daily diary

Day 1             Lands End to Liskeard

On the eve of the start day the BBC weather man used the new 3D graphics to show that it was going to pour with rain in Cornwall and Devon the next day. However, his final comment was that by twelve things will improve. We decided to time our arrival at Lands End for 11.30am and see if the man from the Beeb was right.

The first problem of the day was encountered when we checked the camera only to find that we had left the memory card at home. This was soon resolved as we entered the ring road around Penzance to see a Currys just off the first roundabout.

As we left Penzance on the final leg to Lands End we encountered what can only be described as mature cyclists. The weather was still very wet at this point and the husband and wife team had resorted to putting a couple of Tesco carrier bags held on with elastic bands over their feet to keep dry. Their bikes were almost as mature as they were. The gentleman had a shopping basket on the front which contained a couple of large bottles of mineral water.

Caroline commented “If those two are happy to go out and do their shopping in this weather you should have no problem”

We arrived at Lands End to a thick pea soup fog. The visibility was about 300 metres. On opening the car door the great surprise was how warm it was and as promised it had stopped raining.

The bike was ready and we went looking for the famous sign. On locating it we were shocked to find out that it had a fence around it and only the official photographer is allowed close to the sign.  

The photographer was a little put out when we refused his offer of 2 for the price of 1 as I was doing a charity ride. He asked how I was going to prove I had done it. I did not answer as we had planned for this in advance. (See the navigation section)

I set off from Lands End at 12.06pm and disappeared into the mist leaving Caroline to explore the delights of the shops at Lands Ends. About a mile up the road I remembered I had only packed one spare inner tube. I stopped at a village called Sennan and phoned Caroline to say could she stop when she came by me so I could get a spare. At this point the elderly couple appeared out of the mist. I would have put them at an age of 70 to 80. I enquired how they were doing. He said without slowing down “almost there” I asked where they had they started from. He responded before disappearing into the mist “John O’ Groats”.

I cycled east and onto the A3941 that takes you from Penzance to Falmouth and then onto Truro. Dave had warned me that Cornwall and Devon had been tough. They are hilly and difficult considering it is at the start of the tour before your fitness starts to build.

Dave was right. As the miles ticked by I found myself riding up and down the river valleys that flow off the moors. However as forecast the weather cleared up.

 I suppose one of the reasons for riding from the south west to the north east is to take advantage of the prevailing south westerly wind. As I came through the outskirts of Fowey the wind started to freshen from a slight easterly head wind to a 30mph blow. This was a very heartening experience as the hills had started to take their toll on me. Things got worse as the skies darkened very quickly and I was now riding in a full blown thunder storm.

I phoned Caroline and agreed Liskeard would be the pick-up point for the day. 76 miles after starting I arrived at the Esso service station in Liskeard. I was cold because of the rain, slightly dehydrated and very hungry. Caroline arrived a few minutes later with plenty of supplies and I was soon feeling better.

After checking into our hotel & dinner at Rick Stein’s bistro in Padstow I felt human again.

 

Day 2             Liskeard to Tiverton (well almost)

Having read the guide this promised to be a tough days riding up over the top of Dartmoor. Looking at the elevation profile a height of 1,400 feet above sea level was the highest point.

Caroline dropped me off at Liskeard on what can only be described as a beautiful summer’s day. The temperature was forecast to be about 22°C with a light to moderate easterly wind (so much for the wind prevailing from the SW).

The first twenty miles took me over rolling country side. I then passed through Taverstock looking for the aptly named Mount Tavy Road, the gateway to the top of the Moors. Thirty eight minutes later I was at 1,458 feet above sea level. The combination of amazing weather and the beautiful scenery was very motivating and I pushed on for Moretonhampstead. The descent off Dartmoor was total justification of doing the ride supported.  Not being loaded down with panniers I was able to descend at full speed reaching speeds of up to 49 mph. At one point I was able to overtake a born again biker on a Harley who was being a little too careful for my liking. He took it in good spirit and stopped for a chat in Moretonhampstead whilst I was refuelling on the road side.

