Read the blog? Buy the book!

June 29, 2011

Following on from my earlier post about this blog getting published on the Kindle platform, I’m pleased to announce that it’s also made it’s way into hardcopy…!

One Man and LEJOG is now available in paperback from Amazon (as well as other bookstores), priced at £4.99 – and is a collection of the words from this blog alongside the route maps and a selection of photos that I took along the route.

Seeing my name on a published (albeit self-published) book is something that I’ve always wanted to see, and I hope that it proves entertaining to those who buy it and perhaps helps others who are planning on making the trip themselves one day.

If you have already purchased it in either format, thank you!

Re-Kindling the Memories…

June 23, 2011

Apologies for adding yet another post after my epilogue (and so late on afterwards too!), but aside from setting and completing challenges such as the LEJOG documented on these pages there is one ambition that I have harboured for longer than I can remember.

That ambition is to see my name appear upon the cover of a published book as an author. Now, thanks to the way technology has advanced, I have been able to see my dream come to fruition…

…I’ve only gone and published this blog! Admittedly, it’s only thanks to Amazon’s wonderful Kindle Direct Publishing facility but it does mean that my words are now available to anybody that has in their possession a Kindle! To see my name up there in Amazon’s ‘Best Sellers in Cycling’ chart alongside some famous names within cycling such as Lance Armstrong, Sir Chris Hoy and Mark Beaumont is humbling to say the least…but it does also fill me with a great sense of pride (aww, shucks!).

If anybody reading this does indeed have a Kindle and would like to purchase One Man and LEJOG to read upon it, you can do so on Amazon UK’s Kindle Store where it is currently available at £1.71. If you have already purchased it, thank you!

And finally…there may of course those of you that may well be wondering if it will ever be available as a physical copy (complete with photos and accompanying route maps)? Watch this space…!

Epilogue: Final Thoughts…

March 6, 2011

Apologies for the delay, dear reader…I’ve got no real excuse other than these things always do have a habit of taking longer than perhaps you plan them to, hey?

Anyway, my final thoughts on the trip? I don’t think that a LEJOG is a hard journey per se; it is, after all, simply a case of getting on your bike and pedalling yourself from A to B daily! My training certainly wasn’t anywhere near the sort of distance or volume that is recommended as necessary to undertake this challenge; I only completed two rides of over one hundred miles before setting off!

That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy doing it, though. I’ve seen an extremely thin slice of this country in a way that very few people can say they have and there’s moments I recall fondly now and hopefully will do for many more months and years to come.

Having never blogged before, I’m really glad that I decided to start doing so on WordPress for this journey. I’d hazard a guess that I spent two to three hours a night doing so, but people that were following have told me that they appreciated it and it has also given me something special to look back on, and provided me with the content to produce this book!

I’m pleased with all of my kit decisions bar the Carradice! I never once felt like I didn’t have enough, or that I’d carried too much with me. My Garmin HCx may well have taken a bit of ‘magic’ out of the navigation of each day, but certainly made the whole process less stressful. I’d perhaps go as far to recommend one to anybody attempting a similar journey ahead of anything else.

I was surprised to see how much I spent over the twelve days although, to be fair, around a third of the total money that went through my hands was on bike repairs that nobody could have honestly foreseen. Certainly not the rack for my bag failing on Day Two! Otherwise I think that I got reasonable value for money for everything else considering.

Splitting my overnight stops between B&Bs, hotels and hostels may well have added extra cost to my journey, but I think it was worth it overall. Perhaps if I had a support vehicle or others with me then camping would have added to the adventure but I think the way I approached it was best for a solo attempt.

On that note, I have been asked by many people why I chose to do my LEJOG solo and unsupported, and also if I was lonely on the way?

First of all I decided to undertake the trip on my own as, whilst I was confident I could complete the distance, I wasn’t sure of my own abilities on the bike and didn’t want to be the one slowing a group down. Having now completed it, and read other encounters I don’t think I would have done but I don’t regret doing it alone at all. It’s a hell of a party story if nothing else!

I can honestly say that the only time I felt alone was as I realised I was the only sober individual amongst a bustling Princes Street in Edinburgh on Day Eight. As I wandered along that street all I wanted to be was back home. On reflection, a Saturday night stopover in a big city after the previous few days probably wasn’t the best choice!

In conclusion, did I enjoy the trip? Yes, without a doubt. It’s made me appreciate the island on which we live in ways I certainly didn’t before. It’s certainly opened my eyes as to how beautiful parts of it can be, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s gone end-to-end that looks on as the map scrolls behind the television weatherman without thinking ‘bloody hell…I’ve cycled that!’.

Would I do it again? No, probably not. Certainly not in that direction anyway, and probably not solo if I was to go from top to bottom. That trip’s been done, it’s onto the next challenge now I’m afraid.

What’s next? You’ll just have to wait and see…

The Orkney Isles and the journey home…

June 1, 2010

After a evening of food and good company I was up reasonably early to see off the group that had arrived last night. As I mentioned last night, hats off to them and best of luck. If you want to keep up with their progress then take a look at their blog at:

With the closest shop about two miles away and the hostel offering no food at all I had to head out to get breakfast from somewhere. I’d managed to negotiate the night before and arranged to get breakfast from a friend of the hostel owner’s over the road. So at nine o’clock I pottered over to see what was on offer…

…a full fry up, a good natter about the state of John O’Groats and its future later and I knew it was a good idea.

