Lands End to John o'Groats

Ready to begin the journey north
(with the bike pointing the wrong way!)

Sunday 4 May
This is my third visit to Lands End. My first was in 1966, all that was here was the sign post, the ‘First and Last’ house and a café-cum-gift shop. It was very much the same on my second visit in 1989, although with the addition of a few ships anchors to give the place atmosphere. To-day, as someone else said on an account of their E2E ride, it is a theme park! Their brochure boasts ‘Park your car free!’, when I arrived car drivers were paying to get in plus all the other ‘attractions' have to be paid for. It is not even possible to get to have your picture taken at the sign post without paying. As another report I read stated, ’get in and out as quickly as possible’.

Having taken the picture at the sign post I moved to the ‘official’ start of the route, I am on my way (except there is a no entry sign at the start, you cannot go out this way!

But to-day I only ride as far as the youth hostel as St Just, six miles away, which is probably the easiest section I will have to ride.

Monday 5 May
I made an unsuccessful attempt at ‘navigation on the fly’ first thing this morning. I decided that instead of going back to Penzance the way I came out yesterday I would take the single-track road to St Just, the village next to the hostel and then follow the road from there. Although the single-track is marked on the made as unfenced it is in fact a steep and rocky footpath. Back to the beginning and start again.
It was a cold and windy ride into Penzance but once there it seemed a pity not to have a look at the Art Deco outdoor swimming pool, surely the pride of the town.

Perhaps it is not ready for use yet.

Without a swim, I rode once again to Marazion and along the sea front but did not enjoy the headwind as much as the kite surfers out at sea. My next town on route was Helston, which I passed through on the way to Lizard two days ago. From Helston I was able to use the very smooth cycle path alongside the main road as far as the Search-and-Rescue station at HMS Culdrose. Perhaps the road planners think no one wants to go any further, the path ends here.
I am now within 10 miles of the coastal village of Coverack. Unfortunately I am heading south into the teeth of a gale-force wind and am more than happy to see the steep hill down into the town, especially as it has just started to rain. The picturesque bay here was host to a basking shark this morning and is within sight of ‘The Manacles’ a notorious rock formation just off the coast which has claimed many ships over the years. The staircase and balcony at Coverack youth hostel were salvaged from the U.S. liner ‘Mohegan’ which was wrecked on the Manacles on 14 October 1898. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________An attraction for me in Coverack is ‘Archie’s Loft’ a small café overlooking the harbour. In my opinion the lady here serves possibly the best toasted sandwiches in Cornwall, perhaps even the west of England.

 











 

I am not sure if it was the steepness of the hill or the effect of the sandwich but from here I admit to walking the steep incline to the hostel, now in pouring rain.

Tuesday 6 May
The wind and rain have moved away this morning and I wake to a bright morning with a flat sea. Unfortunately by the time I set out at 9am the sun had given up for the day and gone off to play elsewhere, probably Cyprus.

To-day will be riding another coast-to-coast, this time to Treyarnon Bay on the north coast. The route took me back to Truro, using several of the roads I had used on the way here then over roads which whilst still hilly were more gentle than those I had used previously. About an hour from Tryarnon the weather took a turn for the worst and rain began to pour down. As I turned west for final three miles of to-day’s journey I was once again riding into a fierce headwind, turning the afternoon quite cold as I arrived at the hostel, overlooking a picturesque half-moon bay.

 

Wednesday 7 May

Once again, a bright and sunny morning but with a strong wind blowing in off the Atlantic Ocean. A wind I was able to put to good use as it was at my back on the ride through the lanes then onto the main road to Wadebride, the appropriately named ‘Atlantic Highway’. After a short stop in the town I travelled on narrow country lanes to reach the coast new Port Isaac Bay, riding parallel to the coast to the village of Tintagel, legendary birthplace of King Arthur – famous for marrying Guinevere, employing many brave knights and sitting at his round table. Tintagel is a pleasant village but does rather play on the King Arthur legend quite a lot. I am due to leave Cornwall tomorrow so took the chance to taste a genuine Cornish pasty. Just one is enough for anyone. The hostel, sitting on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean is reached by an unmade track that winds its way down the hillside where once again I feel the full force of the offshore wind.

