Setting off from Inverness, me and Will were taken the scenic way round the Black Isle by the National Cycle Network. Despite his knee worsening, we tackled more Scottish hills and wind for 20 miles before a good sit down and lunch. Post beef sandwiches I followed the B roads oscillating about the A9. The lack of traffic noise through the likes of Barbaraville was easily compensated by RAF exercises overhead. The good weather gave a great opportunity to see the landscape to the north, blue sea to the south and wildlife on the banks. I added an escaped chicken to the ‘Alive list’ of my sighted animals, a feat which was never matched by the hedgehog or badger. Finishing in Brora, I was itching to keep riding.
For the penultimate day, we set the target destination of Wick. Our guide book warned that the steepest hill of the whole journey was on this stretch. With this in mind, energy conservation was top priority. I took my time to enjoy the scenery, thinking back to the conquered hills of Cornwall and the Lake District and patiently awaiting the next. Just out of Helmsdale I could see Tonka trucks slowly moving up a toy track. Like Father Dougal, I had made the wrong distinction between “small” and “far away”. The HGVs were struggling to keep momentum up the long, steep climb. Right on time, The Megabus overtook me. This was ‘it’. With a strategy in mind, I was ready to take ‘it’ on. I pedalled with my left foot, then my right. Then I repeated the action several more times. Moments later, I was at the top with an IRN BRU laughing at “the team” taking photos of each other taking photos of each other. It is about time we got back to real life. Perhaps all this exercise has done me some good, I thought. That wasn’t as hard as it looked. The end was so close and I had done the hardest part. I was mistaken again, twice in one day. There was a 13% hill lasting over a mile, just twenty minutes later. Applying the same strategy wasn’t as easy this time, but it was all I had.
Out of Wick yesterday morning it seemed that the weather had caught up with us. Far from the sun and gentle breezes of the week, a thick mist had descended and the wind had picked up a howl. Thankfully we were only 17 miles from the famous sign, wearing jeans, a waiting family and a bar with 130 different whiskeys. Lights, jumper and iPod on, I set off for the final stretch. Visibility was barely 50m as I went past “Park View B&B”. I was reminded of the way to Land’s End when we cycled through torrential rain to “SunnyBank Hotel”. Marketing jokes aside, this was a lot more satisfying. I was close to the finish line rather than the start. I met the megabus a few miles from John O’ Groats. Freswick, though on the map, appeared to be just an abandoned house next to a sign. After seeing a single track A road in the Highlands we had come to expect nothing less. Will was on the saddle waiting for me when I arrived. Riding side by side and reminiscing of the trip, I was glad we had gone through with it. “Its all downhill from here” he said, just as we reached the peak of the final legsplitting hill. It was a tired catchphrase but for the first time in three weeks, he was telling the truth. We descended into John O’ Groats to photographs and handshakes. Mission accomplished.
It feels great to have cycled the length of the country but it was only possible because I lacked injury. Will showed great determination and character to carry on through tendonitis, but also in knowing when he should rest. Give him a pat on the back when you see him. I know I couldn’t have done it without him.
I would like to thank everyone who has supported us and especially to those who have donated. If you haven’t yet, but would like to, please follow the link or give in person to me or Will. We have been humbled by your kindness.
With love,
Dan
Saturday 21 August 2010
Wednesday 18 August 2010
Highlands
It has been a while since our last entry. As we get ever closer to our finish point we are also getting more remote. Power to charge my phone, and the laptop has been sporadic to find and Wifi all the harder. Will has kitted us out with a gadget to remedy this by turning the laptop into an internet phone, but that too is unreliable up in the wilderness. That means that this update has become a bit of a novel, so get the kettle on.
