Saturday, 05 May 2018
Alex writes: In May 2018 four club regulars rode a self-supported
LEJOG as a team, the "Flatlands Four". I was one of them.
Starting on Sunday 6 May, the plan was to complete the ride in 12.5 days – not least because there were firm commitments compelling us to return to real life by then. We carried our own luggage but the route was pre-planned and accommodation pre-booked.
The fundraising
The ride raised money for the Arthur Rank Hospice Charity. The JustGiving page is
here.
The people
The team: John Jackson (Captain), Glyn Jones (Fundraising), Alex Brown (Route planning), and Andy Carlyle (Logistics).
John, Glyn, Alex & Andy at Loch Linnhe (Day 10)
The route
The route is of 1,635 km (1,016 miles) with around 16,700 m (54,800 ft) of climbing. The route's inspiration is Phil Horseley's 2005 book
Land's End to John O'Groats: The Great British Bike Adventure, but it has been heavily modified in response to advice from various sources, personal preference, and the wish to visit our erstwhile Club Secretary, John R, in Nantwich.
The route is by no means direct, or flat, and has a number of
special features:
- Rather than attempting to avoid climbing in Cornwall, the route takes the North Coast head on
- This sets us up to stay north of Dartmoor heading for the Somerset Levels and climbing over the Mendips via Cheddar Gorge
- We go over the Clifton Suspension Bridge through central Bristol and then cross the Severn to Chepstow
- Staying in Wales, we visit Llanthony Priory and then Climb over the Gospel Pass
- Next it's the Shropshire Hills before our visit to Nantwich to see John R
- After the Great Central Conurbation we visit Lancaster and Carnforth before heading into the Lake District, and over the Kirkstone Pass
- Crossing into Scotland we veer West to head into the Galloway Hills, and then hop over the Isle of Arran
- This allows us to meander up the Western Scottish coast before traversing the Great Glen
- Then from Loch Ness it's a conventional kink North to Bettyhill before a short final day to complete the trip.
The complete route (updated with minor fixes post-ride) can be
found on Ride With GPS.
The bikes
Our steeds:
- Glyn – Spa Cycles Ti Adventure (Titanium); 24-34-36 triple with 11-34 cassette (9sp); Schwalbe Marathon Supreme 40mm tyres.
- John – Condor Fratello (Steel); 34-50 compact with 11-32 cassette (11sp); Michelin Pro4 Endurance 28mm tyre
- Alex – Trek Domane Disc (Carbon); 34-50 compact with 14-40 cassette (11sp); Schwalbe G-One Speed 30mm tyres (tubeless)
- Andy – Condor Gran Fondo (Titanium); 34-50 compact with 11-32 cassette (11sp); Continental 4Seasons 25mm tyres.
The ride report
Day 0 – Getting to Cornwall
I met with Glyn and John at Kings Cross and we rode along the busy Euston Road to Paddington where Andy was waiting with the tickets. At the platform barriers cycists were remonstrating with the attendant ("There are only six bike spaces?") but we waved our reservations and proceeded to the guard's van to stow our bikes, relieved that this notoriously snag-prone stage of the trip had been negotiated successfuly.
Glyn and John arrive at Kings Cross
After a rather tedious 6½ hour train journey we emerged into the warmth at Penzance and set off on the A30 for the 17 km ride to Land's End. Immediately the Cornish landscape showed its character, with a succession of slopes to huff up as the road undulated its way on. Andy started the puncture tally rolling with a pinch flat but the trip to Land's End was otherwise uneventful, in glorious late afternnon light showing the attractive landscape to advantage.
Our plan was get get our Land's End photo done so we could make a prompt start tomorrow. This we duly did, and then rode the short distance up the road to our billet in Sennen. We are in a room with four bunk beds, so this is like starting a family holiday in a four-berth cabin in a ship. Sort of.
The begin
Nighty night
Day 1: Land's End to Delabole
Despite the forecast of fog we woke early to brilliant sunshine. After a good-natured round of recriminations over breakfast about who snored loudest, we mounted our steeds and set off, destination John o'Groats.