At this point nostalgia overtook me and I took a detour via Bovey Tracy. Whilst at University I spent two weeks on a field trip there. I thought I should see if my memory served me correctly. This added about 18 miles to the trip and was also was a very indirect route.

The weather stayed kind to me for the rest of the afternoon and I met Caroline just south of Tiverton having completed 75 miles.

Thank you to Bryan, Elaine and Connie for giving us a comfortable bed, a delicious meal, good moral support and the use of their washing machine.

 

Day 3              Tiverton to Wotton-under-Edge in Gloucestershire

Despite the trip down memory lane the day before, we were now a little ahead of the guide at this point. The guide suggests an average of 65 miles a day. Looking at the elevation profile of the route to Bristol I set my self a target of Wotton-under-Edge for the day. This would be the second furthest mileage I had ever ridden in a day at 101 miles.

Again the weather was beautiful. The first two hours were spent on quiet B roads following the course of the River Exe and then one of its tribrituries the River Batherm. The route was quite hilly at this point until I started the descent into Taunton.

The next three hours were spent on the A38 working my way up to Cheddar Gorge. Even with very high factor sun cream, my neck started to burn due to pointing north all day and the sun tracking through the south.

Hydration was also important in the heat and I stopped several times during the day to top-up my drinks bottles. The bike was able to carry 4 x 850 ml bottles. During the 101 miles I consumed 7 litres of fluid. I was still slightly dehydrated at the end of the day.

The GPS really came into its own on this day. I had programmed the route to take me around the south western side of the Bristol ring road and then along to the Clifton Suspension Bridge and up the Clifton Terrace before working my way through the old part of Bristol until joining the A38 at Filton. I just went where the GPS told me. It never missed a beat. The view of Brunnel’s bridge and the Georgian architecture in the bright sunlight was stunning.

The A38 was a car park when I joined it. I measured an eight mile traffic jam on  the north side of Bristol. The highlight was overtaking all of it. A van driver stop in Wotton- under-Edge whilst I was waiting for Caroline to say it had taken him 40 minutes to catch up with me from Filton.

A good day with 101 miles completed.

Home cooking was the order of the day. It was delightful to visit Andrea & Laurence, Eric (8) and Lettie (3). They served us with a lovely meal whilst resolving my sun burn issue by providing a handkerchief for my neck and heavy duty sun-block. We used their washing machine and their internet. This was hospitality above the call of duty.

 

Day 4              Wotton-under-Edge to Bewdley in Worcestershire

Sometimes luck works for you. The next day I started off from Wotton only to be confronted by a 900 foot climb up Coombe Hill.  I could probably have made it the day before, but after 101 miles it might have been the final straw.

The guide suggested the ride to Cheltenham via Painswick would be slightly hilly and very scenic. I would say it was very hilly and very beautiful. Having been strafed by a Euro fighter for about 10 minutes I was pleased to make it into the peace and quiet of the traffic of Stroud.

The highlight of this section was meeting Laurence, Andrea and their daughter Lettie who came to the roadside to cheer me on.

Photographs were taken and Lettie shared in my supply of Jelly Babies.

The descent down into Cheltenham was fast and the road had a good surface which allowed an aggressive riding style to be adopted.

The target of Bewdley was now not far away. I crossed the M5 and cycled through Worcester. I again encountered a huge traffic jam. I felt like a London despatch cyclist jinking in and out of the traffic. This surge of adrenalin allowed me to get to Bewdley and cover 73 miles for the day.

The mileage for the day had been modest in comparison to the day before but I was happy to stop at this point. Having read several books on endurance events they all comment about day 4 being the worst. I hoped they were right because I was very tired at this point.

So far four days riding, four days with a head wind. Hopefully it will not be like this for the whole journey. We stayed just outside Ludlow and had an amazing meal in this beautiful culinary town. But for future reference I will be avoiding posh French restaurants as they are too mean with their carbohydrates – I must have gone through two bread baskets to supplement the nouveau cuisine.