We left you back at Stirling, where I had just done a long day trying to catch up distance after taking our rest days. Three days later we are past Inverness and back on schedule for a Friday finish. Will kneeds some rest so I continued to ride alone for the first two days. I can say it is a lonely road up in Scotland for a cyclist. I won’t lie to you now and say that my world has fallen apart. For now I still have the level of sanity I set off with. It is nice to have the freedom of riding alone and see Scotland at my own pace. It is all the better knowing that I will see Will at the end of the day. It is also refreshing to ride without so much weight on the bike. When injury stopped us from covering any distance, Will hired a Seat Alhambra (for the price of a Vauxhall Astra). “The Minibus” was big enough to fit a Dawes Galaxy in the back, panniers in the gaps and Will behind the steering wheel (a tall order!). With mother joining the team, we have upgraded to “the Megabus”. On this final stretch our home is a motor home, from Lazee Dayz. This opens up a whole new world of flexibility. Rather than finding and booking B&Bs/hostels we can stop wherever is appropriate, using campsites where we like. The bikes go on the back so we can even hitch a ride. Not to the finish line, but today we had to be taken back to a campsite after riding on too far! It is perfect for the vastly open Highlands.
The scale of the country is disorientating. Larger settlements are roughly fifteen miles apart, familiar from riding in England. However, what was once a city is now a town. What was once a town is now a village. What was once a village is now a house. The places are smaller, like a little England. In contrast, the landscape is new. The hills are huge and gradual, like a big England. Just as you conquer one set of hills you can see the next, just as huge. I don’t know how to combine these two into a description. What I do know is that they would not like the name Little Big England. National identity seems to be a big thing above the border. Since crossing, road signs pointing to landmarks and amenities all have a blue thistle on them. Even signs pointing towards cities seem to have something similar. I have not seen or heard the word British since crossing the border. Neither English for that matter. Notably, the money I took out from the Royal Bank of Scotland is Scottish. I hope I got a good exchange rate.
On Sunday I climbed out of Stirling to the Bridge of Allan on the hottest day ever, probably. After riding through Dunblane and approaching Muthill, the sun had become too much for this cyclist. An extended lunch was in order. I met Will at a bench with a view and basked in the unusual Scottish weather, deciding upon acceptable attire was and trying to make my Cornwall tan lines more gradual. From there, I continued into the hill town of Crieff. From the visitor centre down in the valley you could see the centre of town, hundreds of feet above. Upon cycling through, the road became isolated, with few signs of civilisation and pub lunches until Aberfeldy. With the next section looking wilder and darkness on its way, I waited for the Megabus to arrive.
Monday started early as we had to take the Megabus to return the Minibus to Stirling. My housemates will testify that I am not known for my early starts, I stayed with the family as they made the transaction. By the time we had made it back up north it was afternoon. I spent the day following the A9, rarely using it but rather the B roads and cycle routes around it. By keeping a good pace we ended up in Dalwhinnie, where there are a lot of signs but not a lot going on. Today (Tuesday) Will got back on his bike and back into the action. We covered some good distance following cycle routes around the A9, continuing to undulate slowly through the mountains, ending in a long, steep descent into Inverness and back onto schedule.
Fingers crossed we can do our last couple of days without significant problems, and find enough signal to keep you updated.
Nearly there,
Dan
We left you back at Stirling, where I had just done a long day trying to catch up distance after taking our rest days. Three days later we are past Inverness and back on schedule for a Friday finish. Will kneeds some rest so I continued to ride alone for the first two days. I can say it is a lonely road up in Scotland for a cyclist. I won’t lie to you now and say that my world has fallen apart. For now I still have the level of sanity I set off with. It is nice to have the freedom of riding alone and see Scotland at my own pace. It is all the better knowing that I will see Will at the end of the day. It is also refreshing to ride without so much weight on the bike. When injury stopped us from covering any distance, Will hired a Seat Alhambra (for the price of a Vauxhall Astra). “The Minibus” was big enough to fit a Dawes Galaxy in the back, panniers in the gaps and Will behind the steering wheel (a tall order!). With mother joining the team, we have upgraded to “the Megabus”. On this final stretch our home is a motor home, from Lazee Dayz. This opens up a whole new world of flexibility. Rather than finding and booking B&Bs/hostels we can stop wherever is appropriate, using campsites where we like. The bikes go on the back so we can even hitch a ride. Not to the finish line, but today we had to be taken back to a campsite after riding on too far! It is perfect for the vastly open Highlands.
