Mad Cyclists LEJOG’s The Last Day
Tongue to John O’Groats, 65.3 miles, 5 hours 31 minutes, 4455 feet of ascent.
Our evening in Tongue surprised us all. We had dinner in the only place in Tongue – a hotel with a bar, which was friendly and full of local life. Tongue is beautiful, nestled on the banks of Loch Loyal and the sea Loch at Tongue. Up here at this time of year there is hardly any night time, and when we got up at 0430am for our last day on Monday everything was bathed in an exquisite morning light, and the birds were already busy about their day. We set off at 6am and the day started well, cycling along the sea front. I glimpsed an isolated beach with solitary footprints – someone had already been out for their morning walk. I saw a sign”To The Unknown” halfway up a hill.
The day started with a steady climb, and soon it was hill after hill. Betty Hill was just like my Aunty Betty, an absolute b- - - -, and after that every hill was getting steeper and longer. Ravi had gear failure on one of them – his Rohloff gear hub which normally has 14 gears gave him none, and after a bit of fiddling we got most of them back.
I had range anxiety, as my power was going down using Tour and sometimes Turbo on the hills, and so on the flats with my limited gear range I was struggling to keep up and getting behind. Once behind it is hard to catch up. Ravi dropped back to be with me, but after hill after hill and 3 hours in, I had a serious willpower failure. My knee had been grumbling a little on and off for the last few days, and with all the hills started to seriously complain. It started clicking, which means there is swelling in the joint, and my left knee, where I was putting most of the strain, had started to ache. 1000 miles on a knee replacement turns out to be the limit. The wind was quite strong, and sometimes it was behind, then in front and worse slamming from the side. I think I must have been gripping my handlebars, as my back, neck and head started to ache and I just felt I couldn’t go on, very close to tears. So close, and yet it felt like so far.
We stopped, and it’s amazing what a bit of paracetamol, water and encouragement can do, and a quick stretch and of course some flapjack. We were also in the middle of nowhere with our support team on their way to Southampton. Back on the bike and determination revived, we carried on. Ravi had said at the beginning that he felt sure I would finish no matter what, as he described me as like a rat down a sewer when I do something. I think again he meant this as a compliment, and that I have perseverance, but I wasn’t very happy being compared to a rat.
In the first 40 miles we did over 4000 feet of climbing, similar to a whole day in Cornwall, but with 25 miles still to go. Thank goodness this was the last day, and the only thing that kept me going was reminding myself, chanting “Last day, Last day” up the never ending hills. We had followed the North-coast 500 route in land, and the landscape was not as dramatic as the previous day, and not as beautiful as expected in parts. We stopped for coffee and for Ravi to ice his leg, as it was getting quite painful. No ice, so he had to use a bag of frozen parsnips, which worked surprisingly well.
Off we went again for the final 25 miles, which thank fully were not as hilly – at least they were more gentle. Still in blazing sunshine we watched the clouds gathering, and followed our route onto our old friend, National Cycle Pathway 1 again. Rain – our first since Cornwall and Devon – started gently at first and then drove us to take shelter under some trees. The midgies took this opportunity to have a little nibble, but thankfully it has been so windy while in Scotland apart from when we crossed the border, they have not been a problem. After a little deliberation we all started to put on our wet weather gear, which took so long that by time we resumed cycling the rain had stopped.
As we neared our destination we tried to see where we were aiming for. Gareth and Heleen beckoned Ravi forward to lead us for the last mile and a half. I tucked in behind with a lump in my throat, and we followed signs for John O’Groats to arrive all together. It was surreal to say the least, as just as we were about to cross the roundabout up to the sign, and we presumed the end point, a coach arrived and crossed our path. Loads of tourists were having their photos taken at the sign, as we hugged and congratulated each other, waiting for our turn at standing in front of the sign. It felt very odd, us in our cycling gear and after over 1000 miles, we somehow felt we should have priority as we had earned the right over someone arriving on a coach trip. At LandsEnd there had been a start and finish line, and a photographer, and I think we had been expecting something similar here, but were disappointed to find tourists instead.
Once we had taken a few photos – we asked a tourist to take some and they managed to video instead – we drank champagne and had loaded chips at the café – we felt we deserved them! Our taxi to Inverness loaded up our bikes, as well as 3 bikes from another group who were taking the train home to Norfolk and having their bikes shipped from Inverness. They had come up the west coast via the Lake District, so had done a similar number of miles to us over the same number of days, but a lot more climbing.
The taxi driver had never known of anyone who had left their cars in Inverness, but E bikes cannot as yet be shipped, and they are tricky on trains as so heavy and big. The taxi driver was interesting – he had been a triathlete and done all sorts of long distance bike tours, until a few years ago when he got mowed down by a camper van who went straight through him at 50 mph. He spent 5 weeks in intensive care, and was told he would never walk again and would have brain damage. He has worked hard at his rehab and watching him clamber all over his van loading the bikes onto the roof, you wouldn’t believe he had rods in his back. We counted ourselves very lucky to have had only a few minor problems along the way with no accidents.
Our taxi ride to Inverness which had taken us just under 3 days to cycle took 3 hours in a complete haze. Our feelings were mostly relief and disbelief – for me. Most people when they have their month off after retirement (in the NHS there has to be a full month off between retirement and return to work on a different contract) go to Costa Rica, or Australia, and have a nice relaxing holiday. We just felt exhausted.
Yesterday we drove back to Cambridge, initially along the way we had cycled, spotting our cycle path beside the A9. The weather couldn’t have been different- rain and mist hanging over the mountains. We had been so lucky with the weather, it would have been a very different experience in the rain. It took us under 10 hours to pass York, which had taken us 10 days of cycling. I kept spotting National Cycle Network signs everywhere, having never noticed them before.
For me the most exciting part of the ride, apart from finishing, was arriving in Bristol – somewhere familiar with so much life and energy after sleepy Cornwall and Devon. Arriving in York after our mega 87 mile ride was a relief with a terrible cold, and Betty’s tearooms and Fat Rascals are imprinted on my memory. Bamburgh and Northumberland were beautiful, and of course the Highlands of Scotland. The rest of it is a blur and it will take some time to sort it all out when we get time to look back at it.
Thank you to everyone who has given us support and encouragement, through comments and messages. It has been great reading them after a long days ride, and has kept us going.
Our son, Tarra, had said that at our age it is good to have a challenge (!!) and indeed it was that! I learnt a lot – mostly that after every downhill there is an uphill, or trying to look at it in a more positive half full way, for every uphill there is a downhill- I am sure this is a metaphor for life.
We have started planning our next adventure. When we go cycle touring again it will be for a much shorter time, with days of no more than 50 miles – after 4 to 5 hours it starts to get very uncomfortable. Or maybe a walking challenge? I know someone who has walked from LandsEnd to John O’Groats staying with friends and family. It took them 7 weeks. If Ravi asks me to do this, I will say NO. Well, maybe….