Tintagel Youth Hostel

 

 

The sea breaking on the rocks directly below the hostel

Thursday 8 May
With around 75 miles to cover to-day to Exford, in the middle of Exmoor National Park, I could do with a fine day and an early start. The first was a non-starter. I opened the curtains to torrential rain and high winds. I was on the road, well, track, by 8am and the first challenge was to negotiate the track up the cliffside away from the hostel. With the strong wind it was difficult to steer a course to avoid rocks, sharp pieces of Cornish slate and pot-holes full of muddy water on the way to the public road.
I was able to put the wind to good use eventually as it was at my back as I made my way through the lanes to the main road. From here through Bude and Bideford to Barnstaple I had a stretch of ‘main road bashing’ along the ‘Atlantic Highway’. Fortunately the traffic was very light and caused me no problems at all. At some point before Barnstaple I passed from the county of Cornwall and into Devon, but I saw no sign to indicate it. One section is quite narrow and at the point a lorry with a wide load had broken down on a steep hill. The police were out in force, the road was closed and traffic was backed up both ways, giving me the road to myself for several miles. Between Bideford and Barnstaple the road becomes quite busy. I had planned to be in Barnstaple between one and two o’clock but arrive at 12.40 giving me plenty of time in hand once I was off the main road and heading for Exmoor. For the final 10 miles I struggled. Three miles of climbing, beginning at a gradient of 1 in 5. I’m not sure what it levelled out to but it was hard work. I am sure I passed through wonderful scenery but with rain all day I have also had mist and low cloud, I could see no more than a quarter of a mile in any direction all day.

An interesting sounding village name, but would you want to live here?

Not much fun at all to-day really and at the end of it I had to replace the brake pads in the rear brakes. They were new when I set out but have worn to nothing in just 10 days, having covered 425 miles.

Exford Youth Hostel

Friday 9 May
‘Man Plans, God Laughs’-day to-day (and tomorrow), I have a zig-zag route to follow. I had originally booked into the youth hostel at Minehead, just a 12-mile ride away and intended to enjoy a meal and spend the day relaxing in the town. Shortly before I left home the hostel sent me a message to say they could not honour the booking, would I like it to be transferred to Exford? I said no as I was there last night and did not want to spend a day going nowhere, could they transfer it to Beer, in South Devon? Quite what my thinking was when I should be travelling north to opt to travel 55-miles south, but at least it solved the problem of what to do during the day!
Leaving Exford the ride over the southern part of the Exmoor National Forest offers longer but gentler climbs and to-day is bright and clear so I am able to appreciate the fine views. From the top of Winsford Hill there is a fine run down to the village of Dulverton before the climb of Haddon Hill on the edge of the park.

The downhill road to Dulverton

Most of the roads I use to-day seem to follow the contours of the hills, either in the valley floor or on a ledge part-way up the valley sides. After a lunch stop at Tiverton Parkway railway station I was confused over the route, following Sustrans Route 3 once again. It was all sorted out when I realised the route went over the station footbridge. At this point my GPS screen said I was riding along the M5 motorway. It did not correct itself until the cycle path turn away left. My worry about the ride to-day was that I had a tailwind most of the way. Not that it was a bad thing to-day, but I have to ride north again tomorrow, if the wind does not change direction overnight I will be in for a tough day.Arrival in the fishing village of Beer was around 3.30pm, giving me more than enough time to change the brake pads on the front brake.

Fishing boats await their next turn of duty on the beach at Beer

I’m sure this has been said before, but here goes anyway – ‘To-night I will be sleeping in Beer’.