The scale of the country is disorientating. Larger settlements are roughly fifteen miles apart, familiar from riding in England. However, what was once a city is now a town. What was once a town is now a village. What was once a village is now a house. The places are smaller, like a little England. In contrast, the landscape is new. The hills are huge and gradual, like a big England. Just as you conquer one set of hills you can see the next, just as huge. I don’t know how to combine these two into a description. What I do know is that they would not like the name Little Big England. National identity seems to be a big thing above the border. Since crossing, road signs pointing to landmarks and amenities all have a blue thistle on them. Even signs pointing towards cities seem to have something similar. I have not seen or heard the word British since crossing the border. Neither English for that matter. Notably, the money I took out from the Royal Bank of Scotland is Scottish. I hope I got a good exchange rate.
On Sunday I climbed out of Stirling to the Bridge of Allan on the hottest day ever, probably. After riding through Dunblane and approaching Muthill, the sun had become too much for this cyclist. An extended lunch was in order. I met Will at a bench with a view and basked in the unusual Scottish weather, deciding upon acceptable attire was and trying to make my Cornwall tan lines more gradual. From there, I continued into the hill town of Crieff. From the visitor centre down in the valley you could see the centre of town, hundreds of feet above. Upon cycling through, the road became isolated, with few signs of civilisation and pub lunches until Aberfeldy. With the next section looking wilder and darkness on its way, I waited for the Megabus to arrive.
Monday started early as we had to take the Megabus to return the Minibus to Stirling. My housemates will testify that I am not known for my early starts, I stayed with the family as they made the transaction. By the time we had made it back up north it was afternoon. I spent the day following the A9, rarely using it but rather the B roads and cycle routes around it. By keeping a good pace we ended up in Dalwhinnie, where there are a lot of signs but not a lot going on. Today (Tuesday) Will got back on his bike and back into the action. We covered some good distance following cycle routes around the A9, continuing to undulate slowly through the mountains, ending in a long, steep descent into Inverness and back onto schedule.
Fingers crossed we can do our last couple of days without significant problems, and find enough signal to keep you updated.
Nearly there,
Dan
Saturday 14 August 2010
Devastated
Yesterday was a day of great disappointment. After only just making it to Lockerbie the day before, I think I had gone beyond the limit of what the tendons in my knee could handle. No quantity of frozen sweetcorn and anti-inflammatory pills could fix it. I had made it all the way from Warrington to Lockerbie nursing it, but it was having no more. I only managed about 2 miles out of Lockerbie yesterday morning, taking about 45 minutes to do it. I even tried pedalling with just my left leg, but that was literally getting me nowhere.
It eventually became apparent that I was not going to make it to John O’Groats with my knee in its current state. I was devastated. After the euphoria of reaching Scotland the night before, and with something like 600 miles behind us, I had never been so eager to finish. I was feeling fitter than Cornwall too; all this exercise had done me some good. In that moment I felt helpless. In Cornwall I felt like I might not be physically fit enough to make it, but at least then I could push through the tiredness and pain, but now with every pedal stroke I could feel my knee evaporating underneath me. I didn’t have any strength in my knee to push with it, and even the motion of the pedal was excruciating.
I think we spent over an hour at the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere, contemplating what to do next. I was determined to finish, but I was never going to make it there in the week remaining. We decided that Dan would carry on and finish it now, and I would come back. At the very least I will come back and finish the stint from Lockerbie, but I am also determined to do the whole thing again, and in less time. I felt so good knowing that I had made it to Scotland, and want to get that same feeling knowing I have made it all the way to John O’Groats myself, maybe doing it in something faster like 12 days. I am determined to make that very generous £3k that people have given feel deserved, and this will not be my only attempt.
After much dilly dallying around, the slow walk back to Lockerbie, and the arrival of a hire car to take my bike, Dan was able to make it Moffat that night. In order to catch up with schedule, he had about 75 miles to cover today to Striling, starting off by tackling the first Scottish mountains. To add to his misery, today was a day of diversions. 3 times Dan was sent on extended routes to avoid closed roads, which appear to be commonplace today. Arrival at our accommodation was rather late as a result – 8pm we rocked up.
We arrived to find no management, just another hopeful guest looking to find somewhere to stay. Maybe our latish arrival was to blame, but this guesthouse appeared to missing out on some business. Working our way into the hallway, Dan went on walkabout (an aboriginal term for an extended trip through the bush – or so our MENSA quiz book tells us)* to look for a Mr and Mrs Fawlty, but only found other bemused guests looking to return their breakfast slips and empty bedrooms.
