Rich Rothwell

The Edinburgh to Morpeth Express

January 14th, 2012

…left at approximately 4:30 following a work meeting at Haymarket.

Took a flippin age to Get Out Of Dodge as the whole of the Haymarket area is currently one way due to loads of road works. The sun was setting and I really wanted to clear the city before rush hour traffic caught me up on my dash into the hills. Besides, I had an appointment to keep.

Thing is, I’ve done this commute before after carefully studying a map. It was over a year ago and I realised as I fumbled my way through the suburbs that my memory was not actually photographic…

Balls. Nothing looked familiar. Darkness was creeping in. It was getting cold. Like really cold…

I was scrambling now, desperate to avoid a rush hour stampede. It was far from perfect but I found the A68. That will have to do. 30 miles of hugging the hard shoulder was not what I had in mind when I decided a long commute would be ‘fun’.

Anyways, as I approached Jedburgh the traffic had thinned right down, virtually to nothing. A water stop at the garage. The attendant asked me where I was going. I weathered the usual ‘are you nuts!!’ reaction. She told me the thermometer was on -5. Didn’t I know it! Stopping hammered home how intensely cold it was; legs and arms seized up. Breath became shortened. What the Hell would the top of Carter Bar feel like?!

If you’ve never ridden a road bike from Jedburgh to Carter Bar, I recommend you do. It’s twelve punishing undulating miles with a summit approach reminiscent of a true Alpine Pass; gnawing gradient, sweeping hairpins, and snaking crash barriers.

Breathtakingly cold. But stunningly beautiful. Crystal clear. Deadly still. A silent star spangled moment on a deserted border hill.

The descent was baltic. Desperately cold, I huddled in a ball, trying to minimise movement as I plummeted towards Catcleugh Reservoir. The blast through the east side of Kielder, Redesdale and Otterburn is high speed swooping fun. The average speed was creeping up… good job; I might be late…

90 miles in and I hit Winter’s Gibbert; the final climb before the ‘time trial’ stretch back to base. Cleared Harwood now. Watching the clock. Half an hour passed. Yep, ten miles to base.

Made it. I stepped though the door, not a minute to spare.

“Ah! Good evening Mr Richard! Chicken Tikka Balti?”

Thanks Abdul. Impeccable timing and service as ever!

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