Mike's summing up.

Great to have done it - and great to be home again!

Couldn't have asked for a better partner on the long road north than old Penny. Endlessly good humoured, entertaining and upbeat, he kept my spirits up a good deal - particularly over the first two days when I was feeling so anxious about the days mileages that I could hardly eat my breakfast, or raise a smile till after 11! Filled my water bottles every morning, got the bikes out and made me more breakfasts than my wife! A top, top bloke and friend.

I'm a bit of a hypochondriac at times, but I had real concerns about my back on this trip. Happily, I didn't even have a twinge and I'm now convinced that the episode I suffered 4 weeks before we left was more down to over ambitious earthworks and fence building than the old Galaxy. Within a week of being home, I pulled a muscle in my groin walking the dog along the canal! You just never know with a body over 40. I lost half a stone, felt fitter as the trip went on and would heartily recommend it to anyone with a half-decent cardio vascular system.

I don't think either of us is what you'd call a 'keen' cyclist. We were both excited and motivated by the physical challenge and the chance to get a different perspective on the countries we passed through. We certainly got that, with days like the ride from Chester to Slaidburn, when the landscape shifting enormously as the hours went by.

It's been a brilliant, funny, knackering adventure - and we've raised a bit of money for a worthwhile cause along the way.

Here's some of the incredible wildlife we encountered - or thought we did - on the road. James very much enjoyed laughing at my mis-identifications. That was a brown trout at Carbisdale though...and I've missed out a few gazillion midges.

The long (train) ride home...

Up super early to allow time to ride 18 miles back to Thurso for the 8.42 train. Beautiful clear morning, probably the best start we'd had since Clun! Whipped along at a fair old rate, covering the distance in about 1.15.

Quick stop for provisions at Tesco essentials and a late sortie for papers by James before the train arrived. We'd booked the bikes on board so no hassle there. After an hour of looking for golden eagles and deer out of the window, we tucked into our sarnies etc. 15 days of constant cycling means you're hungry all of the time. Changes at Inverness, Perth and Glasgow and Crewe and we're nearly home. We actually talked about real stuff on the journey back - jobs, family, career etc - which was strange because serious matters just hadn't arisen really on the trip. We were just too busy keeping spirits up and getting to the next stage. Offered our fruit cake to all passengers around us at one point to receive blanket "no thankyou"s and embarrassed laughs. The sharing philosophy of the YH, which we've become accustomed to, just doesn't translate to the Virgin Pendolino.

Off at Stoke at 10.50 where we were met by  Jane and the girls  and Lauren who ran up the platform with a huge hand painted 'well done' banner, and our old chum Steve, who'd cycled with us in to Stafford at the start of the journey. After kisses, hugs and handshakes (Steve), the girls headed back to their cars and we set off for the towpath near the station. As soon as we got onto it, Steve pulled up and magicked 3 cans of Fosters from his bag. We gratefully swigged these, swapped some tales then headed home.

I returned to find a big hand drawn banner in the window, detailing some of the major landmarks and accurately showing me climbing behind James up a big hill! I think it's safe to say we were both of us glad of a bath and our own beds that night.

Day 15: Tongue to John O' Groats

Our new French biker chums,
Aldo and Pablo, outside the YH
in Tongue.
We think we look a lot cooler.

The last and final day, the end of our journey, judgment day, day 15 0f 15, call it what you like, this was it the day we had been planning for 2 years, the day we thought would never come, it was here, and what a strange feeling. This is the day you have looked forward to but in some ways thought it would never happen.

It started in the usual way. Wake up look around to see who was still snoring, look to see if Mike was up and about, still snoring. I'm going to miss those gentle tones of slumber from my namby pamby Geordie friend. Stretch, and head downstairs for a brew and some breakfast. Back up to the dorm then fill the panniers, fill the water bottles, get the bikes out of the bike shed and prepare for the ride. Today it felt different. Mike and I really felt strange, we knew it was our last day and that made us feel really nervous. We folded the map to fit in the map sleeve, and saw the last bit of road that we would be following, along the top of the mainland to our goal.

