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
Saturday 7 August 2010
Would you do it again?
From Leominster we had only 40 miles to Shrewsbury. It had been on signs since the previous afternoon, we have become used to seeing these places come and go. When you combine this with a reasonable starting time, and a lot of flat ahead of us, I told Will this would be our easiest day. We were on the lookout to recharge our batteries and restock our bags with supplies before the big ride up to Wigan tomorrow.
There was a little drizzle, fo shizzle. After twelve o'clock and twelve miles we were into the medieval town of Ludlow. Medieval towns weren't known for their supermarkets, but their markets. Without a 24 hour Tesco, Team Rogers had to settle with a Spar for stocks and lunchables. I don't want to stain the reputation of this dealer but their sandwiches and pasta were some of the least appetising things I have seen in a while, and those who know me best will have seen me eat some pretty inedible stuff. Meanwhile, on the other side of the automatic doors, monsoon season arrived in Shropshire. Will had taken shelter beneath some branches in the square while I did that well known event, the 60 metre dash in the rain. I think that we should sneak that as a taster event in London 2012, puddles and all! Enforce T shirt and trainers as the official kit. Furthermore, don’t let the competitors know when the race is about to start. Anyway, I digress. Ludlow, like so many towns we have passed through, has a castle. “£4.50 entry? You can see half of it from out here” one commentator said. He was right. It was too much for outlaws like us, unable to spend too long in any one place. We went for a little walk around the outside and in the gift shop (free entry!).
Out of Ludlow the clouds cleared and we made good time going up to Shrewsbury with Ben (off of Day 1) in convoy. It was an enjoyable ride with the sun on our backs, the flat at our fronts and the company around us. This really gives me the taste for this kind of riding. I asked myself, and my colleagues, “would you do it again?” It might be 500 and odd miles too soon to ask this question but it has been very enjoyable so far. Maybe it would be nice to do it again, but differently. Without the weight perhaps! Ask me again in a couple of weeks.
Friday 6 August 2010
Cycling Blind
This morning I woke up in the guard room of Saint Briavels Castle. We had not done a great job acting as guards due to sleeping on the job, but modern youth hostels are quite well defended these days. I slept well, but my legs were not feeling any better for it. In fact, climbing down from the top bunk was quite an effort in itself! Many things that I would have previously considered easy non-events are a continual struggle now. Climbing down that short ladder was one of these. The guard room was located on the second floor of the castle, with a great view of any potential intruders. This was not so great for guardsmen with weary legs, who would have to go up and down two flights of stairs for breakfast.
After the weary climb back up, I suggested looking in our route guide book. Dan did. I wasn't allowed. "You can't look in the book" he screamed. Knowing how much I was struggling to do even the simplest of tasks I feared the worst.
Given that our accommodation was slightly off the route to begin with, I devised a short cut to Hereford that would pass through the village of Berry Hill. I have a tip for any budding end to enders out there - do not plan your route through places containing the word "hill" in their name. These do not tend to be the flattest of routes. In fact, this was so steep on the way down that I had to stop and push. My brakes not have the might to overcome gravity at it's worst.
We climbed and descended a number of hills on the way to Hereford, all of which were manageable. Although my definition of manageable is continually changing, and usually for the worse. Each hill we went up I remember thinking "this one wasn't thaaaat bad, so the worst must be yet to come". This paranoia stuck with me, despite the hazards that the roads tried to throw at us. Gusts of winds almost knocked us over, and lorries made their overtakes with the narrowest of margins. One such lorry thought himself kind enough to knock a great swathe of dust into my eyes, blinding me as I approached a busy junction.
I was still blind to the great hill that Dan had worried me about until we left Hereford. Then I could see a ridge approaching. After a short break to build up courage and strength we set upon it. It was nothing like I had imagined, but for the better. A whole day of anticipation made it seem flatter than the killer hills of my mind.
I now feel good in Leominster, partly for managing the hill, partly for passing the £3k mark. Thanks for all your support.
