Epilejog - Sunday

After the excitements of getting to John O'Groats, and the celebration dinner last night, it was strange (and wonderful) to wake up without an alarm or the flatulence of a 70 year old from Wisbech.

Due to some wonderful fortuity, I had a room to myself and never enjoyed solitude more. I don't know if you've read 'A Squash and a Squeeze' by Julia Donaldson. The concept is simple - if you think you have it bad, make it much worse and you'll end up grateful for what you had in the first place. Sleeping with an septuagenarian is something we should all do from time to time. (Chris is also a wonderful example of modesty, vivacity, determination and he never complained once. Unlike me.)

One of the many unexpected aspects of this trip has been the way it has sharpened our enjoyment of the simple things:

- the look of ecstasy on the face of a grown Accenture consultant as he finds a tiny patch of van seat in the back of one of the trip vehicles on which to perch half a buttock, sheltered from the wind.

- the bliss of taking off your stiff cycling shoes after eight hours of pedalling.

- The unmitigated delight of squeezing a generous blob of Sudocrem (not to be mistaken for Pseudocreme which just pretends to be effective) onto your fingers and reaching into the depths of your cycling shorts to apply its cooling delights onto areas where man meets machine. Oh, the rapture, the sweet, sweet joy.

So too with the simple bread roll that would await us each night at dinner. The first proper food since getting off the bike, smeared with butter and consumed greedily. The food of the gods to a hungry man.

Speaking of food, (I've got all day to kill so forgive the rambling), its been a mixed bag. There's been average pub grub, great home cooking by the DA team in a hostel, ridiculous

 haute cuisine served to cyclists for whom quantity was always going to trump quantity. 

We've had menus stuck in the seventies, as much of rural Scotland seems to be. Still serving fruit cocktail as a starter - who knew?

The Discover Adventure team consisted of 6 crew in three vans and lorries. They would be waiting for us at each water stop, morning and afternoon, and have lunch ready for us in the middle of the day. One of the vans had a field kitchen built in, and hot soup, bacon rolls and bowls of pasta would be produced alongside all sorts of cold meats, cheeses, salads, breads and pies. There'd be an urn of boiling water for tea and enough cake and chocolate to keep you going for the afternoon. 

There's been a general acceptance that the weight we expected to fall off may have journeyed all the way to the tip of Scotland with us. Better that than run out of puff half way up a hill with another 50 miles to ride.

The DA staff have been indefatigable. Bright and breezy, wonders at getting bent bikes back on the road, driving past with a cheery wave, song or honk, to ensure bags were waiting for our arrival each night.

It would  have been great to do this trip with a few mates, carrying our kit and sleeping in B&Bs. It would have been nice to take a few more days, to take interesting diversions and steer clear of some of the busy A roads we ventured along. To eat in local pubs rather than chain hotel restaurants. 

But that would have taken more time, required the requisite mates all being able to take 2 weeks off at the same time. It would have meant the trip stayed on the wish list, rather than on the list of achievements to look back upon. (Click pics to enlarge).

I hope to be able to do some other long rides in other parts of the world. With friends or with Susie and the kids. Seeing the countryside by bike is a wonderful way to travel. You can cover remarkable distances and you're always exposed to the elements, your views are always 360 degrees.

It's terribly British to obsess about the weather, but by God we've been lucky.

Less than two hours rain in almost two weeks of constant cycling must be some kind of record. We've had the odd headwind, but nothing too bad. And while the tail winds that we could have expected never materialised either, the clement conditions have allowed us to savour every moment of this scepter'd isle.

It's been a lovely time of year, with the lushness back in the verges and hedges and the golds of the wheat fields enough wealth for any man.

Right, I seem to be descending further into cliche and over egged prose than usual and so should probably stop.

I'm writing this in the sunshine of an Inverness pavement cafe. My flight to Southampton via Manchester is not until this evening so I will not see the kids properly until the morning.

I want to sign off with some thanks. Firstly to Susie for being so supportive. The total financial cost has been considerable, as has the time spent training and the last two weeks away from home. She's always been right behind me and I'm hugely grateful.

