You gave me architecture beyond the industrial brutality of Dundee...
And you gave me my favourite shot of it too.
The details of your parks excite my photographer's organ...
And you made me want to buy my own little castle.
You fed my rust obsession...
And made me want all streets to look like this.
You took me far from Dundee.
Dundee was certainly given a different shine from the other side of the Tay.
Today's journey was again borne almost out of whim. My less than favourable stress levels and resultant chaotic episodes necessitated a return to my old excercising self in order to quell the manic level of RLA, or Real-Life-Anxiety that I presumed was the basis for my desire to drink and perpetuate my less than ameniable attitude to myself and life in general.
My sense of exploration looked out of my kitchen window and across the Tay Bridge. Wormit shall be my destination and beyond that, I have heard rumours of pastoral and woodland, meandering trails seen from the train as you are swiftly swept between the big cities of Scotland.
A late start to the day seemed to have scuppered my chances but following an afternoon coffee I threw on my shorts grabbed a bag and leapt into the road. Instantly I was excited to be back on a proper (ish) ride, running out of Perth Rd I cut right, onto the little trail that I thought remained beside Grouchos, there's nothing left of it and by misjudging the hedge-gap at the end I ensured it was a proper ride.
Colliding with the fence allowed the big cog up front to make itself known on the back of my calf. Embarrassing injury aside I cranked onwards up the lift onto the bridge, my trackstand skills pitifully out of practise.
Once upon the bridge I drew in the view, I quickly recognised the suffering of returning from long exercise-free periods, this was good, I knew I could push on through it and relish in my smoke-free lungs. I cruised through Wormit, enjoying the sites I'd first seen, noticing new ones but willing myself to keep the rhythm up until I had made good distance. Passing out of Wormit I found myself spotting farms and the tracks that wound up the hills around them, all I had to do was find my way up them and the route down would sort itself out.
Continuing along the main road I recognised some of what I had seen from the train and shot out in that direction before getting distracted by a cosy, moss covered road heading up a hill I had espied before.
Instantly I felt enclosed by the countryside, the noise of the A92 dulled and the comforting green mass of nature cushioned my senses. A short and simple climb was topped by the gorgeous Sandford House, the grand window causing an exclamation to escape my lips. Stopping for a drink and to peruse the view I was approached by one of the residents who very kindly pointed out the path to Gauldry, a discreet route that would take me over the hill itself, I thanked her, somewhat bemused by her friendliness.
As I grabbed a photo of the window that had caught my eye on the way up I was approached by the owner of Sandford House itself, doing a little afternoon gardening. She told a short history and the plans for creating self-catered holiday homes, take note, it's certainly a gorgeous place to stay. She also mentioned that the area I had seen from the train had a good network of paths, bloody excellent news! I decided to head for my initial goal and save the Gauldy route for another day, unsure of its difficulty and distance I had photo opportunities on my mind
With the mentality I had inhabited for the past few weeks I had completely forgotten about the places where strangers say hello as they pass. Being on the bike changed that; most cyclists greet each other anyway but being approached with smiles and not scowls was something that had thrown me into confusion for a good minute or so. It felt different out here and I was so happy for that.
Onwards! I pushed off and sped down the slick driveway, throwing a couple of sketchy skids into the mix as the grin grew across my face. I popped out onto the road, zipped past the Moffat and Williamson bus garage and was instantly atop more mossy tarmac, the old main road forging a path for me towards the woods. Once more nature encroached upon the old work of industrious mankind, I wasn't going to be exploring abandoned industries today though. What I found instead was a gorgeous bit of singletrack, overgrown, rooty and just a little bit technical, it was the perfect warm up for my rusty skills. What's more, it appeared to be just a small section of a larger network. My exclamations grew into the double digits as I rode out into an opening, this lake-view revealed beneath me.
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| Excuse the phone quality. Classy film photos coming soon. |
A quick drink, and relax before I was back on my way. Taking the downhill path back the way I came was the most fun I have had in so many months it is hard to describe. I missed almost every smooth line, I almost threw myself off the bike on the only jump and I barely pumped a depression. It did not matter a jot because just being there, for those sixty or ninety seconds, on the edge of control and flashing past trees I forgot everything, absolutely everything that bothered me since the last time I lost myself to the two-wheeled demon. This is one reason why I love cycling.
I tested the slickness of mossy tarmac. Verdict - I do enjoy a good drift on a bike, keeps the heart racing!
I almost achieved my goal of riding across the Tay Road Bridge no-handed, a goal I only realised today. Old-Man-Finger-Dancing was definitely surplus to requirements, and probably very embarassing.
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| Yup. I totally took that while cycling... |
The final climb home stung the thighs but now I'm here I couldn't be happier.
Crank On and Enjoy Life.
Next time on Crank Chronicles... My bike got stolen... again.
