Approached from the east, Apigill Hill had never been quite as daunting as it had been when climbing from the Borgie River. However, this time, after a gorgeous ride from Kinbrace Station, I was floating upwards. On a loaded Thorn xTc, my progress was steady, to put it kindly, but entirely free from lactate. With no one able to accuse me of needing a rest, I had no qualms about stopping to take photos.
A realisation dawned. I was nearly 10kg lighter than I had been when living just a few miles from the big hill. There lies the beauty of retirement. Consistency is possible in a way that it never can be when work is exhausting and plagued by meetings which go on into the early evening.
My previous best at sticking to a training effort had been four weeks on the surprisingly excellent Lance Armstrong Performance Program. One retailer at Amazon UK currently has that book on sale for a penny, which suggests most people are unwilling to remember that Lance occasionally did good things. As far as my own programme of pre-breakfast physical jerks and a wholefood diet is concerned, I’ve managed almost a year so far and the consistency appears to be paying off.
Back to the riding. The weekend in Tongue was highly enjoyable but Monday morning meant battling into a stiff wind on the way back to the train at Lairg. I stopped too often for photos and then lost more time fighting the wind on the endless climb from Altnaharra to The Crask. Once over the top, I had to put the hammer down or miss the train. I arrived with 15 minutes to spare. Then the train was another 15 minutes late. And if I had been late, the train would have been on time!
All of the photos were taken with a 50mm lens. No wide angle shots. This is pretty much what Flow Country looks like.