Initially, we stuck to the coast road, and cycled through several regions of dense sea mist, which lent a rather spooky aspect to proceedings.
Watching mist stream down a hill
As expected, the terrain was choppy, with plunging descents followed immediately by sharp climbs. I soon found myself using my lowest gear winching up the climbs. John's gear cable had stretched so he couldn't reach bottom gear – something the rest of us found more amusing than he did.
We made good time and arrived in Hayle before the cafés were open - but John knocked on a pasty shop's window and they opened early for us. We thus enjoyed pasties with our morning coffee (and why not?)
Second breakfast
After coffee the sun had burned away the mist and the temperature rose sharply to around 20°C. We found ourselves riding on a succession of pretty, quiet lanes interspersed with many sharp climbs.
On one of these we found another end-to-ender, Raymond from Glasgow, pushing his bike. This was not surprising as he had it loaded with a full suite of camping equipment. Chapeau!
At lunchtime we found ourselves riding through Newlyn East, and decided to stop at the pub – The Pheasant – for lunch. They were only serving roasts but ... why not? And three of us had beer. The landlord also generously donated £10 towards our fundraising effort.
After lunch our next destination was Padstow, and we approached this on a very long descent on a rather busy road. As would be expected on a sunny bank holiday Sunday, town was heaving.
We threaded through the crowds and pushed our bikes the mile or so along the coast path to the lower beach, which I had cleverly identified via internet research as the point where we would be catching the ferry at low tide. But when we got there, oh no - the ferries were, according to local knowledge, still operating out of town. With some mutterings in the ranks we pushed our bikes back and took the short ferry ride across the estuary. 22 km left for the day.
Disembarking
By now the novelty of the climbing was beginning to wear a bit thin, and things became particularly choppy as we approached our destination. Not only were the slopes up steep, but the twisty descents were hard, with poor sight lines and often dappled light disguising gravel and potholes. When we finally arrived at our stop - a swanky golf club in Delabole - we all agreed we wouldn't have wanted the route longer!
Much needed: showers, beers and large plates of food. Day 1 done. And John was the winner of today's "Cyclex" game (of Greg's devising) – of which more
below.
Glyn's flower of the day – but what is it?
Day 2: Delabole to Waterloo Cross
We awoke to blue skies and a light mist - another glorious day was in prospect. Perhaps too glorious for me as a "ginger".
The day picked up where yesterday left off, with a leg-breaking climb up onto Davidstow Moor. However the effort was worth it, since the traversal of the moor was a delight, vying as a "best cycling ever" experience.
Descending off the moor, we soon found ourselves on choppy landscape again, with climbs so severe one could feel the bike's front wheel trying to lift off the road. This part of the route featured pretty rural lanes beside the River Kensey which led us to Launceston, where we paused for a photo on the bridge.
We still felt quite fresh by the time we reached our coffee stop (43 km) at Roadford Lake.
As we left coffee the temperature began to rise markedly (indeed this was to be a record-breaking day) and what with the unrelenting climbing I became distinctly uncomfortable, with sweat streaming into my eyes as I winched up the slopes. As we reached the Devon border I removed my helmet and stripped down to a base layer in an attempt to stay cool.
Hot and bothered
At Okehampton we bought sandwiches and ate
al fresco sitting on some benches by the public loos, where we met the support team for another LEJOG effort underway. We wished them luck and pressed on into the heat. We now had a great section on several kms of A road and made very good progress before turning onto quieter lanes again and stopping at a pub (The Lamb) to cool down.
Devon Lanes
The day still had plenty of climbing in store, and we were grateful to stop for an ice cream break in Bradninch.
Pausing in Bradninch
But as we worked our way further west into Devon the gradients gradually relented and the final few kms to the hotel were on the flat – which seemed a novelty. Once again: showers, supper and sleep: a routine is getting established.
Day 3: Waterloo Cross to Chepstow
This morning was overcast and cooler, which suited me. Our first task of the day was to ride through Taunton, and we did this mostly on an attractive tow-path by the canal.
Shortly thereafter, we had our second puncture of the trip - another pinch flat for Andy. I used the opportunity to produce my digital tyre pressure gauge and we had a fun few minutes checking everybody's tyres.
