1,000 miles on a bike

The fruits of our labour

lejog4trm — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 18:50:48 +0000

I received a letter today from Royal Marsden Hospital, telling me that their new Oak Centre opened last month. This specialist unit for children and teenagers with cancer was the project towards which we had asked our sponsorship to be donated. However small it may sound, I’m proud to say that our contribution represented a little over 0.02% of the total cost of £18 million.

You can read more about the Oak Centre, or about its opening by the Duke and Dutchess of Cambridge.

Done it

lejog4trm — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 12:04:30 +0000

I’ve finished uploading all the photos for Days 13 and 14 now, so I think we’re all done.

Home again

lejog4trm — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 17:02:48 +0000

We had planned to spend two days on the return journey but decided we’d rather get back to our own beds so took turns to drive through the night, completing the 750 mile journey in around 15 hours.

The main blog entries are finished now, and I’ve gone back and added photos and extra links to almost all of them – worth a look if you have chance. Days 13 and 14 don’t have any photos yet because I still need to download them from Graham’s camera; I’ll post again when they’re done.

Day 14: The road to nowhere

lejog4trm — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 13:59:14 +0000

I’ll cut to the chase, shall I? We made it.

We got up at 04:30 today so that we could take some photos of sunrise over the sea, then decided it wasn’t worth going back to sleep, packed our kit and were on the road by 07:50. Despite the chilly morning air, the rapidly warming sun was on the verge of burning within a few minutes, as we discovered for ourselves what the camp site owner had warned us of: “Oh, you’ve got a hilly day ahead of you!”

Sunrise over the North Sea

The road that went on and on...

The A9 hugged the coast most of the time, veering away periodically to climb a hill – seemingly for no reason – before plunging back down again. One helpful driver encouraged us, “It gets worse, mate,” but before long the A9 became the A99 and shortly after that we turned off along a back road. This road could have been built by the Romans if only they had made it this far north. With the exception of one mysterious wiggle and a few slightly staggered junctions, we essentially cycled in an absolutely straight line for about 20 miles, along roads so featureless that the Ordnance Survey map showed the individual house names.

...and on and on...

As places to refill our water bottles have dwindled, we have occasionally asked people who were in their gardens as we passed if they would mind helping us out and, without exception, they have been very polite and helpful. Today we had a delightful conversation with an old lady, who not only explained the the mysterious land mass on the horizon was Aberdeenshire but even went inside and fetched an atlas to show us, pointing out and naming all the hills we could see.

After following The Straight Road over what seemed like an endless landscape of gentle ridges and troughs, we crested one final hill and were met by a scene that could only be described as spectacular. Unlike at Land’s End, where we looked out to sea and saw precisely nothing, the sea that we saw stretching out in either direction before us was littered with islands, much larger and closer than I had imagined they would be.

Our first view of the northerly coast

During the last 10 minutes, we rolled down to the coast before turning east and fighting our way through the head wind to reach John o’ Groats itself at exactly 15:00. We also pressed on the last 2 miles to Duncansby Head, a lighthouse at the most easterly point of the mainland.

The lighthouse at Duncansby Head

The dinner served to us by the pub along the road was described on the menu as “Hero Burger”. Capitalising on a captive market? Perhaps.

The final mileage on my speedometer was 928 miles, not quite the 1,000 we had expected but – we hope you’ll agree – far enough. We made it!

The signpost at John o' Groats

Day 13: Triathletics

lejog4trm — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 13:27:53 +0000

Since early on, we’d been commenting on the fact that every puncture had been in my tyres and that Dan’s must have some magic puncture-resistant layer but today the roles were reversed in spectacular fashion, as Dan’s back tyre blew with an almighty bang, startling the locals and leaving a gaping tear in his inner tube. Fortunately, we were only half a mile from the campsite, and minutes away from Inverness, so one new tyre and inner tube were purchased and Dan was on his way again.

I was reminded of the first day: the weather was glorious and the tail wind was so strong that I covered 4 miles in 8 minutes without peddling down this hill and climbed a couple of others at 25mph. During the first 3 hours, I covered 45 miles which is an average of 15mph or, taking into account the few minutes I spent stationary (to eat a sandwich or refill my water bottles), a record-breaking 17.3mph. We arrived 4 hours 15 minutes after setting off (the same time as Day 1), having covered 60 miles (10 miles more than Day 1).

