- Location
- Glasgow
This is the story of an epic "getting lost" ride, that sees some of the Glasgow Belles on Bikes looking up at the great Scottish explorer David Livingstone's monument with despair.
Seeking to reach the falls of the Clyde at New Lanark, we ended up at Balloch, on the shores of Loch Lomond instead, about 60 miles in the opposite direction.
What happened is quite simple: we got lost.
As the (ahem, cough cough) leader of the ride, I was planning to follow the Clyde Walkway, among beautiful scenery and sun kissed river banks.
All went according to plan for the first 15 miles or so - the wee river beasties were eating us alive but the outdoors in Scotland on a sunny day are worth the blood sacrifice.
We arrived at the first coffee stop well overheated. The sun had come out after an overcast start of the day, we had climbed a bigg(ish)
hill, so maybe cold ice cream hitting a breakfast empty stomach was not a good idea: one of our party got ill.
She recovered a bit, decided to go ahead, we ventured further into the route, which now was starting to resemble to a mountain bike trail, very rugged at that
That was when I discovered that the youngest member in our group, lovely lassie on a road bike suited to the TTF, was the OH of our very own @Edwardoka - my fiance keeps buying me these expensive bikes, she says, but I'm not that confident. He's a really good cyclist, you know, he's in that cycle chatting thing web site ...
Poor lamb, she did really well, we left her at the next train station in a daze, hope she wasn't put off on her first ride with the girls, rides are usually quite mellow unless I happen to be leader
By now the Clyde walkway was revealing its dark side: it wanted to spit us out, broken Buckfast bottles producers lurking in the bushes, steep river banks infested by treacherous ancient tree roots
Getting out wasn't easy either, we had to lift the bikes over the gates: no, evil path, you are not keeping my Boris hostage, left abandoned behind to end his life crumbling to rust
We came out at the famous explorer's monument park.
The little blue bike sign was pointing to an enormous hill.
At the top of the hill, it pointed back down to where we came from, into the next stage of the Scottish Grand Canyon trail.
What happens next will have to wait a couple of days, because I've got a long shift tomorrow, need my beauty sleep
Seeking to reach the falls of the Clyde at New Lanark, we ended up at Balloch, on the shores of Loch Lomond instead, about 60 miles in the opposite direction.
What happened is quite simple: we got lost.
As the (ahem, cough cough) leader of the ride, I was planning to follow the Clyde Walkway, among beautiful scenery and sun kissed river banks.
All went according to plan for the first 15 miles or so - the wee river beasties were eating us alive but the outdoors in Scotland on a sunny day are worth the blood sacrifice.
We arrived at the first coffee stop well overheated. The sun had come out after an overcast start of the day, we had climbed a bigg(ish)
hill, so maybe cold ice cream hitting a breakfast empty stomach was not a good idea: one of our party got ill.She recovered a bit, decided to go ahead, we ventured further into the route, which now was starting to resemble to a mountain bike trail, very rugged at that
That was when I discovered that the youngest member in our group, lovely lassie on a road bike suited to the TTF, was the OH of our very own @Edwardoka - my fiance keeps buying me these expensive bikes, she says, but I'm not that confident. He's a really good cyclist, you know, he's in that cycle chatting thing web site ...
Poor lamb, she did really well, we left her at the next train station in a daze, hope she wasn't put off on her first ride with the girls, rides are usually quite mellow unless I happen to be leader
By now the Clyde walkway was revealing its dark side: it wanted to spit us out, broken Buckfast bottles producers lurking in the bushes, steep river banks infested by treacherous ancient tree roots
Getting out wasn't easy either, we had to lift the bikes over the gates: no, evil path, you are not keeping my Boris hostage, left abandoned behind to end his life crumbling to rust
We came out at the famous explorer's monument park.
The little blue bike sign was pointing to an enormous hill.
At the top of the hill, it pointed back down to where we came from, into the next stage of the Scottish Grand Canyon trail.
What happens next will have to wait a couple of days, because I've got a long shift tomorrow, need my beauty sleep
Did a mere 19 miles the next day 
