The day after

Yesterday started off quite well, a massage to my sore leg left it feeling great, the thought of only 65 miles to go, the thought of being able to relax tomorrow, my exited family, all spurred me on.

Then it rained.

It continued to rain for the next three hours, whilst I toiled up and down very steep hills, the miles seeming to go by extremely slowly.  By lunchtime, I had got less than halfway.  I rang Amanda for some moral support and as usual she gee'd me up, they were almost at Penzance, getting ready to welcome me to Land's End.

Then the rain cleared, the sun came up and I had a massive ten miles downhill stretch to Penzance.  By the time I got there, it was bright blue skies, and a sign saying "Land's End 8 miles".  Nearly there.

I caught up with another cyclist, Dave from Leeds in Penzance and we cycled together.  At this stage, the wind was over 20mph and directly into our faces.  Dave suggested he cycle ahead to protect me from the wind, which was fantastic and meant we raced along to the End.

About a mile out from Land's End, Amanda and the boys, James and Ted were waiting by the roadside, on their bikes.  The four of us rode the last mile together, one final procession.  A fitting end to the adventure, as they had been the difference between success and failure.  They had remained unfailingly positive and  supportive.  Without them, it just wouldn't have been possible.

We'd made it!



1008 miles.

Over 350,000 turns of the pedals.

57,750 feet of climbs.

More than 60 litres of energy drinks.

64,000 calories burned.

At times it was very windy, at times it was oppressively hot, at times it rained heavily.  Some days were easy, some hard, but all were extremely enjoyable.



What have I learned?

1. Scotland is very windy.
2. People are almost universally nice, wherever you go.
3. Nearly all drivers are considerate of cyclists.
4. Mainland Britain is an incredibly beautiful place
5. I have the best family in the world....

29 July

No words today, just a picture.  Final post soon...

28 July

Well, almost there.

A tough day this one.  Uphill initially over Dartmoor, long stretches of upwards incline and yes, the wind was back.  Back with avengeance.   20mph, diagonally into my face.  Felt just like the first day.

Added to this, I was still very nervous about my leg, lots of stretches and massage had left it feeling a lot better but I was still anxious it might deteriorate today. I needn’t have worried, it remained sore all day but none of the severe pain of yesterday and it feels fine as I write this. 

Dartmoor was severe but quite impressive.  Huge views over Devon and Cornwall.  I even saw some of the famous ponies.  Onwards I went to Princetown, the site of Dartmoor prison, then it was downhill towards Plymouth.  Getting through Plymouth wasn’t as bad as I had expected, plenty of cycle lanes and crossings meant I made my way without incident to the Torpoint Ferry, where after a short wait I crossed the water to Torpoint, then onwards towards Polruan, where the campsite is. 

This last half of the ride proved just as much as a challenge as the first part, with strong winds and plenty of hills. Still, my legs kept up and apart from a minor hiccup at the end, when I went to the wrong campsite, I arrived safely, to prepare for the final stage tomorrow.

No pain, anywhere.

Nearly there now...

27 July

Today started really well, albeit under the shadow of heavy rainstorms with potential thunder and lightening.   I decided to set off early, in the hope of staying ahead of the bad weather.  The first twenty miles was great, down through Somerset towards Devon.  Lovely scenery and villages with thatched roofs.  Then a right turn at Somerton took me towards an unexpected development.  

The Blackdown Hills run along the Somerset and Devon border.  I’d never heard of them but the road I took went directly over them and was quite steep, for five miles.  Still, up I went, enjoying the scenery and into Devon. 

Then a long downhill through some more lovely villages towards Exeter, my eventual destination.  The rain hadn’t appeared.  Everything was going great.

I arrived on the outskirts of Exeter in good spirits, only two days left after today.  

As I cycled around Exeter, I developed some sharp pains in the back of my right leg.  I stopped and stretched and they settled, but came back again a mile of so later.  I decided to take it really easy and the last five miles of so took ages, but, with only two days left, I didn’t want to risk any injury.

