Day 16: Is it really over? Reflections and thanks! (Jan)

Don't know the distance as Jony has gone home to Nailsworth.
Kirkwall to Bristol
via overnight ferry Kirkwall to Aberdeen; hire car Aberdeen to Bristol via Brandlesholme (Bury) and Nailsworth - mostly motorway!

So sad that this is over: it has been such a great journey and I hadn't realised until I logged onto the 'back engine' of the blogsite that so many people had been watching our progress - thankyou! Keep watching because I will upload photos to various posts over the weekend. We had been adding images during the ride until we got to Clare and Ronald at Thornhill (Dumfries & Galloway). At this point Jony got fed up with the weight he was carrying and left some stuff, including one keyboard and his iPad, to be posted home. Helped him fly(!) up the hills but left us without a means of extracting photos from the camera.  

Found in St Magnus Cathedral.
So it's goodnight from him and goodnight from her. 

In the meantime, you know that our plan was to catch Saturday night's ferry from Kirkwall to Aberdeen to give us a better chance of getting our bikes on a train, Unfortunately I had misread the ferry timetable: there are no ferries from Kirkwall to Aberdeen on Saturdays. They only go south on Mondays, Weds and Fridays. Which meant we had to scramble, to get me back to work on time.

We packed all the sightseeing into one day - Jony doing the town stuff (cathedral, palaces, museum) and me doing the outlying archaeology. Plus Jony arranging a hirecar from Aberdeen once we realised how much trainfares actually cost from the north of Scotland to the west country. Ouch. Plus cancelling our complicated hostel arrangements for Friday night (it's Orkney's County Show on Saturday and the place is packed).

It's hard to sleep on a ferry when you are too mean to pay for a cabin, but £100 for an overnight seemed pretty steep. So we bunked down in the (closed) bar, with all the other snorers, gigglers and chatterers. Northlink Ferries, for some utterly unknown reason, had decided that it would be a good idea to divide up their upholstered benches with an immovable arm between every alternate seat.  This meant, tantalisingly, that they were almost, but not quite, long enough to lie down on. Bummer. I managed to prop myself variously, over and around my obstacle and eventually slept quite well. But for Jony, being much taller, it was hopeless,  He spent the night reading every section of Friday's discarded Guardian in minute detail. (Test questions on the back of a chellspecker please.)

However, we had an hour to kill in Aberdeen before the hirecar place opened this morning. The sun was shining so the granite didn't look too dour. And we managed to find an independent coffee house that also sold (sort of) porridge.

So 'Thankyou' so much to:

• Jeremy, for taking us to LandsEnd, supporting us back to Bristol, lending me kit, sending us links and information as we rode on;
• Fi's Mum, Sue, and Naomi, for feeding us and putting us up in the house and the yurt at the end of our first (hard) day's ride from LandsEnd, and to Lo and Luna for chatting and entertaining us;
• Clare and Ronald for also feeding and putting us up at our first stop 'over the border' thereby saving us from having to get married at Gretna Green. Huge thanks to Clare for giving up her dental appointment. I haven't entirely worked out whether this was generosity or revenge..... Ronald gave us imaginative route suggestions, including continuing on from JOG to the Orkneys, which turned out to be fantastic;
• Mark, for riding with us for three days from Thornhill to FortWilliam, Well done that man! And to Sheila for letting him do it! Hope you made it to the Western Isles, Mark: let us know sometime.
• Sarah for your timely and witty comments on the blog! Always lovely to hear from you;
• Jen and Michael on wonderful Arran for making us so welcome, with lasagne and showers and beds for all three of us. Such a fantastic location;
• all our other supporters who have kept in contact during our ride. It made a huge difference knowing that you were gunning for us.
• oops - forgot Jony! Brilliant riding partner - such great fun, chivalry and good sense. Not bad navigation either! Enjoy Germany - and keep blogging!

Looking forward to more celebrations!

The high points (Jan) I am sure that Jony has different things to add but this is my first stab at a list:

• best-appointed, friendliest, slickest hostel: Wayfarers Independent at Penrith
• most imaginitive and friendly: Sleeperzzz at Rogart
• best meal (Jan): dressed crab at Judith Glue's, Kirkwall
• best meal (Jony): langoustine tails 'al fresco' on the harbourside at Oban
• best coffee (Jan): Relish Food and Drink, Wadebridge
• best coffee (Jony):pot of tea and a glass of milk at Farrer's magical emporium in Kendal
• most useful coffee+cake+wifi: Filter Through at Wiveliscombe
• absolutely best bit of kit that I would never be without again (Jan): Jeremy's Camelback. I drank litres and litres of water, especially on the hot climbs at the beginning. Got it refilled at every coffee stop. A life-saver. 
• most stunning day's riding: Oban to FortWilliam, riding the reverse of Towerman's motorcycle route across the Morvern peninsular, from Lochaline;
• most surprising detour: Orkney. We had no idea they were so close. Made me want to carry on cycling, to the rest of the Orkney islands, Shetlands, Faeroes, Iceland....

