I really hadn't planned on taking a cycling trip this year. I was kind of in a world-funk. Then a brief mention in the New York Times Travel section caught my eye one Sunday, and more or less on a whim I booked a tour with Wilderness Scotland—their Five Countries Tour.
It seemed like a good idea at the time. It seemed like less of a good idea as I boarded the plane, having cycled only about 333 miles to date this year. And still with a sore throat (week number four). I'd visited the doctor, again, on Monday. “I'm supposed to get on a plane to the UK on Friday,” I lamented. “Have a good time!” he replied.
Technically, I am in South Queensferry; hotel rooms were scarce (and expensive) in the city itself. Curiously, there were 24 Ferraris in the parking lot. (An excited little boy counted them.) Earlier in the day, the road bridge spanning the Firth of Forth had been briefly closed to allow a caravan of 75 of them to cross, evidently celebrating the 50th anniversary of the Ferrari Owners' Club.
Hello, Scotland.
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