Steve's final thoughts on the ride

Not sure how many people are still checking out our blog, but I did promise to put up my final thoughts on the ride, so here goes.
11 days that included a roller coaster of emotions and highs and lows, thankfully many more highs than lows. To be honest I completely loved the physical/mental challenge and just being with two of my closest mates, doing an activity that I absolutely love.
First disaster was avoided at Penzance, where Kev and I met Lee off the London train. He had the skewer off his turbo trainer still on his wheel and didn’t have his wheel skewer with him (middle of his wheel in laymans terms). But the spare wheel came to the rescue.
Day 1
It started off with a rainy, damp and miserable day, starting at Lands End. Full of nervous energy, lots of apprehension for what lay ahead. Although the strangest feeling of all for me was putting my bike on top of the support car and thinking that the next time I step on my driveway I will have got there all the way from the other end of the country by using my own pedal power.
The first day passed by without any major mishaps and the finniest thing happened when we entered a pub to eat in St Agnes. Denis had arrived an hour or so before and had told the whole pub that three heroes where about to enter and they deserved a round of applause when they walked in. That’s what we got!!!! Highly embarrassing and I wanted to crawl under the seating. I turned to Lee and said that my postman had cycled further on that day than I had.
Day 2 was full of steep hills, terrain that I usually go backwards on. But once we hit Newquay and some steep inclines I found myself tackling them comfortably and somehow enjoying it all. We took an alternative route near Padstow, a cycle path called the Camel Trail. This was a change of plan, it put us somewhat off course and behind schedule. We stopped for lunch on a hilltop, on the outskirts of Dartmoor and ensured that we had Cornish Pasties, seeing we were about to leave the county in the afternoon. We rode on the busy A30 for about five minutes as we approached Launceston and it was like navigating a motorway. Saw our first few end to enders and actually overtook one. The weather was glorious throughout the day, we entered Devon and soon after found our accommodation. That night we ate at a great pub called the Harris Arms, where all customers and staff gave donations towards the charity.
Day 3 didn’t get off to a great start, as Kev fell off his bike before we had gone anywhere. He was okay though and the funny thing was that he thought he was bleeding as he felt his back pocket. It was an energy gel that had burst in his pocket!!!
Great rolling course and fantastic weather yet again. Unfortunately, Lee had another mechanical, his back block/cassette broke, resulting in him freewheeling as he pedalled. Spare wheel on and a few unsuccessful visits to bike shops, but we reached Meare (Glastonbury) after a hard, but good day in the saddle. The Somerset Downs were stunning as we rode through them late afternoon. Lee had come up trumps again with the accommodation, a manor house, his PA was doing us proud!
Early start for day 4, knowing that we had 121 miles to cover (which turned out to be 132). Error one was opting to ride through Cheddar Gorge, not because it was a tough climb, but because it wasn’t on our intended route and took us a good 7 miles off course. We hit the suburbs of Bristol and then couldn’t find the way onto the Avonmouth bridge. Then we could see the Severn Bridge, but got lost in the huge industrial estate near the docks. We reached Chepstow at about 2.30pm and ate at a grotty hotel. The drop down to Monmouth was stunning and almost all downhill. But error two (or four if you ignore the bridge navigations) was made as the bike sat nav went off as we reached Monmouth. Lee stepped in and used the maps we had, but the route was gruelling and although we hardly saw any cars, we hit steep hills, one after another! We weaved around the countryside for hours without getting nearer to the days destination. This sapped our energies and we carried on with heavy legs for the rest of the day. By 7.15pm we had to stop and eat at a pub. We sat outside and ordered steaks all around, but hardly a word was spoken. Tempers were really frayed at this point. I was very quiet because I felt like I had let everyone down by failing to navigate accurately and it also had something to do with the fact that Jen had taken me to one side and told me how many miles were left to the B and B (over 35 miles and it was 8pm). I didn’t have the heart to tell the lads, who seemed dead on their feet.