And the low points. I have to say that there weren't many and that they were all surmountable, or laughable:

• worst accommodation: three-in-a-bedroom at The Arbour Hotel, Oban; but mitigated by the  astonishing blue patterned stair-carpet;
• worst weather: half a day's pouring rain, from Inverness north. We stood, dripping and frozen, in the bakers at Cromarty at 9.45 in the morning when nothing else was open. The baker sent us to the only hotel in the village. It was a beached MarieCeleste. The door was open and we could hear voices in corridors but no sign of bodies. Dried ourselves off a bit in the toilets and spread out our soaked maps in the lounge until someone wandered through and found us. We asked for breakfast, to avoid going back out into the rain and were allowed white sliced toast and acid coffee. Had to pay before we ate it. So, thus fortified we headed for the ferry terminal in more pouring rain. Did I say terminal? Concrete jetty in sheeting rain. 'Stand out in the middle where the ferryman can see you' said a passing local. 'Otherwise he will turn around without landing.' Please not. 'And is there any shelter on the other side?' Wry smile and shake of the head;
• scariest moment: facing the last couple of hundred miles through the most isolated bit of the Highlands with Jony's bike making horrendous noises, pouring rain and the accommodation we were aiming for being full. We had to change our route, detouring to Sleeperzzz hostel at Rogart (great place) and, by complete chance, found a bike shop in Tain who worked wonders on Jony's wheel. Huge relief.

Day 15. John o' Groats - the end or the beginning? (Jony)

For once, let's not bother with the stuff about how far or how hard; we got there. End of story. Rolled into JoG about 3.15 with a big smile on our bottoms and a fairly substantial sense of relief. Had it been all about that moment, it would have been a bit of an anticlimax since there were no scottish pipers, no cheering crowds, just the same much photographed signpost that we'd seen in Lands End a couple of weeks earlier.

A wee dram of the local firewater was called for.
I did not resist.
(Is that man behind me weeing on the signpost?)

But the end of all our journeys is to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time, n'est pas Holmes? I can't speak for Jan (who is off visiting Orkney's archeological sites while I nurse a sore throat in assorted coffee shops) but I have certainly learnt a bit of stuff in the course of our travels. Learnt? Well, we'll see. 'Experienced' certainly.

I've pushed myself physically way beyond what I thought was possible. And survived. I've found some new fabulous bits of the country that I want to explore further and not on my own (especially Shropshire, the Lakes and the Scottish west coast - you can get a rover ticket on CalMac for £70...even less when you're a pensioner!).

Says it all...

I've really enjoyed cycling with someone else and Jan has been a perfect companion for this journey (which, if truth be told, I would not have completed on my own). But I have a notion that travelling at a different speed might be worth trying.

Which is why I'm about to set off to Germany with Charlie and Patrick on a motorbike tour! A whole new set of issues awaits the unwary reader and biker alike which will undoubtedly change my understanding of the past two weeks!

Thanks for sticking with us gentle reader but this is not the end of the road. Stand by for further exciting adventures which will, I hope, be found by clicking here. 

Day 15. Thistle do it! (Jan)

Day 15: 180km
Rogart to JohnOGroats and some!
via Lybster, Wick, ferry from JohnOGroats to Burwick, Scapa Flow

Epic day! We knew that we had 82 miles to ride to JohnOGroats today so decided to hack straight up the A9, against all advice. Bizarrely, it turned out to be a great road with fab views of the sea and headlands. Unfortunately, of course, you have to be high up to see the views.... I had trouble with my bike for the first time: couldn't change between the 3 front gear cogs so was forced to stop part way up a 13% hill. Grrrr! Managed to get gears sorted but very stiff. We squirted WD40 at the mechanism later but I think it will be time for a service when I get back!

We had lunch in tiny Lybster harbour (1/2 mile downhill - oops) that made us think we were back in Cornwall. And from there on the countryside got wilder and flatter and more Cornish, all the way to JohnOGroats.

Came across a very strange construction of bridges and railtracks that had no obvious purpose and were protected by DeepSea7. Did the man pretending to paint a fence, dressed up in full protective clothing and hard hat really have a more sinister purpose...? 

And in the tackiness stakes there wasn't much between them: we weren't allowed past the fence around the signpost at JOG without paying £10 for a photo. We had circumvented this rule at LandsEnd by arriving out-of-hours; this time leant our bikes against the fence and took photos from outside. A chap arrived having spent 9 weeks walking End-to-End; and a solo cyclist arrived a few minutes later. Good job we hadn't thought we were doing something unusual!