We left the Hostel in a sombre mood and joked on what the Gods would throw at us today to stop us on our final leg. Neptune would throw the seas at us, the winds would push us back up the biggest hill in the world, we would have six punctures each, our bikes would collapse, our bodies would give up, the sun would come out and burn the road to sand, the great golden eagle would swoop down and take out our eyes. But no just a road with some hills to get the heart beating and the legs pumping. A few hours later we began to leave the final hills behind us (top speed down hill 43mph), and the road flattend out, we started to feel the need for tea and cake only to find everything shut, one for a funeral, one shut ('gone to get married back in a week'), next stop Thurso! Too far away, but luckily enough we found a pub that gave us a good lunch that was at the same time hosting the wake for the funeral, was this a sign of the end of our journey. Onto Thurso passing Dounreay nuclear site where the one headed cows grazed near by and grass grew green un affected by its surroundings. We entered Thurso and realised that this was the last town before the end, just 20 miles to go, just 20, not 200, just 20 that really hit home. Those 20 became a countdown which soon became 10 then 5 and then 4 then needles and pins kicked in, the hairs began to stick up on the back of your neck what a strange feeling almost unreal, and then that sign was in front of us, 'welcome to John O Groats' we crossed the line together, and headed down to the harbour down to the furthest point our bikes would take us. we got off or trusty steeds embraced and toasted the end of our journey with some Highland 'cyclists' whisky. We had the photos without the sign, 'gone for his tea come back tomorrow', and enjoyed the moment for a good while.We had a meal at the local inn and made our way back to the hostel with a beautiful sunset and a couple of bottles of Orkney ale to drink the night away.

John O' Groats at 6.30 and the

bloody Photographers taken
the sign home again - exactly
like LE.

Day 14: Carbisdale Castle to Tongue

Decent breakfast and off at 9.30, with a short 43 mile day ahead. Hoiked our bikes over a scaffolding covered bridge then straight into a 2 mile climb, eating our breakfasts twice!

Good mornings riding through Lairg and up onto a single track road for another 20 miles or so through some of the most open, midge infested terrain we'd seen. Had to keep riding whilst eating as the little swine were all over you in seconds if you stopped. Scottish opening times (11 - 3!) on a Sunday meant we had to dig deep into the bags for cereal bars, with peanut butter sandwiches for lunch.

Beautiful views during the ride up into the mountains and Lochs around Ben Loyal, some of the most spectacular and memorable of the trip, before we turned a final corner and saw the estuary at Tongue - and the Atlantic Ocean. Quite a feeling to know we'd made it so far.

Great and highly recommended YH run by a Danish lady called Hanna, who supplied us with free tea and big slices of home made cake at 50p a shot. having arrived early at 3.30, we then fell asleep like a pair of old codgers in the lounge, waking at 6.20 in time to race uphill to the local for
the most scanty, yet expensive fish and chips we'd ever eaten. Nouvelle cuisine in Tongue means five big chips in a little pile waving across the plate their good friend the haddock.

Mike was waylaid in the dorm by a lycra clad 72 year old who warned him about the frightening 'Bettyhill' up and down hill stretch next day, whilst towelling his back and displaying his pendulous, walnut-like wares. You don't get them in Halfords. Scarier than most of the hills we encountered next day for sure.

Good craic later that night with a mixed group of european bikers and travellers, all of whom responded in the usual way to James's opening conversational gambit of: " So.....does anybody like the English?" Pablo, pictured under day 15, tells me that the reason the English aren't keen on French rock music is because we're basically ignorant. When I ask him if he's got anyone on a par with the Beatles, the Stones or even Coldplay whom I need to be made aware of, he mutters that I'm talking too fast and can't understand the question...

Incredibly, the two ladies we bumped into so much along the way decided to finish their LEJOG today, with a 5 O'clock start, picnics provided by the YH and a distance of 110 miles! All so that they could have 'an extra day's pampering' in Edinburgh. I received a very excited call at around 11 that night to say they'd made it in one piece. Considering the problems they'd had with energy crashes, getting lost, swollen hands and dodgy bikes and dodgier knees it was really something special. We, on the other hand, are more than happy to wuss it out with a nice short 43 today followed by a 60 odd tommorow...

