Category: family cycling

Treasured Islands

Posted in family cycling, islands, touring5 Comments

As a firm believer in the power of lists it was a delight to come across ‘The Scottish Islands’ when I started to think about our next island adventure after Tiree and Coll in 2019. Hamish Haswell-Smith spends the first few pages defining the characteristics of what he has decided to declare an ‘island’, and no doubt received substantial correspondence on the matter until his death in 2019. Islands with fixed links (e.g. bridges) are not included, neither are land masses of less than 40 hectares. Even with these restraints he has listed 168 islands, complete with historical, geological, population and visitor information. Even more generously, Haswell-Smith has included the details and descriptions even where the island is not an ‘island’, helping ‘The Scottish Islands’ weigh in at 532 pages.

In a homage to Haswell-Smith’s epic list making, and decisive rule creation, here is ours, which I’ll update and perhaps rearrange as we adventure further. I’ve included only those that mini-cyclist and I have visited together, and divided the list into islands visited by bicycle and those visited without. I’ve also listed the islands that aren’t defined as ‘islands’ by Haswell-Smith, although these aren’t included in the island count. Our plan, assuming mini-cyclist wishes to continue cycle touring with his mother, is that we visit all of Scotland’s 93 inhabited islands by the time he leaves school.. and perhaps all 168 over my lifetime.

  1. Arran (2022)

Easily accessible from central Scotland by train and ferry, Arran is a popular destination for cyclists, many beasting the Five Ferries route or hurtling around in one day. Our more leisurely trip in 2022 was blessed with sunshine and low wind, and provided an excellent lesson in the use of reliable milk containers. A circumnavigation over two nights gave us some time for exploring, but another few days are needed to visit some of the island’s attractions. We’ll undoubtedly be visiting Arran again, not least because we need to land on Holy Isle, off the coast of Lamlash on the east of the island.

2. Bute (2020, 2021, 2022)

Beautiful Bute provided the perfect pandemic escape in the autumn of 2020, before the doors to adventure closed down again. We’ve been back each year since to explore further and enjoy the (now) familiar away from home. Another island easily accessible by train and ferry, Bute provides good cycling conditions where you are never too far from a cup of tea and slice of cake. Make sure you go to the lovely Mount Stuart, an absolute architectural jewel (with a cycle rack right outside the front door) in beautiful grounds.

3. Great Cumbrae (2019, 2021)

We took three child-free friends on our first tour of Great Cumbrae, giving me some time to think about the difference between solo parent cycling and touring with other adults on hand. Great Cumbrae is the perfect place for a first foray into island exploration by bicycle from the central belt: low levels of traffic, easy to access by public transport and close enough to home to leave at breakfast and be on the ferry by lunchtime. Its only lack is a campsite, although we enjoyed our luxurious stay at the Cathedral of the Isles and our more spartan nights at the Field Studies Council

4. Kerrera (2019)

We barely touched our tyres down in Kerrera, but we didn’t say anything in our rules about length of stay! But as Kerrera is just a short hop over the water from Oban, where so many island adventures start, I suspect we’ll eventually get to the famous Kerrera Tea Garden

5. Tiree (2019)

Our cycle tour to Coll and Tiree was mini-cyclists first outing with his own panniers, which made a significant difference to his ownership of our journey and the provisions we carried. Mini-cyclist found a pack of children to roam with at the campsite, paddled in the freezing sea and we heard corncrakes in the night. It’s a truly magical place and our only regret was not staying for longer.

6. Coll (2019)

Coll is just a short ferry ride from Tiree, and considerably more undulating than advertised. We saw few people once we were out of Arinagour, making it feel wonderfully wild and remote. Highly recommend watching the world go by outside the Island cafe.

7. Mainland – Orkney (2018, 2022, 2024)

Orkney’s 28 islands on the Haswell-Smith list means we should get to know the Orkney mainland well over the next decade. It was our first island adventure, when mini-cyclist was just 6, and (partly) proved my theory that cycling on islands would be easy and safe for all concerned. In 2018 we stayed in Kirkwall, left the bikes behind to visit several of the UNESCO sites and took day trips to two of the other islands. We enjoyed our stays at the large and popular Pickaquoy Centre in Kirkwall, which is perfectly placed for the midnight arrival from the Aberdeen ferry, but we lost our hearts to Stromness in 2022 due to the welcome at the small Point of Ness campsite and superb Stromness museum.