Saturday 10 May
Yesterday’s zig is to-days zag as I head north to regain my original route. Leaving Beer along the coast road to Seaton after which I turn inland and say goodbye to a view of the sea for several days. Using mostly main roads, which are smooth and the traffic is very light the route takes me to Axminster and on to Bridgewater before I take to the country lanes. Despite my worries last night, I have enjoyed a tailwind this morning and with 30 miles covered I begin to think about a place to stop and eat. I choose the village of North Curry and find the locals are just setting up for a spring fare. Unfortunately they have not chosen a good day; just as I arrive a rain storm arrives, bringing with it a very strong wind. Some of the stalls look as if they will not survive long in this wind.

Shortly after I restart I have two options for my route, one on-road, the second using 14 miles of the towpath along the Bridgewater canal. Considering the rain we have had over the previous few days I think the towpath may be a bit of a mud bath so decide to give it a miss. A little further on I saw a mud covered mountain bike rider leaving the path so I think I made the correct decision. Shortly after I saw this road sign pointing to a village.

Was it built before the Mark 2 specification was finalised? From here to Cheddar the roads are mainly flat but like Cornwall and Devon they pass many farms so the surfaces are not in the best of repair and, being wet have a thin layer of liquid mud on them. Not the best of surfaces. With a mid-afternoon arrival in Cheddar I have chance to have a look at the natural beauty of Cheddar Gorge.

The commercialism that is Cheddar Gorge
 

Two banners on a church wall in Cheddar.
If you attend the class on the right it may help the campaign on the left

Sunday 11 May
To-day I will discover how good my route planning is. I will be heading towards Bristol which has a reputation for a high level of road congestion, which I hope to avoid. I left Cheddar in pouring. I did not ride through the Gorge but alongside it and then over the top. There was a classic car run this morning, giving me chance to see vintage and veteran cars as they went by. The problem was that I could remember many of the vintage cars when they were first introduced! As the road twisted and turned I was picking up a tailwind, a crosswind, a headwind, you name it, I encountered it.

Clifton suspension bridge spanning the river Avon at Bristol

Once I had cross the river Avon on the Clifton suspension bridge I passed over Clifton Downs, a wide space of open parkland, once again into the teeth of a wind, before heading for the Severn Bridge, the link over the river Severn between England and Wales. The wind was gusting so badly there was a speed restriction for motorised traffic. At almost two miles in length and high above the river, trying to keep the bike in a straight line was a struggle. It was so windy I was unable to stop to take photographs.

Cycle path waymarker sign on the
Welsh side of the Severn bridge

Once on the Welsh side of the river I passed through Chepstow where I took a very steep and narrow road. Having stopped to rest part-way up I was unable to restart due to wet leaves on the road and unfortunately had to walk to the top. From here-on I am in the beautiful Forest of Dean with its wide valleys and large wooded areas and making my way to Welsh Bicknor hostel, ideally situated on the banks of the river Wye near Goodrich. Despite its name it is not in Wales but very close to the border. Bicknor is an old English name for a bank. In this case the bank is Offa’s Dyke, a massive embankment built by King Offa along a large part of the old Welsh border. To-day has been wet, cold and windy. Not one of my best days on the bike, I was glad when it was all over. But, now I have left the west country at last I feel as though I am making progress.

River Wye at Welsh Bicknor Youth Hostel

Monday 12 May

Welsh Bicknor is a (fairly) easy hostel to approach but quite difficult to leave. The hostel building is leased by the Youth Hostels Association from the local country estate and judging by the broken surface of the steep, winding lane to get to and from it, neither the YHA nor the estate see any mileage in making any repairs. As a result it is a slow climb to reach the public road, although it does give a chance to appreciate once more the local landscape.

The country lanes are not the best surfaced but they do allow rapid progress towards the main road into Hereford. The town is in gridlock to-day due to road works. I am catching up with lorries that passed me 15 miles previously. Once through the town it is another six miles before they pass me again.

