Struie

At the back end of August the kids and I finally made it up to the Highlands to visit mum and dad. There was a temporary cessation to lockdown, mum was out of the highest category of shielding post chemo and the kids and I had done a 14 day isolation period to make sure that we didn't bring any unwelcome gifts north. We loaded up the car, new to us in November and barely driven since, fitted a new roof rack and made the familiar trip up beyond the Moray Firth. 

Usually the day after that drive I would be shattered and need to keep it pretty simple. This trip, new car was a dream to drive, so much easier and less tiring than our decade old Toyota. I got up on the Sunday morning feeling like I could manage a decent ride, nothing extreme but better than a quick orbit of Dingwall and up the heights. 

I spent half an hour or so exploring possible routes on Strava and RideWithGps with more than half an eye on the climb starting at Stuie Bridge, just up the coast. On the penultimate day of Ride Across Britain we cycled from Fort William, through Inverness, around the Beauly Firth before grinding (in my case) very slowly up to Struie Hill from the south. It was a long climb at the end of a long day close to the end of a very long 9 day Lejog. The view from the top was amazing and the decent down into Bonar Bridge a few minutes of high speed payback for what felt like an afternoons worth of slog. When I got home I noted that the ride in the other direction was listed as one of the best 100 cycling climbs in Scotland and just 20 miles (as the crow files) from mum and dad's. At the end of the half hour gazing at maps I concluded that I wasn't a crow so the Struie option was out. Fifty plus miles plus one steep climb probably wasn't such a great idea. Time was ticking on so I dismissed the idea, got the bike ready, changed into my cycling gear. Subconsciously the seed of the idea must have been planted as for some reason I grabbed three energy bars and my rain jacket on the way out.

Just after eleven in the morning I finally rolled out and after a circuit of the cul-de-sack to assure myself everything was in good working order, I headed down the hill to Conon Bridge. As is often the case, even though I now didn't intend to climb Struie, I was still thinking about the waypoints on that route so headed through Dingwall and up the steep hill out on NCN1. After months of lockdown and rides in the Chilterns it was so good to be out in the sea air, gazing across the firth from the road out of Dingwall. Its only ~100m of elevation but the views were a tonic. The long, deep firth with its oil rigs and bridges and the hills and forests of the Black Isle behind such a change in scene.

I cycled along NCN1 Evanton and Allness, still feeling pretty good, much better than when I had done the same route back in 2017 on the RAB. On that previous ride I remember being shattered just before the big climb and having to stop for an entry bar and drink in the sun. Not so much sun this time around even though it was August rather than the back half of September but my legs (and backside) felt better rested. Rather than retrace that long slog over the hill I kept on NCN1 upto Tain. I love the NCN but it is frustrating sometimes. Between Dingwall and Tain there were numerous invitations to leave the perfectly quiet, well maintained road and enjoy a detour, to no advantage, along shared footpaths busy with families enjoying a hike or the occasional dog walker. Most of these I ignored but as I got into Tain and into less familiar territory I found myself riding down one of those narrow back-of-the-houses shared use (foot) paths that Sustrans seem to use a lot. After going under the A9 I gave up, had a think and succumbed to the inevitable draw of heading up the firth and trying my luck on Stuie.

I left NCN1 and gingerly joined the A9. The A9 is not my favourite road, or rather, it is frequented by some of my least favourite drivers. The average speed cameras between Perth and Inverness have done wonders in curtailing the maddest behaviours and making it far less stressful when driving a car. Its still not a road I want to use as a cyclist. I did contemplate going across the Dornoch Firth via the bridge which would have been spectacular, but the narrow road, likelihood of a stiff wind and most significantly, additional 20 miles it would have added put me off. Instead I stuck to the extreme left hand edge of the A9 and rode down the hill to the roundabout before the bridge. Traffic volumes seemed reduced to me with the vast majority of drivers giving me far more room than I would have gotten back in Southern England. Still, I was relieved to get the roundabout and head west along the quieter A836.