The route included several very cool bridges, each one over a mile long, over river estuaries (did you know that “Inver” – as in Inverness – means estuary or mouth?) and the sun shone all day as we skirted up the east coast of the country.

The bridge over the Cromarty Firth

Our camp site, Dalchalm just north of Brora, was fabulous, with exceptionally clean facilities and even a short path which led to the beach. After digging holes in the sand, connecting them with tunnels, modifying the arrangement so Dan could sit in it, and finally shoving the sand back in when Dan sat down so that he was stuck, we swam in the sea and even went for a short run (from the sea back to our towels), which I like to think qualifies us as triathletes.

Dan burried in the sand

Day 12: Who’s afraid of the Loch Ness Monster?

lejog4trm — Tue, 04 Aug 2009 22:20:12 +0000

Just before we set off, a neighbouring camper told us that his GPS said we had 138.17 miles to go. We suspect he was talking in straight-line distances, rather than along roads, but it sounded good, all the same. Even better was the sign we saw as soon as we re-joined the A82, telling us that Inverness – and our next camp – was only 56 miles away. This was excellent news and, together with sunshine and realisation that we only had another two days after today, made the miles roll past quickly. A few unexpected steep climbs kept our spirits in check but the tail wind that was with us for most of the day made up for them as we travelled the length of Loch Ness.

The most memorable part of the day has to have been lunch (sounds like a school trip already, doesn’t it?), when we stumbled upon one of Telford’s original bridges at Invermoriston, quite by accident, and picked our way down across a few boulders to eat in the sunshine by the river side.

Lunch under Telford's bridge at Invermoriston

We arrived at this evening’s camp not in record time, but very early none the less, at 16:30, and enjoyed another pub dinner in preparation for having to venture beyond the realms of civilisation tomorrow, when we leave Inverness behind.

Day 11: Over the top

lejog4trm — Tue, 04 Aug 2009 22:09:37 +0000

This was the part of our route that I’d been both really looking forward to and really dreading: The Pass of Glen Coe. The A82 climbed endlessly from the camp site until it finally reached “the wiggly bit” that is clearly visible on maps as it nears the summit.

The Pass of Glen Coe passing Loch Tulla

Here, we were greeted by the sight (and sound) of a lone bagpiper set against the spectacular backdrop of the surrounding mountains and valleys. We were going to take a picture but he wanted money for it so I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with a photo of us instead!

Us on the Pass of Glen Coe

After reaching the highest point a couple of miles further on, our efforts were rewarded with a down hill that was both steep and over 10 miles long, as we hurtled from over 300m down to almost sea level.

Dan and I have known for a long time that I’m slightly better on the up hills but he’s faster on the downs, and the difference was never more visible than today. I’d found the climb long and was tired at the top, but by the time I’d chased Dan down the other side, peddling as hard as I could all the way, I was lagging behind by about a quarter or a mile and more exhausted than I had been at the top. Dan also commented that the down had been good but the up had seemed longer, while I’d felt that the down seemed to have been impossibly long, given how far we’d climbed. Mobile internet here’s too slow to consult the detailed map and discover the truth, but I suspect there isn’t much in it.

Rolling down hill, surrounded by menacing clouds

After cycling through Fort William, we got a call from Graham to say that he’d found a different camp site because the Scout site we had planned to stay at not only had no hot showers (we already knew that), in fact it had no showers at all… or toilets, or water supply, or anything at all except grass. We ended up at a commercial site in almost exactly the same place but on the other side of the valley, where another kind neighbour allowed us to charge our laptop batteries so we could continue blogging.

Dark clouds hovered menacingly over the hills on all sides, all day, but we didn’t get wet and even enjoyed a few spells of sunshine.

Uncertain weather over Loch Linnhe viewed from Onich

Day 10: Ten Four

lejog4trm — Tue, 04 Aug 2009 21:38:25 +0000

The day started early when I awoke at 4am to find my sleeping bag was wet. No, I hadn’t had a little accident.

