Cardinal Spins 5: NNW – Day 4

I left Edinburgh early because I had a lunch appointment over 40 miles away. I’m lucky to have two brothers who can offer accommodation options for me in nice parts of the southern suburbs, and I had just spent a welcome rest day doing nothing much other than playing table tennis and helping to build a shed. But today it was time to head north again.

I rode straight through Morningside and into the fashionable West End, arriving at the end of Princes Street right underneath the castle high up on its volcanic rock. I know Edinburgh pretty well, so it was easy to forget to see it through the eyes of a visitor; but it is always a place that offers much of interest. I wasn’t a tourist today, however. I had already decided that my best way to cycle to the Forth Bridge would be to follow the cycle route signs, and they began straight away. I found myself right alongside the triple spired St Mary’s Cathedral and then I was pointed down a combination of cycle paths and quiet residential streets out into the hinterland of the city. It was all very well signed and surfaced and got me past a lot of busy, complicated main roads, not to mention the airport, without fuss. In an hour, I could see the three huge bridges looming close to my right. It was all very impressive.

But if you really want impressive, there is nothing to match cycling across the older of the two Forth road bridges. Today it is sandwiched in between the graceful new motorway suspension bridge and the iconic steel rail bridge (the one they supposedly never finish painting, although that’s apparently untrue). The sun was shining and the older road bridge was closed to motor traffic for maintenance, making the broad cycle and pedestrian pathway a quiet sanctuary with breathtaking views. Looking back towards the rail bridge, a large white cruise ship was moored in the middle of the channel. Beneath me, in the foreground, a number of small vessels were involved in sailing lessons. You could hear them calling to one another. It was all truly magnificent, an experience to savour. When they let the traffic back, it won’t be the same at all.

A few people were out using the opportunity to take bracing walks; but I had the bridge’s long, broad walkway almost to myself. I’m always amazed how long it seems to take to reach the middle of these immense structures when you start from one end. The two high suspension towers must be not far off a mile apart and you feel you should get there a long time before you do. I stopped in the middle, where the cables reached their lowest point, for pictures, because it felt appropriate; but I stopped in some other places, too. The whole experience was exhilarating and it made you feel very small.

Thee next section of the ride took me through the centre of Dunfermline, right past its historic, partly ruined abbey, and then out into a range of moderate hills that I needed to cross before descending rapidly down a small lane to the small town of Kinross, which lies on the shores of island studded Loch Leven. Then up again and down again to my friends’ home in the country near Bridge of Earn. I’m usually quite good at finding places and I had been here once before, in 2022. But that time I was guided in from the west as I crossed an OS map. I remembered it all wrongly and rode within five minutes of their house (which is admittedly hidden down a bumpy track) before heading the wrong way and delaying lunch by a good twenty minutes. But they didn’t seem to mind.

I was visiting an inspiring couple, Mike and Fiona, whom I met on a delayed ferry in the Hebrides in 2022. They are fellow cyclists (and much more besides) and I owe them thanks for putting the Royal Scottish Geographical Society on to me. That led to a series of talks I gave this year in January around Scotland, and an invitation to return for several more later this year. Quite a privilege. We sat outside in their garden and enjoyed their peaceful, green surroundings, catching up on various forms of challenge and physical activity. It doesn’t matter how much you do, there are always people who are quietly doing even more impressive things. Exchanging stories fuels the imagination.

Too soon it was time to leave and I pressed on in bright weather through the fair city of Perth, Scotland’s first capital, whose historic city centre is confined between the broad River Tay to the east and two huge green public spaces, the North and South Inches. It gives the place a manageable, breathable feel. It also meant that I was in and out of the city, following the riverbank, with the minimum of fuss.

The excellent cycle route followed the River Tay for much of the remaining 30 miles or so, through pretty Dunkeld with its graceful bridge and ruined cathedral, until I reached my destination. Pitlochry, a Victorian resort town in the foothills of the bigger mountains, reminds me of places like Windermere and Keswick in look and feel. It was also here, 1965, that my parents got engaged, starting the process to my own existence in the world. So I treated it with the reverence it deserves. That apart, it was another good day of cycling; short on cafes by my usual standards, but big on bridges and quiet countryside. Until now, the straightness of my line has been well maintained. Tomorrow that was going to change.