Not having a distance to cover for the day felt a little weird and the rain falling from the grey sky did little to lift spirits in all honesty! On leaving the hostel I had three hours to kill before the ferry was due to depart…

Having done John O’Groats the day before I really didn’t fancy heading back in the gloom…it was depressing enough in the sunlight! I opted instead for a pootle along the coast back towards Thurso.

I stopped off after a mile or so to take a look around Canisbay’s church. It’s a lovely, peaceful place and was the church that the Queen Mother regularly attended. It’s also the home of a stone laid by John De Groat back in the 1600s.

After leaving the church I carried on to a small cafe, the Tea Cosy, which is also home to a craft shop displaying local artist’s work. After looking round the pieces if art I settled down with a hot chocolate and cake and had a read of the local paper to kill off the rest of the time I had to wait (top local news story? A girl’s bought a t-shirt printing machine and has produced shirts for a 10k race).

I got to Gills Bay and boarded the ferry over to the Orkneys. The hour long journey was a little choppy in places, the uneasy sea due to the gods stirring salt into the sea at that point according to mythology (thought that was quite cute). After landing at St. Margaret’s Hope I cycled off towards Kirkwall…

The Orkneys are hillier than I imagined. Not steep but slow climbs, and ever sp green – especially when compared to the brown nothingness I’d experienced in the Highlands the couple of days before.

I stopped off at the Italian Chapel en route, a place of worship built by Italian prisoners of war during the Second World War out of two Nissen huts; its interior beautifully painted.

Over a couple of Churchill Barriers (built to stop German U-Boats) and I was nearly there. Three miles to go and ‘crack’…my freehub went!

Basically the freehub is the bit that makes the back wheel turn as you pedal. Well, no matter how fast I pedalled it wasn’t going anywhere. Sigh.

I covered the final three miles in a freewheel / push / pedal method (it occasionally engaged, just for laughs) and went into Orkney Cycles for a diagnosis. He confirmed my thoughts and advised I return to Geoffrey Butker as it should be under warranty. That’ll be a fun trip on my return!

I finally made it to the hostel and opted for an early night after picking up some excellent fish and chips (best of the trip!).

With the bike not co-operating quite as I’d like it to, I decided to boom myself onto a coach trip for the day so that I could see the sights that the island has to offer.

I’m glad I did as the weather swayed from sunshine and showers during the day (two hundred and forty days of rain a year in the Orkneys, weather fans!). It was good to see the sights with a running commentary and it gave me a chance to learn a bit about the history of the islands that I wouldn’t have done had I been on my bike.

After seeing pretty much all the island has to offer, including the 3,500 B.C. settlement at Scara Brae and the Standing Stones, the tour was done and I had seven hours to fill before my ferry back to Aberdeen.

I wandered Kirkwall and stopped in a few bars for a while, before grabbing an excellent meal at The Shore and deciding it was worth getting a taxi over to the ferry terminal (well, it was raining!).

It was at the ferry terminal I bumped into a familiar face, someone I’d chatted to in the Loch Ness hostel a few days before. It was nice to have a bit of a chat and share the experience with someone else who had just done the End-to-End.

Although I had a sleeper seat booked the cinema was done for the night and was available so I settled in for the night. Drifting off on the recliner I got about an hour’s sleep in before waking up with two dead legs. The seat wasn’t working so I decided to try the floor…as had most of the others in the room!

Come 05.00 there was no chance of me getting any more sleep so I went for a wander around the ship. It was amusing to see the state of the place; like a war film or zombie flick bodies were spread everywhere, people grabbing any opportunity to get some shut-eye…a really glamorous way to travel!

We docked at seven and I made my way over to Aberdeen station to wait for my 09.52 train back home. Settling into the coffee shop, I took advantage of the socket available next to my table and killed time online before boarding.

The train trip was long and busy, students heading back for Easter from St. Andrews (Leuchars) filling the coaches with bags upon bags.

The sights you can see from the east coast mainline train are incredible north of the border with the trainline hugging the coast and it was nice to get a decent view out over the Forth Bridge having been over it on the bike in the fog the week before.

People do say it’s hard to get back from John O’Groats, and I’d be inclined to agree. It took me (not including waiting times between them) an hour long ferry over to the Orkneys, a seven hour ferry journey back to Aberdeen, a seven hour train journey to London Kings Cross and a half hour cycle back to Shepherds Bush but…I was home!

One final lot of updates to go before this blog is finished for all intents and purposes (try to hold back the tears…). I’ve got the food list to put up once it’s all compiled, the cost of the trip to tot up and publish and a ‘final thoughts’ bit where I’m going to try and sum it all up into a few paragraphs…stay tuned! (ha!)

Stats for The Orkney Isles

It doesn’t matter any more…woo hoo!

Day Twelve: Tongue to John O’Groats

May 27, 2010

or, The One Where Now You’re Gonna Believe Him…

Another good night’s sleep and I was up early to get Day Eleven’s blog finished and up before setting off on the final leg of the journey. I sat in the lounge with a cup of tea and two slices of home made cake (banana and chocolate) for my breakfast…well, with no shops around let alone open what else was I to do?!