In 2024 we were back to explore part of the Mainland we’d not visited before, on the hunt for archaeology, ancestors and puffins. Birsay was a real treat, with new friends in tow we explored the cliffs of the Brough of Birsay and sampled the indoor delights of the youth hostel after days of rain. Big shout out to Palace Stores that let me off with our messages without paying, and to the Birsay Antiques Centre for their welcome.

8. Westray – Orkney (2022)

We had puffins on our mind in 2022 and a colleague recommended Castle O’Burrian in Westray as the place in Orkney to get up close and personal to these charming birds. Unfortunately they love cliff edges and I don’t, so most of our interactions with them included my hysterics as mini-cyclist sidled closer towards the edge and further away from me. Don’t let my overanxious health and safety assessment put you off this lovely island – we really enjoyed staying at the comfortable Chalmerquoy campsite, pottering around the Westray Heritage centre to see the Westray wife, and mini-cyclist loved talking to the proprietor at Richans Retreat, a cosy cafe by the ferry terminal.

9. Papa Westray – Orkney (2022)

Papa Westray is flourishing, with its small but determined community improving facilities and creating an enticing location for tourists. We camped at the comfortable hostel, enjoyed replenishing our provisions at the local shop and explored the beaches, cliffs and archaeology. Our visit was made special by the friendly hostel occupants, one group inviting us to share their scrumped rhubarb and ice cream and another keeping us company in the ferry terminal after a timetable misunderstanding..

10. Shapinsay – Orkney (2018)

One of our day trips in 2018, heading out to Shapinsay from Kirkwall, to enjoy the lush green fields and another ferry ride

11. Sanday – Orkney (2018)

We didn’t do Sanday justice in 2018 with our day trip, so I’m sure we’ll be back to explore further and walk the many glorious beaches

12. Mainland – Shetland (2022)

I had been apprehensive about our decision to cycle in Shetland, but armed with a hand drawn route map and enthusiasm from one of my knowledgeable colleagues we arrived in Lerwick in July 2022 and started peddling towards our first stop in Skeld. Over the next few days we fell hard for Shetland, which is just as well as it has 30 islands in its archipelago. Exposed, windy and hillier than you might think, the cycling wasn’t easy and the weather wasn’t good. You have to earn your views, as well as your dinner, but it was worth every pedal stroke to see its beauty and feel at the edge of the world. We found an overwhelming welcome and warmth from everyone we met, from courteous drivers to campsite companions, and we’re looking forward to coming back.

13. Bressay – Shetland (2022)

Bressay is a seven minute ferry ride across from Lerwick, and we really enjoyed our too short visit. Cake at the lovely Speldiburn cafe was top of mini-cyclists highlights and we rode out to the lighthouse in hope that the orca would finally show themselves (they didn’t). If we’re feeling flush next time we’re in Shetland, the wildlife boat tours from nearby Noss look like they might increase our chances of spotting the distinctive dorsal fins.

14. Papa Stour – Shetland (2022)

We have never been so wet and cold as we were in Papa Stour, as the rain poured in a way that made waterproofs redundant. In better weather we would have explored further, but we were quite satisfied to visit the beautiful community owned Papa Stour Kirk and wander along the deserted beach. What we cherished from this island was the kindness of the ferry crew, who went out of their way to make it a positive and memorable adventure for mini-cyclist.

15. Luing and 16. Easdale (2023)

The Slate Islands, not far from Oban, were our islands of choice in the summer of 2023. Unfortunately the weather was against us and we returned home early before the Type 2 fun turned into Type 3. Our visits to Luing and Easdale were only day trips due to the lack of campsites, so we made our base on Seil and explored from there. Highly recommend the Atlantic Islands Centre on Luing for lunch and their exhibition, and the Puffer cafe on Easdale for their warm welcome and hot tea.

18. North Ronaldsay (2024)

After the wrong turn out of Birsay left a slightly embarrassing gap in our island schedule (Rousay – we’ll be back), the Sunday Excursion Orkney Ferry timetable enabled us to add more than one new island in 2024. North Ronaldsay was bustling and we enjoyed talking to everyone we met that keeps this small island vibrant. Watching the cars and van being winched off the ferry was worth the journey by itself.

19. Hoy (2024)

Hoy is a special place, and Rackwick Bay was everything that we’d hoped for. Shrouded in mist, it feels like you are the only people left in the world. Although we soon discovered that wasn’t quite the case and mini-cyclist took up the challenge with our bothy co-guests to get the stove going and provide some much needed warmth and light for the evening. Hoy is hillier than the rest of the Orkney Islands, so pack your thigh muscles.

