Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Duringourdescent,IrememberedthatTheFalcon'sbrakeswerecompletelyinoperative
inthewet.Thelasttime wehadcycled inwetweather wasinDumfriesandIhadendedup
sliding into the back of a car. I had somehow forgotten this fact, and carried on as if they
would fix themselves.
On those treacherous roads, my inability to stop could have resulted in me taking a de-
tour over one of the many precipices. The wind, mist and rain were relentless, and it was
a challenge just to keep the bikes on the road. That, and the added threat of the menacing
traffic, made cycling on this stretch of road particularly dangerous.
'This is stupid,' said Ben, 'let's just walk again.'
'Finebyme,'Isaid,dismountinginasplitsecond.Itwas4pmandIhadbecomeslightly
concerned that we wouldn't make it to any civilisation before dark.
'How far is it until the nearest town or village?' asked Ben.
'A few more miles… probably,' I responded vaguely.
Every inch of our bodies was sodden, and for the first time on the trip, we started to feel
the cold. Even when the weather had been cold before, we had maintained a good body
temperature whilst cycling. Walking had allowed our circulation and heart-rates to slow
downandourbodiesweresufferingatthehandsoftheweather.Iimmediatelyregrettedbe-
ing so disparaging towards the three pairs of gloves mentioned in our guide book's sample
kit list. Just one pair of gloves would have made a big difference.
Wewalkedforseveralmileswithnosenseofoursurroundingswhatsoever.Thefogwas
so thick that we couldn't even see the other side of the road, let alone what lay ahead of us.
Then, emerging from the fog, a sign appeared.
Glencoe Visitor Centre
It was like an oasis in the desert. Only without the sand, certainly without the sun, and
with lots more rain.
'Pleasebeopen,pleasebeopen,pleasebeopen,'werepeated,aswewalkedupthelong
drive to the visitor centre. There wasn't anything in particular that we thought the visitor
centre could do for us to ease our situation, but the idea of being indoors and warm was all
that we desired.
It was open.
'They'vegotacafé!'saidBen.'Iwonderifthey'llheatourmicrowavemealsupforus.'
It was nearly 5pm and we hadn't eaten since breakfast.
The kitchen was being manned bya man named Paul, a smiley,bearded gentleman with
huge glasses. He was wearing a badge that said 'Visitor Centre Manager', so he seemed
like the right person to ask. We told him our story, and he smiled and nodded away enthu-
siastically.
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