A Rare Treat

LEJO'G Day Nine: Tain to John O'Groats

It was somewhat fitting today that I rode the last twenty miles of my lejo'g into the setting sun. It gave a warm glow to what has been a fantastic experience. It was also fitting that the same run into Thurso was into a block twenty mile an hour headwind. Riding a lejo'g may be a fantastic experience, but it's also bloody hard.

I was lucky with the weather today. I set off from Tain in the pouring rain, but the wind was squarely behind me from the south west, and it was a good strong wind too. Gradually the intervals between the heavy showers grew longer than the showers themselves; from the optimistic cyclists perspective that's glass half full territory.

From the Durnoch Bridge crossing just north of Tain, there is only one option for the end to end rider and that's the A9 that hugs the coast. It's not a picture postcard landscape with wild moors and a grey sea, and it's obviously a hard land to live in with squat, one storey buildings that keep low to withstand the weather.

There's a sequence of three or four decent climbs, each one lower than the next. At the summit of the last I stopped in a tiny tearoom amongst some original crofters cottages. It was a busy little place, predominantly with locals catching up on the gossip. The scone was of such a good quality, I had to stay to see if the pineapple and sultana loaf came to the same standard.

The closer you get to John O'Groats, the more bleak the landscape becomes. For me it also coincided with a prolonged and intense shower and I just wanted to get there. The rain continued as I made my way up the famous "last hill", built by mother nature merely to taunt end to end cyclists. Of course the sun came out as I crested the rise, and I was blessed with a triumphant descent down to the long awaited signpost.

There was no welcoming party or brass band, just some mildly curious tourists, but that was no disappointment to me. From the outset this was about the journey not the destination. I stopped for a large coffee and warmed myself with my self satisfaction.

Turning into the headwind for the ride to Thurso I cursed, but quite quickly I began to enjoy those last miles. The job was done, there was no time pressure and I could just take things in. Nine days of riding, over a thousand mile ribbon across the country, including some favourite roads and some previously unexplored, is a rare treat and one I shan't forget.

Coast to Coast

LEJO'G Day Eight: Barcaldine to Tain

The landscape of Scotland is wonderful to travel through at the pace of a bicycle. There's time to appreciate the environment around you and your certainly closer to it than in a car. The disadvantage is that the mountains are a natural constraint, so there's often only one route from A to B and that means traffic. Even at the end of the tourist season there are still lots of cars and while the majority are considerate, the overall impact is reduce your enjoyment of what should be some great riding.

The day started well. Jacqui and Angus rode with me for a mile or two and saw me onto a new cycle path from Oban to Fort William. It was a chilly morning, but quiet and calm. As the path came close to the loch, I drew up alongside a heron as it flew just 20 feet to my left. I slowed down to match its pace and watched as every languid downbeat of its wings grazed its own reflection on the mirror smooth loch. Magical. Eventually it broke the spell and shaped to land in that ungainly fashion of big birds.

Within a few miles I was no longer able to glide on the smooth cycle paths and had to mix with the cars again (perhaps also in an ungainly fashion?).

It didn't occur to me until I reached the sea again at Dingwall, that in effect, today's ride was a  coast to coast. I was just happy to have the chance to have ridden through the Great Glen. Aside from the traffic it's an easy, flat-ish route but stunning. There was a malevolent little climb just after Drumnadrochit, but despite having steep shoulders on the way up (15% for 3/4 of a mile), the rest of the hill had a very long tail, ensuring that a long easy descent followed.

All week the forecast has been showing high winds and heavy rain for Sunday and that hasn't changed. So I rode an extra 25 miles today, up to the lovely town of Tain, to get as far north as possible while the weather held fair, ready for tomorrow's final leg up to John O'Groats.

Rest and be Thankful

LEJO'G Day Six: Gretna Green to Dumbarton

There can be fewer more scenic locations for a tea stop than the Oyster Bar on the banks of Loch Fyne. What could be more enjoyable than lounging in the conservatory, taking in the mountain view and devouring a delicious buttered slice of tea loaf?

I'd been looking forward to this leg of the trip since I first sketched out the route. It would be my first day into the Highlands and the first time I've visited my sister Jacqui and her husband Angus in the twenty years or so they've lived in Scotland (yes, shame on me!)

The tea stop came after climbing and descending the "Rest and be Thankful" pass, which takes you up and away from the head of Loch Long and over to Loch Fyne. It's a beautiful stretch of road and, with the gentle gradient, a joy to climb.

I made good progress today, and realised that if I didn't stop again, I might make it to visit Jacqui's school just before the end of the school day. So I pushed on down to the coast, over the Connell Bridge and back up the loch to Ardchatten. I didn't quite make it and was twenty minutes late. However, once they heard I arrived, all the kids came back to school to see me... all three of them!

