All done

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