Other passersby came and went responding to the vacancies sign outside, before Mrs Fawlty arrived with her shopping. We were shown to our room (in a different house to the B&B), given our keys (before swiftly having some of them taken off us because she had lost her own front door key) and given a breakfast selection at 9:30pm, to be returned no later than 9pm. We are now however safely tucked up in bed, looking forward to another day of painful cycling for Dan, and peculiar jealously for me.
With regret, Will
*This MENSA quiz book, has filled our time with many delights during the wasted hours of our trip, has also come out with a couple more comic gems. In the easy section of Food and Drink, we were asked ‘What is an Aubergine’. The correct answer was ‘A vegetable or Aubergine’. Also, apparently the currency in Belgium before the introduction of the Euro was... the Euro. I am not sure MENSA is all that it is cracked up to be.
It eventually became apparent that I was not going to make it to John O’Groats with my knee in its current state. I was devastated. After the euphoria of reaching Scotland the night before, and with something like 600 miles behind us, I had never been so eager to finish. I was feeling fitter than Cornwall too; all this exercise had done me some good. In that moment I felt helpless. In Cornwall I felt like I might not be physically fit enough to make it, but at least then I could push through the tiredness and pain, but now with every pedal stroke I could feel my knee evaporating underneath me. I didn’t have any strength in my knee to push with it, and even the motion of the pedal was excruciating.
I think we spent over an hour at the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere, contemplating what to do next. I was determined to finish, but I was never going to make it there in the week remaining. We decided that Dan would carry on and finish it now, and I would come back. At the very least I will come back and finish the stint from Lockerbie, but I am also determined to do the whole thing again, and in less time. I felt so good knowing that I had made it to Scotland, and want to get that same feeling knowing I have made it all the way to John O’Groats myself, maybe doing it in something faster like 12 days. I am determined to make that very generous £3k that people have given feel deserved, and this will not be my only attempt.
After much dilly dallying around, the slow walk back to Lockerbie, and the arrival of a hire car to take my bike, Dan was able to make it Moffat that night. In order to catch up with schedule, he had about 75 miles to cover today to Striling, starting off by tackling the first Scottish mountains. To add to his misery, today was a day of diversions. 3 times Dan was sent on extended routes to avoid closed roads, which appear to be commonplace today. Arrival at our accommodation was rather late as a result – 8pm we rocked up.
We arrived to find no management, just another hopeful guest looking to find somewhere to stay. Maybe our latish arrival was to blame, but this guesthouse appeared to missing out on some business. Working our way into the hallway, Dan went on walkabout (an aboriginal term for an extended trip through the bush – or so our MENSA quiz book tells us)* to look for a Mr and Mrs Fawlty, but only found other bemused guests looking to return their breakfast slips and empty bedrooms.
Other passersby came and went responding to the vacancies sign outside, before Mrs Fawlty arrived with her shopping. We were shown to our room (in a different house to the B&B), given our keys (before swiftly having some of them taken off us because she had lost her own front door key) and given a breakfast selection at 9:30pm, to be returned no later than 9pm. We are now however safely tucked up in bed, looking forward to another day of painful cycling for Dan, and peculiar jealously for me.
With regret, Will
*This MENSA quiz book, has filled our time with many delights during the wasted hours of our trip, has also come out with a couple more comic gems. In the easy section of Food and Drink, we were asked ‘What is an Aubergine’. The correct answer was ‘A vegetable or Aubergine’. Also, apparently the currency in Belgium before the introduction of the Euro was... the Euro. I am not sure MENSA is all that it is cracked up to be.
Thursday 12 August 2010
“I just want someone to feel my pain”
Will wanted me to feel his pain this morning, but not the pain in his knee. He had removed his front panniers before his rest and they were frustratingly fiddly to attach. I got the first on in a matter of seconds, fantastic. I understood why he was annoyed when I tried the second. It was like trying to pick up a wet fish with two bars of soap.