Keeping to the main road to-day I pass the towns of Leominster, Ludlow, Craven Arms, where I witness a ‘supermarket delivery disaster’.

In at All Stretton I make my way to the climb over ‘The Long Mynd’. After a one and a quarter mile climb at 10% (yes, I did walk part of the way) there is another two and a quarter miles of climbing before reaching the summit at 1,550 feet where the view is breath-taking.

With sheep and farm yard mud on the road the descent has to be taken with care, to arrive at the hostel in the Shropshire village of Bridges. Originally built as a school, it became a youth hostel in 1931. Bridges village is named after three bridges that span rivers in the area.

Traditional YHA sign outside the
youth hostel at Bridges

Tuesday 13 May

A long day ahead of me to-day, 85 miles to Liverpool and not a day I am looking forward to. Most of the ride is along the main A49 road through Shrewsbury and Whitchurch to Warrington. I looked long and hard at the route as I planned it but it seems there is no practical alternative. After freewheeling off the Long Mynd yesterday I now have to get around it. In fact it does not prove to be a big problem, some climbing but a 40+mph decent, which was welcome. Despite my earlier misgivings the A49 was not bad at all. In fact the traffic was so light I had the road to myself a lot of the way.

Sheep guarding the entrance to a supermarket site in Shrewsbury

From Warrington I head for Runcorn and the bridge over the river Weaver. The approach is along a cycle path but the signs vanish before the bridge approach, resulting in me being on the wrong side of the road to the path and having to cross several lanes of traffic.



The river bridge at Runcorn



After the bridge I join part of the ‘Trans Pennine Trail’ a coast-to-coast path starting (or ending) in Southport on the west coast and running to Hornsea on the east coast. Part of the trail takes me through a housing estate which does not look as if the roads have been mended since they were invented. After this a series of back streets puts me at the youth hostel opposite Albert Dock on Liverpool’s waterfront.

Liverpool's Albert Dock

Wednesday 14 May

Each time I cycle along the waterfront in Liverpool I find it an exciting experience. The dock area is now a shadow of its former working self but the development of the warehouses into residential, leisure and retail has breathed a new life into the area. Albert Docks, the Liver building, the passenger port all have interest for the visitor. Heading north along the coast the area does not look so prosperous with abandoned buildings and deserted quaysides. The road is still cris-crossed in parts by redundant railway lines but areas are slowly being taken up by new industries. The future is perhaps not all bad. At one point on the way to Southport the outside lane of the road is blocked off for grass cutting so I ride for five miles inside the cones. In Southport I stop for a snack on the seafront at the start (or finish) of the Trans Pennine Trail.

From here to Preston there is a smooth, clear and usable tarmac cycle way for almost all of the 20 miles. Preston in a problem to cycle through, the heavy traffic is at a stand-still most of the way. Once out of Preston I am heading for open moorland but the road I want to take is closed for some reason. My only option is to ride seven miles (almost all downhill!) to Clitheroe. With a prospect of hot food and a drink in the town I am quite happy to go there. After a refuelling stop I am on the road to Waddington and into the Forest of Bowland, an ‘Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty’. The road climbs to Waddington Fell, a climb of 925 feet to 1,155 feet at the summit. Compared with my ascent of Staffordshire’s Long Mynd this one is easy. Easy that is, in respect that I was able to ride it, but I did lose track of the number of times I stopped to rest on the way up! From my rest points the view of the surrounding countryside was stunning. Once I had reached the top it was not the top, but a false flat, the road went up again. It did this on me another twice before I reached the summit. On the way down the other side (and it was a long descent) I could see my destination, Slaidburn at the foot. Except when I arrived it was not Slaidburn but Newton-in-Bowland, Slaidburn is another one and a half miles further on with the hostel in the centre of the village. Formally a coaching inn known as ‘The Black Bull’ the building dates back over 200 years and became a youth hostel in 1935.

