Average Speed: 10 mph
Distance: 53.2 miles (4 of which were spent searching for a welcome sign)
Distance Cycled Total: 823.1 miles
Feet climbed: 1,778.4 ; 38,436.1 total
Difficulty level: No problemo
"Am I in Scotland yet?"
I must've asked this question a dozen times today, worrying I'd miss the opportunity to take a picture of some important signage.
Because everyone is so friendly here (as they have been since I left from Lands End), the answer is never simply "yes" or "no." It comes with a whole series of directions and suggested alternate routes to find the elusive country of Scotland. When that's done, a fun and friendly conversation follows. And then a repeat of the directions since it was clear that I'd forgotten the first third of the conversation.
I can only retain three directions in my head at any one time, and they'd better be simple. I prefer SECOND LEFT, THEN FIRST RIGHT, AND A QUICK LEFT over cardinal directions with descriptions of contours in the road as landmarks. If I'm being honest, even retaining three simple directions is pushing it.
It is, however, easy to remember the first direction. They always start with "Go that way..." and a clear hand gesture. Got it. While the good samaritan finishes describing the intricate series of turns, I usually nod politely, thinking "Go that way... and then ask the next person you see."
"Am I in Scotland yet?"
The reason for my curiosity as to whether or not I had crossed a border could not be more insipid. I really just wanted a picture of a sign that says "Welcome to Scotland." That's it. I suppose I could've just Googled one. Took me two seconds just now to find a plethora of them, one of which is the same one I eventually took. But that just feels wrong.
Plus, you'd never be able to Google one with a bicycle in front of it, would you? [Googles adding word "bicycle" to search]. Oh. Yes you can. Quite easily. And I doubt anyone would know it wasn't my bicycle.
Conversations about whether or not I was in Scotland literally added about two hours to today's ride, which was quite tame. I descended more than I ascended, and met the rarest, but certainly the most fun, types of roller coaster climbs. These are the ones where the momentum from a downhill is almost enough to get you over the next uphill. Feels like this would be a frequent occurrence, right? It's not.
Today was also the first time I felt it necessary to wear my neon yellow cycling jacket to stay warm. Only a few days ago, on my ride to Harrogate, sweat was dripping into my eyes and blurring my vision. Today was legitimately chilly. "Scotland's always cold!" I'd heard from the people of England, "And rainy!" My guidebook (I'm back on track!) doesn't exactly pinpoint when the route enters Scotland, but being that it was both cold and rainy, I knew I was close. Perhaps I should've paid more attention in Geography class.
"Am I in Scotland yet?"
"No. Go that way and..." (ten minute conversation ensues).
"And there's a sign that says 'Welcome to Scotland'?"
"Oh. If you want a sign you'll have to go that way and..." (fifteen minute conversation ensues).
Then repeat.
Again.
And again.
Until finally-
"Am I in Scotland?"
"Yes!"
"But there was no sign!" I followed everyone's directions so carefully.
"Well if you want the sign you'll have to..."
I gave up and followed the pre-loaded route into Gretna Green, a small town on the border with exactly one claim to fame: It's where people used to go to elope (and I suppose some still do). Since the marriage laws of Scotland were more lax than those of England, people would flock to the Blacksmith's Shop- just over the border- and tie the knot. Other than that landmark and a host of kitschy hotels, there's not much to the town.
Difficulty level: No problemo
 |
| This sign was very much not on my route. |
"Am I in Scotland yet?"
I must've asked this question a dozen times today, worrying I'd miss the opportunity to take a picture of some important signage.
 |
| Carlisle Castle- just south of the Scottish border |
I can only retain three directions in my head at any one time, and they'd better be simple. I prefer SECOND LEFT, THEN FIRST RIGHT, AND A QUICK LEFT over cardinal directions with descriptions of contours in the road as landmarks. If I'm being honest, even retaining three simple directions is pushing it.
It is, however, easy to remember the first direction. They always start with "Go that way..." and a clear hand gesture. Got it. While the good samaritan finishes describing the intricate series of turns, I usually nod politely, thinking "Go that way... and then ask the next person you see."
 |
| Google could've saved me some miles |
"Am I in Scotland yet?"
