More of John's Adventures on a Bike!

I must apologise for the length of this article, but to shorten it would in my opinion take out too much of the story. In the June of 2003 I set out on a journey of discovery, I had the idea to cycle the length of the British Isles. This is not something unique to me; many people attempt this feat each year. Called the End to End it is from the south western corner of England to the north western tip of Scotland. It can be done in either direction; other titles given to this are Lands End to John O'Groats (LEJOG), the names of the two points.

Land's End in Cornwall is a pretty desolate place on a good day, I was fortunate in that the day I had chosen to start was blessed with good weather. The next two days turned out to be among the hottest days of that year.

I had done plenty of preparation rides building up for this, but as I readied myself before I set off I did wonder about my sanity. During the months leading up to this day I had studied my planned route, read up on what I felt was necessary advice, pre-booked all my accommodation, so all that was left for me to do was ride.

I had travelled down to Cornwall the previous day, staying overnight in Penzance ten miles from Land's End. Two other cyclists were also preparing to start at the same time as I, another had left around the time I arrived to begin my preparations. I had my official card signed to state that I had left on the day I had, it was a requirement that I get it signed or stamped at each of my overnight stops for my efforts to be recognised.

As I set off heading towards Penzance and what had taken minutes in a car earlier that morning now took me over an hour. I passed a small group of cyclists taking what I considered to be an early break. As I passed by Penzance and headed on towards Bodmin Moor, the hills and the intensity of the climbs increased. My accommodation for that first night was at Launceston where Cornwall stops and Devon started. As I reached the turn in the road for my night's stay and following my rather vague instructions on how to find it, after completing 90+ miles I had one or two more until I finally found the right place.

After cleaning up and discovering I had sunburn on my forearms I went off in search of somewhere to eat. A mixture of tiredness, the effects of the sun and dehydration meant I struggled to eat that evening, I had been using a carbonated energy drink and decided from then on I would stick with water. The next morning after a hearty English breakfast, these are a favourite of mine. They can vary from one establishment to another, but are normally a good wholesome meal and meant I had no need of taking a lunch. When cycling long distances I would snack regularly during the day, taken with plenty of liquid I could continue all day.

My route that day meant I skirted the edge of Dartmoor and then after many ups and downs over the hilly countryside I eventually arrived at that night's destination of Bridgewater. The guest house for that night was a cyclist friendly one, at that time I was a member of the CTC, an organisation run by cyclists for cyclists. My stopover that night was recommended by them. Secure cycle storage was a necessity on my nightly stops and a key point for me when I was planning my accommodation. The next morning saw a gentle start as the first ten miles or so were on mostly flat roads as I headed towards Bristol, the hills soon returned as I closed in on the city. I had chosen to cross the river Severn via the cycle lane that runs alongside the motorway linking there with Wales; I was safely separated from the speeding cars by a metal barrier and several feet of space. The speeding cars though would cover in less than an hour the total distance it would take me all day, but on the plus side I would see far more of the surroundings. The weather was still in my favour, it had been a concern to me crossing on the open exposed bridge if the weather had not been good. As I exited the bridge in Wales I started my next uphill section through the picturesque Wye valley. I was heading towards Hereford and then further north past Manchester over the next two days. It was during this time that the weather changed, I awoke one morning to the sound of rain, knowing it would be a complete day of this I donned my wet weather gear and set off into the gloom. I took a break at one point inside a bus shelter (complete with bike) to escape the rain. As I headed further north I had a long climb up to Shap fell the highest elevation of my entire trip, it was quite an enjoyable slow climb up, pleasant away from the wind, but as I reached the top the wind was there waiting for me in earnest and I had to shelter this time in a phone booth as I hastily added more clothing to keep warm.

On this day my stop was in the city of Carlisle, just a few miles short of the Scottish border. With about 15 miles to go to my overnight stay the rain returned with a ferocious downpour, cars were pulling off to the side of the road, I continued on to my destination, arriving resembling a drowned rat. At breakfast the next morning I shared a table with two American tourists, who were there to visit the nearby remains of Hadrians Wall, a Roman barrier to keep the Scots out of their empire some 2000 years previously. As I crossed into Scotland I took a rare early break in Gretna, famous for eloping English couples to run away and marry just across the border. Some choose this location nowadays for the romance it brings, although no elopers are allowed.

I was heading towards Ayrshire, Robert Burns country as it likes to promote itself as. Everywhere here seems to have some claim or other to the famous poet. On this day my greatest threat was from the wind, in fact it was so strong I was progressing at about the speed of a snail, a slow one at that. Once out of the wind and I had my first puncture, after quickly replacing the tube I was soon on my way again. I was very tired when I eventually arrived at my overnight stop. If I hadn't pre-booked my accommodation I may well have chosen somewhere short of that point for that night. The next morning was still windy; I was heading for Ardrossan, only about 20 miles away. Ardrossan is a port and I was hitching a lift on a ferry across to the Isle of Arran, I had decided on this route as a way to avoid Glasgow as I had been unable to find a safe and easy cycling route through the city. I arrived in good time for the ferry; a few other cyclists were also waiting including one from Canada. He was over here touring the Scottish islands. This was a planned easy day for me; I had only about 10 miles to cycle to my night's stopping point. Not exactly a rest day you might think, 30 odd miles of cycling, but it was certainly a lot easier than any other day on this ride. The next morning and I had to catch another ferry to get off the island, first I had to cycle up a long steep hill followed by an enjoyable long freewheel almost to the ferry. The ferry that morning was much smaller, only space for 10 cars (and a bike), I was freezing as we made the 30 minute crossing and was very pleased to get back on dry land and be underway once again. I was heading for my next night's stop at Oban, I had been in that area before but had underestimated the severity of some of the hills I would have to climb, I was more than happy to cross the top of the last one and freewheel once again before finding my place to stay with some ease. The next morning I was passed by the two cyclists I had chatted to right back at the start of the ride many days before, we stopped and compared our stories as to how we had got to this point, too soon and we were off again, they were cycling faster than me and were soon far off ahead and out of sight. As I approached my stopping point for that night I heard the all too familiar sound of a rapidly pressure dropping punctured tyre, another tube bites the dust, less than a mile from the finish of that days ride. The next morning I set out on my penultimate day in the saddle, hadn't gone far when the tyre with the flat from the day before was flat once again and on close inspection would not re-inflate. I had a problem, no spare tyre. It was over 30 miles to a cycle shop, luckily my brother was on his way up to meet me at the finish the next day, he came up a day early to walk and climb up Ben Nevis, Britain's highest peak. I had passed the base of it the day before and after phoning my brother he brought a spare tyre to me, I sat at the side of the road and waited, for many hours it seemed. It was lunch time before I was able to be on my way, I was now many hours behind schedule. I phoned ahead to inform the owners of the B&B of my late arrival, luckily darkness is not an issue that far north either. I was in a part of the world where it doesn't really get dark at that time of year.

My last day in the saddle and I had about 60 odd miles to go to complete the ride, I was in no rush to depart that morning. I only had the one hill of serious climbing left to cross, I was informed prior to my leaving, but I also had a countless number of energy sapping smaller ones. I arrived at the car park at John O'Groats around 3pm, had my official card signed for the last time, got a photo or two at the famous signpost before loading the bike into the car and heading south and home. At that time I was living in Southampton, about 750 miles away. It had taken me 12 days to cycle 945 miles, yet now we would cover 750 in just 13 hours. I could not fail to feel a little anti climatic at the end, but I had completed something that many years before I had said was one of my goals. I was also in no rush to get back on my bike for the next few weeks.

Source:- Personal knowledge and experience