The stable yard at Slaidburn Youth Hostel

Thursday 15 May

The tiny village of Slaidburn sits in a valley.

The road to climb out is a tough prospect first thing in a morning. 

Once over the climb though it is generally downhill to Hellifield before turning off into the Yorkshire Dales National Park. I enjoyed the landscapes of Shropshire and Lancashire, but Yorkshire scenery is something else, this really is ‘God’s Country’! It is also part of the route of this year’s Tour de France cycle race and the county and the villages are getting ready to welcome it.

 

With only 30 miles to cover to-day I am in Kettlewell by mid-day and enjoy a meal at Zarina’s Café in the village (motto: Kettle Well and Truly On) before checking into the youth hostel, which is also the village post office.

Friday 16 May

In bright sunshine it is a pleasure to ride along Wharfedale this morning (it is always a pleasure to ride in Wharfedale). Following the river Wharfe the road is mainly flat and after a bridge closure for repair work I have the road almost all to myself, but climbing out of the dale is hard work. In a few weeks’ time the Tour de France riders may want to rush theses hills, I will continue at a steady/slow pace/crawl.

Over the top and a 48mph descent towards the town of Hawes helps to ease the strain. Hawes is looking attractive at 9.45am but I have no time to stop as I head onwards and upwards towards Garsdale Head. Although I now have a headwind it is much better than my last visit here when I rode up in pouring rain, this time I can admire the views. After another long descent and 33 miles covered it is time to stop for food in Kirkby Stephen, where the café (and the post office) are located in a converted chapel, complete with original features. I am now following the undulating Eden Valley. With the ascent of Hartside Summit fast approaching – well, approaching, anyway – and with 52 miles under the wheels a stop in the village of Milburn is ideal to take on more fuel for the climb ahead (there is nothing else in Milburn to stop for). At almost five miles long to just over 1,900 feet in altitude Hartside is not a difficult climb. It is long but not steep, just a matter of keep turning the pedals until the summit arrives. In fact I rode part way chatting to another cyclist.

I cheated with this picture of the summit, it is one I took at the same place last year.

Last year the cloud-base was so low I could see nothing, this year the body of water in the picture below is Scotland’s Solway Firth.

After five miles up, five miles down, to the hostel at Alston, in Cumbria. Situated on the edge of woodlands I am able to watch a red squirrel as I eat my eventing meal.

Odd to think that on this journey, after tonight the next time I sleep in England I will be back home in my own bed – unless I fall to sleep on the train journey back.

Saturday 17 May

Cycling from Alston, through the counties of Cumbria, Northumberland and back into Cumbria the road is relatively flat. It does go up and down but not as much as I had expected. From Liverpool all the way to Alston I was visiting places I had been to on many occasions and riding familiar roads. From to-day I am on 'unchartered territory'. Looking at the scenery I am surprised that I have missed so much by not visiting here before now. With 30 miles covered I made a stop at BikeSeven, a well stocked cycle dealer close to the river Esk on Longtown. The brake pads I replaced in Devon are lasting well but I took the opportunity to buy another set as spares and at the same time use the stop as an excuse to sit outside their shop to drink and eat in the hot sun.

A few miles after this I crossed the border into Scotland.

From the border the first town is Gretna Green, the traditional place in 'Ye Days of Olde' for couples to run away to and get married in the village forge, using the anvil in place of the alter.

The traditional Blacksmiths Shop at Gretna Green

Sculpture in the yard of the Blacksmiths Shop



After leaving Gretna my route swung to the west bringing into view of the Solway Firth. Like yesterday riding over Garsdale I was picking up a strong headwind. The road eventually swings away from the coastline giving some rest from the wind - but not a lot, before the final downhill run to Dumfries. Between the north of England and the south of Scotland is something of a 'Youth Hostel Wilderness'. For that reason to-night I am staying at the Travelodge alongside the main A75 road to Dumfries. Not the most attractive location to stay but for one night I can accept it and it is a very comfortable place to stay.