As I sit here, there is no pain and I had a chat tonight with Shona Eyre, our local physio who didn’t seem too concerned and gave me some very good advice for stretches tonight. It would take something really serious to stop me at this stage, but I’ve still got my fingers crossed for how I feel in the morning.

Fowey tomorrow, then the final push to Land’s End.

Nearly there....

B score 1. 

26 July

Good day again, today.  67 miles, a stinker of a hill in the middle but a sunny day and some great sights.

I woke up early again, clear blue skies and quite warm with no wind. 

Ideal.  

The first part of the ride took me down the Wye valley, along the banks of the river Wye. This was quite magnificent, great views and gently downhill to Chepstow, right past the race course.

From Chepstow, I made my way towards the Severn Bridge via a huge cycle path alongside the M48.  This took me across the Severn Estuary, from Wales back into England.  Then along to Avonmouth and skirting the western side of Bristol into a park, the grounds of Ashton Court.  Then over to Long Ashton and towards Somerset, with the Mendips awaiting. The countryside was lovely, the sun shining, I had no pain and felt strong after yesterdays easy day. 

Then I came to a small village called  Chew Stoke, turned a corner and saw a huge climb ahead. Five and a half miles later, I stopped climbing to be greeted with stunning views of Somerset in the sunshine. Then largely downhill, through Wells and into Glastonbury.

And all before lunch. 

Another afternoon spent with my family.  

Only three more days to Lands End. Could I do it?

B meter reading 2.  

25 July

My official ‘rest day’.  Just 45 miles of rolling hills through Shropshire, Hereferdshire and into Wales.

I felt remarkably good this morning, on waking.  No aches, no pains, raring to go.  We camped in the grounds of a pub and had a great meal there last night, then back to the van where I had another good sleep.

We had decided I would set off quite early today, the destination Monmouth and after leaving Bucknell, I made good time and arrived in Monmouth at 12pm.  The ride was great,  with gentle hills and descents and arriving in good time, meant I have spent a fantastic afternoon in the sunshine exploring Monmouth. Nothing of note, really, a short sojourn into Hereford, but otherwise just lovely countryside.

 As I write this, I am outside the van, the sky is blue, it’s 23 degrees and I have a beer in my hand.

Yesterday seems so long ago.

B meter reading 2

24 July

Today was tough.

Eighty miles, relatively flat until the end, but I really felt it today.  Aching all over, feeling tired and yes, my backside got sore.

I had slept well last night, a good nine or ten hours and woke feeling not too bad but after about twenty miles, everything started to hurt.  The worst was a splitting headache but my back legs and neck were also very sore.

Now there are many challenges to cycling over 70 miles a day, but a major one is reaching a point where it is easier to stop than to carry on.  This happens every day; halfway up a hill, into the wind, when you get over eighty miles.  At these points, I get through by setting small goals; make it past that tree, to the next corner, one more mile.  These are individual challenges which have punctuated every ride so far but today I faced a more general challenge.  Today it was easier to stop the whole thing.  The goal today was to get to the end of the day.  I discovered today that this is as much of a mental challenge as a physical one.   This is particularly true when you’re on your own on the road.   There is no one to gee you up, no one to moan to, no one to tell you not to be so soft. 

Several things kept me going today.  The ladies in a small shop in a tiny place called Hanmer, my best mate Nick, a group of RAF guys in a village called Clun, and the unerring enthusiasm and support of my family.

I arrived at Hanmer after about twenty odd miles of lovely countryside, through Cheshire and briefly into North Wales.  It was great to leave behind the endless urban landscape and be back in the fresh air, but tough going nevertheless.  I had a bad headache at this stage and my legs were quite sore, so I thought I’d just get some painkillers and load up with water.  They immediately knew I was on my way ‘End to End’, as this shop is apparently used my numerous cyclists doing the same thing and their encouragement really perked my up.  Half an hour later, the aches in my legs had eased, the headache was gone and I was feeling much better.  I then went further south, out of Wales and into Shropshire towards Shrewsbury, a beautiful town where I had a great lunch on the river side in the sun.  

