To Blairgowrie

South Queensferry to Blairgowrie (76 miles)

Probably our best breakfast of the trip, including kippers and an interesting selection of fruit. The weather forecast is good overall but at present there is morning fog on the Firth of Forth that is hiding the suspension bridge towers and the top halves of the railway bridge cantilevers. I am optimistic that as we leave the coast the sunshine will improve. We have two different routes to choose from today. We can either go through Perth using bits of old road left beside the M90 and A9 together with main roads, or we can follow the CTC suggested route that takes a large rural detour around Perth to the west. We decide to opt for a variation of the CTC route. Anne-Marie our landlady very generously gives us donations both for the CAB and for Wessex Cancer before we leave.

We pedal steadily back to South Queensferry and from under the suspension bridge find the way up the ramped pathway that leads to the cycleway on the west side of the bridge. On the way across we stop for photos of this suspension bridge and also to take one across to the railway bridge. We have now cycled by tandem across the three major British suspension bridges over the River Humber, River Severn and the Firth of Forth. At the far side we pause to photograph the bike beside the “Welcome to Fife” sign. We trust the cycleway sign that whips us down from the main road to the waterside and we are not let down because in a short distance this road leads us back underneath the main dual carriageway onto the B981, which is to take us into Inverkeithing.

We follow the B981 through Inverkeithing, which is a rather drab town, without difficulty. Heading north and running parallel to the motorway we are caught by a serious lycra clad cyclist on a smart Cannondale road bike. He drops in with us for a chat. He is heading up to St Andrews to join his family who have a caravan there and says that whenever he does the trip he tries to find a new route. We also talk about our intended route across Scotland. He assures us that the Highlands, name notwithstanding, are flat and that Tomintoul will be the northern limit of seriously hilly Scotland. It turns out that he is a policeman and was on duty last night at Calton Hill where those so inclined go to partake in the late night / early morning dew as a part of the eve of May Day ritual. We obviously did not know what we were missing last night when we were looking at the floodlit monuments on the hill. After a couple of miles we say goodbye and he ups his pace to pull away from us.

We continue through Hill of Beath and Kelty neither of which are very attractive, skirt around Benarty Hill, which is an impressively large hill to the east, and then manage to get a glimpse of Loch Leven ahead of us before turning sharp left onto the B9097 to head off on our westward detour. By now all of the early morning mist or haze has burnt off and there is a clear sunny sky. The countryside is very pleasant and our route seems to be running beside but clear of a range of hills to the south. After a while we come across a “Welcome to Clackmannanshire” sign and stop to take a photo. This is a surprise to me because I had not realised that we would be leaving Fife. Just to confuse things further the CTC route notes state that we are in Tayside. I must get hold of maps of current and previous Scottish administrative boundaries when we return. We continue through Drum to Yetts O’Muckhart, where there is a particularly (and unnecessarily?) complicated road junction with the A91. I had hoped that we might find a coffee stop here but there is no pub, so it is bananas and water by the roadside.

Our next stage is a climb around Lendrick Hill following a stream up to the watershed before descending again to Dunning. The B934 that we are following is quite a small road beside the stream and in forest. The gradient rapidly increases and while Sheila disappears for a comfort stop I slowly pedal on up the next couple of hundred metres of harsh ascent. Re-united we continue in low gear. This is to be our record day for friendly waves from cars. Perhaps it is because it is a sunny bank holiday and people are relaxed and unhurried, but as cars pass us we receive friendly toots and waves from windows or open sunroofs. Our only problem is the road surface. The road is in good condition, but is made from such a coarse aggregate that at the speed we are going the bike is shaken with a vibration guaranteed to have the fillings out of your teeth. At one point there is a clatter behind and Sheila realises that our rear light has just parted company from the carrier and has bounced off across the road. The aluminium bracket holding it in place has had enough and has opted for a terminal stress fracture. We retrieve the lamp. It still works – these “led” lights really are tough. Coming over the summit we have a splendid long view of Dunning below us and much of the countryside for our afternoon ride laid out. It is a fast downhill whoosh to Dunning requiring our speed to be checked at the bends because of rather liberal doses of sand and gravel across the road on the corners.

Dunning is an interesting historic village with information boards describing its sights and history in the central square. We admire the Norman church of St Serf. Not being sure about future lunch possibilities we decide to take an early lunch here and wheel the tandem into the garden of the Kirkstyle Inn and settle ourselves at a table in the sunshine. After a bit of confusion about the procedure for ordering we sort out the drill and enquire about sandwiches. We are told that the chef is finishing off bread making but at the longest we can have “sandwiches in 20 minutes". We do not want to be too long but this is fine. I also order ginger beer shandies. Having been caught out once before with ginger beer and lemonade and not being sure of Scottish drinking habits, I explain that this is ginger beer + bitter. Ten minutes later the lad in the Kirkstyle Inn shirt returns with our drinks. They are ginger beer + lemonade! Communication is obviously not too easy here, but heck it is very hot and sunny so this will do. We should have realised this was a sign of service (or lack of) to come. After 20 minutes we ask about our lunch and are reassured that it is “coming”. The garden fills up with other groups and their orders are taken. 40 minutes down and no sign of food - Yes it is “coming”. After an hour a van pulls up and we see boxes of bread and rolls being delivered. So what was all this baloney about the chef and bread making? If they knew they had no bread they should not be selling sandwiches. Still now that they have the ingredients they should not be long in coming. Wrong again. Other people who had ordered at the same time as us have given up and left; and our 20-minute lunch eventually extends to a two-hour wait.