Day 13: Loch Ness to Carbisdale Castle

Leaving Loch Ness, Donald and daughter the folk singers, no sighting of Nessie and not much of the loch either - mostly hidden by trees - we headed out into the rain to be met with a little hill within 5 min. I have become used to this by now, and I do believe that it's good to start the day with a little climbing, just to get the old heart pumping. Mike and I decided that as hard as we tried to pedal up the hill, it would have been easier and quicker to get off and push. The idea being to conserve our energy for the day ahead! Once we got to the top a great ride over the open Scottish hills.

Later on we passed a mass of tents where a festival was going on that weekend and we did consider going to listen for a while, but no, we continued on our quest. Made our way to Alness for lunch and took a shortcut which worked great for us, and took us up to the top without hardly any panting. Fantastic downhill, which must have gone on for 3 miles, just gives you the giggles. Carry on into Ardgay and on for a few miles next to a beautiful bridge where we stopped, had a peanut butter sandwich and toasted a great days ride. And then it got even better, after a few miles, we came to our hostel for the night a 'castle' - pretty cool.

Living like kings now.

Later on we bumped into a bloke by the name of Will who was on a wee little tour of the area, nice bloke and had a good laugh over our stories. Dinner for me was a specially cooked curry - not too hot. I may be a hard biker on the road but I can't take hot curries. Then off to the quietest pub in the land,crossing the famous bonnar bridge. Considering it was a Saturday, Mike and I made up 50% of the punters. We were offered to dress up in some Scottish dresses but the beer wasn't working that quick and the landlord was not going to have his wicked way with me that night!

Back at the hostel, Mike headed off to bed and I stayed down talking to some visitors and a french lad who had a guitar with him. Asking if he was going to play, he replied he didn't play as it was just a tool to pull the girls. Some others then decided to go and get their guitars too and then there were three. After a while I picked up the strings and got them started with a few Jam numbers, then it got too noisy so I sneaked off upstairs before we were sent to bed. Unfortunately for me and my room - mates the band was playing right beneath us. Mike uttered "can you hear that ******** racket?" Nothing to do with me!

Day 12: Glencoe to Loch ness

Leaving Glencoe YHA with a belly full of beans, pitta bread and breakfast bars to mop away last nights beers with some new French Friends. Headed along the road to Fort William where we invested in some customary tea and cake. Roads were busy as everyone was off to see Ben Nevis, but the best views came later as you drove away from it. Carried on along the A82 still a busy road and climbed up from Spean Bridge which takes up high again with some great view back to Ben Nevis, dropped down the side of Loch Lochy.

Got overtaken by a pair of lycra clad head-down pedallers on the Caledonian canal, but caught and passed them as they (pretended) to buy stamps at a post office. This helped us keep up a good pace all the way to the Loch Ness 'backpackers' hostel as we didn't want to get passed again! Thank goodness we're not the competitive types....

That night we were treated to some truly depressing musical fare in the form of a father and daughter duo from Ireland. Arriving back from the pub we found them entertaining a group of 15 or so assembled international travellers with sombre renditions of 'Bonny bonny banks', 'Skye boat song' and the like. These were interspersed with vivid descriptions of how everything everywhere was pretty rosy until the English came and screwed it all up. Donald and daughter were on pretty safe ground here, as judging by opinions elicited by James from continental folk we met on the way, the English are regarded about as well as rabid bats. They did bring a tear to Mike's eye with a rendition of 'Wild mountain thyme' but only succeeded in making James cry with laughter, 2 rooms away in the kitchen.

Donald was a bit stand-offish and grumpy with James next morning, but was happy to share his excellent Irish butter with Mike. One nil to the English!

Day 11: Loch Lomond to Glencoe

After a goods night sleep in our Mansion, we headed along the A82 really busy roads with a car crash half way along. Took the road along the lochs in the rain and had to stop within 1 hour to get a rest from the busy road and rain. After a couple of hours started to climb and climb and climb, and arived at the top, no round the corner and more climbing we must have spent the whole of the day climbing through some fantastic mountains and into the highlands and the Grampian mountains. No photo would be able to really tell how fantastic the views are. We arrived at the summit at about 5 and stopped for a bite to eat, only to find that the Scottish midge wanted to do the same to us, swarms of the little devils. Put on the recommended Avon cream recommended by the British Army! certainly did the job but those little devils always find a little place to get in and drink your blood.