All blogged up, fully packed and prepared I set out for what would hopefully be the final time at nine o’clock (does that count as early?). A lovely pootle along the water’s edge,
I was in high spirits and whistling along…

…until I hit the first hill. Which was in turn the first hill of a series of hills. Three quick peaks of 150, 250 and then 350 feet with drops back down to more or less sea level each time. The cycling equivalent of weightlifting’s supersets as it were!

Not going to lie…it was a struggle. Despite the favourable tailwind (yes, yes, oh yay…it had turned Westerly!) my legs weren’t obliging at all and it was a real effort to get myself up to the top each time. Perhaps that headwind the day before had taken it out of me…

A quick feed stop in Bettyhill at the first shop I’d seen open for miles and miles and then it was on to the last big climb of the trip.

After labouring up the 500ft or so, I knew three were just five more climbs left of the journey, and not that many miles to go either!

With the wind finally offering a hand I made good time and stopped off for lunch at a Tesco in Thurso. With less than thirty miles to go and food inside me I knew as I set off that it was going to be my last stop of the trip.

The miles ticked over as the time passed and approaching Dunnet it wad tempting to give a trip to Dunnet’s Head a miss and just get to John O’Groats. I couldn’t do that having taken in Lizard on the way up though so I turned off into the wind and made my way up to the most northerly point.

Obligatory photo out of the way, I was back with the tail wind and after joining the main road once again the signs started appearing; ‘John O’Groats 12’, ‘John O’Groats 9’, ‘John O’Groats 8’…it didn’t matter by now, I knew I was going to finish!

Now, I’d heard that there’s not a lot at John O’Groats and ‘it’s a little run down’ but I didn’t quite expect it to be as bad as it is. What. A. Dive!

I made my way down to the (now derelict) hotel and, as the clock ticked over to 16.05, crossed the finish line. Job done!

The famous sign post is situated just a few yards up from the hotel and I wandered up to join the queue (!) of people wanting a picture taken. The pair in front of me were just embarking on their trip, picking up a momento to signal the start.

Photos at the post are now a commercial venture, with the sign coming down each night and unauthorised picture taking frowned upon…which is a bit sad really. Anyway, I paid my £9.95 to the surliest man I have ever met and got my picture taken. In the days of super fast broadband and instant communication it’s quaint I’m going to have to wait seven to ten days for them to post it to me…sigh.

A hot chocolate over the road to celebrate (nope, no pub at the finish…that would be too much fun!), I had a chat with a couple of groups there. A family of bikers that were taking in Scotland and the Isles and a couple who had just completed a LEJOG as a solo rider and support vehicle.

Earlier in the week I’d made the decision to change my plans of accommodation for the night and, rather than travel the twenty miles or so back to Scrabster to catch the ferry over to Stromness I booked into the John O’Groats youth hostel and onto a ferry from nearby Gills Bay the next day to take me over to the Orkneys. With the wind as it was I was certainly glad to not be having to tackle that sort of distance back into it!

John O’Groats youth hostel has borrowed a lead from London Luton Airport, and is actually situated two and a half miles back along the coast from which you’ve already travelled! Having now finished, my legs had decided they wanted a rest and it was hard work convincing them they had to make this journey.

When I say there is nothing in John O’Groats it’s no exaggeration. I went into the local shop to look for some food for the night but found nothing of interest at all and resigned myself to the fact I could just have the rest of the shortbread I had left with a cup of tea.

Whilst booking into the hostel I asked if there was anywhere to grab some food. After hearing that the closest place was two miles away I decided the shortbread would do!

I got to my room and was sorting through my stuff when there was a knock on the door. It was one of the bikers from the group I’d met earlier. They’d heard me ask about food and wanted to invite me to join them as they had plenty to go round. How nice!

A lovely pasta dish was the fare on offer with a glass of red wine on top, and chocolate and coffee to finish. It was nice to have a bit of a chat with the group and towards the end of the night another group checked in, ready for their John O’Groats to Lands End trip starting the next day. On a recumbent tandem that they built themselves! Chapeau!

They were in high spirits and with a big group together it really was a lovely end to what’s been a trip with highs and lows but an excellent experience overall. A trip where me actually getting to and crossing the finish line was never in doubt. Not at all… (cough, cough)

I have been making a note of every penny I’ve spent and everything I’ve bought (mainly strawberry milk, Snickers and doughnuts to be fair!), so I’ll update the ‘Pages’ section to the right with those once I’m back home.

I think I’ll also get one more update in once I’ve finished on the Orkney Islands; just a few quick thoughts on the trip as a whole after having a couple of days to let it all sink in…so that’s something for you to look forward too!

Finally, I’d just like to say thank you to everybody that has been in touch over the last twelve days. On the way back from the Essex Lambs Sportive I got chatting to two guys who said you go through some dark patches on a solo trip like this…they weren’t wrong, but your comments and encouragement did help me carry on.

As did the sponsorship that anybody who has donated put forward. It’s nice to know that me completing this challenge in a way and getting sponsored along the way is going to help The Stroke Association with their work.