We stopped for coffee at an excellent cafe in North Curry, notable not just for the tasty cakes, but also for the middle-aged couple sitting alongside us engaged in
spectacularly heavy petting.
The next leg found us riding on the Somerset Levels, which are a bit like the Fens, except nice. The riding on the flat was enlivened by the occasional sharp up-and-over, which kept things interesting. The biggest up-and-over of all was to follow: a climb over The Mendips via Cheddar Gorge. We bought sandwiches in Cheddar town and loaded them into Andy's panniers (thanks Andy!) Before starting our ascent. Despite this climb's reputation, in truth it is fairly benign apart from a couple of tough hairpins near the start: after these the gradients slacken off affording a gentle spin to the top.
At the top we sat behind a stone wall and ate our sandwiches, glad to have accomplished the first of this LEJOG's headline climbs in style.
Zooming down the other side, we closed in on Bristol over some lumpy terrain, and then climbed through Ashton Court to ride over Clifton Suspension Bridge. We paused on Clifton Down to eat ice creams while looking out
over the Avon Gorge. A fine drizzle was in the air as we set off again, using Bristol's cycle infrastructure to skirt the city and emerge on its North side. By now the sun was shining warmly and soon we saw the new Severn Crossing glinting in the afternoon light. Since this can't be cycled we were aiming for the older Severn Bridge; we crossed on its east side.
Now we found ourselves in Chepstow, and in Wales. Day 3 done.
Day 4: Chepstow to Bucknell
Aware that some serious climbing lay ahead of us, we all ate full English (Welsh?) breakfasts, before swinging our by now slightly creaky legs over our bikes and setting off into yet another day of sunshine. The route out of town was familiar from the Bryan Chapman Memorial audax, and indeed the mode of cycling was too: long gradual ascents followed by grand swooping descents with good sight lines allowing one to recover some of the time lost climbing (something annoyingly impossible on the twisty laney descents in Devon and Cornwall). It was quite hard work though, and there was some muttering from my wheelmates about my breakfast-time description of this section as "flat" – I had been fooled by looking at the elevation profile for the whole day, in which context the hills out of Chepstow appeared to be but small bobbles.
After pausing in Raglan to buy UV-protecting lip salve, we started crossing into yet hillier terrain, pausing to look back on the ruins of Raglan Castle.
Our next task was to climb The Skirrid mountain on some viciously steep slopes. Unfortunately, after a hedge break half way up, the group became separated and John zoomed down a descent while the rest of us grunted and gurned our way up even steeper slopes to get to the top. After a phone call to deliver the bad news we waited, me sitting in the road anxiously. Eventually John appeared, glowing from the bonus climbing he had enjoyed.
On then to a much-needed coffee stop at Llanthony Priory before the headline climb of the day, over Wales' highest paved road, the Gospel Pass. This is a long climb from this south side, which bibbles around up and down gently on a single track road (expect to stop for the odd car or two) before kicking up steeply as it reaches the summit. These upper reaches were hard, particularly one testing stretch of 19% gradient.
As we toiled away two jet fighters screamed overhead. The reward for this effort is worth it: the views, like all of Wales is set out for you – and the descent, with a perfect strip of smooth tarmac draped in switchbacks over the mountain side for several kms.
As we reached the bottom at Hay-on-Wye we felt exhilarated, and decided to push on for a tea stop. Grumbling about the poor road surfaces in England, compared to Wales, we crossed the Wye using the attractive Whitney Bridge, and rode on to the café at Westonbury Mill Water Gardens. After a cream tea I spotted they had some exceptional-looking lemon drizzle cake and, thinking of Rupert, decided it must be sampled. Yumsk.
I checked my phone and saw we had a text from club regular Geoff J, who had cycled to Bucknell and was promising us beers. This sounded good, so we rode on, in light rain now, into the increasingly lumpy outskirts of the Shropshire Hills. We took up residence in our B&B in Bucknell, a remarkable establishment, and dried off in preparation for dinner.
Glyn's wife Sue was joining us for the the evening and so, with Geoff, we made a merry group of six for a meal at the local pub. It had been an exceptional day of cycling.
