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.