Back in the Saddle

 It's been a while, I knew that.  Perhaps a few months.  But the wheels needed to turn, and to do so the legs had to start working.  Muscle memory will kick in quickly, won't it?

Then I switched on, and saw the Odo reading.  I remembered that day.

That was the day when the reading clicked over to give me 45678 just as I turned in at the gate.  A number-cruncher's dream; rare material for a wordsmith.  I quite liked it too.  Serendipity in the unplanned timing.

19 September, that was when that snap was taken.  Close on five months without turning a wheel.  A long list of perfectly valid reasons - health, weather, work commitments.  Every excuse you can imagine.  Lethargy too, perhaps.

This was going to be painful.  The old legs turned to jelly at the very thought.  Extra dollop of Chamois Cream, for those delicate parts.

Unforgivingly cold, never rising above 4 degrees.  Fortunately the wind of the previous days had calmed, a little.  An uphill start, of course, just to warm up.  I had had my eye on a variation to my regular ride, with a mile or two through the forest before joining the cycle paths.  It's likely to become a regular, especially after the buzzard perched to watch the fun.

I joined the cycle path above Findochty, and thence on to Buckie.  A downhill stretch from the forest to join a short passage of what can be a busy road.  That was when I realised that five months out of use did nothing for the brakes.  And the brakes were doing little to slow me down as the junction approached.  Perhaps some brake fluid needed, if only I knew where it goes.

Remnants of station platforms the only reminder of what was once the Great North of Scotland Railway.  1886 it was that they opened the station in Portknockie.  And in 1968, on 4 May, the last train left the station.  Still I'm sure Beeching's Grand Plan was a network of cycle paths, and they do them so well in these parts.

Those paths allow those of us who wish to walk or cycle to do so free from the scourge of traffic.  And there's little in the way of gradient as we take to the clifftop above the coastal villages.  Buckie was my turnaround point for this one, keen to make sure I didn't overdo the outward, and had enough in the legs to return in one piece.

Back through the forests, where there's a bit of harvesting underway and buzzards might be concerned about next year's perches.  The Odo recorded pitiful mileage, and despite the return leg being into the wind I opted to carry on a little further eastwards.

On to the viaducts.  Views over Cullen Bay, from above the golf course as the surf surged in frothing white crescents.  A little downslope to ease the way into the breeze, all the time thinking I had to to return uphill.  The coloured rooftops of Seatown, then the harbour.  And the dinosaur.  Time to turn for home.

And so a gentle, but cold, ride.  The Odo shifts 15 miles or so.  The legs complain.  Dinosaur.  But it's a start, and Beeching's legacy is just grand in these parts.  It feels good to get those muscles working again.  Perhaps a repeat on the morrow.  Might even take the camera.  And a special word for Madison Lobster gloves - toasty hands, despite the chill and the icy breeze.  Hot lunch required.