At a point nine miles before the end of to-days ride I passed the 1,000 mile distance since I began riding 19 days ago.

 

Sunday 18 May

With the wind at my back I head for the village of Beatock this morning but once there can find no shop of cafe so make my way to the old A74 road. I have been told to keep off this road but with the motorway running alongside there is very little traffic - but plenty of places to find rubbish dumped!

Although the road surface is not the best, for the 20 miles that I rode along it there is a smooth (in parts, smooth-ish) cycle path. After I turn off at Abington I have a smooth road and a strong tailwind for five miles before turning off over the moors and dropping down to New Lanark. The hostel here is probably unique in that it is situated on a UNESCO World Heritage Site, amongst a preserved cotton mill complex at the foot of a steep sided valley (Note: steep sided valley, meaning hard climb out in the morning). The hostel is a converted  collection of mill workers cottages.

New Lanark Youth Hostel

The mill, sitting on the banks of the river Clyde, by Clyde falls, was started in 1785 and included housing, school and shops, at one point it contained 2,500 people.

 

Monday 19 May

After the climb out of the valley I head out through Carluke, Law and Mother well towards Glasgow. Despite being on main roads the traffic is quite light and I make good progress, arriving in the city just after lunch time, giving me time to look at two buildings designed in his distinctive style by Charles Rennie Mackintosh. The first is the Scotland Street School of 1904.

 

The second, the Glasgow School of Art, from 1897.



 

There are other buildings in the city in a similar style.

 

Glasgow Youth Hostel
overlooking Kelvingrove Park

Tuesday 20 May

Some confusion getting out of Glasgow this morning, my GPS device kept wanting to route me down flights of steep steps. Once out on the route again I found my way to National Cycle Route 7 towards Loch Lommond. This is an off-road cyle path almost all the way, first on the route of  adisused railway then to the towpath on the Forth and Clyde canal, where I find 'Bankies Bicycle' (his is the larger one).



Also, a memorial to the once great ship building tradition at Clyesport.

 From here I am able to follow the Forth and Clyde canal, then a rail trail and finally the river Leven all the way to Loch Lommond. Once there I imagined a drink and snack overlooking the water but when I arrived the sun had gone away and the car park was full of tourist buses, so it was a takeaway drink and push on. It is now  aquestion of which is the best (or worst), the road or the cycle path. The surface of each is as bad as the other, finally I settle for the road, stopping for food at the 'Bonny Braes' cafe part-way along Loch Lommond.

Loch Lommond



 

From the banks of Loch Lommond I have only 15 miles to travel to reach the hostel at Crainlarich, which is quite fortunate as the wind is starting to build up.

Crainlarich Youth |Hostel

Three weeks into May and there is still snow on the high peaks over looking Crainlarich
 

Wednesday 21 May

After heavy overnight rain the morning is a little overcast as I leave to travel to-day on the A82 main road all the way to Glencoe. After seven miles of steady climbing through Tyndrum and Bridge of Orchy I pause to look back over Loch Tulla before crossing into the Highlands and the Pass of Glencoe.

Loch Tulla and Rannoch Moor

 

The Pass of Glencoe



With such high mountains on each side of the road the funnelling the headwind going is not all that swift. From the top of the pass if I stop pedalling on the descent I stop moving. After a cold start the sun is really quite hot as I sit and look over Loch Level whilst I have something to eat and drink before signing into the hostel.



Glencoe Youth Hostel

Thursday 22 May

A cold and windy start to the day as I ride the single track road through the trees to Glencoe village. From here I am once again the main A82 road, all the way to Loch Ness. This is the area when many of the routes north are coming together as groups of cyclists form along the road. For 15 miles to Fort William I am riding with three other ‘End-to-Enders’, which enables us to share the load riding into the headwind. After a break at Fort William I am able to watch ‘The Jacobite’ leave the railway station on it’s daily round-trip to Mallaig.

