LIFE CYCLE WEATHER OR NOT
Forecasts are like porridge, reckons Rob Ainsley
Gale force winds and heavy rain the forecast said, issuing a severe weather warning. As we feared that one 60mph gust could blow us directly into the path of a lorry, we made the decision to cut our Scottish Borders cycling trip short, and drive straight to Edinburgh for a city break instead.
But as our B&B porridge came the next morning Scottish-style, with a pinch of salt, we thought that’s how we should take the forecast. Outside was windy, yes – but ‘severe weather’? It was only what we used to call ‘weather’. We were in Jedburgh, not Hurricane Alley. And we’d come to cycle, not walk up the Royal Mile dodging bagpipers.
Lorries threatened us in theory more than practice. On the empty back roads thus far, sneaking along river valleys and over remote moor tops, we’d encountered more animals than vehicles. Mostly squashed ones, true: foxes, badgers, game birds galore, equating to a sort of flat-pack Scottish wildlife set.
Prudence dictated we should err on the side of caution, but then she wasn’t here. So, we downed our porridge and cycled on as planned, which was the right decision. The tailwind propelled us east to the coast like we were on e-bikes, the rain largely held off, we stayed safely upright, and we had a blowy but fabulous day’s riding, enjoying scenery as good as the Lake District’s, but without the crowds, or the mobile phone coverage.
There’s an old-fashioned feel to much of the Borders – pre-chain shop-Britain, before outskirts supermarkets sucked the life out of local shops. Every village has a friendly tearoom, with good coffee and cake. At one, arriving soaked from a downpour, we were invited to put our clothes in the tumble dryer. (The last time I was invited to strip off after cycling to a cafe was in Santiago de Cuba, and I realised that it was a different sort of meeting place to the one I intended.)
Every handsome market town – Peebles, Selkirk, Melrose, Jedburgh, Kelso and so on – is full of cyclistfriendly shops, accommodation and services that would long ago have closed in an English equivalent of the same size. It’s like a trip back to the 1960s, especially when you’re trying in vain to get a decent pint. (At Eyemouth harbour, there’s a cliff that looks like a screaming man in profile. A real ale fan, perhaps, frustrated at finding only Belhaven Best.)
We had a great trip, with all the stuff you want on a cycling break – excellent accommodation, friendly towns and scenic rides. We enjoyed epic climbs (up from Talla Reservoir) and descents (down to Megget Reservoir, from Tima Water into Newcastleton over the moors). Yet we might have misguidedly cut it short if we’d given in to the forecast.
It’s a common situation. In today’s risk-averse, litigation-wary world, we’re bombarded with reasons not to do things, with exclamation marks in triangles. I used to lead council bike rides, and we had to spend hours inspecting the route ahead of time doing detailed Risk Assessments, which ended up being far longer than the route notes. Well, the thicker the printout, the better it serves its core purpose – protecting backsides.
Most of the time, when wondering whether to call off a trip, it’s proved best in my experience to carry on cycling. I’ve regretted abandonments, but never regretted continuing. The weather often looks worse from inside your cosy B&B than it feels once you’re out in it. In monsoon-season Sri Lanka I decided not to venture out one torrential day, until I saw locals nonchalantly cycling along with umbrellas and six-foot stacks of wood on the back rack. I joined them and had a super day’s riding. We’re cyclists. We cope with it. Rain? Decent gear keeps you dry all day. (Half-decent gear, like mine, keeps you dry half the day. The first half.) Headwinds? Well, we wanted fresh air. Any circular ride is in principle half-headwind and half-tailwind, and anyway that’s what drop handlebars are for. Cold? There’s no such thing as bad weather, only poor-quality clichés.
So, forecasters, thanks for all the well-meant warnings, but I’m happy to trust my judgement as to whether to cycle or not. Enjoy your ride, whatever the weather.