Aberdeen to Amsterdam

245 miles in the saddle over seven days, down the east coast of Britain from Aberdeen to the Newcastle ferry terminal.

I’m writing from about twenty miles off the coast of Whitby, but what i’m doing isn’t about any destination. I’m new to this blogging thing so go easy on me, but here’s an attempt to tell you about the journey so far:

I set off from Aberdeen later than I intended, as before leaving, I had to pack up all of my possessions and get the flat fully cleared. This, of course, took longer than i’d expected. Finally, with most of the day gone, I was out. Aberdeen saw me off with some rain.

Soundtrack: Shylmagoghnar - Emergence.

Smooth, if wet, down the Deeside way, then south-east at Peterculter. Across the hills towards Stonehaven. About halfway there, the sun was setting and the wind coming in. I camped up in a little secluded patch of trees, surrounded by farmers’ fields, and entirely coincidentally just up the road from a pub.

Day 2 was a little sunnier. Great to be on the bike again! I rolled down the hills to the coast and Stonehaven.

A little stop for supplies, and I climbed sharply up the cliffs out of Stony.

Dunnotar castle on the horizon. Day 2 became really tough as I made my way down the coast. A strong (20-25mph) headwind came in, and I had to push hard to keep moving. My average speed was way down, and to be a little harsh, the east coast isn’t that interesting at any speed.

“I eventually got to Montrose, a nice looking, historic feeling town. Here, the saga of the Norse Gods and the Thai Food occurred: As I rode in down the main street, a strange craving came upon me. I sought the tourist info for their help in satisfying this craving, however to my dismay they had to disappoint - there were no good Thai places in Montrose. An Indian, sure, and they might have a Thai dish on the menu, but they told me the nearest good Thai food was Dundee. Never mind. The craving subsided, defeated. I rode on, hoping to find at least a sandwich before hitting the open road again. Going down past the harbour, the Tor Viking loomed large. The Viking ships are a series of ships painted black and yellow by their Danish owners, and named after Norse gods. The mjollnir in my pocket weighed heavy. Just as I rode past, I spotted a Pie Bob’s Bakery just up the hill. “That’ll do” I thought, and rode up for a pie. No pies! They were shutting! But, I noticed their soup of the day: Thai chicken soup. The gods of the Norse smiled down upon me. Maybe this was Thor apologising for the headwind. And that is the story of how the Norse gods made sure I got some Thai food in Montrose.”

I rode hard but not very fast for mile upon mile, passing decreasingly quaint villages. Stef had promised to let me crash if I reached Dundee, otherwise I don’t think i’d have made it so far. The last ten miles or so got a bit easier as the wind eased, evening coming in. Stef and Fitzie were really welcoming, and made sure I was well fed and comfortable.

Coming out of Dundee, everything ached. I warmed up by crossing the Tay Bridge, which is much longer than it looks.

On the other side, I stopped already and purchased a steak sandwich. Surveying the route, I decided to take it easy, and go to St Andrews, just 15 or so miles total from Dundee, for a bit of a rest day. Trucking on through, I used some main roads, and some nice cycle tracks. The wind was quite mild, and the route pleasant. A nice part of the country! I hooked up my speakers and listened to some music as I rode into St Andrews, bringing black metal into this sacred town.

Soundtrack: Dimmu Borgir - Stormblåst

St Andrews was nice! Quaint, historic, pleasant buzz to it. Very much like Oxford. This is the cathedral, a pretty awesome ruin with lots of interesting features.

Brutal.

Something missing here…

The steed performing valiantly. Doing better than I am, at least.

Geocaching took me to St Salvator’s Chapel. I had a quick look inside, which had the correct chapel-y feel to it. At the other side, a guy was burned at the stake for teaching the wrong doctrines. When he burned, an image of his face appeared on the stonework of the chapel. I took a picture, but it’s not all that convincing really.

That night I stayed in the hostel and met some really fascinating travellers: two Swiss sisters an a kiwi guy. We swapped stories and pictures, advice on where to go in Scotland, encouragement to cycle through Switzerland… Hearing what the others had done made me feel really unadventurous and sheltered, and inspired to see more of the world.

On my way out, I rode up onto the spine of the land in hot sunshine, with awesome views over the Firth of Forth appearing once I reached the top.

I cycled through some quaint and pretty, and some grey and unattractive villages on this coast, such as Buck(fast)haven, which had a terrible cyclepath. Some amazing views, though. Creepy gates in the middle of nowhere - I wonder what lies beyond:

At the end of the rainbow is something beautiful! Wait no, that’s Kirkcaldy.

As I got closer to Edinburgh, the Forth Rail Bridge loomed into view, along with some other really dramatic set-pieces.

A few hailstorms interrupted me, but I pressed on. The villages became nicer and more upmarket. The path became nicer too, and I was given this gravel track through woodland alongside the railway to bomb down. Great fun!

“Crossing the Forth Road Bridge was pretty epic. It’s such a huge structure, and with other similar ones on each side… Well, I was in some state of awe. I had a really good time crossing this significant milestone.”