The reason for my curiosity as to whether or not I had crossed a border could not be more insipid. I really just wanted a picture of a sign that says "Welcome to Scotland." That's it. I suppose I could've just Googled one. Took me two seconds just now to find a plethora of them, one of which is the same one I eventually took. But that just feels wrong.
 |
| Not my bicycle. But whoever uploaded this to Google was coincidentally also on Day 18, according to the caption |
Plus, you'd never be able to Google one with a bicycle in front of it, would you? [Googles adding word "bicycle" to search]. Oh. Yes you can. Quite easily. And I doubt anyone would know it wasn't my bicycle.
Conversations about whether or not I was in Scotland literally added about two hours to today's ride, which was quite tame. I descended more than I ascended, and met the rarest, but certainly the most fun, types of roller coaster climbs. These are the ones where the momentum from a downhill is almost enough to get you over the next uphill. Feels like this would be a frequent occurrence, right? It's not.
Today was also the first time I felt it necessary to wear my neon yellow cycling jacket to stay warm. Only a few days ago, on my ride to Harrogate, sweat was dripping into my eyes and blurring my vision. Today was legitimately chilly. "Scotland's always cold!" I'd heard from the people of England, "And rainy!" My guidebook (I'm back on track!) doesn't exactly pinpoint when the route enters Scotland, but being that it was both cold and rainy, I knew I was close. Perhaps I should've paid more attention in Geography class.
"Am I in Scotland yet?"
 |
| Maybe I crossed the border here? |
"No. Go that way and..." (ten minute conversation ensues).
"And there's a sign that says 'Welcome to Scotland'?"
"Oh. If you want a sign you'll have to go that way and..." (fifteen minute conversation ensues).
Then repeat.
Again.
And again.
Until finally-
"Am I in Scotland?"
"Yes!"
"But there was no sign!" I followed everyone's directions so carefully.
"Well if you want the sign you'll have to..."
 |
| The tourists all fled after they took this pic |
I gave up and followed the pre-loaded route into Gretna Green, a small town on the border with exactly one claim to fame: It's where people used to go to elope (and I suppose some still do). Since the marriage laws of Scotland were more lax than those of England, people would flock to the Blacksmith's Shop- just over the border- and tie the knot. Other than that landmark and a host of kitschy hotels, there's not much to the town.
Yet it's teeming with tourists, each taking their picture in front of the statue of two entwined hands. They snap the picture. Jump back into the car. And speed off to the next landmark. I think some tourists see traveling as a sport to see who can take the most pictures. I mean, I was there... so of course I took the picture... but still. Seems like an awfully silly tourist destination. I can only hope it was part of a scavenger hunt.
In a final last ditch effort to take the picture I really wanted, I asked two elderly men if they knew where I could find a 'Welcome to Scotland' sign.
One of them pointed clearly.
"Go that way for two miles."
That's the kind of direction I can follow.
Although I did not have it in me to go out of my way to visit the highly recommended Pooley Bridge this rainy morning, and the campsite I'd booked for the night was a three mile cycle in the opposite direction, I knew I'd regret it later if I didn't cycle out of my way for this pic:
Not a whole helluva lot happened today.
Saw some castles.
Cycled through the city of Carlisle.
Talked to a bunch of people.
Had a beer.
But one memorable thing happened for sure.
I made it to Scotland.
P.S.
 |
| Very odd claim to fame. |
In a final last ditch effort to take the picture I really wanted, I asked two elderly men if they knew where I could find a 'Welcome to Scotland' sign.
One of them pointed clearly.
"Go that way for two miles."
That's the kind of direction I can follow.
Although I did not have it in me to go out of my way to visit the highly recommended Pooley Bridge this rainy morning, and the campsite I'd booked for the night was a three mile cycle in the opposite direction, I knew I'd regret it later if I didn't cycle out of my way for this pic:
 |
| Picture not found on Google. |
 |
| THIS BEER SPONSORED BY: Oliver Buehlmann! CHEERS, OLLIE!CLICK HERE TO SPONSOR A BEER |
Not a whole helluva lot happened today.
Saw some castles.
Cycled through the city of Carlisle.
Talked to a bunch of people.
Had a beer.
But one memorable thing happened for sure.
I made it to Scotland.
P.S.
I read this as "Cows Drunk on Irish Whiskey Crossing"
Thankss for sharing for more Social Jackpot
ReplyDelete