After a sturdy breakfast we started the five mile ride to Lands End, we even met some other (more experienced) cyclists doing the same thing. They were aiming to complete the journey in a week less than us: good luck to them! We reached Lands End and peered out away from England. The moment of contemplation about reaching the closing limits to the nation were spoilt slightly by the fact that when we went to stamp our log books with the Lands End stamp, we found that some light-fingered oik had pinched the ink pad! Never mind, we had our photos taken just to prove that we really have started from the place where Eng runs out of Land.

Not the offy photo - scanner's not working!

One thing to note about cycling down in this part of the country: hills. Not hills like you know them. No, these hills aren't content to just sit there being climbed by all and sundry, they are steep monstrosities, rising up out of the Cornish rock like huge green beasts, shackled down with thin lines of road. You are tempted to speed down one to get a head start on the next, but each little valley features at least one sharp turn and a bridge, which means that any serious measure of speed would result in the rider being catapulted teeth first into Devon. Slow and steady.

By 4pm we are both knackered and stop off at Leedstown to rest. There is a sterling pub stocked with friendly locals and a handy B and B just round the corner with hot baths ready to be had. By the end of the evening when we leave the entire pub is discussing the route for us tomorrow morning. We head off for an early night. I wonder what route they decided for us?

23 miles at an average speed of 8.6 mph

Preaching to the converted in Leedstown.

Wednesday 7th June
Full of full english

Had a sturdy breakfast today. By sturdy I mean huge. It was a Tardis like breakfast: on a deceptively small plate somehow crammed with a dimension-warpingly large fried breakfast. The score is awarded as Breakfast Chef of Cornwall 1 - Lejog Team 0. Sorry.

Today we hit the big hills. If yesterday was a sudden introduction to the severity of the Cornish hill, today was a lesson in endurance. We rode up a heavy hill some 2.5 miles long. It took five or six stops to crest the top. Again, the fantastic scenery provided a satisfactory reward on reaching the top. We are both covered in sun cream to armour us against the relentless sun. Even without the heat it would be hard work, but with it beaming down at us, it is doubly so. We are just planning to make a break for the King Harry Ferry on the Fal estuary as I call in this report. Hope you are all comfortable there... these hills may be big, and the going tough, but at least we aren't at work!

We divert to Mevagissy to find a room for the night and get lost. When we get there the B&B has a strange idea of en-suite. The loo and shower are behind a thin screen that doesn't even reach the ceiling.

Thursday 8th June
Bikes fine - us... less so

Pushed on further today, unfortunately Graham has been stricken with Grocklenoke, that deadly Cornish virus known to strike such adventurers as us who venture to the land beneath the flag of the black cross... To be honest, it was really just a bit of a cold which was aggravated by all the hard work. Basically G has been exhausted (more so than normal) and our progress was pretty slight. We ended the day pretty early in Lostwithiel. Not a great deal of riding got done today, plenty of sleeping and recuperating though, hopefully he will be better tomorrow. (Because otherwise we will have to retro fit some rockets to the bikes to make time)

Friday 9th June
Thank God Its Friday!

Oh no, that's right, we still have plenty of riding to do. No rest for the wicked! The Grocklenoke Fever has subsided leaving G in a more roadworthy state. I hesitate to say he has a spring in his step, perhaps it is just a slightly bouncy saddle. We made some sterling progress after a slow start, in fact Graham even set a Lejog record (for us anyway) of 39 (yes, three nine) miles per hour! Fortunately this was on a road with a speed limit which permits such face melting speeds, so the long arm of the law did not come down on us. (They'd have to catch us first!)

Sadly it did not last, more hills followed, and, a first for the trip, they had teamed up with a fierce head wind, which we reckoned to be around force 7 or 8 (which is officially a gale). If we were sailing we would probably have decided against going out on a day like that, but sadly out on the open road there is no sea wall to moor behind and the opportunity to spend the day spinning yarns of high seas braved and past in a salty sea pub tends not to arise very often. Still, we pressed on through this hellish breeze, riding mainly on disconcertingly busy main roads.

When we arrived at Tavistock, which we had originally intended to be our resting place (just for the night mind) we found that the B+Bs were all full. Not just one or two, every one. With mounting panic we searched high and low throughout the small town of Tavistock trying to find somewhere... anywhere? We started looking fondly at bus shelters and empty barns until someone suggested that the road to Oakhampton (which was on tomorrows route) might yield a suitable B+B. So, we set off, asking everywhere and getting nowhere, until we hit upon a caravan site, where the manager recommended and called up a guest house in Peter Tavy. We got a place there and made our way there. It was way past eight o'clock when we met The Major at his house, stowed the bikes in the stables and took a trip to the local hostelry for some belly timber. A well deserved rest! Lets hope tomorrow is a little easier!