The descent into Glencoe was very emotional. An incredible thing that you just have to do - and do it on a bike - you see so much, breathtaking. The effort that went into the climbs and the day as a whole was met by the exhiliration of whistling down through those auld moontins.

Quick shower, noodles and off to the local for some real ale and a pre Edinburgh performance by an irish band. Bit of bluegrass, country etc. Mike fell off his bike on the way back in the pitch dark but happily only pride injured...

Day 10: Wanlockhead to Loch Lomond

Day started pretty well with amazing descent (mostly) from the ultra high and mizzly YH. Equally amazingly, Mike managed to keep going up a hill longer than James for once, thus claiming the unnofficial/non-existent 'king of the mountains' crown. James refused to get off and walk all day after that early disgrace.

About twenty miles into the ride, the rain set in for the day. Got our first punctures within an hour of each other either side of the scary Erskine Bridge (the drivers), both fixed expertly by ex 'king of the mountains' Penny. The roads around Glasgow were the worst we encountered anywhere, with mega big and dangerous potholes. Pleasing and morale lifting to meet a bloke our age in Dumbarton who was also doing LEJOG - but supported over 3 weeks. "Oh, I'm not super-fit like you guys!" we had to hide our Mars bars and Hot Chocolates behind our backs after he'd said that. We ended up in Loch Lomond around 7, soaked and in need of nosh.

Amazing hostel packed with folk from all over the world, including a large party of Lithuanian bikers who thanked James for his offer of leftover Chinese food with a couple of hefty slugs of Absolut. James is no drinker, and looked a bit wobbly right away. I thought it a good idea to get him upstairs before he found himself covered in tattoos and on a ferry across the Baltic.

I still don't think it was a great idea of James's to tell one of their girlfriends that they were really " a big bunch of jessies" and that we could "take them all on", based on us travelling by pedal power and them sitting in motorised armchairs all day long.

.

Great manager who offered to dry our stuff in an industrial dryer and took our dorm lock apart after Mike over inserted his card/key. Hi ho. can't believe we're 10 days in and so high up.

Day 9: Carlisle to Wanlockhead

James had heard that this one ended with a tricky, long ascent. Oh boy, did it ever. Plain sailing for thirty odd miles out of Carlisle and into Scotland via Gretna, and much photo-mugging from us at the 'Welcome to Scotland' sign. Into Annan and suddenly everyone's Scottish and the scones are half price. Great! One old lady, pointing us in the dirrection of an ancients cafe told us "Ye'll get everything there from a needle tae an anchor!" Sadly, they didn't stock fruit cake of any description.

On into seagull plagued Dumfries and a couple of Subway veggie delites. the 'scene' kids and emos clustered around the shopping centre hugging each other/looking miserable are very like their English cousins.

The climb into Wanlockhead is pretty gradual for 15 miles then turns brutal for the last 6, up into hills - dotted with makeshift beehives - which look fashioned from plasticine. Mike 'bonked' a bit, so a leisurely break/wee/food stop was taken to get the motor running again.

We were soaked and cold - but ecstatic -reaching Scotlands highest village and a great welcome from Lisa, owner of the former YHA. She loaned us her laptop to update the blog and gave Mike a stockcube to jazz up his pasta.

Met a keen mountain biking big lad from Edinburgh called Willie, who gave us some good tips on what to avoid hill -wise over the next few days, and made some fine rounds of sugary tea. If we ever do anything like this again, we;ll take Willies top tip of wearing 'seal-skin' socks. Your shoes get soaked but tootsies stay dry, and all a bit more compact and tidy than our hopeless Altura overshoes.

Saddened to find that the village pub closes Mondays and Tuesdays! Bizarre meal of pizza, beans and leftover macaroni, washed down with three sugary teas. Excellent end to another knackering day.

Day 8: Slaidburn to Carlisle

Monumental day and there will be pics of us battling the elements and the hills. Slaidburn great place to say but we were told we had to be in by 11 otherwise we would be locked out. So early night sharing the dorms with a couple of Italians one snorer the other a whistler, heads over pillows and let the beer work its magic.

