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.