 

Day 5              Bewdley to Knutsford in Cheshire

Again the nice man from the beeb forecast rain clearing by mid morning. So a late start was in order. Having reviewed the route this was a day I was not really looking forward to. Most of the guide uses quiet B roads. However, on this day there was no choice but to use A roads for the last half of the planned route. Also it was Friday afternoon and I had a feeling that the roads close to Knutsford would be busy.

Caroline dropped me in Bewdly at 11.30am and the journey commenced towards Iron Bridge. Having been to Iron Bridge before to see the home of the industrial revolution I knew I was in for some steep climbing and fast descents.

The cloud slowly burnt off and cleared to provide me with perfect cycling conditions. True to form there was a slight head wind, but not strong enough to hinder momentum.

I made good progress and soon crossed the M54 and made my way through Telford the home of the Inland Revenue. Whitchurch was the next target on the radar.

Early thoughts of the traffic and A roads came true as I approached Whitchurch on the A41. I was being passed about every 15 seconds by 44 ton articulated lorries. If you wanted to break me as a person this would be the way to do it. Just sit me on the side of this road on a Friday afternoon. Within an hour I would do anything to get away.

Caroline phoned and had located a nice spot by a small airfield just off the A41. A much needed break was required before the final ten miles into Whitchurch was completed. I hoped after Whitchurch the A49 would be kinder to me.

Having devoured the now customary cheese sandwich and Jelly Babies for pudding the wheels rolled into action.

The miles to Whitchurch could not pass fast enough. The A41 is narrow for such a major road. Most of the lorry drivers gave me no width when overtaking.

The A49 on the other side of Whitchurch was like a country lane in comparison. Most of the heavy goods lorries turned east and headed to the M6 via Nantwich.

The road was wide and the volume of traffic was about 75% less than the A41. The miles to Knutsford ticked away. I met Caroline just outside Knutsford at Sandiford.

Despite the physiological torture of the lorries good progress had been made with another 75 miles on the trip computer.  I was looking forward to a large pasta supper with our good friends, Olwen & Roger, in Knutsford. Again our friends came to the rescue with the use of a washing machine, good company and support. Seeing the improvements to their home helped to distract us from the task in hand for a very pleasant few hours.

 

Day 6              Knutsford to Kirby Lonsdale, Middleton actually

I had a solid night’s sleep and a fantastic breakfast. Porridge with honey is definitely cyclist’s rocket fuel.

Today promised to be a fascinating journey. The route would take me through the built up areas of Warrington, Wigan, Clitheroe and Blackburn before venturing into the rugged beauty of the Ribble Valley and the Yorkshire Dales.

Being a Saturday I hoped the traffic would lighter than the Friday afternoon crush experienced the day before.

As promised on the news the night before the weather was superb. Warrington was soon reached and the traffic was light and courteous.

Whilst waiting at a traffic light two scousers in a lorry tried to blagg a bar of chocolate from me. I gave them some Jelly Babies but told them I needed the chocolate as it was going to be long journey. “How long” was the response. “John O’Groats” the reply. Being scousers you can imagine the air was blue for the next thirty seconds with surprise and encouragement. I then got an escorted trip through the ring road by the driver to make sure I went the right way to Wigan.

Due to the warm weather and light wind I was surprised by the level of pollution caused by the traffic even though it was fairly light. That evening when showering I discovered I was covered in a thick coating of dust from the diesel fumes.

However, once I passed through the centre of Blackburn the route changed. Within a few miles I was in the middle of nowhere. The last forty miles of the ride through Slaidburn into Bentham over Lythe Fell and then into Kirby Lonsdale justified why people from Yorkshire call it Gods country.

Caroline phoned me whilst I was climbing the 30% incline of Catlow Fell to tell me she had found a great B&B right on the route in Middleton just north of Kirby Londsdale. It was one of those moments from Forest Gump when he talks of the beauty he had seen on his walk across America. I called Caroline back as I crested the highest point and I could see the whole of the Lake District in front of me plus Morecombe Bay. The sun literally came out as I was trying to tell Caroline how beautiful it was.

The descent from the top of Catlow Fell was fast and extremely cold considering the temperature at sea level was 22°C. I soon warmed up as the road undulated its way through some of the most beautiful mountain scenery I have seen in the UK.

