Tim's Tales: Gearing up for island adventure

It’s a place some of my friends have spoken of so I was glad to get the opportunity to finally visit it. But the journey became more than I anticipated, and gave me a new angle on Einstein’s theory of relativity.

To reach the island I went on a cycle with my good friend Gareth. He is a keen cyclist, and in my early days I was too. I literally cycled hundreds of miles a week. It gave me freedom and a sense of adventure.

Over the last couple of decades my cycling adventures have significantly declined. Those long adventurous rides I used to go on, well they have been a thing of the past, especially after my beloved bike was stolen years ago.

But then, during the lockdown, my wee daughter Skye decided she wanted to learn to cycle, and with gritty determination she did so, magically on the same path in the Greenhills at Prestonpans where I learnt so many years before.

So another friend very kindly leant me a bike and I was able to accompany my daughter around the then quiet streets of our town as she developed her confidence.

I enjoyed this, and it was good exercise, but it began to give me itchy feet and a nostalgic longing to re-experience some of the joys of my youth and head off onto the open road and go exploring on two wheels under my own steam.

So when Gareth suggested we go for a “very short” cycle ride to visit Green Craig island that I had heard so much about, I gladly accepted.

The destination was just beyond the big gates of Gosford House; in total just under five miles away. And, of course, the road follows the coast, so no horrible hills to climb.

So I set off, with my children waving at me as if I was going to war, and met Gareth outside Cockenzie House as arranged.

It was from here I became increasingly aware of the depreciation my body has suffered since my last long cycle.

The road was, as far as I could ascertain, flat.

There was a very slight breeze on my face to cool me, so in theory it was perfect cycling conditions.

But something was wrong; I was very quickly puffing and panting as I tried to keep up with my friend, who was coasting effortlessly in front of me.

I could feel my face turning red and an old lady walking her small dog looked up and gave me a sympathetic glance as I passed her.

I was cycling faster than she was walking; but not by much.

Then another cyclist passed me, at what seemed to be close to the speed of light, at least compared to the pathetic speed I was travelling.

It was at this moment I noticed Gareth was well ahead of me, and talking to himself, as he believed I was still just behind him.

So I called out, “Gareth, slow down a wee bit!” He waited for me to catch up.

“Sorry,” I said, “feel free to cycle ahead but I will have to go slower.”

“You want to go ahead?” he asked.

“No,” I said, “if we do that we may be in danger of falling over due to lack of velocity!”

And so we headed out of town.

My comment about velocity had put me in mind of Einstein’s theory of relativity; that speed is not absolute and objects move at a speed relative to one another, and that this affects the passage of time.

My time was most certainly being slowed down. Never had that short journey felt so long.

I discovered small hills I had driven over but never noticed. I became acutely aware of the power of gravity, and I lost count of how many stops I needed before we finally arrived at our destination.

But what elation when we did arrive: I was shocked on one hand at just how unfit I was, but on the other I had a sense of achievement.

We locked our bikes and headed along the coast to the island. The tide was out which meant we could reach it without getting our feet wet.

Gareth was keen to find a trig pole which he had discovered was on the wee island. It was used by early map makers but we didn’t find it.

We sat on a log, and Gareth offered me a cup of tea from his flask. He’d bought an extra cup, and we sat there, two metres apart on an old log looking out to sea, talking. It was the best cup of tea I can remember in a long time.

The island isn’t much in itself, more like a tuft of land or glorified sandbank, just beyond the coast.

But it’s the location and what you can see from it which makes it special, both in terms of wildlife and landscape. And history too is all around.

The sea comes in fast at this point and it was soon moving in a pincer motion, enveloping the wee tuft of land to make it an island once again.

It’s that which perhaps excites the childhood imagination in us, beating the tide before being marooned; or maybe being marooned could be the best bit!

But we left just in time. The sea lapped at our feet as we walked past the huge concrete blocks from wartime and we discussed the goings on in the world.

As we reached our bikes I noticed some dens made by previous visitors.

Impressive constructions, showing perhaps that the lockdown for many of us has given us an opportunity to explore and discover our own area in ways perhaps we never did before.

Then we set off home. The journey back gave me a new phenomena to contemplate; that a road can feel uphill both ways when you are an unfit, overweight man on a bicycle.

Gareth insisted on cycling with me all the way home, you know, just in case.

But I made it, and got a kind reception from my kids who asked me, “Where have you been all this time, you must have gone really far?”

Well in one way I had. Not in terms of actual physical distance perhaps, but certainly in terms of having an unexpected and unforgettable adventure with a kind and understanding friend.