Day One

When asked to do the report of the recent weekender to Killin for our website I must admit I was tempted to cut and paste the last one I did from a few years back, as lets face it you would think that there are only so many permutations to get there and back, and surely only so many things that can happen on a bike run. But one great thing about cycling and weekenders in particular is the fact you can never tell; just what might happen!

Saturday the 17th of April was bright and dry but fairly cold, but it was encouraging to see 12 bodies consisting of a fairly even split of Thistle and Wheelers, all luggage laden to varying degrees and raring to go. We set off not long after 9.30 am, this was far too early for my liking, as the Hostels don't usually open until late afternoon. But I guess that afforded us the luxury of taking it easy. If that was possible with the tortuous route intended.

Straight away we took a different route from our previous visit, heading down Pitnappie thus avoiding the present atrocious state of the A923 Tullybachart Road. This road appears to be part of a Perth and Kinross Council job creation initiative, as why else would you let the "Chippie Squad" surface dress a mainly decent surface with inferior "Chippies" of which about 75% fell off the road. Oh! And guess what they are going to come back this year and do it all again! Rant over. The next part of our journey which took us through Campmuir, Murthly and Dunkeld where we had a quick café stop was largely uneventful, and even up Strathbraan to Amulree things were still going to plan. We bade farewell to Sheila at Amulree, I think the stories of the legendary Glen Quaich and the Test Hills spooked her and she took the sensible option over Loch-na-Craig rendezvousing with us at Kenmore.

As we neared the Glen Quiach junction we spotted Lionels bike propped against the café wall, Lionel had been doing his own epic journey to Killin via the Moulin Moors, Schiehallion and Loch-na-Craige before even tackling the legendary Test Hills. All in the name of preparation for his participation in the Etape du Tour later in the year. If anybody was wondering why they are called the Test Hills apparently tales of yore have it, that this is where they used to test out prototype cars too see what they were made of, and I guess in a way they still serve this purpose as they test both our physical and mechanical integrity. By the time we reached the bottom of the descent at Kenmore the report card read; two broken spokes, two punctures, one broken STI lever, a broken chain and several pairs of sore legs, fairly conclusive I would say in less than 6 miles!

We had a welcome second stop at the golf club in Kenmore, as we walked in the locals gave that look of "what on earth are they" and as we moved through to the dinning area you could almost sense them rushing to the window to see if we had parked our spaceship on the 18th green.

The waitress was fairly alien to us; her nasal South African drawl was very difficult to understand, as was our Scottish dialect to her, but somehow everything turned out OK apart from when Ali enquired to the whereabouts of his BLAT! She pointed out that Steve sitting next to him was eating it.

Lionel had headed straight on to the Killin Hotel where he and his wife Iris were staying the night, he also did us the favour of booking us all in for dinner thus negating any need to visit the previously disappointing Coach House Hotel.

We headed to the Hotel for our 8.00 pm booking. As the waitress attempted to take our order, Donnie who had earlier managed to "bamboozle" the young nasal South African after only half a pint, again attempted to distract the waitress due to his bad eyesight, poor hearing and most of all his impish schoolboy sense of humour, sadly for Donnie she was far to experienced at her job and he was quickly singled out as the joker in the pack and put in his place. By the end of the meal, Lionel who had hit the beer early, partially to ease the blow of Scotland's inhalation by England in the six nations rugby match. He had reached a state of inebriation that he decided to pay the whole dinner bill, his moment of Alco lapse although appreciated was refused and he was duly recompensed.

After relaxing in the bar for a while we headed back to the sauna like condition of our Hostel Dorm, this was due to the heating being left on full blast. After lights out the conditions deteriorated even further, perhaps that curry on the menu should have been issued with a government health warning "this dish should not be consumed with beer" as I have theory that when mixed they create an explosive chemical reaction. It was as I tossed and turned restlessly in my all too familiar mode of slumber in Hostels "wide awake" I was witness to the ferocity of the wind and rain peppering the window but unfortunately the storm brewing inside was more than matching it, and before long the pungency of the aroma in the Dorm was beyond adjectives.

Day Two

Day two's weather looked pretty grim as we awoke to steady rain. Things would have been even grimmer for Billy due to his jammed STI lever as it meant he would have been able to select only two gears. But fortunately Lionel and Iris were going hill walking today. With Lionel and Billy being of almost identical size they were able to swap their bikes along with shoes after we could not budge the pedals on Li's bike and a few of us also took the opportunity to ditch our panniers into the back of Iris's car.

The highest monument on today's run hits you from the gun, the dreaded Hydro Road. It is a climb of two distinct sections; the lower section is a gradual climb of about 7 miles followed by a granny gear grinding 1.8-mile brutal upper section. The start of the last section is marked by a tight hairpin and no sooner had we rounded it and the still pannier laden Sproulie equipped with legs akin to the power of hydraulic pistons disappeared into the misty gloom of the of the near vertical ramp, and by the time he reached the summit the rest of the group were dispersed at intermittent levels of the 900 foot gain.

We regrouped at the top and prepared for the bone chilling descent down to the valley floor of Glen Lyon. I was minding my own business taking it easy down the wet gravel strewn road when Dave McCallum came whizzing past me, his manic steed juddering from side to side veering out of control in a massive speed wobble, it was as if "Harry Potter" had cast some kind of spell on it. This was the second weekender in a row where his bike had done the same thing, so I offered him the services of a hacksaw to alleviate him of the problem but Dave probably thinks there is another 15 years in that ancient Gios-Torino.

The journey through Glen Lyon which normally offers magnificent vistas seemed to be taking forever, the series of small climbs exacerbated by fatigue from yesterday were causing the group to frequently fragment and we were also hindered from a puncture by Frankie which then lost us further time as he replaced it with an already punctured tube!

With Fortingall and Cosheville marked off the "to do list" we finally reached Aberfeldy for a welcome stop with 40 miles on the clock. Again the café's staff reaction was hilarious, as two of them immediately made for sanctuary behind the counter. I guess in their defence it is not every day that 12 Lycra clad loonies walk en-masse into your café. The sole remaining waitress did a sterling job and I must add that the spicy parsnip soup was delicious.

On leaving the café and also Steve and Billy somehow, we took a familiar route home, never straying far from the River Tay as we wend our way down through Grantully then Dalguise crossing the Tay over the magnificent almost 200 year old Telford designed Dunkeld Bridge following the flattest route home through Spittalfield, Coupar Angus and up Pitnappie thus avoiding the legendary leg breaker of Tullybachart.

Looking back, after 90 miles with my run finishing at Broughty Ferry I have almost followed the Tay from its source at Killin to it's 110 mile journey's end at Buddon Ness where it yields to the North Sea.