Postscript: the ferry that was supposed to bring us to Kirkwall tonight only actually came as far as the southern tip of South Ronaldsay so we had an extra 20 miles to ride. A lovely route though that brought us through Scapa Flow. We will spend more time exploring tomorrow and Saturday before getting the ferry to Aberdeen.

Day 14. Inverness to Sleeperzzz (Jony)

Don't get excited if I reveal that I'm writing this in the comfort of a first-class British Rail carriage. We're not cheating, though today's ride was definitely the most unpleasant of our trip so far thanks to some solid Scottish rain which shoo'd us out of Inverness and along the A9 towards Cromarty - yes! that Cromarty - which occupies the end of a penninsula/was to be the crossing point en route to today's ride. 

The details of the next few hours are hidden by the mists of memory but several cake shops, a down-at-heel hotel and about 75km later, we diverted from our intended northerly route along the east coast of Sutherland, past Dornoch golf club (a favourite of my dad's) and towards Rogart where super-friendly Kate and her husband run a unique sort of hostel in old BR carriages, right behind the existing railway station. 

Day 14 Sleeperzzz (Jan)

Day 14: 88km
Inverness to Rogart
via Cromarty, ferry to Nigg, Tain, Dornoch

We had planned to go up through Lairg today, as far as Crask Inn, as we had heard of a really good bunkhouse there. Sadly, no space, so have diverted - and what a find! Great hostel composed of railway carriages, at the tiny (but still live) Rogart railway station. Run by keen cyclists/railway buffs who live in the redundant station building (buy your tickets on the train these days).

Jony has been nursing his bike along for the last few days but we finally found a bike shop today and it has now been patched up, with advice to replace the back wheel once he's home. While we were waiting for the verdict, we went to the local baker/cafe to dry out (very wet this morning) and met a family there (also drying out) who were cycling to Glasgow! Handset off from Bonar Bridge this morning but the children had got very cold in the rain. Said they had previously cycled the 125km Great Glen Way when the youngest child was 8! Definitely put us to shame!

Day 13 Puncture (of course)! (Jan)

Day 13: 122km
Fort William to Inverness
via Gairlochy, Fort Augustus, Drumnadrochit (Gaelic for Nempnett Thrubwell!)

If yesterday's ride was our most spectacular, then today's scenery was majestic. The scale of the Great Glen is massive: we rode all day beside huge smooth lochs, dotted with ocean-going yachts, linked by wide canals and long, neatly-kept flights of locks; surrounded by the great weathered Caingorm peaks. It felt much more affluent here, compared with northwest England and the agricultural parts of Scotland we've passed through.

Such a surprise, then to stumble across the awful tourist hotspots around Loch Ness - in complete contrast to the grace and natural beauty of the Glen.

Anyway, I know you are dying to know who got the puncture: it was me, on my narrow road tyres on a stretch of canal towpath that had been repaired with very pointy bits of granit gravel. The mountain biker at Fort William told me not to do it. The lock keeper at Clunes who pumped up the new inner tube with his compressor showed me his shredded mountain bike knobblies. Jony, who did most of the pumping-up invited me back onto the canal towpath as soon as we found another stretch. He just wanted to prove that he could repair punctures! I rode the rest of the bumpy bits without sitting on the saddle in the belief that the weight distribution would therefore be more even. I have sore legs but no puncture tonight. Result!

Day 13. Fort William to Inverness sans Mark (Jony)

Having accompanied us to the edge of the 'northern wastes' Mark, our trusty travelling companion, has now gone off to do his own thing in the land of his forefathers in the west, aka Skye. (It's a bit like Lord of the Rings really but without Ian McKellen.)

It was great having Mark along, with his endless fund of stories of travels in China, Thailand, Laos and other exotic hotspots (though, bizarrely for such a well travelled man, he couldn't work out whether the group on the next door table were Spanish or Italian). We had a good late evening chat with some Germans and a Belgian traveller at the hostel in Ft William. 

On the ferry from Ardrossan to Arran. 

Mark wasn't chatting up the owner - he was missing his dog!

Well, actually we had a good late evening listen as Mark launched into an explanation of cricket, english humour,  Belgian cyclists, getting lost in Laos and any other number of travellers' tales - all told with M's characteristic self deprecating enthusiasm whose range, energy and quirky humour  completely entranced (=bamboozled) the visitors. 

And then our hobbity companion was gone. Less like a character from Tolkien perhaps than a pace-maker on the Tour de France, who pushed us along and then stepped aside as we surge through for the last lap. 

Ha! Who am I kidding? 