Will
Thursday 5 August 2010
"Taking it easy?"
These immortal words were spoken to us at our brief stop in Wales, 12 miles before today's endpoint. It doesn’t feel like we are taking it easy. This guy was travelling with his friend for 3 days carrying little to no luggage, while said friend did his own LEJOG trip. I suppose he thinks 50miles a day is a ride in the park! I can assure you that it isn’t. We are feeling the effects of our 250 miles. Our legs have become to know and resent the sight of a new hill, giving a little groan as they effort up the steep sections. But up the steep sections we do go. After a little warm up on flat-ish ground we met an almighty hill. It had everything. It was steep. It was long. It was beautiful. At this point I should note that I regard each hill with a certain fondness, once I have made it over the brow. As such, I do not yet have a fondness for any of Scotland. Will claims that this was no Devon or Cornwall affair, but maybe I have gone gradient blind from hours on the bike.
We were suitably rewarded at the top with a fantastic view, of blue skies filled with chartered flights of budget airlines settling into Bristol airport. Descending towards the city we picked up some speed, and brake pads from Halfords. We did not venture into Bristol but just brushed by on our way up to Avonmouth. This section was flatter with water never far from sight, though none could be found in our bottles. Eventually we made it to the Severn bridges. Doing our little bridge weave, we went under one then over one and into Wales.
Lucky for our egos, we didn’t just see downtalkers in Chepstow. Within moments of getting off the bridge we ran into Robin and Donald travelling at just our kind of speed. Coincidentally we had met them back on day 2 in Okehampton. Their route took them to near Wellington, and then Cheddar the following night. Sound familiar? Well, it seems like we have ourselves a pair of shadows, also taking it easy.
We were suitably rewarded at the top with a fantastic view, of blue skies filled with chartered flights of budget airlines settling into Bristol airport. Descending towards the city we picked up some speed, and brake pads from Halfords. We did not venture into Bristol but just brushed by on our way up to Avonmouth. This section was flatter with water never far from sight, though none could be found in our bottles. Eventually we made it to the Severn bridges. Doing our little bridge weave, we went under one then over one and into Wales.
Lucky for our egos, we didn’t just see downtalkers in Chepstow. Within moments of getting off the bridge we ran into Robin and Donald travelling at just our kind of speed. Coincidentally we had met them back on day 2 in Okehampton. Their route took them to near Wellington, and then Cheddar the following night. Sound familiar? Well, it seems like we have ourselves a pair of shadows, also taking it easy.
Newtrition
Having lived with a dietitian for a few years, I would like to think that I know a thing or two about nutrition. It might only be two things, but that is still not bad going by my reckoning, and it has never stopped me trying to share my two cents at a work lunchtime. I am comfortable with the term glycemic index, and know that each gramme of fat contains a whole 9 calories. I am also somewhat aware of some interaction between calcium and iron, and one preventing the absorption of the other, and that is the only reason why you shouldn't put a steak in your glass of milk. Or maybe it was some other vital nutrients, but you get the idea, I am obviously very well informed.
Despite this blatantly broad and extensive knowledge of the food sciences, I have discovered a few new things about eating whilst on this cycling 'holiday' of ours. The quality of my cycling is directly related to the amount of food that I have eaten. Not being a particularly short person, I find it a struggle in my daily life to eat enough food to prevent me wasting away. Exercising for a number (too many) of hours every day means I have to eat even more. Getting enough energy into the muscles is a continual struggle. 'Carbs', as us cool cyclists like to call them, work best. Unfortunately my favourite breakfast usually involves lots of fried meat, and this doesn't contain many of these precious 'carbs', as was to my error a couple of days ago. For budding long distance cyclists I would recommend eating as many 'carbs' as you possibly can, and I have coined a phrase 'Carbohydrate Loading' for such activities.
A known downside of particular eating habits is excessive wind. Wind was an issue today, but of the head variety (as opposed to bottom). Our book describing the route labelled today's cycling as 'relatively flat'. Relative to Cornwall and Devon it certainly appeared flat, but to compensate we had wind to deal with. At least with a hill, not only do you get to the top, but you get the satisfaction with seeing how far you have climbed up. None of this you get with wind.