Day 5: Bucknell to Nantwich
After breakfast we set off with Geoff, who was joining us for the morning. It was another fine cycling day: dry and sunny but with a cool westerly wind. The Shropshire hills, drenched in rich morning light, offered a masterclass in green as we worked our way onto their increasingly steep slopes. The featured climb of today was up to Stiperstones, and this proved to be one of those occasions where the GPS data used for planning was out-of-sync with reality, as the 20% sign at the foot of the climb hinted. The sign was telling the truth, as sections of this climb are exceptionally steep.
At the top of one section for the first time in my cycling life I slumped over the bars in a classic "knackered" pose, panting like an overheated hound.
As so often though, the views were recompense for the pain, and by the time we reached the top, and the excellent Bog visitor centre, we were all buzzing with endorphins.
Over coffee Glyn observed that his brakes had lost some performance over the course of the trip, and that he'd need to fettle them in the evening – and take the descent from Stiperstones gingerly. We donned warm layers and set off down some screaming fast slopes interspersed with flats. At one point I called "Slowing" and was disconcerted to hear from Glyn the reply "I can't stop". It seemed the brake fettling could not wait so we pulled off by the side of the road for some running repairs.
A new pair of pads and some adjustments later we set off again, with stopping power fully restored, down the rest of the descent, past a few "oncoming traffic in middle of road" signs.
After lunch we turned west towards Nantwich and with the brisk wind at our backs and the flat roads found ourselves zipping along at evens for long stretches, with Andy powering away as the engine of the train. We paused for tea in Malpas and then had but a short run into Nantwich and our Premier Inn destination. One of the reasons for visiting Nantwich was to rendezvous with our erstwhile club Secretary John R: we made a jolly group of five for a pub supper.
Day 6: Nantwich to Garstang
Today was something of a transitional day, crossing the great central conurbation. Over breakfast we agreed it could also be a "recovery" day for us, with soft pedalling to give ourselves a chance to refresh for the second half of our adventure. In this aim the cycling gods had once again been kind with the wind vectoring overnight to become a strong southerly; this pushed on our backs all day.
There's no getting away from it, cycling in this part of the Country can be a bit grim, with busy roads, unattractive (sub)urban grot, and hassled, hurrying drivers. Still, there are also some pleasant quieter roads and we enjoyed these, cycling with John R for the first part of the day, to the salt mines at Meadowbank.
We paused for coffee in Lymm and took lunch in Appley Cross, before the only climb of the day: a modest 100 m slope out of town (pah! it seemed a mere trifle). After some confusion following the cycling infrastructure around Preston, we crossed the Ribble.
Back on the roads, we were whisked up to our hotel by the wind. We arrived feeling relatively fresh after an easy day: mission accomplished.
Day 7: Garstang to Hesket Newmarket
We woke once again to unbroken blue skies, although there had been heavy rain overnight. Because of this we decided to eschew the (potentially boggy) Lune cycle path we had planned to use, and to blast up the A6 instead. Accordingly we got in a pace line and cycled north at a decidedly
moderate plus tempo. The A6 is not a bad road to cycle on and we made good progress, passing through Lancaster to arrive for coffee in Carnforth, at the platform famous for
Brief Encounter.
More A6 work took us to the southern edge of the Lake District, where we turned onto quieter roads. Today was very much a day of two halves: quite flat to start with; then hilly. We cycled on increasingly steep undulations through beautiful flower-filled countryside. It was a pluperfect early summer's day, and through the clear air the mountains could be seen waiting for us. The Lake District had never looked so good.
We stopped in Staveley for lunch at the excellent Wilf's Café, and Glyn took the opportunity to have his bike checked over at the adjacent Wheelbase bike emporium. There, friendly mechanic Matt diagnosed a shifting problem as being down to a piece of sticky willy that had been entwined around the rear derailleur since Raglan.
After
lunch it was time for the headline climb of the day, over the Kirkstone Pass. It's a measure of our adjusted expectations that a 16% sign now elicits not fear, but the feeling that, well that's not
too bad. There were a couple of these ramps and long sections of steep and very steep on the long winch over the pass, through the grandest scenery England has to offer.
