- Location
- Glasgow
This is the tale of an all women's 100k in them surroundings of Stirlingshire - Scotland, don't you ken?
A selected few of the Glasgow Belles on Bikes decide to join the 100k ladies bike ride on the 7th of July, to celebrate some TdF anniversary or other, we don't really care as long as we get a fun day out of it
I am NOT wearing a helmet on this trip (take note @Cunobelin) mundane fact this, that will have consequences.
The riding pal I was supposed to meet en route to the train station does not show. It turns out she is just late. Like a domino effect, her lateness will influence the rest of the day, it was an omen of things to come.
I pick up my other riding companion while the wayward one joins us, minutes to spare before the train leaves for Stirling, still without ticket. Grummph! thinks me, Mrs. Organization.
Got ticket days ago without reserved bike space, because the man the the ticket boot said: "computer no can do, just put the bike on the luggage rack, ha ha!"
There are about a baker's dozen bikes boarding now
but I'm not, because I'm waiting for my friend to buy her ticket!
The day is hot hot hot, about to get even hotter
Thankfully Scottish Rails keeps to the timetable, as the tree of us have an impromptu banana, debating if to use the ladies powder room now or at the destination.
Here's our wee Glasgow group, I'm the one with the cat t-shirt, of course.
Visualize about 60 women, some are friends, some have never met before, some have only met on line previously.
Who is applying sun screen, who is introducing herself, who is dashing to the loo last minute, who's munching on an energy bar ... you get the drift, we are already half hour late to the proposed starting time.
"Pat, Pat" I hear a cry ... "Yes, I'm here" "Do you have your portable track pump with you? I can't inflate my front tyre ..." But of course, say I, always happy to help
Now, those 100k are not meant to be a race, but an all around the world celebration of women's cycling.
So what is this group of Lycra cladded willowy beings on 15 Lbs road bikes doing here???
We are briefed about the route, flat as a pancake on cycle path: we all had been emailed a map and a gpx file.
None of us Belle has a Garmin (we are contemplating the purchase of a communal one, ahem).
One of us printed the maps off, so of course I didn't. She forgot them on the hall table at home.
I, by turn, forgot the return train times at home.
Turning our phones' Strava/ sat nav on? No way!
We want to save the battery for taking pictures!
Why worry ourselves, the route is signposted. Only, some joker lifted most of the signs overnight, we later discover.
Off we go eventually, the roadies fast disappearing ahead. Never mind, I mutter, if I knew where I was going, I would be fast too
Beautiful scenery, it has to be said. Here is a picture with the Wallace monument in view:
and another one of a random old turret
It was a very hot day, did I mention this? We could not find any directions, did I mention this also?
Bet I never told you yet that the support guys on a bike, meant to be strategically positioned where we could get lost ... got lost!
That was after we found him again, because we had lost him in our enthusiasm.
Oh yes, when about 30 of us bombed down what we thought was the cycle path, but in fact turned out to be a private farm road.
A very glamourus farmer's wife soon send us on our way, probably sniggering at the sight of so many disheveled sun baked would be TdF female emulators.
Here are we, practically about to ride through the farmer's living room!
Reunited with our guide, his instructions are clear: follow the road ahead, join the path, cross over the bridge, I will see you there.
Ha! We ended up at a locked gate: over the gate, the wee blue bike sign, NC76 ...
Some, huffing and puffing, start to lift their bikes over. A passing dog walker stares, laconic points behind. We have missed the turning to the new cycle route
Cycling over the bridge was nice: shame we got battered by the most ferocious hot headwind ever.
Did not dare to stop to take pictures, least we got left even more behind - there was another group we lost sight of a few miles before, guess we lost them too
So if anybody can tell me the name of the bridge I went over please do: the sign I remember, "Firth of the Forth" may not be the correct name
Another picture of us getting lost, this time it was after going over the Forth: both my group and the rider supposed to be guiding us took the wrong turn once again.
The following picture is the proof that I was, first time ever for me, in Clackmannanshire: can't pronounce it, but I was there
Joining the group after taking the shot, a rider on a red Triban, never found out if he was meant to be one of our guides or just a random guy, 85 if he was a day, bless! trying to "guide me" over the road!
I'm a seasoned Glasgow's mean streets commuter, I'll let you know ... erm ...