There was certainly not a lot of surging today, as we made our way up the Great Caledonian Canal, which started as Loch Lochie and changing half way along into Loch Ness. I was rather grumpy most of the day, partly because of a lack of lochside picnic sites and partly because my wheel has been making crunchy noises for a couple of days now, in sympathy with my knees perhaps.

However Jan and I agreed that some degree of 'let down' was inevitable after the glories of yesterday;  it would have been virtually impossible to better the incredible views, scenic glens, swooshy switchback roads and top hole fauna that we saw. However we  managed an hour or two of canalside riding which was nice and flat, even though Jan did get a puncture.

I rolled into Inverness v tired and feeling in need of one of Mark's reviving traveller's tales.

Day 13. Further evidence in the great carpet disaster

Exhibit B. Seen at the Jacobite Rose in Inverness. 

I rest my case.

Day 12: Oban to Fort William(Jan)

Day 13: 75km/80km
Oban to Fort William, via Craignure, Fishnish, Lochaline, Corran/Camusnagaul

Today's blog just has to be dedicated to Towerman, of Versys Forum fame. We took the ferry from Oban across to Mull, rode 4 miles up the coast and ferry-hopped to the Ardgour peninsular, thus avoiding the worst of the traffic up to Fort William.
Towerman introduced Jeremy and me to this route back in May, along with 30 other motorcyclists. It was a great weekend, made only slightly confusing by the fact that the participants only knew each other by their Internet avatars. Thus, when I shouted at Anthony in the wee small hours, in a vain attempt to stop him shaking he bunkhouse with his snores, not only did he not respond, but he wasn't called Anthony at all.
Today we rode the motorcycle route in reverse - just as lovely that way - with fabulous views of open moors and lochs. I love it where the gravel road runs for miles along the shoreside.

Jony and Mark got the vehicle ferry across to Corran (which turned out to be free) south of FW and hacked up the main A82; I went on up the pretty way and got the passenger ferry from Camusnagaul. Had an hour to kill, so chatted with a chap who was also waiting: he had cycled LEJOG and JOGLE (about a week each way) and had walked it in 3 weeks! Mad! (Ed: I hate people like that)

Day 12. Nature ramble

For those querulous souls who harboured any doubt as to the value of our cycling 1000 miles, here is unambiguous proof: a rather rare Scottish Ringlet and "definitely not a Hawkmoth" which, according to Mark, is looking to pupate. Both were seen on the road between Mull and Fort William.

Sorry, that's not just any 'road'. It's one of the most lovely stretches of scenic lochside cycling I've ever encountered - think of it as where God goes for a cycle ride and you'll not be far wrong.

Day 12. Original fittings at the Arbour B&B, Oban

What is about carpets and boarding houses? Exhibit A.

Day 11. Arran to Oban

Jan negotiating on the phone

Lovely views

An 'ooo' 'aaaah' sunset at Oban

Somehow it all changed when we got to Arran. Actually, it changed when we got to Clare's in Dumfriesshire and Mark joined us, mainly because that meant that Jan could pop off and do her own thing without feeling guilty at leaving me behind.

But, by the time we rejoined Jan at Broderick ferry terminal on Arran, the journey had definitely changed gear. Devon was lovely and Herefordshire had some undiscovered charms, but Scotland is in a league unto itself - especially when the sun shines, as it has done today. Whether we were taking the ferry from Arran to Kintyre, cycling along sea lochs or just struggling up massive hills, it's all been breath-takingly beautiful. 

We had a brilliant al fresco seafood supper on the CalMac pier at Oban this evening. As we  wandered back along the seafront to find a much needed bit of alcohol, we became aware that a class A, Hollywood-style sunset was taking place - a magical end to a marvellous day. 

Day 11. Brodick to Oban (Jan)

Day 11: 140km/172km

Broddick to Oban

via Lochranza, ferry to Claonaig (Kintyre), Tarbert, Lochgilphead, Kilmartin, Kilniniver/Lochawe

'What's in a Scotch pie please?'

'Meat'

Hmmm well, maybe. My head wasn't working very well after 80 miles, including the last 20 on broken roller-coasting forest roads up the side of Loch Awe. But even I could work out that a 'meat' pie would set me up better for the final 20 miles into Oban than a packet of 'Gift from Scotland' shortbread.