From here I am riding on my own and pass the Nevis range, the snow –covered tops shrouded in low cloud. The main part of the route follows the shores of the lochs and avoids any long climbs but the constant headwind is a battle all day. The only time it stops is with 10 miles to go when the rain starts. Loch Ness can be seen, but only just, through the mist. The loch, famous for it’s resident monster (which has still never been seen) is a freshwater loch, 22 miles long, over a mile wide and more than 750 feet deep. As I reach Loch Ness hostel the rain stops and the sun comes out – just my luck.

Friday 23 May

Loch Ness from the Youth Hostel

A change of plan to-day. Not a 'God Laughs' change but me trying to make things easier for myself. My original plan had been to retrace eight miles of yesterdfay's route, cross the Loch and ride a hilly route to make a 45-mile journey to Inverness. However, after the wind and rain of yesterday I decided to keep to the main road for the direct 25-mile ride to Inverness alongside the loch - and not a monster in sight! The route is fairly level and gives good views of the loch and hills beyond. On the way I passed the memorial to John Cobb who on 29 September 1952 lost his life on Loch Ness having reached 206mph whilst attempting to gain the world water speed record.

A lunch-time arrival in Inverness enabled me to have a look around the town, book my train tickets in readiness for my journey home and, more importantly, get something to eat. The look around Inverness turned out to be a non-starter. The town had a very high police presence and any interesting sights I was looking for seemed to be non-existent. Neither the public library nor tourist information centre could offer me a wi-fi hook-up, a coffee shop promised one but could not get it to work. Not a good afternoon.

Saturday 24 May

National Cycle Network Route 1 took me over the Kessock Bridge and onto the Black Isle this morning, following the course of the old road and making for pleasant riding. A climb out of Dingwall is rewarded by views over the Moray Firth.

The Cromarty Firth, looking towards Dingwall

After Alness the route passes through woodland, which restricts the view. After 15 miles of it I was ready for a change. The change came when having to use the A9 main road at Dornoch Firth for another 10 miles. In fact from here to Helmsdale the only option is now the A9, but traffic has thinned out and I have the road almost to myself. Along the way I took a look at Dunrobin Castle railway station, originally the private station of the Duke of Sutherland for his castle adjacent to the line.

Having left the sea behind in Devon 15 days ago I was beginning to see it again at Golspie, this time the North Sea, which by mid-afternoon looked anything but inviting. By late afternoon the sun was out, which made all the difference as I checked into the hostel at Helmsdale, overlooking the coast. To-day turned out to be the easiest 75 miles of the whole journey.

Helmsdale Youth Hostel, formerly the village school's gymnasium



Helmsdale harbour, looking out over the North Sea

Gorse bushes in bloom about the village of Helmsdale

Sunday 25 May

The final 55-mile push to the finish to-day and what a terrible day it is. As I set off at 8.30am the rain is coming down and the wind is blowing in my face. At the top of the three mile climb from Helmsdale I was into low cloud and could see very little. After the climb the visibility was so bad I could not even enjoy the downhill. The only way I could see which way the road was turning was to use the GPS screen. The first 20 miles took an hour and a half. The only way I knew the sea was to my right was the blue area showing on my GPS screen. The road is high above the sea with no protection at all from the fierce wind. I stopped off in the town of Wick to get some food and drink. Wick seems to be in the process of being repaired or badly in need of it.

From Wick there are just 17 miles left to ride, but like most good things there is always a price to pay. Although it had now stopped raining the wind was still in my face and the price comes in the form of three long climbs before the final descent into John o'Groats. Unlike Lands End there is no start/finish line, just the signpost at the end, and that's it, all over, 1,210.6 miles (despite what it says on the sign) after leaving Lands End three weeks ago. Never again (well, unless anyone asks).