Later than we intended it is time finally to be back on the road heading through Auchterarder and Kinkell Bridge where we turn eastward again to begin the return leg of this detour to bring us back north of Perth. We press on through Trinity Gask and Findo Gask. It is pleasant countryside but this is a low point for me. I had started the day with a bit of a sore throat and this has progressed into a slight earache. Also I have a sore bum and can’t seem to get comfortable on the saddle. It is hot and on one stretch climbing gently but steadily uphill it feels as if I am pedalling the tandem on my own.

Our route takes us on to Methven where we are to make a right and left turn across the A85. This we do without problem and as we set off up a steep climb we pass two grandparents and small grandchild. The grandparents enthusiastically wave, “look it’s a tandem”, and we wave back and hoot the horn. As is the way of small grandchildren, he manages to exude total indifference and clearly has much more important priorities, like a promised ice cream, to think about. After a very hard short climb the road seems to be turning decisively to the west and I am losing confidence in just where we are going. We halt to give the map some close scrutiny and realise that south of the A85 the road splits into a triangle. What we had thought to be the priority road clearly was not and so the T junction we had arrived at was a quarter of a mile or so west of where we should have been, hence giving an immediate left turn too soon. We turn around and Sheila complains about the unnecessary climb. I have a moment of lucid positive thinking and point out that going uphill unnecessarily may be bad news, but much worse is to go downhill and then have to retrace back uphill. And we have made the grandparents’ day by cycling past them, which was only possible because we were on the wrong road. Our correct turn is beside a church with a spire (OK if I had looked at the map first that is a pretty obvious landmark). In fact when we get to the junction it is a bit complicated with the road splitting in two. We guess it all joins back together in a short way but with a slight loss of confidence we ask someone coming out of the churchyard if this is the road to Pitcairngreen? A classic non-conversation ensues. If she had just said, “I’m sorry I don’t know”, we would have smiled, said “thanks” and pushed on. But she has to be “helpful” and with the opening gambit of, “I don’t usually come this way” settles in to discuss the matter insisting on looking at our map. It is soon apparent that any map would have been a foreign language to her let alone our cut up photocopy strip of OS map that does not even have north at the top. Some time later we amicably part company having agreed “I’m sorry I don’t know” was the gist of her directions. We press on and, hey presto, the roads join back up and we successfully work out the direction of our route.

After a swoop down to the River Almond followed by the inevitable climb back up we arrive in Pitcairngreen, which, as its name suggests, has a large and attractively shady green at its heart. From here it is about two miles before we are back once more on a bridge over the A9 just north of Perth. It seems to have been a very long day to make a sweeping detour around Perth and very little progress northwards as the crow flies (or the main A9 road goes). We still have about 13 miles to go. We decide to look for a late afternoon tea stop and, as we are only skirting Luncarty, it looks as though Stanley might be a good bet. At Stanley we will be coming into the village beside the River Tay and there should be some good places to stop. By now the wind has got up and is blowing steadily towards us as we set off on the B9099.

On the way to Stanley we see the river including some substantial new development across the river that looks like residential conversions of former mill buildings, but on the approach to the village the river disappears behind bits of peripheral residential property and in the village itself is completely invisible. There are no teashops or other facilities so it is a chewy bar and water stop. On the map we can see that the church is beside the river so we head down a side road to reach it. Unfortunately the road gets narrower, turns into a track and before we know what has happened we are rather embarrassingly in the middle of someone’s back garden looking at the church, which is on the other side of the occupants' garden hedge. We retreat and try the next road with success. The church is quite a fine classical building with a well-placed bench in the sun beside the portico. We lean the bike on the wall. But where is the river? I explore round the back and fight my way through some undergrowth to a fence with a padlocked gate. There below in a ravine with white water is a magnificent sweep of the River Tay tumbling down to a weir. It is totally ignored by Stanley with absolutely no public access. We sit on the bench, relax and eat our assorted provisions.

Eventually we stir ourselves for the final push to Blairgowrie. The road takes us to Murthly and then on a bridge over the River Tay into Caputh. From here we work our way eastwards through Spittalfield and Kirton of Lethendy to reach Blairgowrie. Our B&B is on the outskirts of town as we arrive. A cup of tea and a soak in the bath restores the body sufficiently to make a trip into town in search of dinner seem like a good next move.

We cruise the main street looking at the dining options (some of which are closed) and then plump for a fairly basic looking café that turns out to have Italian leanings. We are fed a basic but very acceptable carbohydrate replenishing meal of pasta. Before returning to the B&B I take the opportunity offered by a late night opening supermarket to replenish our banana stocks. And while in there I am tempted by an end-of-day 10p bargain bag of doughnuts.

Back at the B&B I decide that it would be a good idea to check the tandem over to make sure that nothing else has been shaken loose today. We discover that the rear tyre is down to about 40 psi with a slow puncture. Pleased to have discovered it now rather than after breakfast tomorrow, I change the tube and bring the punctured one in for a patch. I also discover that the front lamp bracket is cracked and has come loose. I tighten the bracket bolt but trust that the bracket itself will survive a bit longer. While doing tandem maintenance we are joined by the man of the house who talks bikes. He used to be a keen cyclist and is eager to tell us of his various personal bests, including for 10 and 25 miles time trials. He also recounts tales of epic journeys across Scotland when the roads had little traffic and the rare lorries that one encountered travelled so slowly that it was possible to use them for a “tow” into headwinds for considerable distances. Back in the lounge it is time to relax with mugs of tea and make pigs of ourselves on the doughnuts, while patching the inner tube. We also try counting the contours on the map for tomorrow’s stage but very soon lose count and give up. We simply note that the Glenshee and Lecht cols are over 900 metres and 750 metres above sea level respectively. Well we did choose to go for an eastern route knowing that the Cairngorm and ski resorts were on the way (should that be “in the way”). Thank goodness Easter is very late this year. The road to Tomintoul was snow bound for a couple of days two weeks ago.

Blairgowrie to Tomintoul