I'm also hugely grateful to the 65 people who have so far donated to my Just Giving page. I've got a cheque for £200 from work which puts me within a whisker of £2,000. A lot of people have been very generous, and in these days with so many demands on our time and philanthropy, I'm very, very grateful. 

Allergies are on the increase and can ruin lives, but charities like the Anaphylaxis Campaign are doing their best to make things better, and safer, for sufferers and their families. I'm preaching to the converted on this blog I know, but if you haven't, and you can, please do. Www.justgiving.com/miles-Kendall 

So that's it. I hope you've enjoyed reading my witterings. I've been writing for a diverse audience - family, friends, work, kids, cycle mates and also as a record for myself.

Thanks again for your support and for coming along for the ride. Oh, and if a crazy idea occurs to you one night after a few pints, don't be too quick to dismiss it. You never know where it might lead...

The end of the road - Saturday

The rain came in low and hard. The drops of water that formed on my glasses were blown horizontally. Average speeds on the flat are around 17mph but we struggled to get into double figures. We were soaked within minutes of leaving the hotel.

The final stretch along the last piece of remaining road was only 20 miles long. But within a few miles the pain in my legs that had made the latter par of yesterday so excruciating was back. 

I bit my tongue rather than emit the rhythmic grunts and groans that had prompted Danny to ask: 'Eh, Miles! Have you got a woman back there?'

And so at 11am the group of 54 riders rolled into the little cluster of buildings at the arse end of nowhere that is John O'Groats.

Our little gang - that formed around the kernel of Danny, Roy and Malcolm, to include Mike, Martin and me - hung back so that we could cross as a unit.

We're a diverse bunch, ranging from late twenties to early sixties, and with experience going from about 12 months to a lifetime. What we shared was a willingness to look out for each other and a determination not to take any of it too seriously.

I will add some further general thoughts tomorrow as I have a day in Inverness to kill.

I hadn't expected to be particularly moved by reaching the finish, but as we completed the last few yards of this almost 1,000 mile journey, I could feel the tears forming.

After a group pic I had to go and have a wander by the storm-swept sea and have a good blub. Sore legs, relief, pride, a sense of achievement - of camaraderie, thoughts of my father... I imagine they were all part of the mix.

I was soon called back by the boys for more pics, including the obligatory sign post shot.

The last 11 days seems to have gone in a flash. The days do merge a little, but thankfully my photos are geotagged so I can see exactly where each one was taken.

There has been a lot of change in the last couple of weeks. Changing landscape and scenery from the grandeur of Dartmoor, tranquility of Somerset, oppressive urbanisation of Warrington to the majesty of the highlands and the big country that is Scotland. 

My aches and pains have kept changing, as has my ability to tolerate them and get on with it (apologies once again to you, dear reader, for the moaning). And hand in hand with those aches has been my enjoyment of the riding, my ability to lead from the front rather than just hang on to the wheel ahead of me because it's the only way to get through the day.

Friendships have grown and solidified. Preconceptions have been blown away and I hope I have learnt a little humility and will be careful to be less hasty to judge by age, sex or appearance.

Each day has been unique, with plenty of highs and the odd dark moment too. Changing weather, changing conversation and cycling mates. The daily grind has never been more rewarding.

And I have I changed too? I hope so.

The Ultimate Penultimate - Friday

Oh my good God, what a day.

It started so well. Legs full of beans. Sun in the sky while the south of Britain was being drenched. Great views over the Firth of Dornoch.

Then we had to leave the coast and go up and over the biggest, most barren, most windswept moor that I have ever had the fortune, and yet also the misfortune to traverse.

It's complicated. The scenery was drop dead gorgeous with fly fishermen standing in the river at we swept alongside. Except it wasn't so much of a sweep and a crawl. There was an almighty headwind trying to bowl us back to Cornwall.