I arrived at the B&B in Middleton 92 miles from the start point that morning on a total high. The guide stated that the next forty miles of the journey was probably the most beautiful of the trip. I could not wait for tomorrow.

 

Day 7              Kirby Lonsdale to Gretna Green

Having found a hotel right on the route an early start was called for. The weather forecast was for a clear morning followed by the risk of showers and thunderstorms later in the day.

The first town on route was Sedbergh which looked so English on that sunny Sunday morning. The local school had just started playing cricket. The pitch looked amazing.

I then headed up along the A684 to Garsdale and then left along the B6259 to Kirby Lonsdale. I noticed a railway line next to the track. This must be a fairly gentle gradient along a railway line. How wrong can you be. As I reached the highest point of the pass at 1465 feet it came into mind that people commute along that line everyday. People talk about fantastic views in train journeys over the Rockies but the Carlisle to Manchester line must be up there as one of the most beautiful trips in the world.

Descending down the other side of the Fell, with the Lake District and The Solway Firth in the distance to the west, I became very emotional. Perhaps it was my hormones being super charged by the physical effort of riding 80 miles a day or the wind rushing up inside my glasses but I shed a tear with the absolute beauty of the place.

The landscape flattened out for a while whilst heading north towards the A66 Carlisle road. The A66 is a busy trunk road and being a Sunday made no difference to this. Fortunately the route only goes along the A66 for a few miles until you reach Appleby in Westmoreland.

The guide then takes you off to the north via Lazonby, Brampton, Longtown arriving in Gretna.

This route caused me concern because I could see the weather to the north west looked bright and sunny. However, I could see heavy rain on the hills to the north. So with a heavy heart I headed north. Fairly soon I was in my waterproof jacket and suffering from the cyclists worst problem - a wet bottom.

By the time I got to Lazonby I really needed a warm cup of tea and some carbohydrate. On passing the train station I noticed a lovely tea shop in the old station waiting room. It looked like a welcoming pit stop. On entering the room I thought I had walked into a shoot for The Last Of The Summer Wine.

Being a polite person I sat down and waited to be served. It soon became evident that I was not welcome. I approached the manager and asked for a pot of tea and Bakewell Tart. He explained that they did not serve cyclists as this was an upmarket establishment. I explained my predicament that I was cycling from Lands End to John O’Groats for charity and good places to stop are hard to find. At this point the red carpet was rolled out and I was made very welcome. The old dears I was sat next to were fascinated by my lycra shorts and I am sure I heard one of them say “Young Man”!

On leaving Lazonby the rain was consistently heavy for the next three hours. My spirits were lifted by cycling along next to the steam train that runs along this line during the summer season.

On reaching Longtown I phoned Caroline to discover her happy and already in the new retail park in Gretna. The weather had cleared and we worked out it was 17 miles to Gretna from Longtown so I would be there in an hour.

The road from Longtown to Gretna was flat and had just been resurfaced so I was able to really go for it.

I had long since packed away my waterproofs and was really feeling good. About 3 miles from Gretna a massive thunder cloud was on an intercept course for me. Within a few minutes I was in the waterproofs and  completely soaked.

The first or last house in Scotland was a welcome sight to say the least. Another good day with 77 miles under the belt.

 

Day 8              Gretna to Sanquhar (Blue Monday)

Again the BBC weather forecast proved to be invaluable. Heavy rain in the Gretna area were predicted until lunch time, then a clearance would sweep down from the north west aided by the fresh to strong north westerly wind. The forecast went on to say that this wind would keep temperatures down to 12°C and would persist for two days.

We visited Hadrian’s Wall and then took advantage of the Costa Coffee at the retail park at Gretna to fill up with caffeine and carbohydrate. I set off at 12.00 into a strong and wet north westerly breeze. Within an hour the forecast clearance appeared which cheered things up. Having done the loop around the Solway Firth coast road I turned into the full strength of the wind. I knew today was going to be tough.

Dumfries was soon despatched. The guide suggests the A76 to Kilmarnock via Thornhill and Sanquhar.