Jacqui and I then cycled her "commute" home. Climbing out of the valley, there can be few more striking journeys to end your working day

Perfect, Almost

LEJO'G Day Six: Gretna Green to Dumbarton

This wasn't a perfect day on the bike, but up until three o'clock it was. On perfect days it's sunny, but not too warm. On perfect days there can be wind, but only if it's at your back. The recipe also includes smooth roads, beautiful scenery, fresh legs, and of course, a cafe stop of character. My day had all these things (yes, even fresh legs... considering).

Despite running parallel to the A74 motorway, my route towards Glasgow from Gretna cut away into the surrounding countryside often enough that I soon forgot the busy road was there. Once past Moffat (which supplied the excellent, characterful, cafe stop) and up onto the hills of the Borders, I had the roads and cycle paths to myself. The most disturbing thing about the day was the stupid grin on my face.

I can imagine that in bad weather this route would be bleak, dangerous even. But for me it put on its best face and it was beautiful.

The rain started as I ate a late lunch in another great cafe, this time in Strathaven. It coincided with the run down into East Kilbride and Glasgow and, unfortunately, a slow puncture. I knew the cause; a glass cut in the tyre from day one which had now deteriorated. I really needed a new tyre before I hit the highlands.

So my perfect day was broken by a rain soaked chase down unfamiliar busy streets, balancing the time to stop and pump the tyre to make it safe versus getting to the bike shop before closing. I made it, hopefully without using up all my good fortune.

High Point

LEJO'G Day Five: Gargrave to Gretna Green

Fleet Moss, the bleak moor that sits between Langstrothdale and Wensleydale, has the distinction of being the highest point in my journey from Land's End to John O'Groats. Purely by accident, it turns out it was also the halfway point. That the highest point and halfway point came in the Yorkshire Dales makes it even more special.

I was fortunate that it stayed dry. Even tackled from the "easier" south side, the 1936 feet of Fleet Moss made for a challenging climb today. The summit itself is uninspiring. It's flat topped with no great vista, made worse by the flat grey day, but I stopped for a picture nonetheless. However, the thought that it's all downhill from here is a real boost.

I rewarded myself with a bacon butty in the cafe at the bottom of the pass in Hawes. I shared a pot of tea and some good bike chat with Chris from Burnley, who stopped into the cafe on a 200km audax.

It all felt a lot better today. Double shorts helped relieve the saddle discomfort, and sticking to real food instead of energy bars has helped settle my stomach down. The incessant rain that started at Garsdale Head, five miles out of Hawes, didn't lay off until I passed though Carlisle, but I stayed warm and enjoyed the riding.

A landmark day had a landmark finish with the border crossing into Scotland. There's four hundred and forty miles to go in four days and, for the first time, John O'Groats is beginning to feel like it's within reach.

Grim up North

LEJO'G Day Four: Wem to Gargrave

Today was a lot tougher than it should have been. On paper, it was a relatively easy transition day from the rural south, through Greater Manchester and out to the edge of the Yorkshire Dales. To cap it off, the day would end with a stay at my Mum and Dad's and some good home cooking.

I'm burning between three and five thousand extra calories a day, so I've become a bit obsessed with eating enough. Last night, after the late arrival, my only choice was the local Indian. I stuck to a biryani, a side of aloo gobi and a nan to load the carbohydrates and fuel the riding. On top of that, I even forced down a healthy(ish) breakfast this morning. Within a few miles though it was clear my system was not happy. The granola bar and banana diet of the previous three days didn't help. I just couldn't eat a thing.

The majority of today's route didn't inspire much either. After the delights of Herefordshire and Shropshire yesterday, the Cheshire plain is just, well, dull. Threading a way though the urban sprawl between Liverpool and Manchester meant a stop/start, edgy journey. Grim.

By the time I came out the other side of the maze of motorways and terraced monotony and into the hills north of Blackburn, my mood was grim too. I hadn't eaten properly since breakfast, and saddle "issues" were now impossible to ignore. Despite possibly the best day of weather so far, with the fewest vertical feet to be climbed so far, today was the toughest so far. No one said it was going to be easy.

Of course when they invented the phrase "Grim up North" it was only meant to apply to the Lancashire side of the border. When I crossed the River Ribble and into God's own county, my appetite was restored, my legs surged with renewed vigour and I flew to the day's end on the wings of Mercury. Only it wasn't and they didn't and to reach the nirvana of the family home I had to grind out the last few miles though gritted teeth.

Rain Science

LEJO'G Day Three: Chipping Sodbury to Wem

There's a science to when you put a rain jacket on. Neil rode out with me as far as Dursley this morning and light rain began to fall about half way there. The science part is that if your working hard enough and the rain is light enough, your body heat evaporates the water and you stay dry. When Neil turned for home, I headed up the A38 cycle lane, working hard and staying dry. And that's when it all went wrong.

My route planning (which, as I've already said, was done in some haste) took me to the tow path of the Gloucester Canal at just about the same time that the rain got harder. It turns out that the tow path would be fine on a cyclo-cross bike, but was a bit sketchy on a heavily laden road bike. So the work rate went down and I ignored the rain jacket science at the expense of keeping going. Before I knew it I was soaked through and chilled to the bone.