The potted story is that I tried I hard, spent too long at the front, feeling great and with a smile on my face. But by the last 10 miles I was totally spent. Both legs screamed with pain. Not in a tired, achy way, but in a not sure if I can keep peddling because it hurts so much way. I crawled into Thurso. It really did hurt a lot. Really. But now am I warm and dry and about to go to the bar and all is well.

I feel too spent to wax philosophically now. That can wait until tomorrow when we cycle into JoG at around 10.30am. For now, it feels great to be so close.

I will add photos when I can. Maybe not tonight.

Beyond the Highlands - Thursday

The sun rises late in the Highlands. Not because of the latitude, but because the loch sides are so high. So while dawn (and quite a lot of wind) broke around 5am in our hostel dorm, it wasn't until almost nine as we were spinning along the valley floor that sun broke through.

The sun was needed to warm us up, and while the morning was chill, it was also wonderfully still.
It had chucked it down overnight, and again we had dodged the rain.

To say we have been lucky with the weather is to put it mildly for the time of year.

This morning was sunny and still.

Then there was Loch Ness.

And some more of that scenic stuff.

Then we headed up the biggest hill of the whole trip. It was 17% and went on and on. Each corner revealed another stretch of vertiginous ascent. The wonderful thing is that my legs worked and I never doubted that I would make it.

Beyond the climb we left the Highlands and entered a whole new geography, Sutherland, with rolling hills and mile after mile of golden wheat fields. The scale of it all was once again epic. The colours of the field reminded me of a picture my father painted a few years before he died and which he gave to us. It's been nice to have a few quiet moments of reverie over the last nine days.

The run in was fantastic. Fast and fun. It feels so good to have a pair of  working legs.

Now in the bar with the locals.

Highlander - Wednesday

5.45am. Chris goes to the bathroom. Breaks some surprisingly melodic wind. Returns to bed.
5.46am. Chris: "It's very complicated for these hotels, organising all the food for everyone, isn't it?"
5.47am. Chris: "Do you mind if I open the curtains?"
5.48am. Chris: "Seeing as you're awake, do you want a cup of tea?"

So, up early then. But worth it for the view over the loch.

There's always a bit of trepidation at the start of a 90+ mile ride, but off we rolled, now in a fairly established gang of five. There are natural changes in tempo as the day goes on. Sometime we'll amble along, chatting and talking rubbish, sometimes ride tight and fast. There's no plan and the variety helps break up the day.

Words don't do the scenery justice. The hills aren't exceptionally craggy or mountainous, they're just very, very big. Huge. Massive. Majestic. Towering. Imposing. You get the idea.

And the light. A lot of the magic is in the light. There's always some cloud as you look around the vast panorama and the mountainsides bathed in light contrast with the brooding malevolence of their darkened neighbours. As I said, words don't do it justice, especially not mine.

We passed the Falls of Lorna...

And some other pleasant combinations of water and land.

After passing through Fort William we climbed and the biggest hill of them all, Ben Nevis, revealed itself, the whole range bathed in sun for a few moments.

The last 20 miles flew by. I had a couple of energy gels with added caffeine and set the pace, helped by a fresh southerly breeze and flat loch side roads. It was about as good as cycling gets, and it felt good to be doing some work at the front of the gang after a few days earlier in he week when my legs were not up to it. I'd been told that I'd cycle myself fit (DP) and it seems I have.

The end of the day involved a little shopping for the Youth Hostel we're staying in the delightfully named Loch Lochy.

Somewhere over the rainbow

We had our first rain today. We could see it coming, blowing across the loch ahead as we cycled out of Largs. It was drizzle at first, but then became heavier. There was nothing to do but put our heads down and keep cycling.

I looked for shelter and wondered about nipping into a cafe for 10 minutes in the hope hat it would pass. Then I thought of the conversation I had going over Dartmoor with John. He's 25, has just been made redundant, but is full of hope and has a great attitude to life. John likes the rain. As I cycled along I decided to like the rain too, and savoured he sensation of it hitting my face. The taste of it on my lips.

Then the rain started to clear to reveal the far side of the loch. A ray of sunshine pushed through the clouds and lit up a spot on the shore of the town opposite. A rainbow formed. It was very short, just a spotlight of technicolor, and it had a brightness and intensity that I've never seen before.

