The beneficial effect of the End to End

There is no doubt that cycling 950 miles will do you good and improve your fitness, even if you do stuff yourself with chocolate and other sugar laden foods in the process. And here is the proof:

Faith in Human Nature

Throughout this trip we have been touched by the support given by locals to three scruffy strangers heading north on bikes and to one (not so scruffy) lady with a cute dog. People we have never seen before and will never see again have offered us help or contributed money to the Motor Neuron Disease Association without request or encouragement: no charity tins or ‘chugging’ on our part, simply the result of travellers and locals engaging each other in impromptu conversation. I have gathered these acts of kindness in one entry below, the support of complete strangers to fellow strangers. In part it is by way of a thank you but I hope it also highlights that the world out there is actually full of decent people, willing to help each other when it counts.

Tracy Shepherd who gave £5 at Land’s End car park.

Mary Jane at the Severn Valley Guest House in Bewdley for the money she donated.

The receptionist at the Mill Inn in Conder Green for her donation.

The woman who stopped her car in the middle of nowhere en route to Bridge of Orchy while we were repairing blown inner tubes and who offered us a lift if we needed it.

The English/American group at Glencoe Clachaig Inn who gave towards the charity.

The person running the Glencoe Clachaig Inn who took our picture and put it on the Lodge website in the hope it might raise some support for the charity.

The Spencer ladies in the car park at Inverness train station for a donation.

Joan (and Peter) – the lady I met in the queue in a cafe who gave me a donation.

The salmon fishermen at Brora ('Rocket' and friend) for the money given to us in the bar at the pub we were staying in.

The owner of the pub where we ate in Aviemore on the way home who took the details of the donation web site.

The Statistics (for those that like this sort of thing)

Total Distance: 954 miles

Sore backsides: 3

Sore legs: 6

Total Time: 12 days

Number of punctures: 9

Other problems: broken bottom bracket, seized pedal, damaged freehub

Agreed best bit: the ride to Glencoe for breakfast

Agreed worst bit: the ride to Longtown in the rain

Day Twelve - The Finish! - 65 miles

Today’s Weather Gods: who cares?

Today’s bottom state: grateful.

Setting off from Brora

As I wrote last night’s blog John was lying upon his still made up bed, fully clothed and fast asleep. Paul too was snoring gently, spread out in the room’s only double bed. It does not take much to send us to sleep now; the days are taking their toll and each day we are a little more weary. This morning I noted John was still in his clothes but roughing up the bed that he had clearly slept on, rather than in. It seems he was concerned that the cleaners might think he had shared with Paul if his bed did not look slept in! I tried to point out that these things were not frowned upon anymore (should he have had any interest) at which point he frowned at me and muttered something about Scotland and men in skirts.

After loading the car and retrieving Geri (who had not been allowed to stay in our place because of the dog) we set off initially for the beach in Brora to view the North Sea. We obviously were not thinking about just how much of it we would see today. Afterwards it was once more north along the coast road. I had woken up this morning wondering if it were too much to ask for that the last 65 miles would be downhill all the way to John O’Groats and it would appear that it was. After a relatively flat start we had some of the hardest hills we have had for many days; short, steep drops into coves and hard short climbs out again. So much for all my authoritative statements on the state of Scottish hills in yesterday's post. It was all a bit too much like Cornwall except that our legs had now had 11 days of preparation. But the weather was good, the sounds, smells and sights of the sea to our right provided a distraction as did the hills to our left which were bright yellow with gorse bushes. This was the terrain until it got very flat before Wick, where we had lunch before pressing on for the last 17 miles of our trip. Wick is small and friendly and the location of the shortest street in the world: Ebenezer Place. Blink and you will miss it (we did).

