Bagged

A pause on the busy A7 to savour the northern shift in to Scotland. Where's passport control?

The landscape opens out and soon I'm pedalling up the Eskdalemuir Valley, where one sees another vehicle perhaps once every ten minutes.

Turning a bend I spot a brown stuff sack on the roadside. Hmm, somebody's going to miss that.

Ten minutes later a Land Rover overtakes, stops and the driver waves the said stuff sack in my direction: 'Is this yours?'

How kind, but I'm obliged to deny ownership. The gentleman turns his vehicle around and is gone.

Five minutes later a cyclist approaches and stops me. 'Have you seen a brown stuff sack?'

He's a fellow End-to-Ender, John, and the bag contains his waterproofs.

I tell him what I know.

John continues in pursuit of the Land Rover and the stuff sack, asking me to update his two cycling pals who are waiting up ahead.

Five minutes later a white van approaches, pulls in and the driver (agricultural, green wellies) flags me down.

'Your friends want you to get back to them right away...'

I explain that I'm not John - and tell her what I know.

She continues in pursuit of John and the Land Rover - and the stuff sack.

Wondering how much more like The Gingerbread Man this can become, I huff on until I meet John's pals (top).

And I tell them what I know.

Great guys - they're doing LEJoG at a scary daily average of 85 miles. They're concerned for John - he's the 'weakest' of the trio. And he's over seventy. My impression back down the road had been of a spry fellow possible a year or two my senior. We part on cheery terms.

Another eight miles up the valley I stop at the local Tibetan Buddhist monastery (What? There isn't one in your neighbourhood?) and enjoy delicious soup and toast in the eye-poppingly colourful tea room.

As I'm leaving the trio arrive. No stuff sack, but they are confident that they'll get it back eventually.

We muse on whether local people 'down south' would have taken so much trouble over a missing item.

Half an hour later, I'm puffing along when the guys overtake me with a cheerful greeting - and are gone, zooming up the next ascent.

NB They have a support van, and carry no more than bare essentials on their bikes.

NB+ Don't expect me to be cycling at that pace - and over those distances - in twelve years from now - with or without a support vehicle...