'Ok'

The day had started well: Michael drove us back to Broddick, where we had left our bikes at the Douglas Hotel, opposite the ferry terminal. The bikes were still there and - miracle - the receptionist came out to us, with the water bottle I had left in last night's taxi. Amazing! We skipped along quiet roads to beautiful Lochanza, in time for the first ferry across to Kintyre. Too early for Jen's suggestion of fish at Skipness Castle, we had breakfast overlooking the harbour in Tarbert, then split up. I took the 'pretty' route out of Kilmartin, going up the east side of LochAwe, whilst Jony and Mark very sensibly stuck to the main route to Oban. It was indeed pretty - for the first 10 miles of bright sunshine. Then the road surface got worse, the clouds descended and the hills got steeper. I couldn't believe that a loch could go on so long! By the time I finally rounded the head, I was soaked and exhausted. Relieved to see the main road and a shop. And ready to refuel with any kind of Scotch meat pie!

Raced down to Oban for icecream by the harbour and the wonderful ambiance of Arbour Hotel.

A rather fine view of the harbour including a slightly odd column
that appears to be producing clouds. 

Day 11. Kintyre

Just in case you have trouble identifying what's what in this pic of today's ride,

 the big shiny thing is the sun and the blue background is a cloudless sky...

Day 11. Aboard the ferry to Kintyre

Why can't people ever take these things seriously?

Day 10. DunDonald Castle is...

...1000km from LandsEnd. Sticky buns to celebrate!

Day 9. Rest in the west (Jony and Jan)

Zero km, via nowhere

I think they even have rest days on the Tour de France and the hills to the north of Dumfries are as beautiful as any they have to offer over the Channel, so it's been a pleasure to 'rest up' for 24 hours at Clare and Ronald's hideaway, to catch up on some domestic chores and make space in the peleton for Mark, who has driven over from Durham to join us for the next stage - into the western isles.

Ronald has planned some clever backroad routes that involve quite a bit of island hopping and, with any luck, some canalside riding...anything to keep us off the dreaded A82 with its speeding juggernauts.

So thank you, as always, to Clare and Ronald for welcoming us into their parallel universe Also to Shirley for driving over with Mark and for keeping us all giggling over supper. Tomorrow we will, I suspect, again have all too little time to stand and stare but for today it's been great!



Day 9 (Jan)
Greater generosity hath no woman than this: that she lay down her dental appointment for her friend's friend.
So it was that I found myself in a dental chair in Dumfries at 8.30 this morning, having relieved Clare of her check-up. The dentist was very interesting: an enthusiastic cyclist who was about to set off for the London-Surrey 100 miler, based on last year's Olympic roadrace route. he was very sympathetic and understood the urgency of 'getting something done' before we are stuck out in the middle of nowhere for several days, with only a slamming door and a piece of string available for tooth extraction. 30 minutes later I was minus the remains of my broken tooth - root and all. And with serious advice not to exert myself for the rest of the day....
So, coffee, flapjacks (sorry Mr Dentist), the odd nap, a little stroll up to the Roman camp near Dusetter. Venison for supper.

Day 8: Just a tiny bit over half way (Jan)

Day 8: 110km
Penrith to Thornhill, via Carlisle, Gretna Green (no way of avoiding it!), Dumfries

So why is it that when I sit down at the keyboard, I instantly forget all the witticisms I had been composing in my head as I rode along during the day? Not even re-running the route brings them back. Partly, maybe, because today's ride has been reasonably easy: no great climbs, no exceptional towns, and no spectacular weather. There has been low cloud and drizzle then heavier rain pretty much all day - warmish dry spells in between, but poor visibility, so that although we have been running along the Solway Firth, we only caught dull glimpses of it. Very much hope that the weather improves as we get further up the coast as it would be a shame to miss the views completely.

We have arrived this afternoon at the lovely home of Clare and Ronald, friends of Jony's from publishing days. With the promise of a meal, a load of washing, bed, the dentist tomorrow (for me - I broke a tooth a few days ago) and a day off the bikes! Judging by the cake we have already eaten, we are in for a treat - thanks very much Clare!

Gretna Green was as terrible as ever. We attempted to avoid the 'Famous Blacksmith's Forge Experience' by going into the town for coffee instead, but sadly there is nothing there and locals sent us back to Costa's at the 'Retail Outlet'. We gave in, against our better judgement and I had an undrinkable cup of pondwater. Our next stop was a farm icecream parlour just before Dumfries (don't ask - just accept that it was raining and we couldn't find anything else) but surprise, surprise, the coffee came from a proper machine and knocked spots off the pondwater. 

[Ed: Can you knock spots off pondwater?]

We are just over halfway now, properly in Scotland, and are planning a bit of island-hopping next, starting with Arran and Kintyre. Should be a lovely way to weave our way up the west coast. We have also heard [from the maestro of the Glens, aka Ronald] that there is an off-road route to take us through the Great Glen. This will be great as people are saying that the road is awful - full of lorries. It will be good to have a chance today/tomorrow to do a bit of planning, although I have to say that Jony has come equipped with enough technology to keep us, and Kennedy Space Centre, pinpointed and well in-touch.