We set off from the pub, with greasy, iffy food in our stomachs and within 100 metres we hit a hill, that headed to a place called Arthur’s Stone (near Haye on Wye). It was a killer and we were all cursing, barely able to turn the pedals. What made it worse was a dog that was zigzagging between us, undecided as to who’s leg to taste first. So strange how when you are at your lowest point and something unexpected happens to lift you. Firstly, as the light started to fade we passed a pub in the middle of nowhere and all the locals had obviously spotted our support car and knew why we were riding, because as we passed they all got up off the stone steps at the front of the pub and gave us a round of applause (this one was welcomed). Then a buzzard flew above us for a good few hundred metres. We all commented on this and picked up the pace. The support car was behind us with lights on for the last few miles, which enabled us to spot an owl sat at the side of the road, taking off as we approached. I’m no Bill Oddie, but these things gave us a huge boost. Day 4 was 132 miles in total and we reached the B and B at 10pm.
Day 5 was filled with apprehension due to the fact that on paper it was a longer mileage route that the day before. But we knew that each pedal rev meant a bit closer to reaching home and that was incentive enough. All went well and some sunning countryside, in fact we took a route that meant we didn’t see a car for almost the whole morning.
We reached Tarporly in Cheshire late afternoon and stopped for coffee, we seemed bombarded with messages asking what time we were due past certain points, impossible to predict. Getting to the Runcorn Bridge was horrific, as Lee was drained and in a bad way. He zig zagged through the road cones on the bridge, slowing down with every mile ticked off. The bad news about Eze must have also been affecting him badly. It seemed to take an age to reach St Helens. Lee appeared to pick up as we rode down the Rainford bypass. But news that night was that after all his tremendous efforts to hang in, he had no choice but to go to see his little fella the following morning.
Day 6 started with me feeling subdued as a result of Lee not being on the ride anymore. I felt for him and was also eager to see Eze better. But he was like my wingman on the ride. If the Sat Nav failed, I would grab the maps from his pocket and between us, we would work out where we should head.
I got a great boost though as we met H.Middleton CC club riders, about 40 odd. We all headed out to the café in Scorton and having them alongside us will be a lasting memory for me. After Scorton the club left us and when Steve B eventually found the café we were off again, but this time facing our first rain of the ride. Kev’s back kicked off and my feet were screaming with stabbing pains. But we managed to reach Grassmere in good time, wet and a little tired after the long previous two days efforts still in our legs. The whole dynamic of the group had changed overnight. It would have been strange having lost Denis and Jen, who had been brilliant support for five days. But the absence of Lee made the adjustments even greater. But it was welcome onboard Steve B and two left on bikes.
Day 7 started with fine drizzle and low clouds. We were into our first climb up Dunmail Raise within two miles of the B and B. At the precise moment we reached the summit a Harrier Jet thundered directly over our heads. Kev let out a yell and I actually ducked, grabbing my handlebars as tight as I could. It’s so strange, the book we based our route on warns of the approach to the summit of that climb and Harrier Jets!
The route through the West side of Thirlmere was stunning and we took our time, taking loads of pics.
Then it was onto a busy A road heading towards Penrith. We then took another stunning route through to Hesket Newmarket, a tiny place where we stopped for tea and got a donation from a bloke who had read the car livery.
Carlise was navigated without hitting the busy parts and we found a wonderful road that ran alongside the motorway for a few miles, great surface and no traffic on it. Kev struggled around this point, I think it was a combination of his back pain and hunger knock. But from this point on he seemed to have a tough time.
Gretna was a photo opportunity and nothing else. There was nowhere decent to eat, so we rode on to Annan. Kev and I pulled a great stunt after Annan, let’s just say it had something to do with full moons as he approached in the support car.
Our B and B in Dumfries was a farmhouse and we got the converted cow sheds, which was the run of a whole house. But we were far too tired and that was an early night.
Day 8 was another poor day weather wise, rain and more rain. We had a race on to catch a ferry at Androssen and 75 miles to cover before 3pm. The route to the ferry was unspectacular and we had to deal with a few busy roads, especially after Irvine.
We were both soaked and drained in the ferry, but the break allowed us to grab some food and get a change of kit. I wish we had seen Arran without the low cloud and rain because it looks like a stunning place. Off the ferry and about 17 miles to the hotel on Lochranza, but a big mountain to get over first. After the tough climbs we had triumphed over in Cornwall this bump in Arran didn’t pose too much of a challenge.