As I hope anyone who has been in my class will tell you, when warm, humid air (like breath) hits a cold surface (like a tent groundsheet), condensation takes place, forming tiny droplets of water. Back in The Day, this didn’t matter because the small hurricane that blew in through the holes around the door and under the side walls would cause the water to evaporate and be carried away, and all would be well. Modern tents have sewn in groundsheets, though, and the same treatments that are used to make the walls more waterproof also make them less breathable. The knack, now, is to leave a little bit of the door open (or at least, half open so the air can get in but the mosquitoes and other creepy-crawlies can’t); I’d made the mistake of closing it completely.

Today’s ride finally saw some good weather. Although our journey through Glasgow was characterised by a driving head-wind that made us struggle to exceed 10mph, when we turned north, the wind was behind us and we stormed the last 20 miles up past Loch Lomond to the camp site, arriving early enough to have time to give our bikes a good service. Our brakes and chains are now sparkling.

Cycling into the camp site

The site, Beinglas Farm, is a little unusual in that they don’t take reservations but did promise that we wouldn’t be turned away. They also provide full cooking and facilities, including a gas hob, pans, plates and cutlery, and a roofed area with seating and tables in which to eat. It’s a really nice idea and seemed very popular with the many hikers who were also on site.

The most exciting news, however, is that we have now reached the point that we have been affectionately referring to as Ten Four: ten days down; four to go. The psychological boost of reaching double figures in the “done” column at the same time as having only two pairs of days to go is great.

We’re catching up

lejog4trm — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 22:33:51 +0000

This evening, a very kind neighbour with a mobile home allowed us to charge our laptops. I’ve got quite a bit more typing to do to bring you completely up to speed, but you can find Days 7, 8 and 9 below, and I’ll do my best to get the rest published as soon as I can.

Photos are a big pain to upload using this ~s~l~o~w~ mobile internet, so we’ll go back and add those when we get home.

Day 9: The importance of good cycle paths

lejog4trm — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 22:31:11 +0000

The B7076 and B7078 run beside the newer A74(M) all the way from the border to Glasgow, which made map-reading pretty easy today. They are also roads which were made almost redundant by the motorway, except to allow local traffic access to the few properties and villages scattered along their length. We’d been looking forward to these roads but with miles (sometimes tens of miles) between junctions, almost no traffic and few landmarks by which to gauge progress, it can be surprisingly lonely out there.

One thing that we did like (and didn’t like) was the abundance of cycle paths. They’re a nice idea and, when they’re done properly – with a smooth surface, free from debris – they make for a relaxing journey. There were two things that have begun to annoy us a bit about cycle paths, though. The first is when they’re painted onto the edge of town roads as a political afterthought, without much consideration as to whether they’ll be useful to cyclists: constant Give Way lines and – worse – “CYCLISTS DISMOUNT” signs make us feel like second-class road users; pedestrians get cross when they think we’re using their paths, and motorists get cross when they see us not using the cycle paths. The second is when cycle paths are built well but not maintained: a rough or pot-holed surface is really no good to us and constantly dodging glass, tin cans or (grr!) parked cars is enough of a nuisance to make us not use the lanes at all. The three punctures I had today were all caused by cycling along grubby cycle paths.

We left the main road briefly to cycle through Lockerbie, the village where Pan Am Flight 103 crashed in 1988 when it was bombed. We had a quick look for the memorial but didn’t see it, and with time at a premium, had to press on.

With little else to do, we’ve become quite good at watching the weather – in the sky, I mean, not on the TV. With an abundance of time to gaze skyward, you begin to notice not just the sun and the clouds, but the bigger weather systems. Cold fronts rolls in, creating huge avenues of heavy clouds, like vast motorways spanning the country. With practice, we are getting quite good at tracking the breaks in the clouds and pacing ourselves so that we can sneak through the banks of rain with only a light dusting.

Clouds rolling over the hills

On a more mundane note, we moved this evening’s camp 30 miles north because we realised that today’s ride was far too short (about 45 miles) and tomorrow’s would have been far too long (about 95 miles). We’re staying at Strathclyde Country Park in Motherwell, just on the outskirts of Glasgow. The midges are beginning to nip but, other than that, it’s lovely.