Whilst I was eating my lunch, a text came in from Nick.  Nick and I go back a long way, to University.  A friendship which has lasted over thirty years.  He texts me every day to encourage me.  He has tried really hard to get over for these few days to ride with me but circumstances have prevented this but his moral support really spurred me on today.

From Shrewsbury, it was rolling countryside through numerous lovely villages back towards the Welsh border and then down further towards Bucknall where my family were waiting. My wife, Amanda had been texting support all day, as usual, and this also makes a huge difference. Almost there, I arrived at another small village called Clun where a large transit van was parked with several cyclists around it.  I stopped for a chat and found out they were traveling John O Groats to Lands End too.  The only difference was they were climbing all Three Peaks along the way and had just come from Snowden today.  That kind of put things into perspective a bit!

After a chat, I left them on their way to Hereford and set off the last eight miles to Bucknell.  After going through the village, I turned right across a ford then right again.  I was met with a 25% gradient!  This is all you need after 78 miles, but up I went, then a long downhill to the campsite, and to my family, the most important people who keep me going.

Given I am now in some discomfort, there will be a B meter.  Scale of one to ten.  One is no pain, ten is unable to sit down.

Day nine score: 4

23 July

The Day of Non Events.  Woken up at 6am by lightning and thunder and a little rain at the campsite.  Given the forecasts of the previous day, we decided to move the campervan onto hard ground. Best be prepared.  We were feeling quite smug about this, when the rain stopped.  It didn’t really start again all day.

It rained a bit when I was in Blackburn, but that was about it.  By the time I was in Bolton, there was blue sky and it stayed fine all the time. 

The route today took me through what could most accurately be described as ‘Industrial Britain’.  Down from Clitheroe into Blackburn, through the middle of the town and down then towards Bolton, the Leigh, Wigan and Warrington.  Not much to report really.  I grew up in places like this.  Row upon row of terraced houses, supermarkets, industrial estates etc etc.  Once I had climbed out of Blackburn, it was largely either downhill or flat, a welcome relief after yesterday. 

Once through Warrington, it was down towards Chester and to the campsite.

Longer day tomorrow, but I’m past halfway now.... 

and you know what is holding up pretty well.

22 July

So, halfway point, seventh day and just over half the miles completed. Feeling okay so far, but it was a hard day today, just over 70 miles but lots and lots of hills, some quite steep.  

I should have known what was in store on leaving Keswick.  A steep 1:4 gradient almost immediately then lots more hills all through the Lakes, as I went down through Grassmere, Ambleside and Windermere before heading down a rather hairy stretch for a couple of miles on the A65 with cars travelling at 70mph taking turns to see how close they could get to me as they went past.

Nearly all drivers are great, giving me a wide birth and passing slowly but the odd one makes stretches like this very frightening.  The route avoids A roads as much as possible but this small stretch was unavoidable.  I was glad when I turned off, heading South towards High Bentham, across Bentham moor.  Glad, that is until I could see the hill in front of me and feel the wind in my face.  The next twenty miles were the hardest so far, harder than that fateful first day into the wind on the North Coast of Scotland.  Terrible road surface, full of potholes, strong wind directly at me and steep climb after steep climb.  Finally it ended and then a very long downhill stretch I was into Clitheroe. 

Amanda hadn’t arrived when I got there, she and the boys were off in the middle of nowhere, climbing but luckily my parents had come across to meet me.  They took me to a factory outlet store, where I bought some cheap clothes a towel and soap and we spent a lovely couple of hours in the pub, chatting.  When the rest of the family arrived, we all went out for a fantastic Italian meal in Clitheroe, when my parents landed me with news of the weather forecast, and imminent thunder storms.......

Still, my bum’s not sore.

21 July

Thankfully a shorter day today, 66 miles from Beattock to Keswick.  By mutual agreement, we were up very early and left the campsite before 8am.  No one saw us leave.

This meant I was cycling at a much better time of day, with little wind and still quite cool.  I made good progress, again along a boring stretch by the side of the M74 until I got to Gretna Green, almost back into England.   I paused for a while to reflect on my time in Scotland.  Great scenery, the wind, blistering heat, no shops, miles of nothing.  Everyone I met was friendly and helpful.