We were unfortunately met by the least accommodating and helpful host of the whole trip, DON’T STAY IN THE LOCHRANZA HOTEL if you ever stay on Arran. He wouldn’t dry our kit, he wouldn’t give us an early breakfast the next day and best of all, he wouldn’t lock up our bikes. He was quite stubborn on this last point and claimed that nothing is ever stolen in Arran (apart from his personality). I took matters into my own hands and carried my bike to my room when the staff weren’t looking.
Day 9 a very early start. The ferry was 100 metres from our hotel, but we still didn’t get a breakfast. Ronny B’s flapjacks came to the rescue though and we filled our faces with a few pieces each. The ferry was only 20 mins, but I felt really sick. It was a ride of 15 miles to the fishing village of Tarbert on the other side. Kev and I were lifted by the news that Lee was about to join us a bit later that morning. Eze was better and Denis was a star, he had set off early that morning to drop Lee back on route.
We were starving by the time we reached the café in Tarbert, but despite this I was up for some practical jokes. I placed my fart machine in my coat on the back of Steve B’s chair and you can picture what I did to amuse Kev and myself for the next 30 mins. The girls in the café were startled a few times. But Steve eventually stormed out of the café and stood outside near the harbour wall. I only later found out that he was angry because he thought I was actually passing wind!!!! This made it all the more amusing. Twenty odd miles down the road Denis caught us up and Lee was back on the ride. It was superb to have him back on, but got to be honest, our average speeds dropped dramatically, sorry Lee!
The road from Oban was a main road, but some stunning places and bridges were passed. We reached Ballachulish in good time and a great hotel in an amazing spot.
Day 10
A day of contrasting emotions, with a superb, breathtaking ride through the Caledonia Canal and East side of Loch Ness. But contrast that with the ugly, hard slog out of the back of Inverness and the seemingly never ending route to Tain.
We had superb weather, although it was nowhere near as warm as down South, hence the long sleeves all day. Ben Nevis was crystal clear and we found ourselves stopping every few minutes to take pics of the breathtaking scenery.
We were soon given a reality check once we opted for the Easterly route through Loch Ness, hitting very steep and very long ascents, one after another. Lee fell off the back on the first half hour of this part of the route. Then suddenly, out of the blue he came sweeping past Kev and I at the foot of another steep climb. It was even funnier because of the fact that he looked left at us and laughed in our faces. All we could do was watch, as he soon became a dot on the landscape. He was to pay for that big time later in the day when fatigue kicked in.
We stopped late afternoon at a pub at the top of the Loch and were surrounded by other people who’s attire was on a par with ours. It turned out that we had stopped next to the site of the Rock Ness music festival.
Inverness was navigated easily, but the roads out North were very busy and we found ourselves dicing with HGV vehicles.
It seemed like we were struggling to get any closer to that nights stop in Tain and seeking a ‘shorter’ route, we headed through Invergordon, a really run down and backward town. As we rode along the estuary we passed giant Oil Rigs that had been towed in for repairs. I had a car swerve in needlessly towards me on this road, so I greeted this with a suitable hand signal and various expletives. I had only picked the local psycho, who decided to continually follow me for several miles, waiting for his opportunity to fill me in. I looked behind for back up and both Kev and Lee were nowhere to be seen. I know I was riding strongly throughout the ride, but was the fact that I was so far ahead something to do with the Hill Billy on my case?
We reached Tain totally shattered and starving. The hospitality of our hosts was second to none, keeping the restaurant open for us and also washing all of our grotty kit. DO STOP AT THE CARNEGIE LODGE Tain if you are ever in that area.

Day 11
The final push, a strange feeling and atmosphere hung amongst us as we prepared to head off. We had a few alternatives for the route and a decision had to be made about 30 miles into the day. The road was the main artery to the North coast, classed as an A road, but quite narrow in places. We found it relatively quiet as we hit a few patches of rain. This was the day that we spotted more end to enders than in the previous 10 days combined. We even saw 6 soldiers in a line running the route south bound. I had to pause and sit up to applaud them. Others on bikes were shouting across the road to us and encouraging us, as they too headed south, probably on day two, or three of their challenge.
