Day 0 - getting to the airport

So my plan was simply, pack uber light and make my way from London to St. Andrews Scotland in 4 days on my fixed gear bike. The theme of this trip is about simplicity in a needlessly complex world. Hence why I decided to take only 10.5lbs (including backpack weight) for a month journey, to tour on a bike with only one gear and why the bike could have next to nothing attached to it.

You see, too often we are fooled by modern society into believing we need to buy, possess, and carry far to much crap. Not only is it a bother, but I think this ethos detracts from the quality of life. For me, I wanted to see how much I could do with the minimal amount of gear possible.

So that in mind I knew I could not start the trip (i.e. getting to the airport) without following that same ethos and here is the rub. Transporting a bike overseas can be difficult. You need to pack it down, put it in some sort of box and transport yourself and your bike-box down to the airport.

Clearly this will not do.

1. I wanted to be able to ride my bike (with 10 lbs backpack) to the airport.
2. Prepare my bike for the flight.
3. Get on the flight.

Carrying the box large box on my back to the airport was out. Taking a taking a taxi flies directly in the face of my whole ethos for this trip. Then I remembered what a baggage handler (who cycled) had told me some time ago. Namely, that the job sucked ass because of how repetitive it was. Square box, square box, square box.

He told me the safest way to transport your bike was NOT to stick it in a box (ignore your first instinct). Instead, leave it tender and exposed to the world in a clear plastic bag. You see, once the baggage handlers encounter something new

Square box, square box, square box, funny shaped package...wait that is a bike, cool, lets be gentle

This is perfect. I have had forks bent inside bike boxes due to rough handleing, so I figured why not give this crazy baggage handlers advice a try. Plus it fit in perfectly with the advice of this trip, namely simplicity. I can ride my bike to the airport, get on and fly away, perfect. Not to mention a fixed gear bike is probably the best bike to attempt this with due to its bomb proof nature.

So did it work?

The answer would be a resounding and surprising YES!

I got up had my morning coffee relaxed in the knowledge that I was just a 30 minute ride away from the Vancouver airport. I did not have to worry about taking public transportation (2 hrs) or scheduling a taxi (I have at times been told I have to wait an hour + for a taxi to arrive).

Arriving at YVR

The ride was quite pleasant with a small 10 lbs backpack. When I arrived I got funny looks as I proceeded to unpack my bike in the airport departure terminal. I took both wheels off and zip-tied them to either side of the frame. Next off came the handlebars and on the top tube they went. The seat was removed and placed in between the rear triangle to keep it from being compressed. Finally, I removed the pedals, put them in a small zip-lock bag and zip-tied them to the frame. Finally, I placed a drop-out protector in the front fork as a just in case.

Airport Tinkering

Once that was done, the bike was much smaller than the size it would have been in a bike box. As a result it fit into the provided clear plastic bag and PASSED as one of my pieces of luggage. HA HA! No luggage charges here, especially since my other piece of luggage (10 lbs backpack) nice made its way on as carry on.

Only One Small Hitch

The only problem I ran into was getting the bike into the funny shaped luggage conveyor. You see, there can't be any items poking down on at least one side or it will tear the belts. Since I had wheels on either side of the frame, this posed a problem with the axles pointing out. All in all a minor problem as I found a piece of cardboard in the airport and attached it to the frame using the electrical tape I had wisely wrapped around the top tube before departure (Note: always carry a little bit of electrical tape on your bike, it will save you one day).

On the other side

On the other side the bike came out pretty much exactly as I put it in. The plastic bag had virtually no damage and the only problem I had is one of my brake levers rubbed on the stem (I should have attached the handle bar slightly better. With I arrived in London, took the train to Paddington station, assembled my bike among the much hurried Brits, then headed out onto the vicious London streets. (OH yeah, shit me the drive/ride on the wrong frickin' side of the road!).

Paddington station

Day 1 - York to Dent

After arriving in London, assembling my bike I decided it was time to get moving. Originally I had planned to ride from London to St. Andrews to attend my first conference, but circumstances arose such that I had to leave Canada about 4 days later than I had originally intended. This would give me 4 days to ride some 800 miles on a fixed gear. Not likely.

Now given some good training and weather (hmm... foreshadowing?) I might be able to do a single 200 mile day on its own, but four such days back to back. That is so wrong I was almost tempted. Then some sort form of sanity took over as I realized that the Tour doesn't even do that large a mileage. At most I believe they cover 150 miles (240 km) in a day, plus they are not hauling gear, they are on bikes that have more than one gear, and they have support riders and cars offering help.