Road to Wick

World's Shortest Street
 (it is the face with the door on)

The last few miles were flat through a few small villages and isolated cottages. There is one final ascent just before the end (but it was not as hard as we had been told it would be by a local in Wick). As we reached the top of this, our last hill, the tip of northern (but it was not as hard as we had been told it would be by a local in Wick). As we reached the top of this, our last hill, the opened up before us. Straight ahead across blue water were the Orkney Islands, looking so much closer than their ten miles distance. Below us to our right, and two miles off, was John O’Groats. It was larger than I expected although still only a small settlement of grey houses sitting in the brown scrub of the landscape. We free wheeled down all the way, crossing into the village side by side (how else could we do it?) and down to the harbour for the statutory photograph by the sign. The last 65 miles of a 954 mile journey were complete and three very happy cyclists dismounted for the last time from their bikes.

Finished!

What are my initial thoughts on completion? Satisfaction rather than elation is how I might put it. It has definitely been a memorable trip and will be more so once I have managed to unpack the memories of each day; currently they have blurred into one and I think it will be a few days (and a good night’s sleep) before I am able to look back on them with more clarity. But we have completed what we set out to do all those months ago and in doing so met some wonderful people, seen some of this country’s most beautiful areas and experienced some of its most horrible weather. Would we do it again? We have differing views on that particular question. But we all agree that it was worthwhile. 

Finally, we would like to thank all of you out there for your support in all its various guises. We hope we have been able to pass on a sense of what we have been up to in this blog and that in doing so we have either informed or entertained (ideally both). Paul, John and I would also like to say a big ‘thank you’ to Geri for driving the support vehicle: collecting us and dropping us off again; carrying spares; arranging accommodation around our ever changing plans, and so much more. Without her support this trip would not have been possible.  

John, Paul, Mark

Day Eleven - Fort Augustus to Brora - 97 miles

Today’s Weather Gods: content.

Today’s Bottom State: dead.

Distance Covered: 97 miles.

With a fair distance to cover to reach Brora on the east coast we planned to set off early. As we loaded the car with our unwanted bags the sky overhead was overcast and promised rain and the midges moved into action on our legs. Our route today took us along the remainder of the Great Glen, along the edge of Loch Ness and to Inverness, where we would stop for breakfast. We would then head more directly north, approaching the end of the journey but with one more overnight stop, at Brora on the east coast and some 65 miles from John O’Groats. 

We headed off along the road that ran near the shore of Loch Ness. The skies some miles ahead were clear although we had a couple of showers as we headed the 22 miles to Inverness. It was while we were taking a short break and looking out across the Loch that the most amazing thing happened. There was a ripple on the water and then this great body appeared with a long neck. We were transfixed for only a moment before Paul grabbed his phone and I grabbed my camera. Unfortunately, in his haste, Paul pressed the wrong button and ended up ringing his mum and my camera ran out of space on the card. It was then that the creature became aware of us, hearing the drip, drip, drip of John drooling on the wet ground over what could, perhaps, have been the greatest fish supper of his life. With a swish of its giant fishy tail it disappeared below the surface of the Loch, Lord Lucan riding astride its back on a saddle of the finest Haggis pelt.

Loch Ness

The road to Inverness seemed harder than the day before; the roads were still gently undulating but they seemed just a little steeper and a little shorter than yesterday. And the road was a little rougher.  Before this trip I had been a little concerned over how hard Scotland would be. My analysis was simple: Cornwall has hills that are not that high but are steep and difficult. Scotland has hills that are very high and very steep and so would therefore be very difficult. Fortunately, this is not how it has turned out. The roads in Scotland follow the valley and they have very long but gentle inclines. Our battle hardened legs could cope with this; just get into a good rhythm and keep going.  The descents are equally long and gentle and so you get plenty opportunity to recover from the work you put in going up in the first place. Without doubt, the hardest days were those of Cornwall and Devon.

After Inverness we headed further east to the coast. We identified a cycling route that allowed us, for the first few miles, to avoid the only main road heading north and which took us via a couple of minor villages. It was a great, smooth route but unfortunately the Puncture Pixies had managed to track us down (and their teeth seem to be on a par with those of the midges) and before long we had to stop for Paul to undertake repairs. We continued via Alness, which from a distance seemed to have some rather large skyscrapers for what we thought was a small village. As we got nearer it became clear that these were oil rigs floating in the Cromarty Firth; this area seems to be key in the support of the oil industry.