I stopped and took a photo, then took another as the rainbow grew slightly larger. Five minutes, and about 15 photos later the rainbow had formed an arch across the mouth of a bay of the loch.

After a morning of riding in company, I had been cruising on my own in the rain and enjoyed a soul inspiring moment of reverie by the side of the water. We don't often get time to stop and stare, and I was very grateful for being where I was, when I was. And if it hadn't been for the rain, there wouldn't have been the rainbow. Profound, eh?

The rest of the day was full of majestic scenery. Think oil paintings of the highlands with shafts of sunlight picking out steep wooded hills etc.

I'm now in a tartan-rich hotel on the banks of the glorious Loch Fyne. I've had my first drink since the  off, a pint of Guinness to accompany the half dozen oysters it would have been rude not to have.

In other news, the legs are both working pretty well, which is handy. My left elbow is a bit sore after coming off the bike when crossing a wooden bridge after to the lunch stop. Three of us fell off simultaneously but all are being brave soldiers and no harm done.

I will try to load some photos but the IPad is being a pain so no promises.

Thanks for the various texts and Facebook messages by the way, and for the spate of recent donations. I will thank you properly when I get back form Inverness, but its all much appreciated.

Another day, another country - Monday

First off an apology for the typos and lack of editing in these posts. The iPad and Blogger software don't get on, and there's a lot to do when I get off the bike each evening. First the bike has to put somewhere safe, often a hotel conference room, but last night a disused swimming pool. Once in the room the cold bath runs while I mix a recovery drink which helps mend tired muscles. Cold bath. Hot shower. Wash kit. To bar for ice to put on whichever muscles hurt most. Upload pics from phone to iPad etc. Then write blog. I bet you wished you'd never asked.

So that's where I am now. At 6.45 in Kilmarnock. Which is in Scotland.

The day started very windy, with the wind right on the nose. My left knee had its side pain right from the outset but the dead quad didn't kick in until the afternoon, which is a big improvement. All in all the best leg day since Day 2. I still can't stand up to cycle as the left leg won't support my weight on its own. But I'm really pleased with how things are going and glad I took it easy for the past couple of days.

Into Scotland.

A stop to buy ointment as I could feel some chaffing reaching dangerous levels. The application in the car park was not seemly but felt extraordinarily good. The five of us wandering round the chemists choosing creams and drugs was quite surreal.

Then we got into the Lowlands and some great views. The two pics below are 180 degrees views which together give an idea of the panorama

I'm going to finish now as the site is playing up and not letting me edit or add more pics. And I need to call the kids. They've just got back from a swim in the sea. The south may be having a heat wave but Scotland was grey and windy. But with another 100 mile day in the bag we're getting closer everyday. Which I guess is the idea.

On the up - Sunday

Sunday dawned grey and breezy in Preston where I enjoyed my best night's sleep to date, despite it being on the mattress from a sofa bed in a motorway Ibis.

The plan of cycling slowly to protect the didgy left leg from pain worked for about 5 minutes when a twinge in the side of the knee set up camp and became a constant sharp ache. So I kept going slowly, spinning the wheels, and being overtaken by all and sundry.

As we got close to the Lake District the scenery went from scenic to stunning.

The signs to Kendal gave me a goal to focus on, and I stopped to phone Susie. We passed through Kendal on a university road trip, about 24 years ago.

Ahead lay Shap Fell, a pass over the hill that towers above the town. The sign didn't fill me with confidence.

Up and up I went, spinning the gears and stopping for photos and to give my legs a rest. Nothing was too painful, though my arse was so sore that I had to lift my weight off the seat every 50 yards or so.

There was a strong breeze blasting in from the west with just enough south in it to help a little rather than hinder. The landscape was spectacular with the grey scudding clouds adding to the sense of drama.

It was a bit too wild at the top to stop for more than a moment to look at the 360 view, then the long run down the other side was a joy, with the the dark hills rolling for as far as the eye could see. With sheep too. (Click on any pics to for larger images).