Now I have thoroughly justified being a slack ass I decided to make it easy on myself and take the train from London to York the evening prior. After which I set out on an epic 100 mile day with rain, wind and 17% grade climbs.

For an apparent smart guy, I can be rather dumb

Yes, its true. A friend called me on it a while back and I must admit that he may be right, but still a jackass. My plan for day 1 was to ride about 120 miles (200 km) and make my way entirely on quiet back roads. The goal was to get some epic miles and enjoy the scenery. Running back roads is always slower (the roads are graded less) than the main roads, but when the scenery opens up before you and you are the only one on the road it so worth the extra effort. Plus, in the UK there are no shoulders to ride on when you are on the main roads, as such I wanted to avoid the "A" routes at all cost.

Its all fine and dandy to take back roads when you know where you are going, but its a whole other situation when you are coming from North America to the UK. Unlike Canada or the United States, in the UK you have almost too many choices. There is just a mass rural and main routes criss-crossing the country side. When I first looked at the maps, I realized I had too many choices.

Its hard to know cruising around google maps or google earth which routes to choose a head of time. No where is there information to tell you which ones will have traffic, which ones are flat and which ones will have monster climbs (Ed note: Just for the record I am a sick puppy and prefer routes with monster climbs).

While I went there with a guide book, I quickly found that the Sustrans.org.uk routes saved the day.

Systran Routes all the way!

Sustrans sign posts

After a quick bit of morning sight seeing, I set out from York, heading North West following my then beloved guide book. However, my love for the guide book soon ended. Starting out my idea was simple: I would refer to the guide book for a general idea of roads to take, then plot out my actual route on the UK ordinance map.

Sounds great in theory, but in reality it sucked ass. Just as I would get going, I would miss some stupid turn, get lost and spend far too long looking at the map to figure out what I had done wrong. Next I tried the "Ask a stranger" approach which only works when strangers don't want to send you to crazy places. Finally, I stumbled upon the UK Sustrans routes.

Imagine you take the best routes you have figured out over a lifetime of cycling. You then clearly map these routes out, and hand them into a central agency who comes along and puts up sign posts across the country side so you can easily follow these routes. I don't know much of the history of how this came to be, but as an outside this is pretty much how the Sustrans.org.uk network of routes appeared to me.

At first I was weary of the routes, deciding instead to stick with my original plan. But then I just kept seeing them over and over again, typically in areas I thought were the most interesting to ride. Finally, I put away my guide book and started following the Sustrans routes. And I am glad I did.

Sustrans route at its best!

Imagine cruising along a 5 foot wide lane, the grass growing tall as you cruise along at speed down a lane that is restricted to cycling and walking only. Can we say riding nirvana? The Sustrans routes sent me down all sort of cute side lanes (e.g. pictured left) where cars were not allow. It was like a freakin revelation! I had heard and seen pictures of such mythical bike routes, but it was a whole other world actually riding on them. Plus this is England which is supposed to be notoriously bad compared to the rest of Europe

Following these routes at a good clip I made my way North west out of York and towards Newton-on-Ouse, with my first planned tourist stop being the Fountains Abbey. (Hey, I may be riding lots of miles, but be damned if I am not going to take in the scenery),

Newton-on-Ouse

For some strange reason, before I left that day I took my warm wool jersey. When I arrived in York it was freaking warm. When I left in the morning it was sunny. By the time I left Newton-on-Ouseit was cloudy, by Ripon it had started to rain and by the Fountains Abbey the skies had opened up and was riding in an inch of water. Its July and all of a sudden it seemed like I was in a winter unwonder land.

At the time I wasn't too worried, a freak summer shower I thought, after all its summer. Yes, everyone knows it rains a lot in the UK, but come on its the middle of summer afterall. This should clear up after a bit.

What I didn't realize was that this was just a foreshadow of the hell that was about to come down the shoot and slap me in the face like a fresh faced fixie newbie shocked that the pedals keep moving when s/he forgot to keep pedaling.

Hmmm... 10 lbs of Gear?

Recall that in my infinite wisdom I decided to only allow myself 10 lbs of gear for a month's travels. In that I never saw fit to include proper rain gear. I simply took the kind of gear where you get wet and you layer. Afterall I live and ride on the Wet West Coast of Canada, with one of the highest annual rainfalls in the world! I can take on a little unseasonable UK summer rain, right?