Today's sort-of pun is for Dawn and Sarah: the world's worst (and hopefully unintentional); Barracks House Care Home.

Day 7: Lucky escape (Jan)

Day 7: 105km

Garstang to Penrith, via Lancaster, Carnforth, Kendal, Shap Fell

Very luckily for me Jony realised before we set off this morning that actually Kirkstone Pass is twice as high as Shap, so he didn't drag me off through the Lake District afterall. Shap was perfectly sufficient: we are definitely no longer practising - legs are being well-worked, thankyou Sarah!  I love this scenery. The wildness of the hills and the blasted trees; the tilted bedding planes where the rock is exposed. The wide valleys and looping brooks. And great, sunshine-and-cloud skies. At one point I came round a corner to a brilliantly-green field with two cartoon sheep sitting side-by-side. They watched me as I progressed up the hill, two fluffy heads following me in unison. So funny.

 Early this morning , we had a short respite, having picked up the Lancaster canal, through Bolton-le-Sands to Carnforth. It is a really pretty route, with glimpses of Morecambe Bay and the Lake District to the west/northwest and the Pennines to the east. Strange that I never rode these towpaths when we lived here, but I didn't use a bike much in those days. Had a Honda50 (not much more than a bicycle!) and I don't think I travelled much beyond Carnforth and Morecambe, except for one day when I did a loop through the Lake District, panicking the entire time that I would run out of fuel because the petrol stations were so few and far between. 

We met another cyclist on our way up Shap Fell today. She was riding LEJOG in sections (currently doing Bristol to Glasgow). We have decided we definitely need to join the End-to-End club when we have finished. Jony also wants a reception party (preferably in every town we pass through). So greedy!

We have rolled up at the Wayfarers Independent Hostel in Penrith tonight - really well-appointed and very reasonable. Only opened this year, after a thoughtful conversion. Good kitchen, sitting space, ensuite bunk rooms, drying room - although we only need it for our washing, having again escaped the rain, arriving just ahead of it.

No puns today! Very disappointing.

Day 7. Rock on! (Jony)

Look, I know I've gone on about how hard this is and I don't really expect much sympathy from the great working public since we are, essentially, on a jolly. But somewhere up near the Lake District is a big old hill called Shap Fell, or maybe Shap Moor. Even in a car on the M6 it's a bit of a climb, though the scenery is classic hills, sheep and stone walls. Our route took us up the A6 which, unregarded, criss-crosses the motorway in different places but follows more or less the same route up the Fell for several miles and about 350m, say 1000 ft, of vertical climb.

I genuinely did not think I had the energy to cycle up this monster and was dreading a very long walk. Until, that is, I put on the headphones and fired up some classic Supertramp. I have written elsewhere of the amazing motivational power of music: something with a bit of a beat can quite simply make it possible for me to keep going, even to speed up, when my body is saying No - stop!

I think that Jan was really quite surprised at how I leapt up the road from my customary position half a mile behind her. We reached Penrith in fairly good time and now have only one more leg to ride before having a well-earned rest day at Clare's on Friday.

We saw this little poem at Lowther Castle where they had an outdoor poetry installation wittily entitled  [Add text here]. 
I must say, never has a poem 'spoken' to me quite so powerfully...

Day 6. Ooop north (Jan and Jony)

Day 6. 125km Cholmondeley to Garstang, via Weaverham, Warrington, Wigan and Preston

Well - a day of surprises! Surprise no 1: that it is possible to pass through the conurbation of Merseyside without even noticing! One minute you are crossing the Manchester Ship canal, the next you are over the Mersey and back out into countryside. Very neat navigating, Jony!

Surprise no 2: that you can get from mid-Cheshire to mid-Lancs without hills.

Surprise no 3: that all the green-route planning is undone on the approach to Preston. I was completely taken aback by the vast network of dual carriageways that we got sucked into - had to weave our way across - once to the left, then back uphill and across to the right, with all the traffic that was churning off the M6. Fairly scary.    

Surprise no 4: the surprise that was not a surprise: that when you finally get in there, Preston is pretty small place, so I still don't understand the need for the huge approaches. The sad bit was seeing what has happened to the economy of the city. The recession has bitten really hard here. Even the big stores in the main shopping streets are charity shops, and the market was just one big car boot sale. It was hard to find anything fresh or healthy to eat for our picnic lunch. Jony spotted a park suitable for a picnic - he has very high standards ;-) - and we finally found a good coffee shop on the lane leading to it.

Surprise no 5: traffic wardens have such good local knowledge and are willing to share it. Have you ever tried asking a postman for directions? They haven't a clue. But ask a traffic warden and they are spot-on every time. "Where's a good place to buy local bread and cheese?' (Shrewsbury - by the castle entrance.) 'Where's the Tourist Info Office?' (Preston - in the Guildhall - left turn by Richer Sounds.) I love it!

