I found this little treat on the stretch between the Tay Road Bridge and Tayport, as I was spinning away down a slight descent, focussing on the various paths off to either side I spotted a flash of colour and slid to a halt. placed out in the open just a short distance from a house this book lay in wait, with a small message for whomever it was meant, a delightful correspondance between friends or an example of the BookCrossing phenomenon that is sure to sweep the world, I loved this tiny insight into a complete stranger's life and I had fun imagining the stories behind it as I pedalled on towards the woods.
I had earmarked this spot for my lunch, I had never been to Tayport and thought cycling would be a nice introduction. This small town is an interesting mix of the old and new; trendy coffee shops sit alongside traditional pubs, the now disused lifeboat beached next to new-build houses and refurbished cottages, the colourful sky providing a suitable backdrop to my playtime with the camera.
A small dilapidated structure sits alone in the estuary, sparking ideas of old industry, war and forgotten structures, it felt like a perfect symbol of the relationship between the old and the new, the neglected and the looked after on this area of the coast, Broughty Ferry castle is situated across the Tay from here and is almost hidden amongst the buildings behind, the tank defences that stretch from nearby far down the coast hint of a stressful past, strong emotions and brows lined with worry, chins set in determination.
It's amazing what a difference the Tay makes, which way to go, the light or the dark side? I chose the light side but it could only last so long, I had to return to the dark side eventually, it may have been grim and grey but that doesn't stop that feeling of returning home to comfort, tea and baggy clothes. A ridiculous narrative fades into my thoughts: black and blue fighting for supremacy, a constant battle between the clouds and the clear sky, weapons of precipitation and sun, wind the fence-hopper; continually changing sides in a meteorological massacre with the ground caught in the crossfire.
The sun shone bright but the air was chilled, the dense forest muffles all sound and while the isolation creates a relaxing atmosphere, I can't help but feel the unnerving difference in the air as the half-buried pill-box hints at memories long gone, fear and security, community and solidarity.
These forest is winning the battle, slowly reclaiming these foreign objects for itself.
The remnants of something decidedly man-made is at odds with the nature I'm surrounded with.
Having reached the beach I relish my lunch and the sunshine that continues to battle the Angus clouds.
Back within the forest I explore single-track, the eery silence broken only by my breath, the loamy earth absorbing everything mechanical.
The path leads onwards, I pedal excitedly.
My trusty steed carries me through sand, begrudgingly, but fairly successfully.
If the wind didn't tear across this beach it would be a lovely place to camp.
Two lighthouses sitting and battling the darkness that welcomes me back to Dundee, yes the Tay road bridge was shrouded in cloud and I couldn't see the city until I got up close but the rain held off, just a little drizzle on the last push home.
Thinking about the ride as I enjoy a nice cold lager at home I imagine it almost as it it were scenery passing me on a conveyer belt, city to country, place names passing over my shoulder as I make my way to the main event. My arrival in the woods overshadows the journey there and I focus my energies on putting as much speed into the trail, pumping every depression and railing every corner, just finding as much energy as I can and putting that into the twists and turns traversing the dense pine forest. By the time the rain turns heavy it reminds me of the burn in my legs and the trip home, it's time to start back and return to the conveyer belt - country, city, garage.
Every trip has its highlights but if you're not careful, you can miss the little gems you find on the way - the smooth acceleration and relaxing rhythm of spinning on tarmac and the relaxed way you can watch scenery flick by when your eyes can drift away from the smooth ground, the moments you stop and pick out the details in the sky, the estuary and roots beneath you.