Well the answer was a resounding yes on this day. Since I was already soaking wet I decided to keep moving fast and stay warm. Screw the Abbey. I took a quick look then jumped on my bike and started cooking it.

Pouring on the speed I was able to outrun the rain and start to get into some semi-dry areas. This allowed me to dry off some and get warmed up. By the time I hit Pateley Bridge I was in decent weather so I decided to grab a coffee and a quick bit to eat.

And the Lord Giveth'

After my coffee I headed out to keep moving towards my destination. The Guide book said it should take 3 days to reach the lake district, I decided one day was a good goal. Then just as I started to get moving the heavens really opened up and experienced some of the hardest rain I have seen in my life. It was raining so hard I ran took cover in the nearest church for nearly an hour where I chatted with the minister about cycling.

After a while I gave up and just gave up on the rain and decided to get really soaking. In the mean time I decided to abandon my guide book as it wanted to send me down some "A" routes, instead I found a cycling brochure in the information office that promised great cycling if I headed straight east towards the town of Grassington and the York Dales National Park. This was a bit out of the way (the Guide book headed North for a flatter route), but what ever I like a challenge. With my rest I also tracked down some accommodation in the town of Dent.

Ready or Not, Yorkshire Dales here I am you steep MOFO

Delays aside I started to make good progress and rode as fast as I could towards Grassington, basically went into time trial mode and ate up the road. My head was down and all I did was focus on how fast I could go, powering each of the rolling hills to keep my momentum up. With a gearing of 80 inches that means pretty damn fast. By this point, the pure flat riding was slowly disappearing but I was handling the small climbs without problem. When I finally reached Grassington, was hungry (I hadn't had lunch yet) and decided to grab one of the best baguette sandwich of my to date medium length life.

I was looking at my map when I got a stroke of luck. A local cyclist (he had just finished a 70 mile ride) was in the store at the same time and offered me help in finding the best route to the Lake District (day 2 destination). We poured over my map and he marked out where I should go (generally that is, I had a crappy map for this portion of the UK) and I did my best to listen while my thoughts found the sandwich I was eating to me much more interesting. Mmmmm, fresh baguette.

With the brief rest over it was time to get going, destination Dent. Head down I sped off to make up the hour I had lost waiting for the damn rain to stop. This was probably not the best idea because before I knew it I had gotten off track and was no longer following his directions. This mainly occured because I ran across another roadie. He started drafting me so I had to show him that after 70 miles I still have tons of umpf left in these here legs. Before I knew it I was way off track.

A quick look at the map set me straight. While I wasn't on the pre-determined route here was a new one. Right up the center of the Yorkshire610 Dale mountains. Wait a second why are these double arrows everywhere on the map. I would soon find out that these were the really steep routes.

Oughtershaw Rd - WTF!

The scenery was absolutely amazing, but the next few miles would try and kick my freakin ass. This mainly occurred on Oughtershaw Rd. In a flat land TT gear, here I was out of the saddle grunting up 17% grades with a complete and in ability to let myself walk. I chose the gear and be damned if I am going to back out now!

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Here are some pictures from the this section.

The last picture I captures a bit of the climbing. The hills just never seemed to end, once you got to one subpeak, another appeared. This happened over and over again, slowly wearing down my determination not to have to push my bike. It was quickly dawning on my that I took a really, really, really stupid gear. Plus, I still had many days left and shouldn't toast myself, but I didn't care. My pride was at stake. In the end I had to resort to tacking across the narrow road way hopping an auto didn't come flying over the blind corner and hill crest just ahead. A couple times they did and I probably looked pretty funny diving off the road and onto the walls or into the grass.

Dent, give me food and a bed damn it

Eventually, after a long, long day of climbing, I rolled into my destination just as a massive storm cloud was catching up. As I entered the B&B a stoke broke forth and the town was en capsuled in a fairly violent thunderstorm. Hmm... camping under a tarp or a warm bed? I pondered this for about 5 seconds as I headed to the pub for a meal and a well deserved brew.

Day 1 Route (100 miles)

In total I covered a little over 100 miles as near as I could figure it. With all the stopping and climbing, not too bad for the Jet lagged first day.