If you were waiting to see if I actually finished before sponsoring me (I know there was a couple!) then, don’t worry, the link is still open;

Thank you.

Stats for the day

Distance for the day: 71 miles
Time in saddle for the day: 5hrs 8mins
Average speed for the day: 13.8mph
Maximum speed for the day: 38.9mph

Total distance: 1,056 miles
Total time in saddle: 80hrs 26mins
Average speed for trip: 13.1mph

Route for the day…

Day Twelve: Route

Route profile for the day…

Day Twelve: Route Profile

Day Eleven: Loch Ness to Tongue

May 26, 2010

or, The One Where Tony Done a Ton (sic.)

Like a boxer winning on points after twelve rounds, plucky underdogs clinging on to a one goal lead having had a man sent off or a runner hitting the final six miles of a marathon in thirty plus degrees heat…today was a slog.

I’d anticipated it was going to be like that, of course. It wasn’t particularly tough…I got through it without any niggles, it was just hard work. For a long time. A very long time.

Knowing I was in for a ‘fun’ day, if only for the distance, I was up and out of the hostel early having had a breakfast of currant buns and strawberry milk that I’d picked up the night before a few miles out from the hostel (‘cos it really is remote at the Loch Ness hostel, there’s nothing around it!).

It was nice to be on the road by half past seven and the first thirty miles or so flew by, with the tree-lined A82 offering excellent shelter from the wind.

About five miles down the road a deer jumped out of the trees and ran in front of me for about a like before darting back into the undergrowth. Having spotted it coming it was quite a sight to watch, but it was easy to see how they can cause a nuisance to cars.

Reaching Inverness and looking at the Cateye as I stopped to pick up some supplies (shortbread as a snack…well, I’ve got to get something Scottish!), I was amazed to see I’d averaged 14.9mph! I knew it wasn’t going to last, unfortunately…

…and, lo, once out of Inverness the weather gods were awoken. And they sent onto he the winds of wrath. Okay, maybe a big dramatic but it certainly felt like that once I turned to head north proper.

Anyone that’s read the blog in it’s entirety will have read about my trip back to Peterborough. For those that haven’t (and I don’t blame you!), I made a trip back to ‘boro on Easter Sunday which was a similar distance and into a headwind the whole trip. Today was like that. Only with a stronger headwind. And hillier. Peterborough and the surrounding area isn’t renound for its rolling countryside!

They big hill in the middle of the route (I forget it’s name, sorry) was a pain to get up but the descent offered one or two stunning viewpoints and was ample reward. Stopping at one I got chatting to an elderly Scottish couple for a bit. They kindly told me to stock up on bits in Lairg as there was nothing between there and Tongue! Thanking them for this advice, and after taking the opportunity to have a photo taken by then, I set off.

Quick feed stop in Bonar Bridge (steak slice and chocolate muffin, nutrition fans) and a chance to buy new batteries for the Garmin which was on the second pair of lithiums and finally running low. I couldn’t help but curse the two days I’d accidentally left it on overnight…it would have survived the trip otherwise!

Bonar Bridge is about sixty miles from Loch Ness. The last half of the journey looked entertaining enough by the route profile alone. Little did I know quite how much more fun it was going to be..,

Past Lairg and with just thirty five (‘just thirty five’?! ha, listen to me now!) miles to go and the A836 changes from a ‘normal’ road. It becomes bleak. It becomes exposed. It becomes singletrack.

Oh yes. Not only was I now battling into a headwind with no shelter for miles, I also got to stop at random points to allow cars to pass. Brilliant.

With my speed into the wind down to about nine miles an hour, it’s fair to say I was a little demoralised. There wasn’t any point cursing either, any sounds lost to to wind as soon as they were uttered. At least there were the odd, cold, showers coming along at random points to cheer me up a bit…well, a monster headwind on its own would be too easy isn’t it?!

It was a long thirty five miles and there really was nothing between Lairg and where I was heading. It’s so strange, having travelled up from ‘the bottom’ to see just how sparse shops and services are up here, especially when compared to somewhere like the Lake District which has it’s little village shops scattered upon the route.

I finally made it to Tongue (really pretty approach to it, a two mild of so decline, with a lovely view over the sea) and found my way to the hostel, rolling in at just about half past eight. Nope, really…thirteen hours after setting off this morning. Like I said…a slog!

I ordered in a pizza on the recommendation of the hostel manager (it was that or shortbread, as nowhere’s open in Tongue past half six!) and had a bit of a chat with the other residents before retiring for the night. I got a feelin’…that tonight’s gonna be a good night’s sleep!

The winds had started to turn to the west as I settled in for the night. That would give me a lovely tail wind for the final leg should they stay. What’s the betting tomorrow is as calm and still a day you can imagine…?! Sigh.

Stats for the day

Distance for the day: 113 miles
Time in saddle for the day: 9hrs 54mins
Average speed for the day: 11.4mph
Maximum speed for the day: 29.2mph

Total distance to date: 985 miles
Total time in saddle to date: 75hrs 18mins
Average speed for trip to date: 13.0mph

Route for the day…

Day Eleven: Route

Route profile for the day…

Day Eleven: Route Profile

Day Ten: Crianlarich to Loch Ness

May 25, 2010

or, The One With the Invisible Hindrance(s)

After a decent night’s sleep it was another relatively early start to the day, and I was out on the road (and the only road for the day!) by half past eight. Before nine o’clock two days running?! Woo!