Saturday 10th June
85% OK, 15% Hill... not OK.

We set off at 9.30 today, and started blazing a trail. Taking the bikes out of the stable we noticed that the major had a couple of large vehicles stowed in there with the bikes, picture a large hairy hay powered bike with no wheels and a leg at each corner and you may have some idea. Those crazy country folk. We reckoned they would only develop 1 horsepower at the axle though so we figured we'd best stick with the tourers. We bade farewell to Cornwall and entered the noticeably less hilly land of Devon.

There was one little hill left to climb though, a 11%er which ground us down nice and early. Perhaps we should have rustled them horses after all! We trudged up the top and then zoomed down the opposite side. We made about 35 miles today, and made it with plenty of time to our comfy and booked B+B in Crediton. We had a nice day today, but it was certainly very hot! Night then, see you tomorrow!

Sunday 11th June
Greased lightening!

We left the farmhouse in Crediton today, and we knew today would be special. There was something in the air, something intangible.. But the country is like that isn't it, they cover the fields with that crap so you can't blame them if it smells a bit.

Seriously we made some serious progress today, if Friday was the day of high speed sprint, today was the marathon. Or more specifically two and a half marathons! We made 66 miles today! Holy moly! We went from Crediton all the way to Cheddar. Graham described Cheddar as Gorgeous if a little Cheesy. Sorry. Not much scenery to speak of: oh, I'm sure its lovely but it was heads down and pedal like mad pretty much all day. No wildlife to look at either, although we did see a Greater Spotted Woodpecker. That said it was only visible to us because someone had previously run it over. More roadkill reports in the coming weeks no doubt. We were overtaken by a few serious looking cyclists, who will no doubt be back at work next week having ridden to John O'Groats and back via the top of Ben Nevis. Bitter? Me?

When we got to the youth hostel we saw loads of bikes outside and thought perhaps we were about to have the opportunity to spend tomorrow riding the slipstream of some other cycling enthusiasts. Mais, il y a un probleme, mes amis, touts les cyclistes sont Francais. Not sure what they make of Le Tour de Devon. The only yellow jerseys they will encounter will be Liverpool at an away fixture, and the only pain they will tasting will be saddle chafe. (Little Franglais joke there) Never mind, maybe next time. To bed then! 66 miles!

Monday 12th June
Warp Factor 9

We set off from Cheddar this morning and rode pretty much all the way up Cheddar Gorge (with the exception of about 100m where it was just too steep, a ladder would have been more effective than a bike over that particular stretch!) and sort of teamed up with a more experienced Aussie cyclist called Peter (no, not Bruce).

Steph waits for Peter in the Gorge

Now, Peter knows his stuff when it comes to cycling, after all there is a lot of Australia to cycle over. However, navigating in Australia is pretty straight forward: Pick where you want to go and there will be a road between you and it. In rural England, things are apparently a little different. Just crossing the street to the pub you need a detailed Ordinance Survey Route finder.

We got lost at the top of the Gorge and when we eventually got back on course we'd lost about an hour and done an extra 10 miles. It was also obvious that we were holdong Peter back, so we convinced him to leave us and go on or he'd risk missing his target.

We got to Bristol and made for the Avon gorge to go under the Clifton Suspension Bridge. We also met Peter again as we cycled alongside the Avon. 'Don't ever leave me again,' he whimpered. He'd just spent 2 hours completely lost in Bristol and had seen parts no decent human should be subjected to.

Continuing the navigation theme we got lost on an industrial estate at Avonmouth, but a TNT driver put us right for the Severn Bridge. Aftyer crossing the bridge Peter convinced us to stay with him to Welsh Bicknor. So, with Peter's route and our navigating skills we made good headway to Welsh Bicknor. Now, if you have a map handy, check the distance. Its about 72 miles, and we did it all!

Peter and Steph on the Severn Bridge, just about the furthest we went that day without getting lost!

I estimated that our average speed was a steady 9mph across the day, but we built up such unstoppable momentum that we just kept on going and going and going. We didn't get in to Welsh Bicknor until gone 10pm! So we were pretty tuckered out, as you can imagine. The youth hostel beds sure looked inviting after 72 solid miles.