Left the hostel after a pub breakfast which was given for free, a first, to be fronted with a climb of about 6 miles rain and wind. Took 3 hrs to do 12 miles, long start, going to be a long day
Took the CTC route and headed for the hills to Kirby Lonsdale, busy road. Took the A683 to Sedbergh for lunch good straight road started to make some miles up. Took the CTC route to Tebay heavy going, made a big decision to make up time and head towards to Shap, to get on the A6, thought it would be quieter as everyone else would be on the motorway, good choice, at this point Mike was getting worried about dreaded hilly Shap, not a problem, gentle long climb sailed into Penrith along the A6 there by six, fuelled up with pasta, and hit 'ladies' ! day/ night out at the races Carlisle by 9. Long hard day so glad to be here. A friendly copper showed us the way to the hostel, single rooms, nice surprise, used as student accommodation in term tim, quick wash, Chinese takeaway and Newcastle brown. Time for bed and sweet dreams.

Degree of difficulty 8/10

Day 7: Chester to Slaidburn

After a great nights sleep in a B&B, we both felt homesick and missing our girls. James looked a bit crumpled for the first time on this trip.

The CTC route recommended a higgledy piggledy route throught the North West to the Trough of Bowland in Lancs, "A difficult day". We opted to ferry cross the Mersey and whizz straight up along the A59(?) to Preston. Worked a treat, heading off on flat Wirral roads before rolling straight onto the ferry where James enjoyed his tea so much he chucked it over the side.

Looking at the map ahead, I thought we might be heading straight up my (Mikes) little sisters High St in Penwortham, Preston. Popped in for tea and a chat just catching the rest of the family: Bro in lawRob, Lucas, Olivia and new baby Lexy before heading off towards hills again.

Gradual climb up from Preston and an amazingly early (6.30) finish for us. Nothing whatever to do in one pub village but go to one pub, where we nursed our drinks and sat in a bizarre family room (vaccum and chairs, jigsaws etc strewn everywhere), watching Charlie and Ewan go the 'heavily supported' way round. We'd love to have a production team with croissants following us every day.

Liz and Gina, two ladies from Somerset doing the same tour as us, limped in at 11.30, having taken Mr Langdons excellent route, doing over 30 miles more than our 70 odd. The warden at Slaidburn warned us we'd have to be back for 11 or be locked out, which seemed a tad

draconian. In most hostels the rule is: 'No staff on reception after 11.' Despite the YHA being a national organisation, each hostel has its own identity and quirks. Happily for us, if there is one village in the UK where you don't mind being treated like a naughty teenager, it's Slaidburn.

day 6: Clun to Chester

Big day today meeting the families in Chester, and friends Steve and Mark coming to Clun to ride with us for the day.

A good nights sleep, no snoring from anyone, self catered breakfast with a Danish family. Met the boys and good to see them. The ride via Shrewsbury was a bit all over the place. Following the little roads got lost a bit but then found ourselves, sound very religious?
When we got the bit done over the top out of Clun the ride was pretty good - a bit up and down and some climbs around the Long Mynd - but no getting off, just use the granny gears, and some flapjacks cooked by Steves wife Catherine

We arrived at Ellesmere for lunch at 3.30 very hot and ready for food, first mistake was to order a beer and some grub, the grub was good but the beer went straight to my head.
Said goodbye to the boys as they headed home to stone and made our way to Chester on some fast going roads covering the miles quickly, got lost when the CTC route didnt match the maps and made our own route, this happens a lot make it more of an adventure. Arrived in Chester in time to meet the family, emotional time but great to see them, had a meal lots to talk about not enough time and it would have been easy to have gone back home with them. Said our goodbyes, and headed back feeling down and up to the B&B for a good nights sleep

Day 5: Ross to Clun

Leaving Ross after a good nights sleep, no snoring last night. We left the hostel and had a good ride into Ross. Updated the blog in Library, bought some ear plugs for the next snorers in the dorm and pedalled like madmen to our next stop. What well toned athletes we're turning into!
We decided today to look for A and B roads to get to Clun in good time. Chose a nice a road which took us all the way to Hereford which was worth visiting for lunch, pasta and cake.... no beer.