At the top we paused at the pub for pints (not of beer) and photos, relishing a decided sense of achievement.
Then, then sphincter-clenching descent to Ullswater, with extreme gradients and a road surface so poor, it was like riding a jackhammer. Although we had conquered Kirkstone, our climbing for the day wasn't over and we had a couple of substantial efforts needed.
The temperature began to drop, the wind got up and over the final climb we were all rather heads down, nobody saying much.
But then, a final rapid descent and we were in Hesket Newmarket. We checked into the excellent B&B and then repaired to the (also excellent) adjacent pub, serving beer from the village brewery (what stout!) We were all high from the experience of the day and buzzing excitedly as we ate the best-tasting food ever.
Day 8: Hesket Newmarket to Carsphairn
Heavy rain overnight, but once again the cycling gods had smiled, and another superb day was in prospect. The first task of the day was to cross the border at Gretna Green, where we took second breakfast at the Old Toll Bar Café.
We then turned to the west to find there was rather a niggly westerly wind blowing, that would feature for much of the day. The roads were quiet and the open countryside attractive as we cycled on National Cycle Routes, arriving in Dumfries for lunchtime.
Out of the cold wind, the sun was very hot and eating lunch outside, it felt like being on the Continent.
After lunch the landscape became more rolling as we traveled west, with some fun rollercoaster roads. It all felt very remote and isolated, but when we reached Moniaive the town was buzzing, as a folk festival was in full flow, with children parading, fiddlers playing, and a people wearing fancy costumes. It was all a bit
Wicker Man.
After tea and cake we checked our bikes to make sure the Lord of Misrule hadn't deflated our tyres, and set up for the final leg of the day, into the Galloway Hills.
"Hills" – the clue's in the name, and before long we found ourselves on a long, but not too steep climb, into an imposing landscape.
From the summit there was a preturnaturally beautiful descent, savouring more of video game than reality, with twisty roads, perfect surfaces, and a succession of striking scenes past hills, through forest, and beside the river.
It was a spectacular end to another superb day of cycling.
Day 9: Carsphairn to Tarbert
A novelty today was some time pressure, caused by a need to catch ferries as we hopped across the Isle of Arran to take our westerly route up the mainland. So we got up early and were on the road at seven o'clock. I'm not sure what Andy had put on his cornflakes, or maybe it's the powers of his new beard, but he put the hammer down and it was hard work hanging on for the first few minutes as the day started with an effort that was more like a turbo-trainer session. Initially it was misty, but this morning's ride was mostly about descending to sea level, as as we got lower and back into sun, the dramatic views of Galloway reprised themselves.
We stopped at a garden centre at 50 km and found it was celebrating its 30th birthday, so coffee and cake were free. Yet again, the cycling gods were smiling (of course, they had also arranged a tailwind for us this morning). Then on to Ardrossan, taking a long 20 km stretch on a superb cycle path that led right to the sea.
We took a ferry for the hour long crossing to Arran. As we neared this island it was apparent it was ... a bit hilly.
Our early start had given us options on what to do next, and we decided in light of the special weather that we would extend our pre-planned route to take a longer tour of Arran via its west coast. The way to get there was an up and over, taking a climb known as The String; this was 240 steep metres.
At the top the views back down across the sea to the mainland were magnificent.
Then a long descent to Arran's west coast.
We had plenty of time, so could dawdle along taking in the sights. We saw seals and shags on the rocks, then stopped for ice cream looking out at the magnificent views across the firth. It was almost like a holiday.
Then, on to Lochranza and our second ferry of the day back to the mainland, and another climb, and another view: we are in danger of being spoiled.
Despite some aches and niggles we are all riding quite strongly and my power meter tells me this final leg of the day, to Tarbert, was the most energetic of the trip so far. This is just as well, as Scotland has plenty more testing terrain in store for us.
Day 10: Tarbert to Ballachulish
With a useful tailwind we headed north out of Tarbert and before long found ourselves on a gritted tow path by the Crinan Canal, which made for very pleasant riding away from the busy main road.