We stopped for coffee in Helmstead at a run down hotel, where the owner told us she was from Warrington. Kev took the opportunity to go to the Halifax bank when we were there and the girls behind the counter laughed and doubted he would make it over the Berredale Braes! He came out looking very concerned and we discussed the alternative, which was to head inland and across the mossy wilderness towards Thurso. It looked extremely bleak in that direction as the rain fell more heavily and there was also now a strong headwind. So we opted for the Breas and stayed on the main A road towards Wick. Mind over matter, the Berredale Braes were a test, but we had coped with all sorts off steep ascents this past week or so and these were just another obstacle to cross.
We were overtaken on the way toward Wick by three younger and fitter lads, who it turned out were doing the journey in 7 days. They were Edinburgh Uni students, originally from Aberdeen. Their overtaking manoeuvre niggled me (silly of me really), so I decided to dig in and catch them up. I went past 2 of them, but the third was a lot faster than his mates and it took more effort, but I eventually got onto his wheel. I don’t think Kev appreciated my efforts as he sat on my wheel as I hunted them down one by one. Eventually, I ended up doing a two up (alternating, each rider takes turns on the front) with the Jock. He was a good lad and I ended up riding through Wick and on towards John O’Groats with him. Eventually, we decided to pull over near our respective support vehicles and wait for our own groups before riding into JOG. Kev came through the driving rain first, then a while later Lee made it. We then rode together for the final 5 or 6 miles and rolled into John O’Groats. We had sent Steve B ahead to film us riding in and over the finish line. However, as we approached he drove past up out of the town!!!! We had to do a U turn and hang around and it was freezing cold. 10 mins later we tried again, only for him to botch up the filming. But this made it funnier and the resultant footage we have is priceless.
There was an anticlimax as we crossed the line and onto a derelict hotel and barriers. Hugs around, very emotional, but quiet strange that it was all over. I must admit though, as I walked into the café to get a warm drink to thaw me out, I felt an overwhelming sense of achievement. Lots of the customers were those who were about to head off on their end to end the following day and several asked questions about our ride.
We waited at the finger post for pics and the photographer was a bad tempered cockney bloke, he acted and even looked like the miserable children’s entertainer on the Punch and Judy on the TV show Hi Di Hi.
Bikes onto the car and a race back to the hotel in Tain, an hour or so drive away. The hotel gave us a room each and greeted us as we arrived, congratulating us. There was no desire to have a boozy night with high spirits celebrating. We had a relaxed meal and a few drinks in the hotel bar, knowing that we didn’t have to prepare bikes, kit, route, nutrition and hydration etc… for the following day. I actually felt sad that the challenge was over, but that great sense that we had achieved something significant will stay with me, along with some special memories.

Highlights of the trip
Camel Trail
Denis’s Linen jacket and Panama hat
Harris Arms meal and customers generosity
Cheddar Gorge
Back lanes in Devon, Somerset and Herefordshire
Severn Bridge
Buzzard flying with us
Cheers and applause at pub in Herefordshire
Welcoming at the Cockbeck from family and friends
Ride out with H.Middleton CC
West side of Thirlmere
Applause off cyclists in Lake District
Pass on Arran
Falls of Laura Bridge
Loch Levin Hotel
Caledonia Canal
The blur Lee speeding past Kev and I up a steep hill on the East side of Loch Ness
Carnegie hotel hospitality and generosity (twice)
Accommodation at St Agnes, Meare and Ballachulish (thanks Lee’s P.A.)
Ronnie’s Flapjacks
Steve B’s video editing antics at John O’ Groats
0 punctures
The ride was dedicated to my great friend Kev’s beloved Carla and the money raised is going to a wonderful cause. I would like to thank everyone who showed amazing generosity by donating and also to Matt at Cyclexpress, Terry Dolan and Mr Jones of Halliwell Jones.
I would also like to dedicate the ride to my mum, who bravely fought breast cancer a few years ago and showed incredible courage throughout difficult times.
Would I do it again, definitely. But I would take two weeks or even more to take in the places that we ride through. A wonderful book was the inspiration behind the route. If you ever do this ride read Phil Horsley’s book first.
So, onto the next challenge, watch this space!