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Day 2 - Dent to Keswick

Self portrait

Day two started off normal enough for jolly old England, it was raining. However, before I got on the road I had to solve a small dilemma, there are very steep descents in these parts and I had no front brakes left. When I left Vancouver, my front brakes were already going, but I figured it being summer and the fact I don't use my brakes that much should mean I will be fine for my trip. Nope.

Instead I was on a quest to find brake pads in a tiny town in the Yorkshire Dales. Somehow, some way, I was able I tracked down this odd, somewhat antisocial fellow, who lived in a trailer in one of the camp sites who had decided a few years back to start some sort of bike part import business. The business ultimately failed, but he still had some parts around. As luck would have it had a set of brake pads left that fit my bike!

Next, maybe my luck would extend to the weather? Nope

My goal for the day was to head first head out east and take the ferry over to Hawkshead, then head North to Carlisle and hopefully onto Scotland. The day started out cold and wet, but only raining lightly. However by the time I hit the ferry the skies had opened up and I was getting drenched.

I figured it wasn't going to change, so I decided to continue on in the deluge. I figured I just had to endure the deluge for a bit until I hit better weather. But it wasn't to be. It just kept raining and raining without any breaks. It was raining so hard it was like someone was dumping buckets of water on me

Rain, rain, rain

After a while the rain started to take its toll, I was getting cold. Even with 3 layers of riding gear (all my clothes on) and wool, I was starting to get chilled. With the amount of watter coming down it was filtering through though the layers and pulling out my body heat. By the time I hit the lake just out side of Keswick, I as shivering uncontrollably.

At a mere 50 miles in I called it a day, hit the hostel in Keswick and sat for 3 hours in a bath tube before I could even start to feel my fingers.

It was an epic day alright, just not the good kind of epic!

Day 2 Route

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Day 3 - Keswick to Bonchester Bridge Scottland

As was quickly becoming the norm, the day started with rain, but unlike the previous day this didn't detract from the riding. However, before I could get into the epic riding, I had a small problem to solve.

When you only pack 10.5lbs for a trip, you make sacrifices. In my case, I made a bit of a blunder sacrificing proper rain gear. I got by fine on the first day, but the second day I got hammered. I was hoping day 2 was a bit of an anomaly, but I also new I couldn't get chilled like that again, so I was out with credit card in hand looking to buy a proper rain jacket. Luckily for me (I have weird luck I tell you) Keswick is an outdoor destination, and there were all sorts of 1/2 off sales. As I plunked down the 50 pounds, I told myself it was worth the money if it either a) protected me from the rain, or b) brought sunshine. Actually, especially b).

As I bought the jacket I then realized I had another problem with the 10.5 lbs pack. I had no extra room!

Lack of pack room aside, once I got going I was presented with some amazing riding as I was leaving the Lake district. To get out of Keswick, you need to take the main road, but quickly I was able to get on the Sustrans routes and ride on some amazing paths through the country side as I made my way through small towns like Mungrisdale, Moosedale, and Hesket Newmarket.

Sheep go to heaven, goats go to hell

Most of the paths made their way through farmland, where you have to to continually open and close farm gates. This made for lots of interesting riding as often you would run into sheep, horses and cows while making your way.

My favourite had to be the sheep. They would often congregate on the path, then have a fit when you approached. I felt rather bad, as I figured I was giving them a heart attack. They would see you coming, then try and avoid you by hauling ass down the path. They however would never leave the path. Why? I have no frickin' clue.

At first I would stop, because I hated to to scare them. I would then try to easy my way around them assuring them that I wasn't going to eat them... yet. But being sheep they never listened. Instead, they would just head further along the path and wait for me to approach once again, in the process aggravating me to no end.

This went on for quite a while, until I finally gave up and just rode slowly down the path at them. Mooooove!

Carlisle

Rain rain go away!

I continued along these farmland paths until I made it to the city of Carlisle, where I decided to get some fixed gear shopping done. By this point, my choice of 80 inches (50x17) gearing was really catching up. I felt like a kitten in a river riding along. I decided it was time to check the ego and find a lower gearing. However, no sooner had I made it into the city, that the heavens opened up once again. I took the cue that it meant it was time for a coffee break and a snack.

Once the rain departed I got on my mission to find a bike shop that carried track cogs. As always my luck took over as I went to grab my bike, sitting next to it was another fixie. As I admired the bike, the owner came out and we got to shooting the shit and he gave me instructions to the best shop in town for fixed gear bikes, Palace cycles.