The last 20 miles to Brora seemed to take and age, with rough roads and the wind blowing hard into our faces. But we are now ensconced in a pub in the village of Brora and readying ourselves for the last 65 miles to John O’Groats tomorrow morning.

Across to Cromarty Firth

Our first Sign for John O'Groats - 20 miles from Brora

Day Ten - Bridge of Orchy to Fort Augustus - 74 miles

Weather Gods: on happy pills!

Bottom State: throbbing.

Total distance: 74 miles.

Today was an early start as we had to go back just over 20 miles to Bridge of Orchy and cycle back to Glencoe for breakfast. But what a glorious morning!  We drove nearly 20 miles eastwards up Glencoe and all under sunny blue sky. We then dropped down into Glen Orchy, morning cloud still settled in its valley, and followed the road for the last couple of miles to Bridge of Orchy.

 It was a great ride back. Although at Bridge of Orchy we were down in cloud at the start, it was already clearing in the morning sun and, anyway, we soon rose above it. Then it was a gently undulating stretch across the wide expanse of Rannoch Moor, where we officially entered the Highlands of Scotland with the mountains of Glencoe off in the distance. And all this under a clear blue morning sky and warm sun. We continued cycling at a good rate into the gaping valley of Glencoe and then it was a long stretch downhill - one, two, three miles – along the valley and to the lodge where we had stayed the night before; 21 miles done and all before a leisurely breakfast in the sun.  We all agreed that the whole trip was worth this ride alone given the weather and the stunning scenery.  And we still had 53 miles to go to our evening stop at Fort Augustus which promised to be similar.

Rannoch Moor

Glencoe

Glencoe

After breakfast our route took us further west to Ballachulish and along the edge of the clear waters of Loch Linnhe and up to Fort William. Here we grabbed coffee and cake, which is where I met my new best friend for the day: Joan. Joan was a wonderful, cheery white haired lady who was in front of me in the queue at the cafe. It was a slow queue and we got chatting. Among other things, I learned from Joan that a man must have been running the cafe as it was so disorganised. I learned that her husband Peter used to race bicycles with bamboo wheels in Highland games (something I must look up on Google).  And I learned that she and her husband had ridden a tandem around on a holiday together many years before. Joan learned from me about our trip. And then she simply gave me £5 towards the Motor Neurone Disease Association. That an elderly lady trusts a scruffy, sweaty man in the queue behind her - who she has never met before – enough to hand over £5 for charity restores my faith in human nature. So Joan and Peter from Glenrothes, many, many thanks for this contribution. Another thing I learned from Joan was that her favourite song - which she not heard for many years - is ‘Forty Shades of Green’. So Joan, if you are reading this, follow this link and hopefully you will be able to hear your song once again:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-music&field-keywords=forty+shades+of+green&x=10&y=14

 

My faith in humanity restored, we headed off from Fort William and up towards the Great Glen, that great geological scar that runs diagonally upwards across the top of Scotland. Three great Lochs run into each other along its length: Loch Lochy, Loch Oich and Loch Ness. These are joined by together by the Caledonian Canal forming a continuous water route from the west coast of Scotland to east. We would ride the whole length of these over the next two days. Tonight we would get as far as Fort Augustus at the beginning of Loch Ness.

We dropped down to the shore of Loch Lochy through a mile or two of rhododendron and tree lined road and then it was an easy ride along the shore line for the last 40 miles.  A few miles before Fort Augustus we watched the Caledonian Canal in action; at a small bridge over the canal the whole road swung across to one side to allow a sailing boat to pass through. 

The Great Glen - Loch Lochy

We arrived at our Hostel in Fort Augustus relatively early and it was nice to have time to relax and not rush straight into showers and dinner. Good food in a pub at the very edge of Loch Ness and then back to the Hostel for a good night’s rest in readiness for tomorrow’s trip.

Day Nine - Glasgow to Glencoe continued - 59 miles

Distance: 59 miles.

 

I am going to have to stop setting out in this Blog in the morning where we plan to be in the evening. It seems every time I do that we do not make it. Today has been similarly cursed.