Some narrow single track roads past ancient moss-covered woodland took us the rest of the way to coffee at Kilmartin, where team mascot Buzzy enjoyed some time with a friendly robin.
If today could be likened to a symphony, this would be the bit where there were ominous growlings from the low brass; and if today could be likened to a sandwich, it would be a suffer sandwich. All of today's serious climbing was concentrated into the 50 km section between coffee and lunch, and as we began toiling up the first slopes, we got the first proper rain of the trip, and the waterproofs had to come on.
Personally, I didn't mind this too much, as it kept things cool while ascending. The landscape now had a muted splendour, with its softened palette of browns, greens and greys blodged here and there with yellow gorse. The terrain was Scottish-type "rolling" – which means a series of 100+ m ascents followed by rapid twisty descents, which we took carefully in the wet. Finally, after a section bypassing Oban on a tiny road with some vicious slopes, we arrived dripping wet in Connel, and installed ourselves in the Oyster Inn, a characterful establishment.
I couldn't resist sampling some local oysters, which were delicious.
As we resumed cycling the rain eased and soon stopped. The rest of our ride today was on the highly-enjoyable
NCR 78. This is mostly a cycle path of pristine tarmac, which shadows the main road up to Fort William. It is well though-through, routing past viewpoints and sites of interest and has obviously been made at some expense, with its own cuttings through the rock to keep the gradients sensible. It passes Castle Stalker,
and later it rises to a magnificent viewpoint looking out over Loch Linnhe.
From here it was a short run to Ballachulish. Our days have settled into a routine now, whereby we aim to finish at 6pm, and tend to have a relaxed afternoon taking photos and looking at interesting things. As we approached the end, we saw the peaks of Glencoe were still capped with snow; in the brightening afternoon light the spectacle made an imposing end to what, in the end, had been another great day of cycling.
Day 11: Ballachulish to Dingwall
The blue skies are back! So, instead of following the route to Fort William, we decided to indulge in some ferry hopping to take in the views.
We were duly rewarded: around every corner was a view worthy of the lid of your finest shortbread tin, and all the while Ben Nevis loomed over our efforts impressively.
But when we got to the Camusnagaul ferry to take us back to Fort William – oh no! There was a 1¾ hour wait for the next one. Faced with this, or a 32 km loop to cycle round Loch Eil, the decision was easily made, and we pedalled off, knowing we'd be enjoying an extended day.
Back on course at Banavie, we turned for the Caledonian Canal and had a coffee break before setting off on another superb canal-side cycle path for 10 km or so.
Then, it was back onto the roads and before long came the turn for the A82, which was to be our means of crossing the Great Glen. The views on this road are of magnificent grand scenery, and it generally has good sight lines and sensible grades; but it is still a fairly busy A road and the cycling was not always the most pleasant. By now we've gelled quite well as a group on the road, and for long sections we rode efficiently as a line of four, singing pop classics from ABBA, Tom Jones and The Beatles with variously accurate ensemble and tuning.
We paused by Loch Lochy at a burger van for a snack, and sat by the shore in the sun as Apache attack helicopters flew low overhead.
Then, more A road bashing through Fort Augustus and Invermoriston before we reached Drumnadrochit to turn north from Loch Ness, to enter the northern Highlands proper.
The
climb up from here has quite a fearsome reputation among LEJOG riders as being the worst of the trip, but our unorthodox route meant we were already inured to handlebar-bending climbs by the Welsh, Shropshire and Lake District hills, and so this was just "another day at the office". From here the final leg to Dingwall was fairly fast and, smelling the barn, we upped the pace to sweep into town and install ourselves in our B&B before heading out for an enormous curry (wise?). It had been a long 173 km (108 mile) day of riding.
Day 12: Dingwall to Bettyhill
Getting going in the morning, or after stops, is getting harder as the legs are stiff and sore. This can be somewhat avoided by starting with a few minutes of gentle spinning, but when it's a climb to start there's no avoiding initial effort. So it was with a collective groan that we saw the route out of Dingwall was a sharp climb. Still, it was another beautiful day and before long we were out of town and humming along contentedly.