Its only just over ten miles from the roundabout to the bottom of the climb and only mildly undulating but it felt like a bit of a slog. Maybe not knowing how far it was to the turn off was playing with my head. Whatever the reason I spent too long thinking about my various aches and less about the awesome scenery than I should have. I passed some competent looking peletons heading in the other direction and a couple of cars but on the whole it was very quiet. 

I came across the turn off later than I had hoped for but much sooner than expected. After a brief stop to double check this was the right road (better safe than sorry), a bite of a snack, a slug of water and a picture I started up the hill. Just before I got clipped in, a cyclist whizzed past, looking like he was going to fly up the hill (maybe he did, I never saw him again).

The road climbed up pretty quickly and I reached the bridge after 12 minutes of pleasant effort. This section averaged out at about 4.5% with a couple of kicks up to ~8% but did not feel that bad. I got to the bridge which is very handsome and was tempted to stop for a photo and better look but felt like getting up the climb without stopping was more important. After the bridge the road curved around and touched 11% briefly before steadying out at a less painful 6% until closer to the top. My recollection is that I took this section at a fairly comfortable pace, mindful of the distance back home. I didnt think I went that slowly but Strava puts me just on the better side of the fourth quartile with over 1800 cyclists faster than me and just 600 slower (and they probably weren't trying). I did take some pictures on the GoPro but suspect that had little impact on my time! I was definitely grinding it out with the average cadence hovering around 60 for the whole segment! 

The vista as I got to the top was as good as I remembered. The firth looked spectacular all the way down to the bridge and then out into the North Sea. I didn't pause to take it in at the viewing point because that is not the top. Instead, I kept going until I was sure I was at the end of the Strava segment and the climb was done. Looking at the data later my confidence looked misplaced, I stopped with less than a metre of elevation left and luckily just beyond the end of the climb. 

At the top I got of the bike, had a drink and the rest of the energy bar I had started at the bottom of the climb. The temperature had dropped from an okay 13 degrees at the side of the firth to an uncomfortable 8 at the climb's summit and it was drizzling slightly. As I stopped to refuel I cooled down rapidly and with the change in weather and an eight mile decent ahead I put on my rain jacket. I didn't used to be a fair weather cyclist, exactly the opposite in fact, but I have to admit that since finishing the RAB in 2017 I dont think I have needed my full rain jacket very much. I was very thankful of it that day at the top of Struie. 

I kicked off and headed down hill stopping to take some what turned out to be underwhelming shots of the staggeringly beautiful views of the coast. 

There were only two very short uphill sections over the next eight miles as a lost over 200 metres of elevation but one of them was a half mile of cat 4 climb which I had missed when looking at the maps earlier. I bled the speed off I had built up on the downhill in the blink of an eye and was back in grinding territory. 

After getting down the hill I reconnected with NCN1 again at the turn towards Alness and retraced my steps back through Evanton and then up the hill above Dingwall. I was aching a bit now (I have got something wrong with my bike setup) and that 2 miles at 2% hurt a lot more than it should of. It was the home straight finally down the steep section into Dingwall and then along the cyclepath towards Maryburgh. 

I contemplated returning to Mum and Dad's via the same way I had come, through the village on the gentler route but I was sore by this point and the steeper but shorter route across the new bridge and then straight up the hill. The right hand turn into Braes of Conon off main road feels exposed in a car with vehicles accelerating hard up the hill behind you and flying down towards you. It was too much for me on the bike and the end of a long day so I did the sensible thing and turned left at the cross roads and then pelted across when there was a space. Its a bad junction even for cars and my dad tells me that whilst the traffic volume doesn't justify a roundabout they might just make it a left turn only in the future. I can see why.

Long ride done I even managed a sprint up the hill to the front door!

Sixty two miles is nothing really compared to some years where I have managed to clock up more than 10 imperial centuries but 2020 hasn't been that sort of a year. At that point sixty two miles was the furthest I had ridden since 2019 but some margin. I was pretty sore and tired when I got in. I was also very dehydrated since I was avoiding shops due to keeping mum isolated from risk of covid. It was still a great day and probably my favourite ride of 2020.