We set off this morning from our guest house in Glasgow somewhat late, having fallen foul of the fact that it was Sunday (I am not sure that we were really aware of that as all days seem to be blurring into one at the moment). Being Sunday, breakfast was later than normal and we had not arranged anything earlier. So it was not until 9.45 that we set off to do battle with the Sunday morning traffic on the A roads and dual carriageways that would take us out of the city to the northwest and thence up to Loch Lomond, a total of some 20 miles. It was just a bit busy and we felt like we were taking our lives in our hands; cycling along roads with potted kerbs, stopping at traffic lights with competing cars and having to unexpectedly cut across lanes to get to the right slip roads is not much fun on a bicycle and proves a bit wearing. It was with some delight then that Paul spotted a sign for a cycle route to Loch Lomond disappearing off into the bushes as we were tackling yet another dual carriageway. It was a wonderfully smooth and flat track that avoided the main road entirely and went off for a mile or so through some woods before breaking out onto the edge of the river Leven and following this all the way to Loch Lomond. From here we picked up another track along the edge of the Loch (although in reality this proved to simply be the pavement running along the side of the road for most of the time). The weather held and the views across the Loch were fabulous; our route followed its banks for about 15 miles so it is pretty impressive.  It was all going so well.

We had our first puncture on the shores of the Loch; my rear wheel. We changed this but before we headed off again Paul noticed a problem with loose gears on his shiny new bike so out with a rock and a multi-tool to fix that with some judicious banging. By the time we moved on we were worried about the time we would be in at Glencoe. But we pressed on all the same, all prepared for a late arrival. We had planned a short stop at Crianlarich before heading off on the road toward Bridge of Orchy. Unfortunately a mile outside I had another puncture; the front wheel this time and it went with quite a bang. We stopped on the grassy verge to do the repairs and this is where we found out about the Scottish midges. 

We had been getting the occasional nip from these wee beasties as we cycled up the Loch but nothing to worry too much about. But stopping by a grass verge in the middle of nowhere, well that is just asking for trouble. They scented our blood. They passed on the news. And within a couple of minutes three men, trying to change a wheel on a bike, were surrounded by a swarm of midges. This is no exaggeration; the flesh eating zombie midges were swarming all around us. Three men trying to avoid midges were dancing around like a group of demented Morris Dancers, hopping from one leg to the other and slapping their legs and faces to try and get rid of the creatures, all to no avail. This would not have been so bad if two of us were not up to our arms in grease and oil from the bike. So by the time we had finished we looked like we were just about to go out on military night manoeuvres and blacked up for the event. But we were not going to hang around, these midges are a real nuisance, so it was straight on the bikes and off as quick as possible. For about three quarters of a mile when my front wheel went again. We got into Crianlarich where fortunately Geri was waiting for us with some of our extra kit (we were running out of inner tubes) and we set about repairing the third puncture of the day on my bike. That was when the tyre blew. So something else to fix and meanwhile Paul was also still having problems with his gears. By this time we were regretting having changed our plan from Bridge of Orchy; we still had some 40 miles to go and it was now 6pm. We would not even make it to Glencoe in time for dinner. And so a cunning plan was hatched. We would go to Bridge of Orchy, get picked up by Geri and taken to Glencoe where our rooms were booked and then be returned to Bridge of Orchy early tomorrow morning in order to cycle back to Glencoe for breakfast. It meant departing at 6am in the morning but would certainly focus our minds. The route to Orchy was a dream, 5 miles of smooth down hill, and we were duly met by Geri. Bikes loaded we headed for Glencoe, 20 miles further along the road and it gave us the opportunity to see tomorrow’s early morning route. It looks fantastic: smooth, gentle inclines and long gentle descents through some magnificent Scottish valleys with imposing mountain scenery all around. We are all looking forward to it.

So it is now 11pm and I am currently sitting in the bar of the lodge at Glencoe where we are staying. I am tired and dirty (we did not have time to change) and my legs and face look as if I have chicken pox from my many, many midge bites. But we have eaten a great dinner of haggis, neaps and tatties and I have a whiskey in hand and the most glorious views of the Glen through the window in front of me. You can not put a price on things like this. How could it not be worth the effort?