We got off to a good start out of Shap, making it to Penrith in little time. The small town had everything we had come to need, a supermarket, bench, castle and pharmacy. The stretch to Carlisle was ‘you are what you eat’. It became a drag due to increased drag from headwinds. We had a little tinker with Will’s brakes on the way to keep a little excitement going. Upon making it into Carlisle we took shelter from the rain (and increasing number of gingers) in the train station.
Following the motorway we reached Gretna, into Scotland. We had now made it into the final country on our journey. From here on in it seems like every road sign will have a little picture of a thistle. However, this distance had started to take its toll on Will’s damaged knee. We picked up frozen sweetcorn and elastic bands to strengthen our kit bag of knee-fixers. It was now around 16 miles before our destination of Lockerbie. On this final leg through Scotland Will was on his last leg. Our pace slowed and Will was obviously feeling it. I could not feel his pain, whether I wanted to or not. He battled through, and we made it. It had been a long day on the saddle and we are both feeling tired in our lovely B&B. It probably didn’t help that we were woken way before our usual wake time by some of the many coast to coast walkers we met at our time in Shap.
We’re still making some good progress, and proud to have made it to Scotland. I’m having haggis in morning!
We got off to a good start out of Shap, making it to Penrith in little time. The small town had everything we had come to need, a supermarket, bench, castle and pharmacy. The stretch to Carlisle was ‘you are what you eat’. It became a drag due to increased drag from headwinds. We had a little tinker with Will’s brakes on the way to keep a little excitement going. Upon making it into Carlisle we took shelter from the rain (and increasing number of gingers) in the train station.
Following the motorway we reached Gretna, into Scotland. We had now made it into the final country on our journey. From here on in it seems like every road sign will have a little picture of a thistle. However, this distance had started to take its toll on Will’s damaged knee. We picked up frozen sweetcorn and elastic bands to strengthen our kit bag of knee-fixers. It was now around 16 miles before our destination of Lockerbie. On this final leg through Scotland Will was on his last leg. Our pace slowed and Will was obviously feeling it. I could not feel his pain, whether I wanted to or not. He battled through, and we made it. It had been a long day on the saddle and we are both feeling tired in our lovely B&B. It probably didn’t help that we were woken way before our usual wake time by some of the many coast to coast walkers we met at our time in Shap.
We’re still making some good progress, and proud to have made it to Scotland. I’m having haggis in morning!
Wednesday 11 August 2010
"Nice bike you have there"
During out time cycling, and our time stopping and eating lunch, many people have commented on the quality of our bikes. Fine pieces of machinery they are too. Apart from air, oil and new brake pads, there has been no servicing required on the bikes. They have run steady and smooth, without much worry. We have met some other end to enders, often with their own cycle problems. The Dawes Galaxy appears to be the king of cycle touring.
We have received fewer comments relating to the quality of the engines that power our bikes. Maybe because the other cyclists are qucker than us, or maybe the odd one is carrying more weight, or maybe it is because it is obvious that we aren't but like serious athletes. Unfortunately the reliability of my legs has not matched that of the bike. Today was spent resting my broken knee in Shap.
After some clipping and unclipping issues, I felt a twinge in my knee at the end of day 8. 50 miles of cycling later I decided it needs some rest to recover. Unlike my bike, if something goes wrong with my knee, there is no replacement part that I can just swap in. My solution is ibuprofen and a bag of frozen brussel sprouts. With some good rest hopefully the miles will fly by tomorrow.
We have looked to explore the sights of Shap whilst we are stranded here. Apart from the abbey, that was over a mile away! The local pubs have some reasonable pool tables, the coffee shop has hot chocolate and marshmellows but no wifi, and the local coop do a nice range of frozen vegetables. Shap also has its own bank, but only open 4 hours a week we didn't get chance to check it out.
If the knee holds up we might be in Scotland tomorrow, wish me luck!
Will
We have received fewer comments relating to the quality of the engines that power our bikes. Maybe because the other cyclists are qucker than us, or maybe the odd one is carrying more weight, or maybe it is because it is obvious that we aren't but like serious athletes. Unfortunately the reliability of my legs has not matched that of the bike. Today was spent resting my broken knee in Shap.