The afternoon got better and better. The fact that it was mostly downhill was a big help, but my legs felt stronger and stronger with the aches and pains easing. I hooked up with a good group of lads to pass through Penrith, but could not see any tea rooms for Withnail and I homage.

The final 20 miles to reach Carlisle seemed to stretch on, as seems to be the pattern, but I ended the day sitting in a bath which actual ice and feeling more positive. (If you are of a nervousness disposition, please look away now).

Now I just need to balance protecting my legs with not spending too long on the bike each day.

A big day

We're off through the Lake District today.

That means going through Kendal, which is nice.

It also means going up and over Shap Fell, a seven-mile long hill.

Spin to win - Saturday

Hang on...

Wait a minute, just need to finish a conversation with my roommate about gender reorientation.

(He is 70, is reading The Wasp Factory, and finished within 10 minutes of me today. He looks a bit like a Wurzel and is all for self determination of gender. Legend.)

Right, he's nodded off. Anyway, the fact that Chris finished so soon after me is some indication of how the day went.

All started well with 30 miles of fair whiz zing along. The Syrian question was analysed (jig/Ben you were missed) as was how to choose the right music to cycle too. (There is a tandem with on board speakers as part of the group of 71 riders).

Then, after 30 miles the left knee starting playing up again. Soon the pain spread from the quad into the side of the knee then I starting getting nasty shooting pains through the knee itself which meant I couldn't put any real pressure on it.

I'm sure these problems are happening because the injury in the other knee stopped me training properly in the run up to this ride and it's just too much for muscles grown unaccustomed to this amount of effort.

When I saw a place offering sports massage I stopped and went in but they don't have any free!

Anyway, I only had one option, which was to go very slowly, putting minimal pressure on the knee. So that's what I did. Members of the group who I would usually whizz past in the morning overtook me one by one and I could only sit and spin (cycle in low gear with high cadence) as they slipped over the horizon. We're talking grandmothers here. My main solace was that this technique seemed to be working and got me through the 89 miles of the day, and will hopefully keep me on the road. At one point I started envisaging worst case scenarios, and one guy had to picked up from the side of the road when his knees gave up.

The other thing the helped massively was music. I took earphones and plugged one in so I could still hear the traffic. Otis Redding, Lilly Allen, Flaming Lips, Robbie, Paolo all helped. Morissey (spell check just suggested 'morosely') didn't.

The route took us through pleasant countryside north of Shrewsbury, then along busier and busier roads as we passed through Warrington and Wigan before arriving in sunny Preston. The wind picked up blowing across us from the west, but the weather held for fifth day. Doing this in the rain would be really tough.

Photos coming soon...

It only hurts when I pedal - Friday

Spending the night in a room of 10 cyclists, many of whom had eaten curry for supper and had a beer, was never going to be a pleasant experience. And so it proved.

So, bleary eyed we set off, me with a new spoke after one broke yesterday (all part of the service and much appreciated).

Everything went swimmingly for the first 20 miles and then then sore leg started hurting again. With 66 miles to go, this was not good news.

On the bright side, the countryside north of Chepstow is very pretty, with wooded valleys, rolling hills, lots of lush farmland, and the dark clouds and showers that passed ahead of us left everything rich and green and terribly British.

We had a couple of stops. One at an enterprising village store en route with a LeJog signpost.

And one with just seven miles until lunch at a little campsite cafe. We've decided that it is never a bad idea to stop, whether for a photo, a stretch or scenic comfort break in a field. The trouble is, that when rolling along in a group, the temptation to just push on. We're learning how to make the most of this experience we go.

By lunchtime my leg was very sore and I couldn't keep up with the normal gang when we set off for the afternoon ride. I found myself on the wheel of a delightful lady who was going at just the ride speed and I just focused on her back wheel and tried to stay there.

We got chatting and that helped take my mind of my leg - and also my arse which also feels like its been kicked by a horse and hurts constantly. (Forgive the self pity, I can't moan to my fellow riders as they all have their aches and pains too).