There I met Joe another single speed/fixed gear freak and Palace wrench. After he showed me his sweet spot brand bike, I knew I was in good hands as I handed him over my well worn Surly. My luck continued to hold out as they actually had a large cog in stock (20 tooth) and my chain length was just long enough to take the big gearing. Now I was set with 63 and 80 inches at the flip of my rear wheel.

After grabbing a potato and beer, I left Carlisle and headed for the Scottish boarder.

Watch out Scotland, Here I come!

As I left I realized my guide book sucked ass as they suggested I try and ride down the main highway out of Carlisle. It didn't take me long to find an alternate route that left the city and quickly I was on a series of small byways that took me through more farmland as the sun broke for the very first time this trip.

I went down all sorts of small roads and dirt paths before entering Scotland at Canonbie. Once I entered Scotland it was as if everything changed. While I had mainly stayed on smaller roads in England, I would still run across lots of people and the odd automobile. However, the moment I entered Scotland it was like this surreal quiet descended upon the landscape.

Entering Newcastleton

From Canonbie all the way to Newcastleton I did not see a single living sole. Southern Scotland had this amazingly beautiful quiet. A type of quiet that lets one think about simply turning the pedals as the miles melt away under your tires. I couldn't help but think this was truly heaven on earth.

When I made it to into Newcastleton I decided to hit a pub and have a good meal. It was pretty hilarious, I had two choices, both side-by-side. One with a sign declaring "cylists welcome," the other without. Hmmmm.... which one to chose?

Afterwards, I still had a couple hours of light so I decided to continue on (since I had lost time waiting out the rain and getting my bike fixed up in Carlisle) along the road until nightfall came. I ended up making it into the quaint small community of Bonchester Bridge, where I set up camp for the night.

Day 3 Map

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Day 4 - Bothered by a bearing

I think the Dude's secret admirer said it best best when he pronounced that, "Sometimes you eat the bar, and sometimes, well, he eats you." Well today, I was the all-you-can-eat buffet.

After my night in Bonchester Bridge, I awoke to find myself coming down with a cold. Not surprising considering the mileage I had been riding in the pouring rain despicable rain. However, it looked like the sun was breaking and I was only 60 miles outside Edinburgh, then if I wanted wimp out I could jump on the train and get into St. Andrews for my first conference with time to spare.

Plan sounds feasible, right? After all what could go wrong?

As I would find out... pretty much everything.

Sun, glorious sun

Sun sweet sun: Sun washes over the road out of Bonchester Bridge, Scottland.

As the day got going the sun broke and I was awash in the warm glow of a long forgotten friend. After a few miles the heat started to clear my chest and for the first time in the last week I was sporting a smile as I rolled across the scenic Scottish countryside.

Despite the horrendous weather I had experienced earlier, I was loving bike touring once again. There is nothing like having the miles roll effortlessly under you as the sun shines and there is not a car within what feels like a hundred miles. This is what makes Scotland ideal for cycling. Quiet, quiet rolling roads. The efficiency of the fixed gear bike just started to eat up the miles, as I flipped the wheel over to my tall gearing so I can make the most of the fast rolling roads.

My first stop was for coffee and a croissant in a small town that doesn't see many visitors. An older woman with a walker, tells me she figures I am Australian, I smile and agree. Perhaps this is one small part of the world where drunk Australians (god love em) haven't invaded. For the record I am Canadian and usually get mistaken for Americans (Ack!).

Mishap #1: Melrose Chain Smash up

Just prior to entering the town of Melrose I ran across a father sun bike touring duo. We sat and chatted a while comparing our completely different approaches to touring. Myself with my self-admitted mad 10 lbs pack and these two cordial fellows who had taken the more traditional. As an aside, on of the bikes was an amazingly nice S&M coupled frame. Beautiful!

As most other cyclists they were particularly curious how I was faring with such a light load, especially considering I had brought items to camp with. I didn't lie, I told them it was great when the weather is nice, touchier otherwise, but you can slam back the miles.

As I talked with them I didn't think much of taking the opportunity to swap my wheel to a taller gearing. I mean perfect right? because the ride into Melrose involves a very very steep hill. This would be my undoing because I apparently didn't tighten the wheel enough. As I descended into Melrose I was spinning like a mad man (perhaps a cadence of 180) to keep ahead of an uncouth car that was trying to drive directly down my ass.

