Tim Downie said:Having just got back from crossing the LG on foot, I was somewhat
surprised at the number of folk lugging bicycles over the pass.
Given that there must be the best part of 12 completely unrideable
miles in the middle of it, it really didn't look like it was any fun
at all.
Anyone here done it and regretted it? Alternatively, does anyone
here rate it as a fantastic experience that they'd like to repeat?
Well I did it in the late summer of 1946 aged 11.
My father came home from the war in early 45 and couldnt settle.
He got me the smallest pair of womens army boots he could find
and we went by bus from Blackpool to the Lakes every weekend
and spent the days hillwalking or catching/collecting food and we slept
in a bivi tent.
Next year we got bikes, exarmy clunkers with big tyres and rod brakes,
mine being the smallest made. We rode in Lakeland and also Bowland
and the Dales, so by autumn he said I was ready for the big one.
I remember a wierd train journey finally ending at Aviemore. We spent
3 days there pinching spuds and veges, catching rabbits and fish and
with the food cooked and wrapped in newsprint we were well stocked
for the next stage of the journey, over to Braemar.
Riding in the forest was easy, I knew there was a big hill but we'd done
carry up and carry down plenty of times, so I thought. We'd started the
walking part at first light to keep cool but it wasnt long before my legs
gave way and we had to do a series of links. I struggled uphill and dad
came with me carrying food and gear, then he went down for his bike
and then back again for my bike. We lunched on the pass and then we
struggled to ride and push, onwards and downwards. That night we slept
indoors, it must have been in a bothy, with some other wierd characters.
Then came Braemar and the ride on side roads east to the coast, to
somewhere, when we caught trains to Edinburgh then Glasgow and home.
I dont recall too much of the journey, I was kanackered, but I liked it
so much that when my dad finally settled to the quiet civilian family life
I took to riding his bike through the wild country with older guys who
called themselves rough riders.
Pity they never lived to see the advent of the mountainbike.
I cant do it now but carrying one of those over the high passes is a
doddle compared to the bad old days.
But by then we had light meths stoves, freeze dried food, modern
clothing and too many regulations about catching and eating ones food.
Mike