This road leads to nowhere…

“On the other side, I turned east, out of the wind, for 10 lovely miles through Edinburgh’s suburbia. First was a scummy but quiet housing estate which the route wound through. Then came big country parks owned by very very rich people. Then a section along the side of the motorway, where the rain came out briefly and I passed through fields. … Then came the outskirts populated with the very rich. Big mansions sat in their walled enclaves, perfectly clean SUVs parked outside. I saw nobody on the streets here, despite it being early evening. Then some more modest areas rolled past. Nice, out-of-the-centre areas for the more ordinary Edinburghians. The cyclepath followed a leafy old railway, green on all sides for a while. Then we started getting into town, more and more bustle starting to surround me. The ten miles from the FRB were a fascinating slideshow of the different facets of a city.”

A pretty famous castle.

The next day, I decided to fast-forward 60 miles or so of the coast, as otherwise it would have been tough to make the ferry, and there was some sightseeing I wanted to do anyway. This metal snake allowed me to fast forward in a cheap and convenient manner.

The metal snake took me to Berwick-Upon-Tweed. Berwick was… pleasant, but not that pleasant. Perfectly nice, but not quite so quaint and pretty as i’d expected.

“Cycled through, then visited tourist info. Got advice to see Berwick’s walls, and tide times for Lindisfarne. I decided to spend a short while going around the walls - very heavy fortification, and it seems like Berwick has been largely demolished to make way for them.”

Weird place, not really English, not really Scottish. Its main purpose seems to be defending the border, whether from the English or the Scots.

Lowry painted a bunch of paintings here. He’s famous and stuff, but i’m not sure he’s that good. One setting was this tiny little courtyard, which he’d painted much bigger, and with chimneys and stuff in the background that don’t actually exist. Surely if you want to paint industrial ugly stuff, you go somewhere other that Berwick for your inspiration?

Aaanyway, this old bridge took me out of Berwick, onto pretty paths along the coast.

Presented without comment.

I dashed along this path. Finally this day I had a tailwind, and it felt amazing. The National Cycle Route annoyingly took me through some fields with barely any path, but never mind, I dashed on…

…for I had a deadline. The tidal island of Lindisfarne. It’s a shame I didn’t get a good picture of the causeway. It’s a long, impressive road amidst sandy flats at low tide, leading onto the island of Lindisfarne. Most of the island is sand dunes and nature reserve, but at the far end is some very significant history.

Lindisfarne is well known as a place of great religious significance. It’s also well knows as the location of the Viking invasion of 793, often regarded as the start of the ‘Viking Age’. The tourist signs around the island seemed to focus on the former reason for fame, almost entirely omitting the latter. But I brought the Vikings with me once more. Soundtrack: Amon Amarth.

Above is the priory that the Vikings sacked. The history is pretty palatable! Vikings came through then and destroyed the Christian place of worship, and now it’s a tourist attraction - seems equally un-sacred in a way.

Many of the tourists (and there were indeed many) seemed totally unaware of the Viking history of the place. I stood out enough amongst all the slightly posh families, but i’d have loved to have taken some reenactment here.

The castle. Usually i’m all about castles, but, well, it’s just a castle. The priory is cooler, because Vikings.

Both Vikings and time are serious destructive forces around here.

I believe Wychwood (reenactment group) decided that this mead was the best of the meads we tasted. Pretty cool to visit the winery. Again, very much a tourist attraction though.

The priory isn’t all that impressive to look at, without context.

I got a call from a WarmShowers host while I was riding back across the causeway, with an offer of a place to stay. Brilliant! I forged on through the back roads of a beautiful and idyllic English countryside. The farms barely smelt of farm. The farmers all had pleasingly stereotypical scowls. This is an old dovecot, converted into a holiday home for people who have the money to stay in dovecots.

Kvlt.

Soundtrack: Caladan Brood - Echoes of Battle

Less kvlt.

On a whim, I followed a sign to Preston Tower, and found this impressive old fortified tower.

It was all accessible, and some of the rooms were done up all ‘thenti.

This impressive old clock mechanism still ticked away behind glass doors.

Up on the roof, the view stretched for miles.

Give me the names and addresses of the people who say these are ugly…

That night, I stayed with Jonny, who really went out of his way to make me feel at home in his home. He’s toured all over the world and has all sorts of fascinating stories. I think he’s the first person i’ve met who’s really really into cycle touring. I got some great advice, and also delicious food. Much inspiration and rest later, I was on my way. Thanks Jonny!

Some castle in the countryside.

Some other castle in a nice peaceful village.

Getting close to Newcastle, the suburban sprawl crept up on me without warning, and suddenly I had passed from countryside and a lovely coast road into a web of villages and towns. I meandered my way into the city, avoiding the big roads where I could, until I got close enough to pick up some of Newcastle’s surprisingly great cycle infrastructure. Nice smooth cyclepaths took me the rest of the way. The weather did some weird things:

I’d love to explore Newcastle some more, however I was exhausted, and didn’t get much partying done. Everyone who I spoke to was cheery and friendly. Maybe i’ll be back some day!

Errands and preparation for going abroad took up most of the day. I dashed about the city, then headed for my bike and got on the road. The first mile or so was slow as I had to keep checking the phone for directions, but then I joined the Hadrian Way or something, a really good cyclepath along and above the river Tyne. It was smooth, quick riding with the wind, views down onto the river, in warm sun under blue skies. Seven or so miles of this took me to the ferry terminal, where I said goodbye to Newcastle. This is the ferry that’s as I type taking me to the Netherlands, and the man who told me to do some sunbathing while I waited.