Non-cycling island visits

17. Isle Of May (2019, 2022)

A birders paradise, particular in June when the puffins are on land and thinking about making more puffins. Disappointed to realise we’d missed all the puffins by several weeks on our first trip in 2019, we took the Seabird Centre boat again from North Berwick in 2022 and returned elated.

Islands not included in Haswell-Smith island count

Seil (2023)

A passion for ‘geology’ (i.e. treasure) was the inspiration for our island choice in 2023 and it certainly delivered on that, with quartz and iron pyrite coming home in some quantity. Unfortunately the weather was less than optimal and our lovely campsite didn’t have anywhere to get dry so we aborted and headed back to the east coast earlier than planned. Seil itself was a delight and had it been drier we would have been happy to spend our days exploring the beaches. The islands Heritage Centre was lovely and a useful insight into the lives of people that lived and worked in these islands, providing slate for the world for several centuries.

Skye (2017)

As the home of a beloved friend, I’ve made many trips to Skye over the years but only one with mini-cyclist so far, and in weather conditions that defied use of a camera so here’s some I made earlier

Inchcailloch Island (2022)

This shakedown adventure, camping on Inchcailloch in Loch Lomond, helped us prepare for Shetland and was an unforgettable experience. Weather wasn’t good and we weren’t sure our tent would survive the winds, it did show us that you can be cold and wet and still have a great time.

Keep calm and carry on with cycling and cake

Posted in cake, coronavirus, East Lothian, family cycling2 Comments

At the time of writing cycling and cake are both legal, but judging by the media commentary on the Sunday sunshine tempting Londoners out of their homes the cycling element might not last for long.

Two weeks into lockdown and we are well aware of our household’s privilege, with a home that has enough room for solitary confinement, continued employment and sparsely populated, glorious outdoors available on our doorstep.

Like many households not yet in the eye of the Coronovirus storm, we are trying to keep calm and carry on by juggling work, home learning and monitoring the notifications from the local community resilience group. We each have our (different) preferred form of exercise but the Lesser Spotted Cycling Husband has gained some moral superiority as his is a manly display of digging for victory.

Being middle-aged with a prematurely born primary aged child has proved to be a reasonable training ground for coping with a global pandemic – we can wash hands with the best of them, understand that physical distance keeps you safe from people incubating disease and have not gone to a public house on a Friday night for almost a decade. We also know what it is to fear for the life of someone you love, and that placing your trust and hope in the NHS is rarely wrong.

The internet is awash with advice on how make best use of this pause in ‘normal’, but I’m finding that being in a pause is quite enough. At work I’m wading through the paperwork to ensure that we can soon provide useful and safe cycling services to key workers throughout the crisis. At home (conveniently co-located with work for the last four years) I’m trying not to let the unending flow of emails and learning activities into my son’s Google Classroom account give me parental performance anxiety.

To combat stress I’m relying on cycling and cake, having found through long-term use that both help me keep the balance I need to be a reasonable wife, parent and colleague. State sanctioned exercise once a day in the form of cycling feels slightly virtuous for once as it’s appeared as an actual directive from both NHS Scotland and Scottish Government.

The cake is perhaps less obviously virtuous but, given that my son’s interest in the contents of his Google Classroom is the inverse of mine, we’re looking for engaging learning activities in the wild and ‘baking’ has been the only activity that has ever induced him to voluntarily write anything down. We have already produced two cakes, pizza and a set of scones (of dubious quality) so at this rate we might manage enough content for a Coronavirus Cook Book by the end of lockdown, if absolutely nothing else.

Life has changed immeasurably, and perhaps forever, in ways that we can’t yet know. We do know that those already disadvantaged will come out worst from this global crisis, and some are just realising that ‘key worker’ is a term that applies to people that we pay the least. At the moment I’m just going to wait awhile in the pause, braced for what might come and with gratitude and awe of those that are fighting head on for us all.

Packing the kitchen sink

Posted in family cycling, touring3 Comments

I love packing and no holiday preparation feels quite as exciting as getting our Go Box down from the loft and installing the contents in panniers. Our solo parent cycle touring equipment has been refined over the last few years, mainly by trial and excessive error, so we’ve learnt something about the fundamentals. High quality, well researched, expedition comparisons of all cycle touring, camping and adventure activity equipment are available on the brilliant Next Challenge website but our solo parent experiences have led us on the following journey.

An evolution in tents (Picture 1, right to left)

We started out with what we had, which was my Eurohike 2-man tent bought 15 years ago. Weighting in at 3.5kg it wasn’t the lightest tent on the market but when you are hauling a four year old with it in a trailer an excess kg or two really makes little difference. Two Ortleib dry bags have been a good investment for containing soaking tents and dry sleeping bags (separately, if you can manage it).

