Jamie is such a kind lad. He realises I'm missing my dog, so he's decided to reunite us.
The other day we arranged to meet halfway between his place and mine, he was to ride down from Thurso and I'd ride north from Dingwall.
Thinking I was going well, I texted him from the top of the Struie to say where I was, only to get a reply that he was already at Bettyhill. Jamie is a fit bugger, but that was some motoring along. Especially as I regard the 30 miles from Jamie's place to Bettyhill as a bit tough with lots of climbs.
With him going at that speed it looked like we'd meet much further south than arranged.
Not wanting to expose my decrepitude by just cruising along until that happened I thought I'd better get my finger out so I could meet him at Altnaharra as originally proposed. I flogged my ageing body but didn't quite make Altnaharra. We met up about 5 miles north of Lairg. I'd only managed just under 50 miles so far against Jamie's 75.
Jamie took a look at my pitiful state and realised my rapidly fading body would be an encumbrance if I joined my dog in woof heaven right then. (He's got big panniers, but not that big.) We stopped for a big feed at Lairg and suitably fuelled headed back south back to my place.
Part of the problem was my own fault. I'd slapped together a bike the night before. I thought trying gears would be a good idea so put a Rohloff wheel on the bike. I don't know how gearies do it, the mental energy of trying to nut out the right time to change gear was beyond me. By the time we got to the Struie I had discovered that it was far more pleasant to walk than ride at walking speed, so what's the point of all those low gears? I did enjoy the opportunity to use the higher gears though.
We made it up the 800 feet of the Struie ok, I didn't have to walk more than a hundred yards or so, but I'll have to get fitter, I used to ride up that on my track bike.
I also relearned a lesson I'd learned years ago. Don't go for a long ride on a bike you've just tacked together. My saddle kept slipping down so I would end up pedalling like a clown and the handlebar position had to be adjusted several times to alleviate pain in my wrists.
Jamie, kind fellow that he is, was very tolerant of my pace.
It was only when I got home I realised he had actually been motoring along. He had got a lift to Bettyhill!
The real bummer was realising I hadn't quite managed a century at 98 miles all up.
So maybe it's not time to hang up the bike...
To celebrate I took my track bike for the next day's ride up the Lenaig (abt 500'). It' was no problem and a much nicer feeling than grinding uphill with a Rohloff.
Edit: it turns out my seat was nearly 50mm too low by the time I got home. I've ditched the nice shiny anodised seat clamp that blended so well with the bike's aesthetic, and replaced it with a sturdy but ugly Giant one.