Ed's diner in Gloucester Docks came to the rescue. A full English and bottomless coffee brought me back to life. But a late start and slow progress along the canal meant I was only thirty miles in and time had already ticked past eleven thirty.

The day gradually turned around with the morning's misery slowly clearing like the rain. The sun came out and the roads began to steam dry. Surprisingly, I had good legs today, with just rolling countryside and only a handful of gradients worth getting out of the saddle for. And what countryside it is. This part of England is a hidden treasure. Emphatically rural, stunning landscapes interrupted by unspoilt, working towns like Ledbury, Bromyard and Ludlow. I stopped to take a picture of hop bines and the silence was almost unsettling.

Sadly, the late hour meant I wasn't able to explore Shrewsbury, and one last route mishap meant I had to time trial the last three and a half miles along an A road to beat the failing light and approaching rain. Thankfully I made it; look closely at the Garmin to see that last burst of speed!

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Long Days

LEJO'G Day Two: Tavistock to Chipping Sodbury

Every day of this journey is going to mean long hours on the saddle. But the early starts do have some advantages, This morning I had Dartmoor to myself and, despite it's reputation for being bleak, today it was calm and peaceful.

My route logic may seem odd to some. Why on earth would you cycle right over the top of Dartmoor when you could quite easily go round it? That's not easily explained. In large measure it's about seeing the best of the country as I travel my thin ribbon from south to north. But there's also that perverse cyclist part of me that wants to ride the climbs. If I follow the logic of taking the easy route I may as well just stay at home on the sofa.

Of course, the other advantage of the hills are the descents. The long drop into Exeter was rewarded with a delicious tea and scone sat in the sunshine of the cathedral close. Leaf tea and a fresh warm scone, served, as you might expect, the traditional Devon way with clotted cream and strawberry jam.

From Exeter the route headed up and over the Blackdown hills. This necessitated a tough little climb up onto the heights, but then rolled along the top for several miles before dropping down onto the Somerset levels.

There's no avoiding the distances I have to do in a day. But when you begin to flag there are remedies. With fifty miles still to go, and having discovered that the Somerset levels aren't quite as level as I had hoped, I made a detour into Somerton and sat outside the Market Bar just long enough to down a double espresso. Apart from a nasty pull out of Wells, that little cup of coffee saw me most of the way to the end of the day.

There can be fewer more welcoming places to end your day than at my old friends Neil and Gail's lovely home. After a hot bath, I reacquainted myself with Neil's spaghetti bolognese, a recipe unchanged since our flat sharing  student days. A perfect end to a long day.

Slower

LEJO'G Day One: Land's End to Tavistock

Today was always about getting the measure of this ride. A heavier load means a slower pace.I know that's obvious, but I didn't have time to do a test ride to see just how much slower. The hills in Cornwall are relentless. If you're not climbing you're descending, with no opportunities to just roll along the flat. That said, it's not "proper hard". The hills aren't that big or that steep, but one look at my Garmin will tell you all you need to know how my day went (if you ignore the fact I didn't reset the Garmin after a blip in London the night before).

But slower than normal can have its upsides. I always planned this trip to be more about the journey than the destination (and not some teenage wannabe psychobabble emotional journey, I mean the traveling from A to B type of actual journey). Apart from a torrential downpour as I spun through Penzance, Cornwall was a picture today. Cresting a rise I would see unexpected vistas over to the sea towards north and south. Down one back lane, I came across half a dozen disused tin mines in the space of less than a mile. The tall pithead buildings with their distinctive chimneys looked like clenched hands bursting out of the ground and pointing to the sky. Normally I'd cruise on past, but I'm making the effort to stop. I'm not going to worry about the average speed, heart rate zones and all the other numbers for once. I'm just going to enjoy the ride, and today was a good day.

I start the morning with a 1000ft climb onto Dartmoor, practically from the doorstep of the hotel. It's then a 140 mile ride to my next night's sleep, so let's see if I don't care about the numbers tomorrow night!

Running Out of Time

Time is a elusive beast. I've been trying to catch it all week and it constantly slips through my fingers. But I've caught it now; or rather it's caught me, as I have eight hours of enforced solitude on a train traveling across the country to Penzance.

I've often said I'd like to ride Land's End to John O'Groats, the classic end to end. but that was always prefaced with the phrase "when I have the time". So after years of trying to find time, make time, or even grab time, I'm finally on my way. Why now? If anything I'm busier than I've ever been and it's "not really a good time". The truth is I found myself asking, "if not now, then when?" and I realised I just had to choose a day and go. Easy.

So here I am. On the train with my bike, with what I think of is the minimum amount of kit (but it still seems infeasibly heavy) and nine routes planned for nine days riding. Have I done enough training? Probably not. Have I chosen my routes wisely? Unlikely. Will I make it? I don't know. Could I have taken a bit longer to prepare for this properly? Absolutely. But then I might just have run out of time.