Tuesday 13th June
Return of the Hill

Today we set off from Welsh Bicknor, ready for a relatively short ride across easy terrain. But then... just when you thought you had left the hills behind... blam! We were going up hill all day! I'm sure that's not fair! So, we hammered up these hills, had a nice lunch which the friendly people at a wayside hostelry were kind enough to divide in two, since the epic scale of their meals was clearly too much for us road sickened warriors of the asphalt. Not only that but it rained for several hours, soaking not only us, but the road, which meant that when the rain had finally stopped falling from the sky it was still being thrown up by passing cars, leaving us not only wet but covered in road gunk. (Dead woodpeckers, etc.) So my advice is basically avoid Hereford.

At least it was just going to be a short day though?

Ah, yes, about that. We booked the youth hostel at about 5pm with some 10 miles left to ride. We would be there for tea, no problem. Except that those ten miles were through a filthy sodden road maze, which just happened to be located on the side of Hereford's answer to Mt. Everest. As a result, Sherpa Tenzing and myself did not make base camp at Bridges Long Mynd until gone 9pm. Today represented something of a low point for me, it was hard, monotonous and physically unpleasant to ride, but we persevered, and all that grimy struggle made a warm nights sleep seem so much more rewarding. (Just keep telling yourself there's an upside!)

Just for the record, we managed a mighty 62 miles today, so I guess it was worth it!

Wednesday 14th June
The Attack of the Thumb

Set off from Bridges Long Mynd today, full of vim and vigour, only to be confronted with a quite relentless 3 mile climb. Crampons would have been a welcome addition to our equipment. Nonetheless we strove onwards... G had estimated the distance to Chester as 45 miles, easily within our reach so we planned to rest there. There were unfortunately no spaces free at the Chester Youth Hostel though, which was reasonably fortuitous because we also discovered something else: G's estimate of the distance to Chester was based on measuring across the map with thumb lengths, his thumb being some 4 miles long. Or not. Actually, it was 5 miles long, so his 45 miles was actually more like 57, which it turns out, was not really on the cards.

"Where did you say Chester was?

Bear in mind that we discovered this intriguing fact only after having ridden the 45 miles and not getting to Chester. We decided to head from Wrexham, and eventually reached a small town / village / hamlet / macbeth etc. by the name of Bangor on Dee, we found a suitably twee B+B called 'The Stableyard'. We had a meal at the pub over the road, and spent the evening wondering what was to be done about Graham's thumb. (Vice probably, get it back down to 4 miles)

Thursday 15th June
Revenge of the Leg

Today it was time for Steph's leg to take centre stage in the ongoing saga of the malfunctioning body parts. Already receiving support from, well, a support, today saw twinges, aches and full on pains, with changeable conditions across the whole leg, from up North, around the hip, pressure rising in the Midlands, around the knee area, and down South, some commentators even describing the ankle as "Dodgy". Apparently this is all on Steph's lead leg too. (That's lead as in a dog's lead, not lead as in a pencil. If Steph really had a lead (Pb) leg we would still be looking up the first hill in Cornwall.)

Disappointingly knackering your lead leg does not result in your riding around in circles, merely riding directly forward slowly. So, today we decided to have a shortish day, and Steph invented a new cycling style which requires pushing harder with the weaker leg. (revolutionary!) Fortunately, far from being 'Grim', the North seems quite forgiving, flatter terrain, cooler weather, although this was balanced by some bloody awful driving and some just plain dangerous drivers. We stopped in Warrington, and visited the cultural quarter. We thought this was a joke, but lo and behold, there was even a sign. The culture in question, for the record, is that of the Chav, and here I speak not of the culture which is developed in a theatre or opera house, rather the sort which is grown on a petri dish.

Warrington's Tourist Information people were about as uninterested as can be, but we finally managed to sort out our bed for the night, at a B+B called Bell Air, with a room which seemed fit for a prince. Very swish, very posh, but our desire to have a hot bath was somewhat crushed by the lack of any hot water. Aided by the kettle it was eventually accomplished. We considered a visit to the pub over the road, but we had unfortunately left all our Argos gold sovereign rings, Kevball shirts and burberry caps at home, so we left it to more natural chavs. In the end we had dinner at a posh French restaurant and met a nice couple who were cycling from John O'Groats to Lands End. They had huge amounts of stuff to carry for some reason, but had already had three 'rest days'. Wuss days more like, plus, they hadn't even visited the Alps of Cornwall yet! (Only joking, good luck guys) The idea of a rest day does seem nice, but I keep telling myself: After this, they will all feel like rest days!

