It’s another big bridge day, and this time there’s not one but three. Today we will cross the Firth of Forth at Queensferry, just outside Edinburgh.
It was the 1880s when a bridge was first built over the Forth (the rail bridge, known today simply as the Forth Bridge), to carry the growing rail network. The Forth Road Bridge joined it in 1964, replacing the ferry that once shuttled traffic and people between south and north Queensferry (hence the name). The elegance of the suspension bridge complimented the iconic cantilever diamonds of the rust-red rail crossing, and for years they stood as a pair: road and rail, side by side.
But old bridges can’t withstand modern traffic, and in 2017 the newest bridge opened: a three-span cable-stayed bridge, the Queensferry crossing, completing the set. Three bridges, all in a row, telling a story of engineering and progress, all iconic, all breathtaking, all beautiful.
We can see the Queensbury crossing long before we reach it, from high up on a hillside many miles south of Livingston. It’s a bit hazy but that’s unmistakably it: three white triangles punctuating the valley, like the sails of a giant ship.
Again, it’s not the most inspiring route to reach it, negotiating the urban belt that stretches between Edinburgh and Glasgow. We head into Livingston on roads thick with traffic.
The Forth Road Bridge is now open only to buses, bikes and pedestrians, which gives an entirely different experience to when I first crossed it, metres away from roaring traffic. Today it is incredibly calm: no wind to speak of, few people, and just the odd bus rumbling through. It’s a bridge-scape of such epic proportions that we’re stopping every few metres to take a new picture. It takes a long time to reach the apex of the bridge for our group photo.
This is the largest team yet: our new riders are Alan, who joined us just outside Lanark, Nigel, who met us at our lunch stop in Livingston and another Mark, who was waiting for us as we approached the bridge, together with Jeff who will turn for Edinburgh station and home after the bridge.
Poor old Ivan has already gone home – after a day-and-a-half’s tough cycling along uninspiring roads he didn’t even get the bridge to make up for it. Perhaps he can come back and experience more of what Scotland has to offer another time.
Because Scotland starts delivering the goods pretty quickly. The hills are hard work but achievable (including Hill of Beath – Hill of Death?), and each one brings another spectacular view and whizzing descent. There’s our first loch: Loch Leven. Mark leads us through his local roads, spinning us towards Kelty, where he and Nigel turn for home, back to Edinburgh, having pointed us in the direction of Kinross.
Just shy of the town we see Tomas, the touring cyclist we’d met earlier at our coffee stop in Inverkeithing. He’s been on the road for 9 months, starting in his home town of Vienna, with the aim of riding through every European capital city. He’s been to all of the eastern ones, with just a few of the western ones remaining: Dublin, Lisbon, Madrid, Paris, Monaco, Rome etc. Why not add John o’ Groats to the extensive list? He’s been finding roadside spots to pitch his tent for most of his trip, so we tell him about the farm where we’re camping tonight, and he decides to join us, and for our evening meal too. Despite splashing most of his day’s budget at the Indian restaurant he says it’s nice to share company at dinner time for a change, rather than a lonely dehydrated meal in his tent.
It turns out that Tomas will ride all the way to John o’ Groats with us. Despite my hesitation at letting someone ‘outside’ into our special tribute ride, I know Tim would have welcomed him in.
Stats for the day: 94km riding, 806 climbing
Accommodation: Gallowhill Caravan and Camping Park. This was a brilliant site, especially after such a dreadful experience the night before! They gave us a discount for our charity ride, and could not have been more welcoming. Great shower block too, and a camper’s bothy for charging all of our gadgets.
It’s right next to a motorway (again!), the M90, but we’ve got used to it now and we’re all sleeping well each night.
Ride for Tim 
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