Before leaving the hostel in Crianlarich I’d taken the opportunity to look at the mountaineering weather report. Disappointingly, it forecasted North or North Westerly winds; up to 15mph. Damn you weather gods!

A relatively flat first five miles got my legs ticking over quite nicely, and I started to think that perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad day after all…I could be at Loch Ness by half five.

Then I turned a corner and hit the wind. And the first climb of the day. Just what you want at the same time…

After struggling my way up, the road rounded a corner; trees offering shelter from the wind. It was here I noticed the chill in the air and stopped to get my leg warmers out…no point being cold all day!

As the road dropped the views were spectacular. High peaks all around and valleys plunging down to pools of water. It was all very Jurassic Park like, and I really wouldn’t have been shocked if I’d seen a herd of Diplodocus grazing in the distance…

…I didn’t of course. That would be dilly. Although it’s so unpopulated up in the Highlands there could be that happening just over the next mountain and nobody would ever know!

Back up to a thousand feet and across a desolate moor offering no shelter whatsoever, the wind was picking up. I’ve got used to putting effort in on the inclines but pedalling downhill?! I didn’t sign up to that!

It was on the descent back down to sea level that I hit a crack in the road that I simply did not see at all. The jolt through the bike and the handlebars was shocking, and I’m pretty sure my yelp of pain was probably heard back in Edinburgh (similar to that of a dog if you tread on its tail, if you were wondering…).

The shock was bad enough but it was the ‘clank clank clank’ sound that I heard afterwards that worried me more. Stopping to have a look I saw that I’d managed to break a spoke…

…with a bodge to hold the spoke in place, but with the wheel already slightly out of true I realised I was going to get another opportunity to see inside a bike shop. Sigh.

I carried onwards, scanning the road surface ahead with eagle eyes – the last thing I needed was to hit another bump and have the wheel collapse on me…that would be a disaster!

Around fifteen miles later I reached Glencoe and, as if by chance, saw a sign at the side of the road advertising cycle hire and repairs. No answer on the phone, but there was an address so I went searching.

Found the place (not too hard, most of these places are pretty small up here!) just as the proprietor arrives back on his bike…explains why he didn’t answer he phone.

Unfortunately he didn’t have any road bike wheel spokes in stock, but recommended I try Nevis Bikes up in Fort William. After looking at the damage he cheerfully exclaimed; ‘aye, that’ll hold. It’s only sixteen miles or so’.

Stopping at the village store for some food, I gave Nevis Cycles a call and explained my predicament. They said they were busy but should be able to fit me in as I was heading in this trip.

I made good time reaching Fort William (still scanning the road surface ahead with eagle eyes!) and left my bike in the hands of Joe as I went off for a wander.

On my return, his opening sentence of ‘you have a small problem’ made my heart drop, before he followed up with ‘we only had silver spokes so you’ve now got an odd one’ and my heartbeat levelled out…! I thanked him for fitting me in at short notice and got on my way, the unplanned stop-offs having cost me around an hour on my day.

After setting off from Fort William I somehow made good time despite the head wind that was picking up once again. Whether it was because I’m getting fitter as the back to back days continue or simply because I was desperate to finish for the day I don’t know. But I got to the hostel at half past six…only an hour later than I’d thought I would as I set off for the day.

The place is lovely, but very basic. I somehow secured myself a solo room (with a Loch view!), which is a bonus in regards to getting some quality sleep. It’s also another opportunity to apply some Deep Heat overnight to try and keep my legs ticking over nicely.

Tea was a Soreen Malt Loaf with strawberry milk…what a mature diet, and, after a wander down to the ‘beach’ for a few photos, I spent a while in the common room overlooking the Loch chatting to other residents for the night.

Now I’m nearing the end of my journey (wow, first time I’ve got to say that!) and the route you can take is less variable than at the start I’m starting to see a few more cyclists. There’s been a couple heading southwards and there’s a four in this hostel (three older guys, one solo and a pair, who are doing it over three weeks unsupported; and a Scouse guy with his mate as support who’s doing it over seven days and is finishing tomorrow! To be fair, he does triathlons for fun and has finished the Ironman…!).

Tomorrow’s also the big one for me. Up to Tongue and with the twenty mile an hour Northerlies that have been predicted, I think it’s going to be hard work…

A liberal application of Deep Heat before bed and I was soon drifting off with a gentle song rolling round inside my head as it had been for a while as I approached Loch Ness…

You can knock it,
You can rock it,
You can go to Timbuktu,
But you’ll never find a Nessie in the zoo.

Stats for the day

Distance for the day: 94 miles
Time in saddle for the day: 7hrs 2mins
Average speed for the day: 13.3mph
Maximum speed for the day: 29.8mph

Total distance to date: 872 miles
Total time in saddle to date: 65hrs 24mins
Average speed for trip to date: 13.3mph

Route for the day…

Day Ten: Route

Route profile for the day…

Day Ten: Route Profile

Day Nine: Edinburgh to Crianlarich

May 24, 2010

or, The One Where Tony Gets Wind

Well…whilst I didn’t formally get introduced to my ‘roomies’, they made sure I was aware of their presence as they stumbled back into the hostel at half past one. Sigh.