Could easily have had a couple of hours nap here, but a 10 mins stop while the pasta digested was all we took. On to Leominister avoiding the town following the less hilly route to Clun, great ride and stopped for tea and more cake at a farmers house where they had turned their conservatory into a cafe! Only problem encountered was a rogue dormouse which nearly forced James to fall off his bike in a swerve to avoid it!

Took a photo of us both just outside Clun either I'm shrinking or mikes just got a huge head!!

Long ride into Clun, self catered some pizza and salad and then made our way into the village for a couple of beers in a pub where Mike thrashed me at pool 4-0, of course I could say that I let him win to motivate him for next days ride, but the truth is Mike just excels in this sport.

Day 4: Cheddar to Ross

Glad to be away from Cheddar from the lack of sleep, we headed off towards Bristol. Hit our first hill within 5 mins as you would if your going over the cheddar hills, couldn't find any cheese and the locals don't like the jokes about it either.
Mike had this great idea that we would be going over the bridge to Wales at 12 but the good old CTC tour guide took us along the scienic route through industrial Bristol, which took forever to get through.

Before hitting this area we caught up with a fellow Bicyclist(a geordie term) who was on a standard straight barred bike with a little basket on the front and a sleeping bag tied on the back, It turned out he was heading towards the forest of dean from N Devon. Mike and I, pretending to be real tourers, whizzed passed him until we got to a junction where we all discussed which way to go. We split and laughed because we knew the way. Two hours later through the outskirts of Bristol there he was sitting out in the sunshine having a picnic! Now who's laughing?

At about 2 we made our way across the bridge, a very emotional and important moment. We did some male bonding but not Broke Back mountain style, and headed off towards Ross.

Did the usual stupid thing and took a short cut only having to get off and push, we needed ropes to get up that hill. We never learn.

Arrived close to the end at English Bicknor for some body fuel of fish and chips of which they gave us this great big portion. we were sitting there scoffing our faces and taking in some home brew from the local offie and bugger me with a wet chip only to be overtaken by the mad bicyclist again.

Finished of our meal and headed for the hostel only to find a little track leading down we hoped to the YHA, only to find but the river Wye in the way, and the only way accross was via a disused railway bridge, it was like a scene out of a movie, the bridge was patched up with bits of plywood with a big drop below into the river, I went first. Don't remember drawing the short straw but we made it. Very friendly staff at the Hostel and the room to our selves. Mike and I slept at both ends of the room just to make sure that we couldn't hear each other snore Good nights sleep and in the morning, the hostel staff cooked me some veggie sausages - that's a first.

Day 3: The good times?...Exeter to Cheddar

Really knackered on the last few hills of north Devon, but we dragged ourselves in to Cullompton for tea and teacakes. Rest of the ride was fab, with a great, sunny 12 mile stretch along the canal from Taunton to Bridgewater. Encountered some local kids leaping/tombstoning off a lock gate into deep water. We both agreed it was the kind off dangerous stuff we wouldn't want our kids to do but would have ourselves!

Met a very genial, retired Geordie chap at Bridgewater Morrisons, who introduced himself as a fellow 'bicyclist' and offered, very enthusiastically, to load our bikes into his van and take us back to his house for dinner and a free bath! Hmmm.


Encountered a bizarre optical illusion coming down to Cheddar, on a hill going steeply down which required a fair bit off pedalling.

















Met by a highly grumpy lady at the hostel who played James query about a Sauna and massage with a straight bat/face: " We're a hostel. We have showers." Ouch. We'd left dinner a bit late but found a local pub where I bartered for an extra chicken fillet but got a rasher of bacon and extra fries instead. Back to the Hostel to be told off by miserable dragon lady for not returning the washroom key. Complained to the manager next day to be told:" Yeah. I know all about that lady...She's my wife."





















Sleeping was hard due to a canny old cove whose outrageously loud and erratic snoring (coupled with the musical farting of a big naked chap in the bunk opposite me) drove us both to sleep downstairs in the lounge. The one thing we both had desperately needed was kip. We got about 3 hours!