When a long, long hill threatened to get the better of me I reached for my iPhone and puts some tunes on to help us to the top. It was something I tried going up a gorge near Chedddar (possibly the gorge) and worked a treat. I just focused my whole mind on the music and away form my leg and arse.

The last 20 miles were down the other side of the big hill and along the flat into Shrewsbury where it was a delight to have a proper hotel room with a bath and proper bed that someone else had made.

So, a tough day that is already losing its sting. Hopefully the cold bath and rest will sort the leg. With two working legs this would be such fun!

Bloody awful - Thursday

After the delights of Dartmoor, the third day was something of a shocker.

The morning started well, with relatively flat terrain and a good average speed in our little group. Even climbing Cheddar gorge was fun.

We stopped for lunch and I slipped away early and decided to take a detour into Portishead (after which the band is named). I also wanted to do a couple of extra miles so that the 98 miles planned would tot up to 100.

I turned out that I was in Clevedon, not Portishead, but it was fun to be off the route and a little bit lost, and I got to see the tidal pool and pier on the River Severn.

After the pm drinks stop we had 30 odd miles to go, across the Severn and into Wales. The route took us along the docks and wastelands of Avonmouth, a more soul sucking expanse of Britain I have yet to see. Then across the endless arch of the  old Severn Bridge and into Chepstow. Up a bloody big hill, now with my left leg feeling like it had been kicked by a mule. (The right knee is fine, thanks for asking, I don't know what all the fuss was about).

Then I got lost. I went down a big hill and asked directions. The next thing I knew I was cycling through Wales on the west of the Wye while my group was in another bloody country. My phone was flat so I couldn't check Google maps and work it out myself. I stopped to ask a postman who directed me further into Wales up more bloody hills with the cheery send off: 'Good luck, it's a really nasty road'.

Then I found myself going past Chepstow racecourse and down a snaking road past Tintern Abbey. There was no time for poetry as by now my leg was hurting with every peddle stroke and I cursed with the pain when I had to pedal uphill.

I knew I had to get back across the Wye and into England, so when I saw a footbridge I went across but only found a rough path going into woods.

It was now getting late and I had already gone past the 100 mile mark. The next bridge was for cars and led to the mother of all hills that went on and on and on. My spirits which had been sapped by the  bleakness of the Severn Estuary and riding lost and alone, were now very low. I seriously thought about checking into a hotel in Tintern and catching up with the group the next day.

Eventually I got to the Youth Hostel that was to be home for the night. It was in a proper castle but I didn't care. What I did care about was having to make my bed, the fact that there were 10 of us in a room with bunks. That there was nowhere to charge my phone. And no wifi so i could not update the blog. But I was there and time quickly did its magic. Blurring the edges of near-psychotic misery into a tale to share in the medieval courtyard where we chatted before supper.

It was a miserable and painful afternoon, it was harder than I ever expected, and I think there may be more pain to come.

Bloody marvellous

What a day.

It started in thick fog on main roads with nasty sharp hills that hurt legs worn out by yesterday's exertions. But then we went through Tavistock and were faced by a hill that dwarfed anything experienced since Lands End.

It was a monster but as I climbed it, the fog cleared to reveal the most stunning day- green and lush and still. And at top of the hill was some of the most spectacular scenery I have seen in my life.

Dartmoor seen by bike is simply breathtaking. Massive, brooding, with great craggy outcrops and lush grass among the gorse where cattle and sheep grazed.

Everywhere you looked was another spectacular view. Few of them spoiled by a sweaty man in Lycra.

Then we had lunch and a weird thing happened - my hand grew and grew until the pasty I was about it eat looked tiny.

The run in was mostly downhill to Exeter  and then along the valley to Tiverton where I found myself a resident of a Best Western, sitting in an ice bath, drinking a banana protein shake at half past four on a Wednesday afternoon, thinking how unusual life had become.

Stats of the day: 70 miles. 12.1 mph average. 39.4 mph max. 5hrs 34mins riding.