So, we are approaching halfway now. Time to psych up for hills, and Jony reckons we should practise tomorrow by detouring through the Lake District. We'll see how smug he is after we have climbed up and over Kirkstone Pass. I'm quaking in my cleats already!

Pun for the day: 'Panama Hatty's' - hairdresser or eaterie? Answers on a straw donkey please.

Jony's Day 6.

I take it all back. The good people of Lancashire are not all thieving scousers who would  have the tyres off your bike before you could say "Bill Shankley". My preconceptions about 'oop north' were swiftly shattered as we crossed the  Manchester Ship Canal at Warrington and were back in open countryside by 10.00am, with narry a clog nor a chip buttie in sight. 

Mind you, the distinct shortage of Costa coffee establishments in particular and the general transition away from affluence on the high street was quickly noticed by your two  hardened former community workers, especially when we stopped for essential provisions in Preston, where the goods on sale in the market would not have disgraced a third-world country. 

Preston? How on earth had we got there, I asked myself. Whatever happened to our picnic under Wigan Pier or the hostel in Shaftbottom under Grot that I was assured we were heading for? 'Oh, I thought this would be so much nicer,' came the mischievous response from the team leader. Last time I follow her!

Day 5: Weather forecast (Jony)

Day 5: 140km

Leominster to Cholmondeley, via luverly Ludlow, Church Stretton, Shrewsbury, Wem, Whitchurch 

"Here is the forecast for inland stations from Leominster without an O to Cholmondeley with a U.

Leominster. Rain. 10miles. Fair. 

Ludlow. Half timbered. Hills. 15 miles. Good to poor.

Shrewsbury. Lorries. Rain. Dangerous. 20 miles. Painful.

Wem. Brightening. Confectionary interludes. 10 miles. Painful. 

Cholmondeley. Posh. Isolated. 5 miles.  Improving."

Surreal Stokesay Castle

Day 4: Celtic incursions (Jan)

Day 4: 100km
Bristol to Leominster, via Chepstow, Monmouth, Hereford

Phew! I have ditched the heavy bike and am now flying along on my roadie. Can't carry anything of course, which will be fine until I discover that I need something (anything)! Sadly, we had to leave Jeremy behind In Bristol, so Jony is overloaded with his stuff and feeling the extra effort (I promise that I haven't dropped my bricks into his panniers): Jeremy, we miss you already!

Lovely route today: over the old Servern Bridge into Chepstow then up the beautiful Wye valley to Monmouth. Stopped for breakfast at the disused Tintern Station, which is a great place - very welcoming. And at Monmouth for second breakfast and at Hereford for lunch. Mappa Mundi closed on Sunday ('we only do religion Sunday') so sat outside the cathedral with Elgar and picnic.

Have arrived for the night at Leominster YHA soon after 3pm but all locked up until 5, so sitting in the sunshine to write this.


Nice photo of Jony on the bridge this morning - compared with yesterday's lashing rain on Clifton Suspension Bridge. And, of course, the shock of discovering that the suspension bridge was closed, after I had made both of us cycle all the way up through Ashton Court at the end of 100 miles in 'tropical' storm. Thought we were going to have to ride back down to the bottom and then climb up to Clifton from Hotwells. Nooooo! I could not believe it! Must be some way of getting across. I finally realised that the bridge was open to pedestrians, so we hopped off the bikes and pushed them over. No such crisis today. The only rain so far was at Hereford - perfectly timed for lunchbreak.

Today's pun is for Marie Saunders: not strictly a hairdresser or coffeeshop, it is Ludlow Pie company's steak and mushroom pie, as offered by the Chequers at Leominster (or would have been, except that this was Sunday...): 50 Shades of Gravy. Ha!

Day 3. The longest day: North Devon to Bristol (Jan and Jony)

Day 3: 160km aaaagghh!
South Molton to Bristol, via Taunton, Bridgwater, Weston-super-Mare, Nailsea

The man in the next caravan last night had a pristine, shiny-white 5-yr old Landrover, all tricked out for round-the-world desert driving and whitewater rafting. Which was odd, in deepest, darkest Devon. (South Molton to be precise.) We speculated all evening about the world map on the sidepanels, the widened body, huge jerrycans, roof-level exhaust, winch, canopy, sand channels, and on and on. So useful on Devon's leafy drovers' routes. Even the fords here are gentle trickles that a Ka could safely tackle. And the nearest thing to a desert is the beach carpark at Westward Ho! But sadly the man himself was elusive. Tidied up his map and snuck silently away. 

