddich.

Speyside Way route map.

Cycling the Speyside Way. Leaves are changing!

Day 56: Elgin - Aberlour

Cycle: 59km

Thursday October 3

A very complicated and sophisticated bird woke us up today. It may have been a robin. The small kind. Best of all, we could hear it, meaning... an acceptable level of wind! No more howling monster. Today's objective was: visit a whiskey distillery. We plotted a course for Aberlour, and off we went, planning to visit the namesake distillery, and then nearby Dufftown and its 9 (no less) distilleries, one of which is Glenfiddich. We didn't make it far before things began to unravel. There were a lot of roadside stops, of consulting maps, of going the wrong way, of eating granola with peanut butter covered spoons, etc. And we didn't make it to Aberlour in time for the daily tours (10am and 2pm). Instead, we found a nearby campsite and decided to wait for tomorrow to visit Aberlour and Glenfiddich. In our zig-zagging across the countryside, we probably cycled past 8-10 distilleries, and that didn't include Dufftown. Yes, we are on the Whiskey Trail (next to the river Spey). A lovely conclusion to the day, I found (yet another) tick on me. Why me? Why not Jenn? Tick cards are lame. Keep a lighter and tweezers handy if you want to get the job done (and Jenn the expert ticker remover

An offensive tick.

A useless Tick Card. Keep a lighter handy.

Pigs! We rarely see them.

Overjoyed to be on the Whiskey Trail. Pretending to be a wind sock (although, the wind was thankfully left back in Thurso).

A strange mold coats the whiskey distillery buildings.

See!

Day 55: Thurso - Elgin

Cycle: 11.06km / 1hr1min / 10.82km/hr

Wednesday October 2

We have been very fortunate to find some incredible spots to pitch our tent, and often awake in the morning to glorious sunrises and views. Today was no exception. Thank you Scotland and your wild camp policies. 

We packed up quickly to get to the train station. Upon arrival, we found nothing. A closed station, and no one about. We really are at the end of the line. Twenty minutes later, another cyclist arrived and soon came over to chat. Mike Marshall had just finished a "solo" ride from Lands End to John O Groats (covering the length of the UK!). We boarded the train, and lo and behold we are sitting beside Mike. We thoroughly enjoyed chatting with Mike for the next few hours. We shared stories of our lives and current journey. The journey ended with an exchange of contact numbers and an invitation for us to contact him when we finally arrive in Portugal. This we will do!!

In Elgin we headed out to a campsite just outside of town, and for the first time we were told tents were not allowed..... seriously??!! Not wanting to wild camp a fourth night in a row, we stood in the middle of the caravan park, pulled out a bag of chips, filled our water containers, and lingered. Turns out dragging your feet pays off. Up walks Stewart (a mash up of Scotty and Captain Kirk), a little friendly chit chat and he walks on. Two minutes later, he's back, and we can camp there... free! We pitched our tent in a beautiful little spot along the river, and had a lovely relaxing evening of wine, chocolate, hot showers and the sounds of a babbling brook

Cooking breakfast as the sunrises in Thurso. Park benches are very useful

No shortage of beautiful sunrises.

Cliffs. Unbelievablty thin and regular Cathiness stone.

End of the line.

Mike Marshall, thinner than when he left! And needing a belt.

Day 54: Farr - Thurso

Cycle: 49.60km//3hr35min//13.78km/hr 

Tuesday October 1

Our metal shed proved excellent for blocking the wind, but the noise associated with the wind could not be stopped. Solution? Pull out our mini speakers and play music as loud as possible to overpower the wind. Inside our heads, it was rather quiet as we mentally preparing for the ride to come, calculating just how long we would have to fight the wind to get to Thurso, where we'd booked train tickets for the next morning.

Four hours later.... The ride was slightly easier than expected, although still with gusty wind, sun, clouds and hills. About every 5km we would descend (pedaling against the wind) into a valley where a small town would be nestled only to have to climb out the other side. The towns were small, lots of picturesque crofts, seemingly in the middle of nowhere but somehow compelling you to want to be living there, the simplicity, the remoteness.

At the only campsite in Thurso we were greeted by a man telling us tell us that we were "a day late", to which Jenn replied "We wouldn't stay here anyways seeing as there is no wind shelter". Snappy!! They had closed the day before for the season. Things are wrapping up in Scotland. Time to move south! Tourist information provided us with a cafe and wi-fi. At a small launderette we found a lovely woman who was genuinely entertained by our travelling ambitions, and offered to move our things from washer to dryer, so long as we didn't have any "exotics" requiring special care. Do sun sleeves count? Ha!

To cap off the day, we visiting a community/public washroom for a shameless sponge bath. As dusk fell we headed for the cliffs around Thurso, and pitched the tent along the edge of the ocean.

This is the road to our metal shed campsite. 

To raise spirits, we tried to toast our bread. It was a bit of a failure.

Our greatest achievement, or our lowest low?

Inserting the earplugs next to the corrosive sign. Preparing for the battle with the wind.

An odd perspective ?

Yes, we know.

Our campsite in Thurso, along the cliffs and ocean. Ever present wind.