To be continued ...
A selected few of the Glasgow Belles on Bikes decide to join the 100k ladies bike ride on the 7th of July, to celebrate some TdF anniversary or other, we don't really care as long as we get a fun day out of it
I am NOT wearing a helmet on this trip (take note @Cunobelin) mundane fact this, that will have consequences.
The riding pal I was supposed to meet en route to the train station does not show. It turns out she is just late. Like a domino effect, her lateness will influence the rest of the day, it was an omen of things to come.
I pick up my other riding companion while the wayward one joins us, minutes to spare before the train leaves for Stirling, still without ticket. Grummph! thinks me, Mrs. Organization.
Got ticket days ago without reserved bike space, because the man the the ticket boot said: "computer no can do, just put the bike on the luggage rack, ha ha!"
There are about a baker's dozen bikes boarding now
but I'm not, because I'm waiting for my friend to buy her ticket!The day is hot hot hot, about to get even hotter
Thankfully Scottish Rails keeps to the timetable, as the tree of us have an impromptu banana, debating if to use the ladies powder room now or at the destination.
Here's our wee Glasgow group, I'm the one with the cat t-shirt, of course.
Visualize about 60 women, some are friends, some have never met before, some have only met on line previously.
Who is applying sun screen, who is introducing herself, who is dashing to the loo last minute, who's munching on an energy bar ... you get the drift, we are already half hour late to the proposed starting time.
"Pat, Pat" I hear a cry ... "Yes, I'm here" "Do you have your portable track pump with you? I can't inflate my front tyre ..." But of course, say I, always happy to help
Now, those 100k are not meant to be a race, but an all around the world celebration of women's cycling.
So what is this group of Lycra cladded willowy beings on 15 Lbs road bikes doing here???
We are briefed about the route, flat as a pancake on cycle path: we all had been emailed a map and a gpx file.
None of us Belle has a Garmin (we are contemplating the purchase of a communal one, ahem).
One of us printed the maps off, so of course I didn't. She forgot them on the hall table at home.
I, by turn, forgot the return train times at home.
Turning our phones' Strava/ sat nav on? No way!
We want to save the battery for taking pictures!
Why worry ourselves, the route is signposted. Only, some joker lifted most of the signs overnight, we later discover.
Off we go eventually, the roadies fast disappearing ahead. Never mind, I mutter, if I knew where I was going, I would be fast too
Beautiful scenery, it has to be said. Here is a picture with the Wallace monument in view:
and another one of a random old turret
It was a very hot day, did I mention this? We could not find any directions, did I mention this also?
Bet I never told you yet that the support guys on a bike, meant to be strategically positioned where we could get lost ... got lost!
That was after we found him again, because we had lost him in our enthusiasm.
Oh yes, when about 30 of us bombed down what we thought was the cycle path, but in fact turned out to be a private farm road.
A very glamourus farmer's wife soon send us on our way, probably sniggering at the sight of so many disheveled sun baked would be TdF female emulators.
Here are we, practically about to ride through the farmer's living room!Reunited with our guide, his instructions are clear: follow the road ahead, join the path, cross over the bridge, I will see you there.
Ha! We ended up at a locked gate: over the gate, the wee blue bike sign, NC76 ...
Some, huffing and puffing, start to lift their bikes over. A passing dog walker stares, laconic points behind. We have missed the turning to the new cycle route
Cycling over the bridge was nice: shame we got battered by the most ferocious hot headwind ever.
Did not dare to stop to take pictures, least we got left even more behind - there was another group we lost sight of a few miles before, guess we lost them too
So if anybody can tell me the name of the bridge I went over please do: the sign I remember, "Firth of the Forth" may not be the correct name
Another picture of us getting lost, this time it was after going over the Forth: both my group and the rider supposed to be guiding us took the wrong turn once again.
The following picture is the proof that I was, first time ever for me, in Clackmannanshire: can't pronounce it, but I was there
Joining the group after taking the shot, a rider on a red Triban, never found out if he was meant to be one of our guides or just a random guy, 85 if he was a day, bless! trying to "guide me" over the road!
I'm a seasoned Glasgow's mean streets commuter, I'll let you know ... erm ...
To be continued ...
hands are dirty because I ditched the gloves while giving he tyre battle 