Once over the border, the sun came out and I had a lovely ride down into Cumbria, along tiny single track roads, up and down hills, with great views and not a soul around.  And all before lunch on a Sunday.  

Then a long downhill into Keswick.  A great campsite here, on the banks of Derwentwater. Spent a lovely afternoon with a glass of wine and Amanda.  The boys went off climbing.  Yesterday seems such a long time ago now. 

Off down to Clitheroe tomorrow, another shorter day of less than 70 miles.

No need for a midge watch in England.

Backside still okay.

20 July

Huge day this, 93 miles in total, from Loch Lomond down to Beattock, about thirty miles north of the Border.  

First bit was fine, fairly flat into Glasgow, then a fantastic ride along cycle paths through the City, through parks, and along the banks of the Clyde. Beautiful, sunny day, loads of people around and all very helpful, which was good as the cycle routes were very complex and I needed to stop and ask the way on numerous occasions.  In fact the number of times I needed to ask for help contributed to the journey through Glasgow, taking over four hours!

Once out of the City, it became a bit more boring, with a minor road running alongside the M74, before a long climb into Beattock.

After such a long day, I was looking forward to seeing my family, having a shower and relaxing for the evening.  Oh dear.

I arrived to find them all at probably the worst campsite in the world.  About six inches in between each van, showers that had no temperature adjustment (burn or off), and a bar which was having a ‘Country and Western’ night when I arrived (this went on until after midnight and kept me awake until the early hours).  Our immediate neighbours arrived in the early evening, in a small hatchback which they proceeded to unpack, revealing three small oil filled radiators, a Z Bed a microwave and a George Foreman grill in addition to all their luggage. They disappeared off to the Country and Western night soon enough.  They were still asleep when I left in the morning.

Still, no midges here.

My backside is fine. 

19 July

Good day today, very hot, clear blue skies and still.  Not a lot to report really, there is only one road, so I didn’t get lost.  No punctures either. 

On such an uneventful day, time to reflect on the enormous contribution my family are making to this barmy adventure.  They are incredibly supportive, and without their contribution, this would be impossible.  I will owe them a huge debt at the end of this. 

The route today took me along the banks of Loch Linhe to start with then down the A82 through Glen Coe.  If you haven’t been to this part of Britain, you should, it is quite spectacular.   When I can work out how to do it, I’ll post some photos.

Through Glen Coe, the road continued upwards, climbing to 1200ft, eventually to a place called The Bridge of Orchy.  Had lunch here, alongside more German tourists. I swear there are more German tourists in this part of Scotland than in Germany.  I saw a sign yesterday which I think warned of sheep on the road, it was written in German.  They arrived at the same time as an English family, who all ordered a small glass of water each, then proceeded to take out there Tesco sandwiches for lunch whilst the Germans followed suit, taking out large quantities of rye bread and cheese from their rucksacks.  The polish waitress was very put out.  

I ordered a pint of Coke and a sandwich, said ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and felt a bit smug. 

Then downhill for 15 miles to the top of Loch Lomond and eventually to Luss, where we are camping, right on the shores of the Loch.

Down into the village tonight for fish and chips then off to bed.

A few midges here..........

But my backside isn’t sore. 

18 July

Bright and optimistic this morning as I headed across Scotland, alongside Loch Ness before climbing up to around 1500ft then a long downhill into Fort Augustus. 

Just like the two previous days, stunning scenery and warm weather, but thankfully now not much wind.  From Fort Augustus, I decided to take the path down the side of the Caledonia Canal.  A good move, I thought, avoiding the traffic and on the level.  The ground was a bit rough, but it must be better than the A82.

From there, I crossed the canal again and back on to the road, re affirming my decision to take the canal path, much better to be away from the traffic and safely ‘off road’.   After a few miles, my family passed and stopped for a break and a quick chat on the banks of Loch Oich, then off again alongside Loch Lochy into Fort William.