Actually, that’s a bit harsh. There were five others in the room I left in the morning…it was just the three Australians that created the hullabaloo. No, really. Australians. Being loud. I’m shocked too…

Anyway…two of them came…sorry, stumbled in first. I think they were boyfriend and girlfriend, but only because they were in the same bed as I was leaving. They chatted for a bit before their mate Jason came in with what must have been twenty pounds worth of McDonalds which took him half an hour to eat.

The couple were amazed at their drunken state as they’d ‘only drunk half as much as last night’, although I’d be tempted to agree that it probably was ‘the five Jaeger-Bombs at the start’ that ruined them.

They got off to sleep, or more accurately passed out, as Jason moved onto his apple pie (who buys a McDonalds apple pie when under the influence?!)…the girl, in a style only Antipodeans can really pull off, slumped half out of the bed with her head in the bin as she thought she was ‘gonna hurl’. Well done buddy, she’s a keeper!

Enough about them, this is supposed to be about the journey! I was up at six o’clock to take advantage of the ‘simple breakfast’ they offer. Simple it was, but the self-service tea, toast and cornflakes were welcome.

There were a fair number of people in running kit up and about and, after enquiring, I found out it was the day of the Edinburgh marathon. Now, whilst this explains the difficulty I had in finding somewhere in the city to stay for the night and the odd road closures, I’ve not got a clue as to why on Earth you’d prepare yourself for a marathon with a night at Caledonian Backpackers?!

Anyway…I was up and out of the room and ready to get going by half past seven (so much for the earl…oh!). As if to mock my calling for cooler weather yesterday a cool rain was falling as I battled against Edinburgh’s seemingly random road network once again as I looked to join the Forth Road Bridge.

After ten miles of back roads (‘cos you’re not allowed on the A70 on your bike…which they don’t tell you ’til you get to it!) I reached the bridge and admired the view…

…or not. A real ‘pea souper’ had enveloped the structure with visibility no more than two hundred yards. Which was a shame.

As the day wore on and the sun came out (not used to this), it burnt the water off the road surface – eerie ‘smoke’ peeling up and off the tarmac as I clocked through the miles.

The journey was a good one, with reasonable road surfaces for the majority of the day (some dreadful ones too though, really jarring despite the carbon forks and seatpost which slowed me down somewhat).

I passed through some lovely little towns and got to see some amazing scenery. Circling Loch Lubnaig, with the mountains in the background and the sun glistening off the water’s surface was picture postcard perfect and I couldn’t help but think how lucky I was to be seeing it in the way I was…a way so few people are lucky enough to do so.

Then I got towards the end of the journey for the day and it all went s little squiffy. Remember that head wind I’ve mentioned before in this write-up? Well it returned…with a vengeance. The last twenty miles was going to be bad enough with a six hundred foot climb to take on. The headwind made it far, far worse…I was crawling along at 8mph for spells, literally being held up in the wind!

If anybody up there is looking down on me…can I please have some Southerlies for the rest of the week? Or none at all! Just not any more Northerlies, pur-lease!

Despite the struggle of the last twenty miles or so, with the early start I’d managed to get it was nice to take a look down at the GPS and see it displaying 3.50 miles to go as opposed to 35.0 come the time four o’clock rolled round! An early finish for the day (yay!) as I arrived into my stop for the night.

Crianlarich is a lovely little village in the shadow of a couple of huge mountains (I’m calling them mountains, the locals probably think of them as mere slopes). I grabbed dinner in the local pub…venison burger and chips followed by apple tart and custard. It was excellent.

The hostel is exactly what I was expecting, full of walkers and people here to enjoy the area rather than the bars and clubs within it. Should get a good night’s sleep in here, no worries. I love it!

Only problem though is that there’s no signal on the o2 network anywhere so I’ve had to update this blog via the hostel’s extortionate wi-fi network (one pound for twenty minutes?! That’s obscene!).i have a feeling this’ll be the case for much of the rest of my journey so I’m hoping there’s somewhere in Loch Ness, Tongue and finally John O’Groats that I’m able to do the same. So if you are trying to get hold of me and I don’t answer, that’ll probably be the reason why!

It’s a bit scary to think I’m now three quarters of the way through this trip and I’m down to (in theory!) less than three hundred miles until I cross that finish line. Or, more childishly…

…three more sleeps! On to Loch Ness tomorrow (just need to follow one road again!), and if I manage another early start and get the tricky first half of the journey done quickly enough I should have time for a bit of Nessie hunting!

Stats for the day

Distance for the day: 84 miles
Time in saddle for the day: 6hrs 31mins
Average speed for the day: 12.8mph
Maximum speed for the day: 34.3mph

Total distance to date: 778 miles
Total time in saddle to date: 58hrs 22mins
Average speed for trip to date: 13.3mph

Route for the day…

Day Nine: Route

Route profile for the day…

Day Nine: Route Profile

Day Eight: Carlisle to Edinburgh

May 23, 2010

or, The One On the A7

After a terrific breakfast at the Arkale Lodge (I really would recommend it to anyone heading up to Carlisle), I was on the road by 09.40…yay!