This is actually a very quiet road for an A road. Also the Scottish motorists are so much more respectful of cyclists than their English neighbours.

After another ten miles I was really starting to struggle with the head wind. Downhill descents that should have generated 30/40 mph speeds were now being taken at 18/20 mph and I was having to use my small gearing and pedal flat out. It is amazing to cycle down a steep hill and actually come to a stop if you cease pedalling.

After about 50 miles the tendon in my left knee started to become sore. After 55 miles I called Caroline and said could we meet in Sanquhar as I could hardly turn the pedals over due to the pain.

Caroline had thought I would make it the extra 30 mile that day to Kilmarnock and had booked a hotel near the rugby park. The journey from Sanquhar to Kilmarnock was a terrible couple of hours. I was in agony waiting for the pain killers to kick in and I really felt with an injury like this I was  going to need at least two weeks to recover therefore stopping the trip. Caroline said we would be able to come back in a month’s time and complete the task. I felt that would be a complete let down to all the people who had supported us.

57 miles that day was a real blow to the stomach.

I phoned Martin and he agreed the only course of action was to take as many Arnica tablets as I could stomach plus Nurofen as an anti-inflammatory. I should then apply as much ice as I could endure to the sore area for as long as possible and see what tomorrow would bring.

 

Day 9              Sanquhar to Alexandria

Had our luck changed? The man from the BBC had been slightly wrong. The wind had swung to the south west a day earlier than promised and was to stay from the south for at least the next four days.

As we drove back to Sanguhar Caroline asked me how my leg felt. I had no pain but I would not know until I started riding.

Martin had also suggested raising or lowering the saddle by 5mm to change the motion of my knee joint.  I therefore put the saddle up very slightly.

The early rain seemed to be clearing from the west as I set off from Sanquhar. The south westerly tail wind had also kicked in. 

I knew within a few miles my knee was okay. The combination of the tail wind, the elation I felt and the gently rolling landscape meant that the 30 miles to Kilmarnock were completed in a 1 hour and 35 minutes. We had agreed to meet at a service station on the ring road just outside Kilmarnock to regroup at 12.00pm. I was there 25 minutes early.

After a quick strong coffee and the mandatory cheese sandwich the target was the southern end of Loch Lomond giving a total for the day of 86 miles.

The weather also took a real up-turn at this point and I made good progress through Dunlop to the Johnstone.  This was the first time on the journey where I came across fellow cyclists doing the LEJOG. Unlike me they were doing it unsupported. They didn’t seem to be having a good time. One of them was having bike trouble and the other two were quite annoyed about it. It made me realise that I had found riding on my own mentally challenging but I only had myself to blame if it did not work out.

The outskirts of Glasgow soon came into focus and I could see the next major point in the trip - the Erskine Road Bridge. Not wanting to go through the centre of Glasgow a route around the north west through the suburbs had been planned.

The signs for the toll on the bridge soon started appearing and just after passing the toll Caroline phoned to ask how I was doing. Caroline’s timing was excellent as she was parked just off the road about three miles on the other side of the bridge.

A quick stop for a banana and a top-up of the drinks bottles before continuing on to Alexandria.

The sky at this point looked gloomier with light drizzle threatening. I donned my waterproof top and set off. Within about twenty minutes it started to rain cats and dogs and proceeded to do so until lunchtime the next day.

Caroline and I eventually met in a lay-by along the bank of Loch Lomond.  Caroline asked me how I felt. It was the first time I had considered we could actually finish the task in hand. There was lot of touching of laminated fake wood veneer in the car at this point.

 

Day 10                        Loch Lomond to Loch Leven

Driving to the hotel the evening before the rain was torrential. Again the man from the BBC with the 3D graphic showed terrible weather for our area until about 11.00am.

He was correct. We took a late breakfast (porridge again) and a slow drive back to the finish point from yesterday. The three fellow cyclists from the day before were going the other way. They had obviously set off early that morning. They looked in a terrible state. Drowned rats comes to mind

As we arrived at the drop off point Caroline could not believe my luck. As I prepared the bike the edge of the front started to pass overhead moving in the direction of today’s journey. Within the space of 10 minutes we went from torrential rain to clear blue sky.