Now the problems started.   Having had such a good experience alongside the Caledonian Canal, I thought I’d take the track on the opposite side of Loch Lochy and avoid the major road.  Much safer.   Great idea, so long as you don’t take a wrong turn and end up climbing into a forest, 800 ft above the Loch.  The path petered out to nothing and I was left literally high and dry.  I turned round to descend then a loud bang.    My back tyre was punctured.  But more than that, the side of the tyre had a large rip in it.  When I repaired the puncture, and inflated it, the inner tube just ballooned out of the whole, then burst.

Still, no problem, I had another tube, but by this stage, I had run out of gas cannisters which I use to inflate the tyres.....and I’d forgotten to take my pump.

It was four miles back to the road and about six to the other end of the Loch and back to civilisation, where I thought I’d be able to borrow a cycle pump from someone, so I set off walking.  I walked, and walked and walked.  I met  a lot of German’s mysteriously all with massive rucksacks, walking along a deserted track in the middle of nowhere, but no one with a bike pump.

About 200yds from the end of the track, after over an hour and a half walking, I met Dave and Stuart, two cyclists from Chorley, on their way back to Fort Augustus.  Between us, with the aid of their bike pump and a wrapper from an energy bar, to bolster the rip in the tyre, we successfully repaired the bike and I was off again. 

The campsite here is on the banks of Loch Linnhe and quite spectacular, overlooked by Ben Nevis.

And there are no midges.

And my backside isn’t sore.

17 July

Wind a lot less today, but still against me.  Much easier cycling, though in a lighter breeze.  The first ten miles was uphill across some stunning countryside to a pub called The Crask Inn, which is literally in the middle of nowhere. It must be at least ten miles from the nearest house!  Didn’t look like anyone was home when I passed.  Once at the top, it was downhill for almost thirty miles into Lairg, then Bonar Bridge and from there along B roads to DIngwall.

Then a hitch.

Well, not so much of a hitch as a small disaster.  

My SatNav ran out of battery.  I’d plugged it in to charge overnight but for some reason that hadn’t worked.  It just went dead, with me in the middle of Scotland in a place called Evanton, which with about thirty houses probably qualifies as a major connobation. 

Things started to slide a bit from there, really. My route, planned with the help of a book called ‘The End to End Cycle Route’ by Nick Mitchell, takes me carefully along minor roads, which is great in terms of safety, but a bit of a problem if you lose your map.

‘I know’, I thought, ‘I’ll sellotape my iphone to the handlebars and use the map on that’.  Two problems with this idea, first, with no signal, there is no map, and second, you can’t see the screen outside.  Still, by this time, I was in Dingwall, which has a Co Op so I stopped for directions.  The nice chap asked where I was going, and resisting saying ‘to hell in a handcart’ I told him I was on the way to Inverness but didn’t know how to get there.  He gave me some pointers to get me back on track and off I went.

Things went okay then, until I came to the A9.   I remembered the route took me along a minor road at this point which runs alongside this dual carriageway into Inverness.  Still with no map, I thought ‘how lucky am I’ to see a cycle route signposted to Inverness.  I’ll follow this, I thought and off I went.   As the traffic noise from the A9 faded into the distance, I was oblivious. I was nearly there, wind behind, traveling effortlessly to my destination.  

Then I thought, ‘hang on’.  Wind behind.  It’s coming from the west today.  If the wind is behind, I’m traveling towards Norway.  Sure enough, after another mile or so I came around a corner to be faced with the magnificent views across the North Sea.  Inverness was somewhere over my right shoulder, fading in the distance.  I retraced my steps back along the road and after five or six miles, came across a tiny blue sign, pointing the way for cyclists to Inverness.  I went past, to check if there was one when coming from the other direction.  There wasn’t. 

Still, I was only six miles from Inverness by this stage, so home and hosed, really.

Not.

I eventually came to the Inverness bridge, which I knew had a cycle path alongside it. But today it was closed for repair.  Good news, though, there was a diversion, under the bridge (which is about 200ft in the air) which meant a hairy descent then a crippling 1:4 climb to the other side of the carriageway. Then across the bridge with very frightening crosswinds and into Inverness. 