It took a while to get out of the city, thanks to a funny one way system and a liberal smattering of traffic lights that seemed intent on changing to red as I approached.

Finally out on the A7 out of Carlisle, I noticed a sign; ‘Edinburgh 95’. Now, my route was meant to take me a more direct ninety miles but…after yesterday’s ‘fun and games’ with local roads and a northerly headwind settling in (so much for seasonal prevailing south westerlies!), I made the decision to main road it all day.

And main road it I did. Practically all of the ninety five miles on the A7! It wasn’t easy, mind. There’s not that many settlements on the Scottish side of the border, and service stations are just as rare – certainly not as many as on English trunk road, so it was a case of taking advantage when I did see them.

And the sun. Oh, the sun. I hope those of you enjoyed your day in it, ‘cos it was unbearable at times on the bike…relentless from above and after midday you could feel it coming back up off the tarmac.

The first ten miles were hard work. Getting into a rythym wasn’t happening and it took a while to get going. After a while it clicked though and I got through to the halfway point just as I hit Hawick.

Apparently the home of cashmere, Hawick is also the proud owner of a big Morrison’s which I decided would do for lunch. I took a good break in the sun, phoning home for a chat and a progress update. I probably took too big a break actually…

…because that climb back out of Hawick would have been tough anyway, but my legs just didn’t want to turn. It took a good distance until I felt properly on my way again.

The A7 is quite pretty as far as main roads go, winding it’s way round the green, green hills and dales (I knew it was worth taking!) but the last twenty miles or so were into a pretty strong headwind as it picked up later on into the day…not something I really needed!

The last five miles will probably go down as the worst five on my trip. Although inside Edinburgh, a ridiculous traffic system sends you round the houses. Terrible road surfaces and cycling into a sun so low I may as well have had my eyes closed I cursed my way to the final point on my Garmin.

Which turned out to not be where I was staying – another mistaken input by me, d’oh. It couldn’t find the place I wanted by its search so it was a slow, painful drag to the right place using my iPhone and google maps for references at random junction stops.

My bed for tonight is courtesy of Caledonian Backpackers, which describes itself as a hostel but is (equipped with a bar, games room and ‘cinema area’) in fact more a cross between Byker Grove and a bunkhouse. I’m sure if you’re here as a group, or for a spell of nights ,it’s wonderful…I’m just hoping I manage to get a reasonable night’s sleep in.

A trip to Somerfield over the road and I picked up some malt loaf and milk for tea. As I re-joined the street littered with drunk revellers (perhaps planning on stopping in Edinburgh on a Saturday night wasn’t the best plan…) it hit me just quite how much I didn’t want to be in a busy city right now!

Wandering down Princes Street with my two pints of strawberry milk, I’ve never felt so out of place. I’m a city boy, give me hustle and bustle any day of the week and I’m usually fine with it…but having had eight days on the road all I want at the moment is a comfy bed for the night!

It was back into the hostel room for the night; still empty, so you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to see if my room mates are up to Westward Ho!’s standard, I’m afraid.

Into deeper Scotland and onto Crianlarich tomorrow and back to a ‘real’ SYHA run hostel which is hopefully a damn sight quieter…

Stats for the day

Distance for the day: 95 miles
Time in saddle for the day: 7hrs 14mins
Average speed for the day: 13.1mph
Maximum speed for the day: 37.9mph

Total distance to date: 694 miles
Total time in saddle to date: 51hrs 51mins
Average speed for trip to date: 13.4mph

Planned route for the day…

Day Eight: Route

Route profile for the planned day…

Day Eight: Route Profile

Day Seven: Morecambe to Carlisle

May 22, 2010

or, The One With the Pass

It’s a strange old place to be, in the saddle of the bicycle for days at a time. You have the freedom that no other road user can ever dream of having and are more or less in total control with how you want to travel; you can travel for miles and miles in a carefree state with your legs ticking over effortlessly and then, in the same hour in some cases, every pedal stroke is torture and that saddle feels like the loneliest place on the planet as you try and plough through.

No point beating round the bush…today was tough. Tougher than my first century back to Peterborough. Tougher than that day through Exmoor earlier on this tour. It was, by far, the toughest day I have EVER had on two wheels!

Finally finished writing and getting Day Six’s blog and got out of the B&B at around 10.45 (so much for the early starts!), and set off on the coastal road out of Morecambe – stopping for the obligatory photo with Eric, of course. The couple that kindly took my photo also gave me some sponsorship money too, after I explained what I was doing…thank you!

The first twenty five miles were great cycling miles with decent surfaces and lovely terrain. The first five miles or so along the coast were particularly nice, with the sea breeze offering a nice respite to the already warm sun.

I stopped for a feed stop in Ings (best flapjack in the world!) and had a chat with the guy in the shop. Showed him my route and we had a laugh about it; ‘so you’re going over the Pass?!’, ‘yep’, ‘good luck with that!’. Gulp!