In 2015 the Vango Banshee series was highly rated by the crowds at the first and fabulous Cycle Touring Festival and was purchased in great excitement, but going for the 2.75kg 3-person ‘300’ without regularly taking a 3rd person to carry it turned out to be a serious flaw. It performed well on our Orkney tour last year, but I opted to post it home before our final ride to reduce bulk on my overloaded Dawes.

Our brand new Alpkit Ordos 2 weighs 1.3kg but at twice the price of the Banshee it was only purchased after a particularly difficult day, which is when most of my impulsive financial decisions are made. Hardly bigger than the 1.5l bottle of ginger beer my son insisted on cycling around Tiree this year, it survived 25mph winds in Coll and a serious downpour in Oban.

A revolution in mats (Picture 2) but let sleeping bags lie (Picture 3)

Self inflating mats – what are they good for? Bulky and not cheap, I’ve used both Vango (orange bag) and Mountain Warehouse (black bag) ones over the last few years, not knowing that a child-inflating selection of mats was available. Looking for small and light mats that didn’t cost a fortune, I found Decathalon stock a helpfully short version, chosen by my son after a good roll around on all of them in store. Refusing to splash the £100 needed for a Thermarest that Twitter told my pal Claire was best, I went online for the Alpkit Cloudbase for my mat needs and had to fight my son off it every night during our recent adventure to Tiree and Coll.

Our cycle touring life in pictures, Aperol for size comparison

Our sleeping bags are now the bulkiest part of our kit: I’ve got a Vango Ultralight 600 and my son has a Mountain Warehouse 3 season bag that’s in need of a thorough wash and new compression sack. They do the job April through to October, but a large cash investment would be needed to take us winter camping in Scotland as far as I can see at the moment.

Sharing the load: the kitchen sink and cupboards (Picture 4)

My son’s bike was transformed into a work horse by our local bike shop so this year he was able to take his share of the load, with our Ortleib front rollers taking the strain of the kitchen equipment, cycling spares, tools and Mr Elephant on the back of his little bike.

I took the advice of Travelling Two a few years ago and invested in an Ortleib folding bowl and have found it invaluable for washing cooking equipment, clothes, a child, carrying water and dirty dishes. Equally helpful for the solo parent is the Platypus wine carrier, allowing you to ditch the glass bottle and still transport an entire bottle of wine.

The kitchen pannier also contains: a tiny Vango stove and gas cannister, Alpkit titaniumum pots (another difficult day purchase), headtorches, matches, Ikea plastic bowls, a few sporks, tea towel, small sharp knife, chopping board, a Tupperware pot or two, mugs, two plates and some pegs. (Note to self: the washing up sponge and washing up liquid bottle need replacing)

Clothes

Clean clothes have been the first casualty of solo parent cycling equipment refinement, along with washing. We managed one shower between us over 5 days on our last trip and, as far as I’m aware, no-one died because of it. Wearing wool is my first (only, to be honest) line of defence, and if you can see or smell anything untoward then you are too close to me and should move away. One spare set of clothes plus waterproofs and swimming gear is all I’m prepared to carry now unless I’m expecting to present myself to civilised company.

Don’t forget dragon capacity

Small children have the most incredible acquisitive powers – we cannot go for a walk without obtaining sticks, shells and random bits of grotty plastic. Feeling the weight of unspent pocket money, a substantial dragon was found and purchased to add to our load in Oban. Like the 1.5l of ginger beer, the smiles were worth the weight. You just don’t get that with spare pants.

My son and his new dragon

Solo parent cycling

Posted in family cycling, touringTagged 13 Comments

I’m not a single parent, but in matters of cycling I’m a solo parent. Twitter and Instagram followers will recognise my spouse as the ‘Lesser Spotted Cycling Husband’ as he usually only leaves his garden en velo to perform his annual cycling duty at Pedal on Parliament or in spectacular weather conditions where not cycling would be a crime against sunshine.

It’s unsurprising then that I’ve only managed to entice my husband on two cycling holidays in the last decade – once as a carefree couple in Barra and some years later with our son on a short family tour of the Netherlands. Now our son is at school the restrictions of school holidays and annual leave prevent extensive holiday time together as a family – no matter how advanced our mathematics, two sets of 25 days annual leave don’t equal 12 weeks of school holidays. Holiday logistics are focused mainly on reducing our son’s time in childcare and piecing together annual leave, toil, the help of extended family and work related travel in a jigsaw so that everyone feels like there was a holiday at some stage during the summer.