Whilst pedalling into the relentlessness of the wind I have made an observation of Somerset. It appears as though every farm we pass produces their own cider, ready to buy, and most of it is award winning too! Disappointingly it doesn't warrant the extra weight, but is added onto the 'to do when doing LE JoG in a car' list. Anyone would think they were famous for their cider round these parts.
We have just spent a night in a B&B with a lovely view of Cheddar reservoir, and we have been given a good tip to avoid unnecessarily going over a hill on the way to Bristol.
Love, Will
Wednesday 4 August 2010
Outlook for Devon
What I don't think Will made clear enough, quite how nice people are. Today we ran into Nigel and Tim from Skedaddle, again. We first met Nigel back in Launceston. Back then he kitted us up with enough raisin cereal bars to feed more than 2 cyclists on their way to John O' Groats. This time we got a sandwich and a pork pie too! From what I gather Skedaddle run groups of LeJoGers like us over 3 weeks, looking after them and showing them a route. It sounds like a good idea to me! The generosity doesn't stop there. At every stop we have people say hello and wish us luck, we even got a nice donation from a stranger today.
After another English breakfast with more healthy sides we set off from Okehampton with around 45 miles to our destination of Wellington. Today's route was a lot more scenic. We managed to escape the A30 for country roads, which have a lot more personality, you might say. The enemies became potholes, STEEP hills and lorries in narrow areas. The hills were steep, that's for sure. Will was clocking 38mph on the downs with no pedalling and maybe even 0.38 on the ups, grinding through in the lowest possible gear. All these hills really take it out of your legs. We learned the hard way that cycling gets really hard when your muscles don't have access to a good base of sandwiches, pasta and soft drinks. Despite the magnitude of the climbs we put in through Devon we were better off by the end of the day thanks to food. It seems like my body is starting to understand this, allowing me to sneak in more meals than days 1 and 2. We made a couple of roadside repairs, the hills had taken their toll on Will's back brake pads and unclipping from pedals made our shoes require a bit of tinkering.
The weather today ranged from summer sun to moderate drizzle, with cloudy spells. Stops for lunch occurred in Crediton and Tiverton with intermittant snack breaks in the region of hills. On a personal outlook, spirits today were higher than ever. However, Will has decided to first bring up my character faults at this early stage in the journey and (relatively) late point of my lifetime.
We are settled watching Shaun of the Dead and looking forward to taking on Somerset. Night all
Monday 2 August 2010
Ups and Downs
I don't think Dan made it clear enough, exactly how difficult it was at the end of yesterday. After being rather pleasantly surprised with my own ability for the first 40 miles, things were looking good. Then that sign, "Bodmin 20" was to be seen on a road sign. It was unnecessarily difficult to climb every hill we came across. I think it took us an hour to get the point where the sign said "Bodmin 16". But all the time I though to myself, tomorrow all I have to do is 40 miles, so I would be all done by now.
After a pasta dinner, and a good size breakfast, I imagined everything would be good for the next day. Little did I know, that those first 10 miles would be even worse than the suffering that went into the last 20 of the day before. At this point I had my first "I have to give-up" moment. I was expecting the first part of the day to be the easy bit, and it to more difficult from then on. Imagine what was yet to come! It took a few energy bars, energy gel, lucozade, water, and a nap at the side of the road before I was feeling any better. But during this time I decided to make a list of all those things that were not my friends:
Hills
Hills
Hills
Hills (even the down ones, because these are usually preceeded by an up, or you can see the next up looming in front of you - or worse, both)
Wind
Bumps
Lorries
Hills
Cats Eyes
My saddle
Cycling
We evenually made it to Lauceston, about half way for today. There we had a pasta salad, ice scream, a rest, a look around the local bike shop (Lauceston cycles), and a glace at the local castle (looked like too many steps to visit it propoerly.