Further ice treatment and consumption of Arnica at the end of day 9 seemed to have chased away any soreness in my knee. Despite the road being wet I set off along the gently rolling bank of Loch Lomond knowing today was the day when I would go over Glen Coe.

Loch Lomond was beautiful and the glass-like surface was now white capping with a strong southerly wind. This tail wind soon allowed me to come to the turning in Crainlarich where I would say goodbye to the easy riding along the bank of the Loch and head for the highlands.

Heading towards the Bridge of Orchy the sky started to darken. As forecast the night before, the rain was due to return with a vengence this afternoon. With temperatures of 4°C expected in the highlands the climb over Glen Coe was not to be taken lightly. I was well prepared though. Despite the clearance at Loch Lomond I had dressed in full winter spec clothing, including fully waterproof shoes.

The climb up through the mountains was stunning despite the increasing intensity of the rain. As I reached the highest point of the pass over the mountains the rainfall became almost monsoon like. I had to stop at a set of temporary traffic lights at the very highest point of the road. Making my way to the front of the queue I read a sign which said. “Cyclists please wait here for a police escort through the road works” The lights went green and I thought it is freezing up here. I’m not hanging around. The other people waiting for the lights to change were a group of born again motor cyclists on Harley’s. We all set off together. After about 10 minutes I wondered where everyone was. Had I shot the lights, had they crashed on the way down? I then noticed that most cars coming the other way had stopped. Their windscreen wipers going full tilt but to no avail.

Eventually after about 20 minutes the bikers caught up with me and gingerly made their way by. As the descent continued I was surrounded by mountain walls shrouded in cloud with waterfalls gushing millions of gallons of water out of them. Over diner that night I said to Caroline “Glen Coe is the place where the Sea and the Sky are one”.

Caroline as usual had done an amazing job finding a hotel right on the route at Ballachullish overlooking Loch Leven. Caroline was also worried that I might be stuck up on the mountain and could not contact me due to the lack of mobile signal.

The sight of the car coming the other way as I passed the Glen Coe visitors centre was very welcome. The hotel was about 15 miles down the road so after a quick blast from the car heater I set off again.

On arriving at the hotel it became evident that I could not have been wetter unless I had been immersed in water. Each one of my shoes drained out a third of a pint of water. As there was no washing machine available all my clothes went into the bath and onto the radiator including my shoes.

The view across the Loch from the hotel and the hot bath made it all worth while. We had a fantastic Scottish meal from fresh local produce.

Despite the weather my trusty stead had guided me another 70 miles along the journey

 

Day 11                        Loch Leven to Dornoch

If the guide was to be believed, today promised an amazing day of riding taking in the Great Glen and Loch Ness. The added bonus was that the weather had cleared up and there was no prospect of rain. Despite the temperature being in the mid 20’s in the south I would have to ride with a long sleeve top as the maximum temperature forecast for the Great Glen area was 14°C.

Fort William was soon reached and the Great Glen opened up before me. Ben Nevis rose to the right of me forming a whale shaped mountain.

Due to the lower daily mileage of the last three days due to the knee problem I felt very fresh. The calculations starting going through my head that I had about 200 miles left to do. If  I could take advantage of the good weather forecast over the next few days we could finish tomorrow afternoon. I set my self a target of 110 miles for the day.

The miles soon started to tick by. I passed the imaginatively named Loch Lochy before reaching Loch Ness. There was no monster to be seen. However, I did meet a group of fellow LEJOGer’s. They were strung out along the road following the bank of Loch Ness. It soon became clear talking to a father and son team at our lunch break that the team approach was frustrating. You can only go as fast as the slowest person and different people were prepared to different levels.

They all set off as I finished lunch with Caroline. The bike chain needed a good clean from the rigours of yesterday. At 20 minutes this was probably the longest lunch break taken during the whole tour.