If you’ve ever stumbled across this blog before you’ll know I love nothing more than packing my panniers and heading away on my bicycle and, using the allure of cake, ginger beer and the promise of Night Time Adventures (also known as staying up after 7.30pm), my son is currently a willing companion.

Earlier in the year I managed to swindle three child-free friends, as well as my son, into coming on a 24 hour family cycling adventure to Great Cumbrae, giving me the mental energy to reflect on the rigorous nature of family cycling as a solo cycling parent and what I’ve learnt along the way:

Practice doesn’t make perfect, but it can help avoid basic disasters

Our first solo adventure was tame by any standards, camping in our friends gardens in adjacent local authority areas was quite enough at Easter when you can never be sure if it will snow or not. It was a good opportunity to test out our kit (too big), trailer (too heavy) and cycle paths (too variable) in combination with a four year old in a safe environment where someone else was likely to offer help without triggering the fear that they may want to abduct my child. An open back door at night gave me the peace of mind that if disaster fell (it didn’t) that I wouldn’t have to cope with it alone.

The trailer, whilst cumbersome, provided storage as well as shelter on that first tour. Once that option ceased to be viable I’ve found spending money on smaller and lighter everything, plus dispensing with wearing clean clothes, has helped reduce our luggage over subsequent trips.

After the trailer, a Follow Me Tandem provided a useful tool and was used for an adventure in the New Forest, where road and path conditions were uncertain. Unusually I’d ensured it was working correctly before we left home, and provided a range of uses from towing a tired boy to tethering a speeding one.

Being an hour away from home on a train made our first solo adventure an easy option and helped refine our kit list and route assessment in the process. Being anywhere away from home is an adventure when you are four or five, and seeing the world through my sons eyes helped me see it that way too. You don’t need to go far to get away and having a train supported Plan B can give you the confidence to attempt Plan A.

I’ll take the high road, assuming I can find it

Being lost is state I find myself in all too easily, so I make particular efforts not to cycle where there are too many road choices. As the only adult in a solo parent situation there is no-one to blame but yourself if there are navigational errors made, which I don’t find add much to the enjoyment once you’ve been reminded about it 20 times by the junior cyclist.

Careful planning, using Google street view and advanced map reading, can usually ensure that people with a normal level directional sense can navigate safe routes. But I’ve found that the ‘can’t be arsed alternative’ is just go to places where they are significantly less people, and a resulting reduction in roads and cars – our last couple of summer adventures have been on Scottish islands, where we found wild open spaces, roads to ourselves and have the added bonus that it’s almost impossible to get lost.

Silence is golden, and highly unlikely

It’s undeniably a charming stage when children start to ask questions, making you think harder than ever before and testing your general knowledge to breaking point. I’m blessed with a talkative child and his curiosity about the world is a joy.

But it becomes an endurance sport when there’s three or four questions a minute and you have 14 hours alone and awake together. I’m afraid there is a point at which I cannot listen or talk any further and I have to concede defeat and let the ageing ipad do its work for 20 minutes, giving me the needed brain power not to burn the dinner, put the tent up incorrectly again or repack our belongings in an orderly fashion. Better parents engage their children in these touring tasks, but at the end of a long day I sometimes can’t find the energy to speak and cook a nutritional meal at the same time. Touring can be intense, and having some time alone but together takes the pressure off, particularly when you are both tired and at least one of you might be irritable.

It was a delight in Great Cumbrae to see my son cycling ahead with my friends, talking away, enjoying the company and attention as we pedalled along. Positive interactions with friends and strangers are one of the delights of cycle touring and it’s lovely to share those reflections at the end of the day together and help us create the story of our journey.


Our summer adventure this year provided the perfect conditions for us both in the campsite in Tiree – a small, enclosed site complete with a pack of children to play with until a remarkably general consensus decided it was bedtime. You can’t book ahead for agreeable campsite companions, but now I know it’s an option I’ll try to find some again.

Magic moments, in the miles, smiles and pouring rain

Cycle touring isn’t all easy, and part of the enjoyment is the difficult places it can take you. I’ve seen my son’s resilience and self esteem develop, just as I’ve watched him increase in confidence and stamina on his bike, pedalling up hills in the wind and rain. Like life, cycle touring is about the journey and not the destination. Exploring the world slowly with my son on our own is creating a journey together that I hope will last beyond the adventures away and into our lives at home now and into the future.