So how come, this morning, once Jony and I had disappeared (at crack of dawn) Mr Elusive became Mr Effusive? Gave Jeremy the full rundown: how he comes from Botswana, has three of these 'Hippos' and has only just finished buying this one and setting it up, ready for a roadtrip down through South America, after he tests it out in Iceland. Phew! Makes our LEJOG adventure seem tame by comparison!

Nevertheless, we had a good day today and knocked off two more counties. We were both pretty tired after yesterday's monster switchback hills and were very relieved that this morning's ride mostly followed the summits of the hills, rather than hacking over each ridge, from valley to valley. We used great B-roads as far as Taunton, then searched for the Taunton-Bridgwater Canal, thinking this might give us some respite, both from huge climbs and from Saturday holiday traffic. No such luck: we kept seeing signposts to 'canalside carparks', but absolutely could not find the canal! Carried on up the A38 as far as Highbridge then thankfully picked up a very pretty cycletrack towards Burnham. After that, we stitched together as many lanes and cycletracks as we could muster. Bumped into a family on the Strawberry Line who were on their way down to LandsEnd (all on folders, including a folding tandem); and met a cyclist on the Festival Way who had led the ride I did to Nantes last September. Such a small world. 

By the time we got back to Bristol we were soaked and knackered. Have covered close to 100 miles today - rather more than we planned(!) and missed the Harbourside fireworks tonight because it is still bucketing down. 

Jony's day 3
I don't remember the last time that I cycled 100 miles in a day. That's because I never have! I prefer to work in metric units and 100km is just fine thanks, sounding so much more impressive than 65 miles. But 160km - that's just silly.

We were helped by the fact that the first part of the day's ride was along what turned out to be an old drover's road that ran, as best it could, along the top of a ridge of hills, before dropping down towards Taunton and the Somerset levels. So our path towards Bridgewater, Berrow and Weston was either flat or downhill in the main. But even so: 160km!

We were also helped by the weather, which was not too hot. Indeed, as we reached Nailsea, it began to rain steadily and thereafter only increased as we took a series of devious and clever back roads into Bristol, where we arrived far too soaked and  exhausted to take part in any of the Harbourside festival (which had, in truth, been washed out). So we had some chicken and fell into bed.

Day 2. The rolling hills of Devon (Jan and Jony)

Day 2: 110km

St Breward to South Molton, via Davidstow, Wivelliscombe, Great Torrington 

Thanks to the wonders of my satnav, we found our way across Bodmin moor and north Cornwall with remarkably little difficulty. The roads were empty, hills benign and views lovely. Lunch was a pleasant sojourn and all was set fair for the afternoon.
One of those great, unexpected moments in between the rollercoaster hills: we came upon the Atherington scarecrow trail and then met one of the contributors. Apparently the competition was won by Mrs Queen, complete with corgi and Pymms. Pringles n orangina does the job just as well....

And then we crossed the border into Devon. Rather like the beginnings of a storm at sea, the swell increased only slowly to begin with but soon we found ourselves crawling up some mammoth switchbacks, with 25% slopes. I took to my feet; Jan soldiered on 'cos she doesn't give up. 

Eventually we made it to the tourist info service at  South Molton where it emerged that there was no room at the inn - any inn - due to a double wedding the next day. However a static home, aka caravan, was identified a few miles up the valley and to that we swiftly repaired, legs creaking. 

I'll never be snooty about mobile homes again....it was great.

It was just what we needed but it was in the middle of no-where, with no local shops and no food. However the ever resourceful Jeremy had found a wonderful pub called the London Road which was also in the middle of no-where, though apparently on former stagecoach road. Fab meal and a fab church next door which we somehow managed to look round before terminal fatigue set in. 

As Jeremy commented, it feels like we've been on the road for weeks already! Next stop, Bristol. 

Jan and Jony after a hard day on the hills

Night 1. Yurts on the hillside (Jan)

We spent a great night with Jony's family last night - Jeremy and I stayed in the yurt on the hillside and used the solar shower. Didn't have time to use the wonderful yurt bathroom: clawfoot bath, with its own woodburner for water, and lit by candle-lanterns. The yurts placed in a little wood, so shady and calm: beautiful! Maybe we'll have to cycle back....

Set off this morning across wonderful Bodmin Moor. Quiet lanes, calves and sheep.
Came over a packhorse bridge at one point, so we must have been on drover's ways.
Came over a packhorse bridge at one point, so we must have been on drover's ways.

The view from a packhorse bridge on Bodmin Moor

Davidstow cheese factory not quite so impressive: looks more like an isolated nuclear power station.

Now in Holsworthy, halfway through today's riding, stoking up on coffee and cake. We are collecting coffee shop and hairdresser puns. Best so far: 'Curl up and dye'. Blue rinses only.