Having taken a look at the map my target was Dornoch on the east coast. I set off with renewed vigour and within a short space of time I came across the group of LEJOGer’s just before the first big climb of the day They were all riding together. I cycled past them saying hello on the way by. Not one person responded. I could not believe it. I was being swept along on an emotional high of the beauty of the trip. These guys seemed to be just grinding it out for the sake of it.

The next climb was long and steep but the descent on the other side went on for over five miles. My feelings of amazement towards my fellow LEJOGer’s were compounded as I neared the top of the climb and I came across three cyclists, one of which was disabled from the waist down. He was using a special quad cycle powered using arm driven pedals. This amazing person was also on his way to John O’Groats.

 I passed through the Muir of Ord and arrived in Dingwall with about 80 miles on the trip meter.  I called Caroline who was amazingly about a mile down the road. She could only find grotty hotels and was despairing that we would not have a comfortable (or clean!) place to stay that night.

We looked at Alasdair Sawday’s guide and there seemed to be a bed and breakfast in Dornoch that fitted the bill. Dornoch is where Madonna got married so if it is good enough for Madge it’s good enough for us. We called and secured their last room for the night. From the guide the B&B sounded amazing so Caroline headed off to check-in and chill out.

I headed up the A9 before turning off on to the suggested route across the mountains and down to Bonar Bridge. The route did look scenic. However, it was evident that it was raining in the mountains and dry on the A9 coast road. A 44 ton lorry thundered by just as I turned off the A9 and I thought I will take the high road despite the rain.

Yes, it did rain for about 40 minutes before clearing up and the detour was well worth it. I was told off by the local police for doing 48mph in a 30mph limit. They really enjoyed pulling up next to me and telling me my speed. They asked if I could go faster but I ran out of downhill road before being able to.

The view of Dornoch Firth from the top of the pass was superb but it gave a panorama of the 20 miles I still had to finish before a shower and dinner. But it looked pretty flat which was heartening.

I arrived at the B&B in Dornoch with a total of 125 miles for the day. This was the furthest I had ever cycled in one day.  

Caroline was completely settled into the hotel which was real home from home. Dornoch is a pretty town and well worth a visit if you are nearby. Dinner tasted very good that night, and we slept well.

 

Day 12                        Dornoch to John O’Groats ( Mr Blue Sky)

We woke to a completely blue sky. The lack of pollution meant it was not just blue but the colour of the sky in the Caribbean.

I needed to do 79.8 miles to finish the job. Despite the long mileage of the day before I felt strong and fresh.

The weather was amazing with a light south easterly breeze blowing off the North Sea which actually looked blue because of the blueness of the sky.

The guide said that it was pretty easy riding from here to John O’Groats. The climb up over Helmsdale starts at sea level and reaches 998 feet. I do not call that easy riding. The A9 follows the coast until it turns in-land at Latheron where you take the A99 to Wick. The guide definitely undersold the beauty of this part of the route. The cliffs and raised beaches had a rugged beauty to them.

As I cycled along the coast road oil rigs could be seen out to sea. The RAF seemed to be practicing blowing them up for most of the morning. This with the sight of petrol being 96.9p a litre left me wondering how strange life can be.

Just outside Wick I started to tire mentally. So much so I could have given up at that point and driven back south at the drop of a hat. Physically I was in good shape but I really was mentally washed out.

Turning right onto the final stretch of road to Duncansby Head (AKA John O’Groats) I could see cyclists in the distance. I used them as targets to spur me on. I picked them off one at a time until I reached the final hill running down into John O’Groats. At this point Caroline phoned me say that there was a Costa Coffee in John O’Groats. The thought of finishing plus a good cup of coffee and cake made me really put the hammer down.

The road in to the village itself is on a slight downhill run. The combination of the hill, the adrenaline and actually finishing meant that I averaged over 28 mph for the last three miles of the trip.

Bright sunshine and a very blue sea could not help but make John O’Groats look very beautiful. I was overcome with emotion.

The high of it all made the poxy kiosk where you have to pay to have your picture taken next to the sign seem very narrow minded and unimportant.

Having settled down with a cup of coffee and a bun I realised this was one of the best things I had ever done in my life.

 

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