With our tummies full of carbs, we set off for the second half, and were in Devon within moments. Now with my legs feeling strong again, and the very long flat or downhill sections, I was full of confidence and optimism - more than ever! I decided to make a list of things that were my friends:
The flat
The friendly cornish people (or non cornish people sat outside their broken down cars)
Pasta
Sleep
People that leave comments or send me texts!
Cycling
Other Le JoG ers (they feel or pain)
Before I set off to do this expedition, I found my emotions to be in one of two states. This was either extreme confidence, believing it would all be easy and good. Or ultimate terror, believing that I would probably die, or worse, be forced to give up. Nothing has changed since I started, except that the pain is now real. I would be true to say that Cornwall has not been without its ups and downs.
After a pasta dinner, and a good size breakfast, I imagined everything would be good for the next day. Little did I know, that those first 10 miles would be even worse than the suffering that went into the last 20 of the day before. At this point I had my first "I have to give-up" moment. I was expecting the first part of the day to be the easy bit, and it to more difficult from then on. Imagine what was yet to come! It took a few energy bars, energy gel, lucozade, water, and a nap at the side of the road before I was feeling any better. But during this time I decided to make a list of all those things that were not my friends:
Hills
Hills
Hills
Hills (even the down ones, because these are usually preceeded by an up, or you can see the next up looming in front of you - or worse, both)
Wind
Bumps
Lorries
Hills
Cats Eyes
My saddle
Cycling
We evenually made it to Lauceston, about half way for today. There we had a pasta salad, ice scream, a rest, a look around the local bike shop (Lauceston cycles), and a glace at the local castle (looked like too many steps to visit it propoerly.
With our tummies full of carbs, we set off for the second half, and were in Devon within moments. Now with my legs feeling strong again, and the very long flat or downhill sections, I was full of confidence and optimism - more than ever! I decided to make a list of things that were my friends:
The flat
The friendly cornish people (or non cornish people sat outside their broken down cars)
Pasta
Sleep
People that leave comments or send me texts!
Cycling
Other Le JoG ers (they feel or pain)
Before I set off to do this expedition, I found my emotions to be in one of two states. This was either extreme confidence, believing it would all be easy and good. Or ultimate terror, believing that I would probably die, or worse, be forced to give up. Nothing has changed since I started, except that the pain is now real. I would be true to say that Cornwall has not been without its ups and downs.
Sunday 1 August 2010
Day one and our target was Bodmin. After our long trip down to Land's End we felt that a lie in was in order so after forcing down as much of our full english breakfast we got back into bed, stretching the time until we checked out. By the time we had got to the very tip of the country, explored and done the compulsory photo taking it was almost approaching noon with our target 60 miles away. At this point we met a couple of lads who just finished the journey in the other direction and they warned us that they found Cornwall to be the hardest part of the journey because of continual ups and downs. It isn't mountainous but "even worse, hilly". With worry, we set off for the long haul.
"Hilly", it was. At first we made good time getting to Penzance and agreed that it was certainly easier the other direction. Perhaps the hills were better viewed from a different angle. More likely, a good night's sleep in a comfortable bed and some food played a bigger role in bringing down the difficulty setting. From then on the hills got steeper and longer. We were lucky to see other end to enders, in particular riding for a while with a great guy called Ben. Like a modern popular artist of the last few months he was riding solo for Unicef and camping.
We took a slight detour through some villages due to roadworks on the A30 before rejoining the main carriageway and splitting company. Our new hobby became watching the number next to Bodmin go down, very slowly. As we got to 20 miles from our final destination and hitting the wall it appeared that the town was actually moving away from us. We passed place after place and the distance literally did not alter. Once we passed this weird area of space-time it did get flatter and easier with us finishing by climbing a steep hill up to our B&B for a well earned hot shower and cup of tea.
Now in an overelaborate wetherspoons in the centre of Bodmin I have the chance to use the Wi-fi thanks to John, who let us share his table so we could use a plug socket. We will sleep well tonight...
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