At this point, things started to go wrong. I arrived in Inverness at 4:30.  I arrived a the campervan at 6:15.  It’s six miles.    Putting it simply, I got lost.  In my attempt to avoid the major roads, I ended up traveling down every minor road in Inverness.   After an hour, I met a very nice lady in a Park (don’t ask how I got there) who directed me and finally I arrived at the campsite.

What should have been 80 miles was closer to 100.

Still, no midges.

And my backside’s not sore.

16 July

First day.  And what a day! Fantastic views, quiet roads, sun shining..........and the wind.  Straight at me, 25mph for the first 50 miles.  Like cycling through treacle.  It was one of the hardest days cycling I’ve ever done.  

I started outside the First and Last House with my family seeing me off. The boys looked doubtful.  Am anda looked hopeful.  I looked a bit ridiculous.  Then it was straight along the coast, wind in my hair, peddling like fury and getting nowhere.   There are a few peculiarities about northern Scotland.  First, the inordinate number of graveyards, second the definition of a village which seems to mean just two houses and third, the fact that it’s a very, very long way away.   The views are incredible, though, loads of secluded coves with turquoise sea and white sand.  I went for almost fifty miles along this coast line, and even though it was incredibly hard work, it was worth it.  

We then met up at Bettyhill, where after a cup of tea, and some food, I turned left to head South (finally).  Peculiarly, almost immediately I did, the wind changed direction to come back in my face again!  Another 20 miles and I arrived at Altnaharra campsite, on the banks of Loch Naver.  Quite spectacular and worth the effort. 

Almost everyone we have spoken to about Scotland warned us about the midges.  Stories of people running for cover, wearing Beekeepers hats being chased by swarms of them.  “I woke up like I’d had chicken pox’’ ‘’ Make sure you take insect repellent, Avon is the best, the Army use it’’  ‘’I had an aunt who was admitted to hospital.....’‘   Well, we didn’t see one.  Not one.  Saw a fly, but that’s a bit big to qualify.   No midges.

For all of those who worried about my backside, I’ll keep you up to date each day.  First day so good, no soreness.

Right off to bed now.  Inverness tomorrow.

15 July.....the day before.

Well, here we are.  John O Groats, and it doesn't seem like such a good idea any more!  Tomorrow I set off, 970 miles to go.  What could possibly go wrong? 

We had a good trip up, easy driving and stopping in Perth on the way.  Campsite was a bit of a dump but Hey Ho.  More blokes wearing Aston Villa shirts than wearing kilts.  Lots of empty bottles of cider in the recycling bin, you get the picture.

Great drive in the north of Scotland, though, along the coast with fantastic views.   Didn't take any pictures, but once I'm on the bike I'll post as many as I can. I don't know if anyone has been to John O Groats, but there's nothing here.  A campsite, some houses and a place to buy postcards and that's it.  

Heading west tomorrow, then a left turn, literally into the middle of nowhere.  We're staying at Altnaharra tomorrow night, look it up.  I'll let you know tomorrow if it's worth a special trip...

Off to bed now, I'll post again tomorrow.

8 July

Well,  a week to go now.

Why am I doing this?  Don't know really, just seemed like a good idea last year after a glass of wine.  It's a bloody long way, you know and I thought I'd test myself a bit the year I turn fifty.  My wife, Amanda, kids James and Ted and the dog (Sparrow) think I'm barmy but agreed to follow down in a camper van to support/laugh at me along the way.   The dog did most of the route planning and has agreed to direct Amanda along the trickier bits.

I'll be leaving Yorkshire on Sunday and start the ride next Tuesday.  I'll be honest, I'm a bit nervous now but spurred on by the numerous good wishes and the disturbing community concern about midges and my bottom.

I've put up a map of the route, for interest, but I hope to post each day of the ride to let anyone who is interested know how I'm going on.   If you do read this, please consider donating to Marie Curie, a very worthwhile charity.  Click here to donate

From the outset, I'd like to make it absolutely clear this ride wouldn't be possible without the support of my wife, Amanda and kids, James and Ted. Without them I wouldn't have a chance of completing the ride.  With them, there's no excuse for failure.