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.