The Road to Ullapool

Blinking in the morning sun, thinking what’s to be done

Is this really the land of the kilt?

The e-bikes are humming, the landscape is stunning 

And the gorse still lies like a quilt

Yes, the egg-yolk is spilt, more golden than gilt

While the heather’s still bare and drab

The first climb is hot and they’re off like a shot

While I crawl up like a crab.

Then we cut through the shade of a beautiful glade 

The climb ahead merely a dream 

But partway to the top we’re brought to a stop

By a nymph getting out of the stream.

Tom and Lucy’s news comes out of the blue

A little one due in November 

Will he have a bash at growing a ‘tache

Or is that too much to remember?

At the top of the hill we have our fill

From Claire’s mobile food emporium 

Then it’s chocks away as we head down the brae

Am I glad I came, oh I am!

From the blind summit we start to plummet

With not a care in the world 

Till an overtaking jeep nearly puts me to sleep

And a stream of abuse gets hurled.

Our hearts go boom when we hit Loch Broom 

Everywhere green, gold and blue

When we round the bend it’s sad to end

Two weeks pedalling somewhere new

We’ve done 500 miles, had more than that in smiles

Twas fun, we laughed, had a hoot

If I have my way, we’ll do the same next May

Just need a while to plan the route.

Plymouth to Dover