Then just as I was spinning at my maximum out of no where the chain gave way, stuck in my spokes and threw me into a massive skid. While I was caught a bit off guard I did not crash and instead surfed the skid for about 50 feet, coming to rest at the entrance of the town. When I looked back and assessed what had just happened I realized that the skid was so long it actual melted a large portion of my tire!

Next I had to assess the damage on the chain. A quick look and I realize my situation didn't look good. The chain was not only wrapped into the spokes but around the hub. I tried in vain to remove the rear wheel, so that I could untangle the chain but it was a frickin' quagmire, if I had ever seen one

Chain mayhem: I carefully tried to pry this disaster loss, only to realize it was a lost cause without breaking the chain.

I knew there was only one thing I could do, break the chain. But here is the rub, I didn't have any extra links or extra pins (it was a Shimano chain). If I am lucky I might be able to reuse a pin to get me moving, but my chain tension was set so bang on that if any links were damaged I would not be able to shorten the chain.

As I took a deep breath and broke the chain, so I could untangle this mess, my worst fears were confirmed. I wasn't going anywhere unless I could get some spare links or a new chain.

Quest for the elusive chain

Melrose was a small tourist town with no cycle shop, and little interest in cycling. I asked around for quite a while until I finally learned there was a bike shop in the next town over, Galashiels.

Great, so does that mean I can throw my bike on the bus and head on over? Nope!

You see in the UK's vision of the future, bikes and buses do not mix! Can you believe it! Even in environmentally backwards North America, we can throw bikes on must public transport buses. In the UK, this is forbidden.

So that left me with one remaining option, it was looking like I was going to have to walk the distance.

With that I grabbed a drink, a bakery bun, threw my bike over my shoulder and headed west for Galashiels.

Head west young man

While walking my bike a few kilometers was never on the agenda for the day, I found a quiet walking path between the two towns and made the best of it, especially since the sun was out.

When I made it to Galashiels I quickly found the bike shop got a chain and did the swap in the town square, since the bike shop owner gave me a look of horror when I asked if I could use his stand (so much for being nice to a traveler).

By the time I finished I was really starting to feel the effects of being sick. But I shook it off as I should still be able to make Edinburgh I told myself, that is until I looked up and saw the ominous grey clouds starting to close in. Crap, I better get moving.

With that I jumped on my bike and made a B-line along a designated bike route that I thought was leaving the city. It was just starting to rain, but I was keeping ahead of it. I thought I was going to make it until I realized the route was a dead end! As I came to a stop I knew the only choice I had was to head back into the rainstorm, so I could take the correct way out of the city.

I tried to quickly backtrack so as to minimize the damage (considering I was sick and only had a jacket), but the rain just kept getting heavier and heavier as I headed back to the city and hopefully the correct bike route turnoff. At one point I even took cover and tried to wait out the rain, but this only angered the rain gods and the rain started coming down with even a stronger vengeance.

The message was clear, I was going to get thoroughly soaked. I lowered my head, accepted my fate and road straight into the rain storm.

Screw the UK and its damn rain!

The rain was probably some of the heaviest I have ridden in my life. It is no exaggeration when I say the water on the road way was at least 3 inches deep. I fought straight into the driving rain and with every pedal stroke felt the last vestiges of heat being dragged out of my body with the continual flow of water covering my body. The jacket I was wearing was supposed to be waterproof in a rainstorm, but I don't think it was ever designed to be completely submerged.

As I started to hit the perimeter of Galashiels another roadie was heading into the storm. We gave each other a passing glance, no words needed to be exchanged to communicate how ridiculous the rain storm was. After that I just put my head down and rode as hard as possible. I had only one goal, ride fast enough to get out of the rain storm.

By about 10 km or so outside of Galashiels I was starting to outrun the rain storm, things were looking up. Looking up until I decided to flip my wheel and get a higher gearing. As I was fiddling with rear wheel, I noticed it didn't roll as smoothly as it normally does. Somewhere along the line it had developed some added resistance.

I shrugged it off and headed the rest of the way to Innerleithen. By the time I arrived it was getting close to dinner, but the weather was so nice I decided to just get the next 28 miles out of the way and get into Edinburgh. It is a bit of a climb as you head North up the B709.

When the bar eats you, you know it!

Sure I was hungry, but my logic was indisputable. So far the day had been complete crap, but I was making progress despite the mishaps. Now all that stood in my way are a measly 28 miles. I figured should be over in after a couple hours of riding at most. Then I would be in Edinburgh, where I could get my eats on, then grab a late train making it to my conference just in the nick of time. Clearly the open road awaits.