The first item of business today was a climb up and over Struie Hill to get to coffee. On the way up John got a flat.
While we were fixing it a convoy of enormous lorries (carrying oil rig parts?) came past, with police cars in front clearing the road ahead.
Fixes done, we continued up – this was very pleasant shallow Alpine-style climbing, leading us eventually to a viewpoint looking out over the Dornoch Firth.
Then a screaming descent (logging lorries coming up fast the other way generate
quite a bit of turbulence) and before long we were in Bonar Bridge for coffee and cakes. And scones.
We continued on to Lairg where we stopped to buy supplies for a picnic lunch which we piled into Andy's panniers (thanks Andy!). As we went further north the road became a single track with passing places, the landscape became almost alien in nature with its expanses of dark brown heather, ghostly grey felled trees and streams that appeared to be running with jet black liquid. We were entering MAMBA country (miles and miles of bugger all). But then a single white building: the Crask Inn! It seemed right to stop for a nip of Whisky.
Crask is at the top of what had been a very long and gradual ascent, and most of the rest of the day was to be a gentle descent back to sea level. At Altnaharra we took a right turn for the Strathnaver Valley and soon stopped for our picnic, looking down over the water.
From here the remainder of the ride today was a relaxed tour down this beautiful valley. The sun was hot and there was a slight niggling headwind which was very drying. Gradually civilisation began reasserting itself as buildings became more frequent; finally, cresting a hill, there was Bettyhill, its bay resplendent in the afternoon sunshine.
It had been another extraordinary day of cycling.
Day 13: Bettyhill to John o'Groats
Today's ride was a final 80 km east across the top of Scotland to finish our journey. The route profile resembled the sound wave of a bicycle bell ping: spiky and energetic at first, then diminishing into quietude. So we started with some rather testing climbing but this progressively relented and by the time we reached Thurso for coffee (at the excellent Café Tempest) the countryside was gently rolling.
After coffee we had but 30 km to go to the end. We were in a mellow mood and rode along easily, savouring the countryside and the sunshine. With 5 km to go we came across a gorse fire with a fire engine in attendance. What had started as a controlled exercise had turned into and uncontrolled one, and the field was full of people tying to beat the fire down in vain. Their efforts were not being helped by the strangely warm swirling wind coming predominantly from the south.
Then the final run in to John o'Groats, for the obligatory photo. We had done it. We actually cycled 1705 km (1060 miles), and climbed 18000 m (59000 feet). We promise never to call anything in Cambridgeshire a "hill" ever again.
Reflections on the ride
John's thoughts
At Llanthony Priory
I won't do another LEJOG because this was better than I'd hoped for from start to finish. In particular the camaraderie was fantastic!
My best moment – There
were plenty of special moments, but probably the most exhilarating one was the
descent towards Hay-on-Wye after cresting Gospel Pass. This is the highest paved road in Wales and although the climb to get there was challenging the descent more than
compensated for it – an open well tarmac-ed road with fast, sweeping bends
and fantastic views. Mind you,
the last part of the road into Hay wasn't so good, but I think I was still
feeling so good it didn't matter!
My worst moment – There weren't really any moments from Hell! I had expected some but can only really think of the descent from the top of the Kirkstone Pass into Hartsop as the worst – the road surface was terrible which made it difficult to control the bike while applying the brakes – together with the wheels, they took a real pounding.
My favourite piece of equipment – New wheels. The rims on my old wheels had thinned quite a bit so I invested in a set of Hunt 4 SeasonAero. These are specified for a rider up to 115Kg which is more than enough for me, including kit! They were great, and I'd certainly recommend them with my choice of tyres, Michelin Pro4 Endurance.
What I'd do differently – Not a lot! In fact, the only thing that I can think of is a slightly bigger cog on my cassette – I went with a 32t which would have been fine without the panniers but a 34t would have been better!
Also, maybe have some slightly less obscure words in our Cyclex game. What's that all about? Well here's an explanation ...
Various diversions exist to challenge the minds of long distance travellers and ours was provided by Greg Tucker to keep us amused and frustrate our verbal dexterity. We tweaked the rules a little but not the spirit of the challenge.