After some clipping and unclipping issues, I felt a twinge in my knee at the end of day 8. 50 miles of cycling later I decided it needs some rest to recover. Unlike my bike, if something goes wrong with my knee, there is no replacement part that I can just swap in. My solution is ibuprofen and a bag of frozen brussel sprouts. With some good rest hopefully the miles will fly by tomorrow.
We have looked to explore the sights of Shap whilst we are stranded here. Apart from the abbey, that was over a mile away! The local pubs have some reasonable pool tables, the coffee shop has hot chocolate and marshmellows but no wifi, and the local coop do a nice range of frozen vegetables. Shap also has its own bank, but only open 4 hours a week we didn't get chance to check it out.
If the knee holds up we might be in Scotland tomorrow, wish me luck!
Will
Bad news
Evening followers. Today our target was Arnside. From our hotel in Wigan, we had over 50 miles to go. Normally this would not be a problem for us, especially considering the pancake nature of this part of the country. However, Will had injured his knee at the end of yesterday's marathon. Strapped up, we made steady progress into Preston. National cycle routes gave us a little variety and excitement (including a very low tunnel!) but this was all but a distraction from the trouble Will was facing. In Preston we enjoyed the Lancashire hospitality and sense of humour as we sat around a shopping centre to avoid rain.
From there we carried on to Lancaster. Will's knee got progressively worse despite any tablets and magic ointments applied. Unfortunately, no amount of stupid jokes could help the healing process either. For now we have stopped short, just north of Lancaster to get a hot shower and a warm bed for the night. Disappointingly, it is only the pedalling motion which causes real problems. We aren't sure of the long term effect this injury will have on our journey but for now he needs to rest up. We will keep you updated.
Our fingers crossed,
Dan
From there we carried on to Lancaster. Will's knee got progressively worse despite any tablets and magic ointments applied. Unfortunately, no amount of stupid jokes could help the healing process either. For now we have stopped short, just north of Lancaster to get a hot shower and a warm bed for the night. Disappointingly, it is only the pedalling motion which causes real problems. We aren't sure of the long term effect this injury will have on our journey but for now he needs to rest up. We will keep you updated.
Our fingers crossed,
Dan
Sunday 8 August 2010
Ambition
I may not the most ambitious of people, but that hasn’t stopped me from coming up with some ambitious plans. The most recent was choosing to cycle the length of the country. Today we are getting somewhere near the half way point, arriving in Wigan. I firmly believe that Wigan is in the north of England, so I find it quite amazing that we have reached somewhere that sounds as northern as Wigan, even if there is the Lake District and Scotland still to come. The accents are definitely northern anyway. Shrewsbury to Wigan was a little more than 70 miles, making today our most ambitious day in terms of miles. The idea was to cover some miles whilst the ground was pretty flat.
We stopped in the not so busy town of Whitchurch, and set off for Warrington on the A49. Some sections of this country a-road are rather windy, and we had become used to being overtaken by speeding bikes. Whoosh was certainly the official noise of the day. On one narrow section of road I looked up to see a white van (why do they always stick to the stereotype) on my side of the road heading straight towards me. This driver was also rather feeling rather ambitious, trying to overtake on a blind corner. A quick swerve towards the hedge and I survived, but it didn’t half make my heart flutter.
We made it to Wigan safe and sound, with the exception of the first injury of the trip so far. A pulled tendon in my right knee cause me some issues in the last 10 miles, so getting a knee support is the first job for tomorrow.
Google informs me that we have travelled a total of 375 miles, and we are still alive so far :-)
Will
We stopped in the not so busy town of Whitchurch, and set off for Warrington on the A49. Some sections of this country a-road are rather windy, and we had become used to being overtaken by speeding bikes. Whoosh was certainly the official noise of the day. On one narrow section of road I looked up to see a white van (why do they always stick to the stereotype) on my side of the road heading straight towards me. This driver was also rather feeling rather ambitious, trying to overtake on a blind corner. A quick swerve towards the hedge and I survived, but it didn’t half make my heart flutter.
We made it to Wigan safe and sound, with the exception of the first injury of the trip so far. A pulled tendon in my right knee cause me some issues in the last 10 miles, so getting a knee support is the first job for tomorrow.
Google informs me that we have travelled a total of 375 miles, and we are still alive so far :-)
Will
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