After twenty five miles the hills started, gentle at first before it appeared…

…’Kirkstone Pass 5′. Looks pretty innocuous like that, doesn’t it? What that sign doesn’t tell you is that it’s a long, winding road up the side of the fells. Yes, it’s pretty…but there’s nothing up there. Nothing. Not even a McDonalds and they’re everywhere (actually, that’s a lie…haven’t seen many golden arches at all on this trip)!

Just me, my bike, this god awful road, the beating sun and sheep. Lots of sheep. Seems to be the ‘in thing’ up here, sheep. They’re nice and everything, but they don’t offer much encouragement when you stop at the side of the road. At least a cow would sound like it was telling you to ‘moo-ve’…

I digress. As I wound my way up the climb (slowly) I remembered my Garmin wasn’t the base model…mine had an altimeter built in! Now, it took just as long and I seemed to be stopping for far longer than I was actually cycling but the numbers slowly ticked over…

…500ft, 600ft, 700ft, 800ft, 900ft, 850ft (oh yes, there were slight dips too…just for giggles I guess), 900ft, 1,000ft, 1,100ft, 1,200ft, 1,300ft, 1,400ft, 1,450ft…

…then, as I rounded another bend, I saw it. A pub! That must be the summit, you wouldn’t build a pub called The Kirkstone Inn before the top would you?! I powered (ha!) up the final few yards to 1,500ft and as the road levelled out I knew. I’d done it. I’d f*cking done it!

Not sure what the guy in the blue top thought as a sweaty, hot but deleriously happy cyclist thrust a camera at him…but I wanted a photo! Thanking him, he told me to enjoy the descent…’it’s worth that climb’.

As I sat at the top and pondered what I’d just done, the support vehicle for that group I mentioned the other day rolled in. He kindly filled up my bidon with water (so much water…that’s where a support vehicle comes in handy!) and we had a bit of a chat on how things were going. We’ll probably see each other en route again but if not, and you’re reading this…good luck.

Setting off over the flat summit I indulged myself a little with a small arms aloft celebration, Le Tour style. Yes, I probably looked ridiculous but I’m never going to win a polka dot jersey…let me be Contador just for a minute!

You’d think the descent would be fun. It wasn’t to start with! Twenty per cent (that’s one in five, fraction fans!) descents round hairpin curves aren’t for the faint hearted. Use of the brakes had my rims red hot in minutes and I had to stop to let them cool for fear of bursting an inner tube!

After a while it slows down a bit and the meandering curves with the peaks and lakes in view are breathtaking. I stopped for a break at Pattersdale (best brownie ever!) and set off again.

Now, the Garmin has this lovely ‘feature’ that is the knack of turning itself off as the road gets too bumpy (fair enough). As I rounded the lake I realised it had done so and turned it back on. To find I’d missed a subtle turn off. Two and a half miles back.

I cheerfully (ha!) pedalled my way back to this point and got going in the right direction to hit the second climb of the day. This one was ‘only’ 600ft according to my route card but my legs were refusing to oblige.

I laboured my way up this tortuous climb with my legs burning every stroke and somehow made it to the top. No celebrations this time out, just a real desire to get the last thirty miles or so out of the way so I could get some rest.

The last spell of the journey flew by in comparison, along desolate local roads, and I arrived at the Arkale Lodge in Carlisle at around 20.15.

Pat welcomed me in and informed me he was entertaining his daughter-in-law Georgina and grandchildren (Niamh and Grace) for the weekend. I apologised for the late arrival and hoped I hadn’t ruined any evening plans for them – the food that was being cooked smelt delicious.

With the heat throwing up dust and grime from the roads I asked if it would be possible for me to use a tumble drier to dry off clothes if I rinsed them. I was amazed when Pat said he’d do better than that and would wash and dry them for me…thank you!

After showering it was time for food. Whilst there was a Burger King over the road, I felt like something a bit more substantial so asked if they could recommend anywhere nearby.

Pat said I could join them! Not only was he kind enough to offer to do my washing, he was going to feed me too! Feeling guilty I asked again (and again) if he was sure, but he insisted.

American ranch chilli chicken, rice and carrots. And peaches and ice cream for dessert. I could have cried, dear reader.

We shot the breeze over the meal, topics including travel, Las Vegas and British seaside towns. It was a really nice end to what had been a struggle of a day.

So it was off to bed with a hearty meal inside me for a change and thoughts of tomorrow’s trip into Scotland and up to Edinburgh already forcing the struggle of today out of my mind.

Reflecting on the day just gone I thought of the towns I’d been through (Kendal and Windemere in particular were lovely), the sights I’d seen (RAF fighter planes tearing round the peaks a particular highlight) and the stories that I’d have to tell once I get home. I started to think that it’s not all bad I guess, it’s almost enjoyable in a weird way. It’s a strange old place to be, in the saddle of the bicycle for days at a time..

Stats for the day

Distance for the day: 82 miles
Time in saddle for the day: 6hrs 20mins
Average speed for the day: 13.0mph
Maximum speed for the day: 34.8mph

Total distance to date: 599 miles (gah!)
Total time in saddle to date: 44hrs 37mins
Average speed for trip to date: 13.4mph

Route for the day…

Day Seven: Route

Route profile for the day…

Day Seven: Route Profile