Every morning at breakfast we each draw a small piece of paper from a pouch provided by Greg and on it we found a word know only to the reader. The object of the game is to use the word at some point throughout the day so that each of the other riders hears it but doesn't recognise it as their Cyclex word of the day. So, if everyone is together when the word is spoken a single usage is sufficient. Alternatively, it can be spoken more often to ensure that everyone hears the word.
At dinner we check out our success rates awarding one point if the word has been used without detection and zero if it was spotted or not used at all.
So that's it. Thanks Greg for making us do things like try to work the word "Maoist" into a day of cycling.
Glyn's thoughts
My best moment – there were several, particularly off road on
some of the very small roads away from traffic but passing through fabulous
countryside. Some of the descents at 35+mph were exhilarating! One of the
best moments was finishing the day at Hesket Newmarket, the last 10 miles
were cold, hard miles.
My worst moment – probably the section from Hesket Newmarket to Carsphairn
where we hit one of the very few strong headwinds on the ride; the upright
stance on my flatbar bike is not suited to headwinds and I suffered and
regretted all the kit I was carrying.
My favourite piece of equipment – my rear view mirror in my glasses. I was
able to provide good info re following traffic and particularly when one of
the cyclist-hating articulated log carriers was approaching!
What I'd do differently – leave 2 kg of camera at home and try to reduce
other non-essential items. Take greater care when photographing indoors in
rooms with mirrors!
Alex's thoughts
Monarch of the glen?
I'll never ride another LEJOG. This is not because I didn't enjoy the experience, it's because of the opposite: I can't imagine riding another one that wouldn't suffer from comparison to this most excellent adventure.
We were blessed with great weather, and everything else seemed to fall into place. Different people want different things from their LEJOGs, but this one was carefully tailored to our particular preferences. We wanted a cycling challenge, not a challenge in navigation or logistics. So the careful pre-planning worked well and meant we were either cycling, or off the bike enjoying quality R&R. In particular, the use of the
café network led us to notably good food stops time after time. We didn't frequent any franchised food outlets at all during our days of cycling.
So: great cycling, great non-cycling, great companions. This ride has supplied me with many moments to take their place in my top ten cycling experiences of all time.
My best moment – among so many it's hard to pick one out, but the trip over Arran just takes top place. (In my mind a perfect LEJOG route - given the time - would keep to the west coast of Scotland all the way up, and then across the top).
My worst moment – it's a cliché, but it's true: Cornwall and Devon have the most testing climbing. The last 10 km of day one registered on the unfunometer, as riding up and down a profile like a succession of capital Vs becomes exasperating over time.
My favourite piece of equipment – is my 40T rear cog. I started out wondering if I'd even use such a low gear, but by the end of Day 1 we were best friends forever. Even on the not-too-steep slopes it was nice sometimes to click down and be able to climb with a high cadence.
What I'd do differently – I wouldn't start being so overweight. The climbs are hard enough without having to haul extra lard up them!
Andy's thoughts
At Lochranza, waiting for a ferry
It is after all only 12 Thursday club rides, one after the other, and everyone has done LEJOG.
Or, is it more than that and can it be dismissed so lightly?
The weather was very kind, the company fantastic and the cycling was ... well it was out of the ordinary. The route was a stroke of genius and every pedal turn was interesting. From Cornish Pasties at 10:00 in Hayle, to picnics in Cheddar, to the brilliant ride on Arran, it was fun.
The landscape in the UK is so diverse. Yes we had hills in Devon, levels in Somerset and climbs everywhere. But we had some great beer, brilliant cafe stops, cake and coffee, full English/Welsh and Scottish, interesting accommodation where we learnt to watch out for mirrors and always to talk to horses when cycling past so they know you are human. It was a great adventure which I thoroughly enjoyed so thank you Alex, John and Glyn.
My best moment – That ride across Arran, the climb, the sun, the ice cream and the seals.
What wouldn't I take? – Maybe pyjamas were unnecessary.
My favourite piece of equipment – My legs, chain wipes and oil.
What I'd do differently – Nothing. Except perhaps have a bigger ring on the cassette but I did manage to stay on the bike on every gradient.