Held Together by Ice and Optimism

Ice, Ice, and More Ice

We found a beautiful old brick house operating as a B&B. Colorful flowers lined the front walls, and a circular gravel drive wrapped around to parking behind the building. There wasn’t a traditional check-in desk, just a note on the door with a phone number to call.

Check-in was easy. We were given a large upgraded room overlooking the front of the property, and from the window we could see the bike parked below. Perfect.

The next thing we needed was ice. Thankfully, that was readily available. An Uber Eats order later, and an enormous doner kebab arrived at the door. Again, perfect.

I know it was a beautiful town, but because of my leg injury, I needed to stay put with my foot elevated and let the world pass by outside the window.

The next morning my leg was worse.

The pain had increased, and the swelling was making my boot painfully tight. If this keeps getting worse, I don’t know… Maybe I need X-rays just to make sure nothing is broken.

From the knee down, everything hurt.

My leg looked like a crayon box had exploded. Blues and blacks mixed with every imaginable shade of red. It wasn’t pretty.

Despite that, we continued north.

Today we’d be crossing the Scottish Borders, the beautiful region between the English border and Edinburgh. Along the way we planned a stop in Peebles at “The Oven Door“.

A friend of ours, Albert—also known as “100 Cups Colombian“—is from this part of Scotland. He now lives in Medellín, Colombia, where we last saw him. Albert insisted we stop here for what he claimed were the best scones in the UK, served with clotted cream and jam.

That made it a mandatory stop.

We ordered two.

In the south of England there’s a fierce rivalry between Cornwall and Devon regarding the proper way to prepare a cream tea. Cornwall insists on jam first, then cream. Devon demands cream first, then jam.

I tried both methods.

Both were delicious.

I’m sure I’ll eventually pay dearly for refusing to choose a side. It’s a no-win situation.

Our next campground would be a glamping site where we’d stay for two nights. The accommodation, the Woodland Gardens Caravan & Camping, looked like something straight out of The Shire. A Hobbit house tucked into the landscape.

The plan was simple: rest, apply more ice to the leg, and see what happened.

For now, we stayed positive and kept our fingers crossed.

The first evening we enjoyed wonderful bangers and mash. The second night we cooked from the food supplies we always carry on the bike.

Unfortunately, my leg still wasn’t well enough to ride safely.

In fact, it was getting worse.

We continued north and found an inexpensive hotel just north of Aberdeen: the Newburgh Inn. A couple more days of rest would hopefully help. Then it would be decision time.

To make things easier, we stuck to the main roads.

The skies gradually darkened until the famous Scottish sunshine began falling from above. We pulled into a store parking lot and scrambled into our rain gear beneath the protection of a leafy tree.

Back on the bike.

Turn the key.

Nothing.

Dead battery.

Of course.

Murphy has a strange sense of humor.

Off the bike again.

Another attempt.

The voltage was low.

Out came the jumper cables. (I no longer carry a jump battery because England confiscated mine the previous year.)

Now all I needed was someone willing to help in the rain.

Several cars drove past. Everyone suddenly became fascinated with looking anywhere except at us.

Finally, one person stopped.

He opened the hood of his car and quickly realized it was electric.

No battery.

No jump-start.

We both laughed.

Eventually I convinced another kind soul to help, and before long we were rolling north once again.

We arrived at the Newburgh Inn nearly three hours before check-in.

I didn’t care about the room. I just wanted to get my foot elevated.

The hotel was fantastic.

We ordered a beer and settled into the dining room. While chatting with one of the waiters, I mentioned the battery issue.

“Follow me,” he said.

Down the hallway we went.

Through a door marked “Women’s Toilet.”

And directly into a hidden bar.

It felt like discovering a secret New Orleans speakeasy in the middle of Scotland.

Inside were a few locals, including two gentlemen named David and Charlie. One happened to be a mechanic.

Over a beer I explained the problem.

David immediately left, drove home, and returned with a battery charger.

We connected it to the bike and spent the afternoon drinking beer and talking with the growing crowd of locals who wandered in.

At one point there were ten of us sitting around, sharing stories as if we’d known each other for years.

It was one of those perfect travel afternoons that can’t be planned.

Well… almost perfect.

My leg was still the size of a small planet.

When we finally called it a day, David simply left the charger with me.

The kindness of strangers never ceases to amaze me.

After a couple more days of rest, we accepted reality.

I needed X-rays.

The leg was badly swollen, painfully sore, and every shade of black, blue, and purple imaginable.

Meanwhile, the battery problem had revealed itself. I felt the rectifier/regulator was failing and overcharging the battery.

The weather remained miserable.

On the third day we rode into Aberdeen to a hotel for only £40/night, the Belvilla Aberdeen Bridge Of Don Exhibition Centre.

The city had one of the best hospitals in the UK and an international airport nearby—good things to have close if the situation became serious.

We booked an appointment with the Minor Trauma Unit at A&E (Accident and Emergency).

A US$35 Uber ride delivered us to a massive hospital complex.

Melanie pushed me to reception.

Within minutes I was being evaluated.

Minutes later I was having X-rays of my leg and hip. Considering I’d landed on the side with my recent hip replacement, that part worried me almost as much as the leg.

Soon afterward the nurse practitioner returned with good news.

Nothing was broken.

No fractures.

No damage to the replacement hip.

Just significant trauma to everything below the knee.

Her prescription was simple: RICE (Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation).

Then she handed me two more crutches.

I’m beginning quite a collection.

As for payment?

This is the NHS.

There wasn’t any.

The staff simply told me to go get better.

The system works remarkably well when it’s working.

A few days later we returned to Aberdeen for a replacement battery and a visit to Ma Cameron’s, a pub that has been serving customers for more than 300 years.

That would be our only visit downtown. At nearly US$50 for a round-trip Uber ride, sightseeing wasn’t exactly economical.

After installing the new battery, I tested the charging system.

That’s when I confirmed it.

The rectifier/regulator was bad.

Another part would need to be ordered.

Still, I needed time to heal anyway.

Sometimes the motorcycle decides your itinerary for you.

Na zdrowie,

2WANDRRs