This plan was solid except it assumes that I could ride 28 miles would without too much calamity. This was so far from the truth I can't stop laughing. But I am foreshadowing, of course it was crap. I wouldn't be writing anything here if it was sunshine and roses.

At first it seemed like my decision was pure genius. It was evening, it was sunny, and the lush countryside was awash in warm light (see left). Perfect for putting in the last few miles of the day. For a while I even was able to relax and enjoy the scenery and the climb.

Well I was sort of enjoying the climb. You see I had try and put out of my mind the fact my rear wheel continually getting more difficult to make turn over. I am sure the combination of gravity and an upward slope didn't help matters any, but by about 45 minutes into the climb I notice that it was getting noticeably harder to climb. At first denial kicked in as I convinced myself it was I was just getting weaker in my old age, but then every so often I would get off the bike and check the rear wheel.

"Hmm... much harder to roll than 10 minutes ago. Oh well."

I would tell myself as I continued on oblivious to the fact I was in the middle of nowhere. My ambivalence (or denial depending on who you talk to) was so strong I even waved to a couple pro-wanna be cyclists (the only people I had seen since Innerleithen) who were heading in the opposite direction, rather than ask for some help.

Clearly, I had no idea of the impeding doom that was about to bestow me. Then At about the half-way point between Innerleithen and Edinburgh (a place called Midlothian) the rear wheel bearings finally gave out causing my wheel to jam sending me into yet another unexpected rear wheel skid.

Yes you read right, this is the SECOND time in one day that the rear wheel spontaneously locked up without any input from yours truly!

This time it was however it was worse. When the rear wheel bearings ceased the wheel was still driven forward by my motion, this caused some of the wheel nuts to loosen off. That wasn't too bad, but the real kicker was the fact the right side cone nut was forced to loosen off by the forward rotation of the axel, caused by the wheel rotating with the ceased bearings. Since the cone nut is on the inside of the frame, as it loosed off it caused the rear triangle to be pulled apart by at least 2 inches (pictured right). The left side (not pictured) looks normal while the huge gap has formed on the right side of the hub.

Great! Now not only am I screwed as far as getting into Edinburgh in some sort of decent time, but my frame is also tweaked! WTF!!!

Everyone do the ceased wheel rant!

So what did I do, what ever other self-respecting dope would do... walk. Now walking with a bike with a ceased wheel sucks ass x2, because first you are walking (YAWN) and second to add insult to injury you must carry the bike on your shoulder to get anywhere. Recall, the wheel is ceased. Carrying a bike is fine for the first 30 minutes or so, but after an hour + you start to go a little squirrelly.

Adding to the insanity the few cars I saw weaved around me and my out laid thumb. HOLY FUCK, what is wrong with you people? To document this stupidity, I decided to shoot a video of myself in the moment. It is funny... I think.

After about another hour after the video, as it was getting dark I stumbled into this small village called Middleton. By the road signs I realized I was still 14 miles or so outside of Edinburgh. I was considering walking the final 14 miles until I did the math. 14 miles = 22 kilometers at a walking pace of 4 km/hr = 5+ FRICKIN hours!

Just one more epic

I would be getting in well after midnight! This would not due, so I started knocking on houses, waving down vehicles anything I could do to get some help. I got nothing.

Then after walking a bit more I stumbled onto a house with some people who were actually home and were very kind. They took me in, feed me tea and even gave me a ride part way to Edinburgh (Dalkieth), however the rub was they had to take their kids along so there was no room for my bike. That was fine by me because I was sick at looking at it.

When I arrived in Dalkieth, I was exhausted, tired, grumpy and hungry. All I wanted to do was find a room, eat a meal and go to sleep. I found a room no problem, but getting some food, turned into yet another epic, in a day of epics.

You see, before I could get some food into me I was accosted by some drunk Scotsmen. They offered me a beer for my story. Being a good red blooded fixie rider I gave them one hell of a story. Beer gone and story over I tried to get on with finding some eats... no go, as I was told I had to sit and have another free beer.

Before I knew it there were telling me their life story and I had another couple pints on a stomach that hadn't eaten since lunch time... I was a wreck (recall I also started the day sick).

By about midnight final call was on and I was out the door trying to find the only place left in Dalkieth that was open and selling food. Luckily I found a greasy fish and chips place. I stuffed my face and crashed hard once I hit my overpriced lumpy bed.

Day 4 Map