Possibly the nicest Hills we encountered.

Friday 16th June
Bikeman and Daweswoman

We set off quite late today, having spent a little too long talking to the cyclists we mentioned yesterday (Jo and Andrew Hill, good luck guys!) We were planning on riding to Arnside today, but when we called up the youth hostel there, it was full. We had a lunch in Garstang (these places are in Lancashire by the way) and used the time to plan our next move. We have come to rely on Tourist Information offices as our main source of B+B data, so we headed into Lancaster to chat to the good people there. There were no B+Bs available, presumably something big is happening in Lancashire today, but we did manage to book into the County Hotel in Carnforth.

Lancaster Castle next to the TIC

This was fine, it was up the A6 which we have been using for a while, but there did seem to be a lot of traffic. The countryside was mainly quite gentle and rolling, the kind of convenient hills which let you hammer down one side and use the momentum to carry you up the next. You put most of the effort in on the downstroke, so it is much more fun than struggling up a long steep incline. Almost not like hills at all. We were overtaken by a number of very serious looking cyclists wearing those lycra outfits particular to the sport which would look more at home in the pages of a Marvel comic than on the streets of Lancashire.

We made it to the hotel by about 6pm, having covered a sedentary 46.6 miles. Not too bad, plus Graham found, at long last, some saddle covers. He has been looking for something like this for ages, and they have as yet eluded him: no wonder! They were hidden in the hotel bathroom in small packs labeled"Shower Cap". Talk about making things difficult!

Saturday 17th June
Shap, where are you?

Today was to be one of the landmark days of the trip. Shap Fell is not only a notorious hill, but pretty much half way. This entails cycling along the A6, but as the M6 is mostly only a stone's throw away it shouldn't be too busy. Off we go and at Kendall stop to stock up with energy food and a sandwich to have a picnic at the summit. First thing we see is a sign foretelling high altitude and possibly bad weather. The next is a sign saying Shap 14 miles. Onwards and upwards.

We climb and climb and then there is a drop and we reluctantly give up some of the height gained. Then there's a big climb, even the lorries are changing down. We stop at a lay-by at the top for some snacks and drinks, and a few photos of the view, before carrying on. Then a great long downhill and then a village - Shap. We stop, wondering where the big hill is. We go into the pub and have a drink, only to find out that we've done Shap. The lay-by was the dreaded summit. Wa-hey!

The view from the top.

The anticipated long freewheel into Penrith didn't materialise, it was up and down all the way. We stopped and booked the night's accomodation at the TIC and wsent on, more hills. 'Undulating' as it was described. The B&B advertised dedicated cycle storage and when we got there we found that there were already 5 other cyclists staying the night. Turns out thy were from Preston with a van in support, northern softies! Nice guys though.

Sunday 18th June
Hoots!

A minor disturbance at 3.15 this morning as the drunken bints inebriated ladies in the next room returned and decided to have a long loud talk. S: lost about 2 hours sleep. G: Snored resolutely throughout. We talked a little (later) in the morning to another group of Lejog cyclists. It is easy to think of ourselves as the exception to the Lejog world, that most of the cyclists who undertake such an adventure are experienced athletes. Well, these boys were also exceptions, as their reason to ride was to celebrate a 50th birthday! We were happy with some bubbly and a few friends round... I might add though that they did introduce one of their number as the driver. Still, not everyone is made of the same kind of Leicester steel as us!

We eventually set out at 9.45 having finished trading tales with the guys. We made it to Longtown fast, ten miles in 45 minutes. Longtown was notable for one thing, and that is the presence of a "Welcome to Scotland" sign. We stood and marveled at it, perhaps the scene was a little like that at the start of 2001: A Space Oddessy, the bit with the obelisk and the apes? You get the idea.

Och aye, pull up a haggis and have some porridge.

Within five minutes of passing the sign, the heavens opened up and formally welcomed us with a deluge of Cumbrian cloud ale. Initial baptism over, the sky then treated us to a virtuoso medley of rain which lasted more or less the whole day.
Around Langhome the terrain started getting a little more difficult and the riding started to take its toll. We decided to stop at a pub, but the landscape was quite desolate. There were no pubs, no villages, nothing but great vertical sheets of relentless rain. Spirits began to dwindle, moral fell and the riding got harder and harder. Eventually we found a restaurant located just south of the middle of nowhere, and had some soup for lunch. It wasn't until we got in there that we realised just how cold we had gotten. Fortified with soup and reinforced with extra leggings / clothes / jackets / etc. we returned to the slopes, and found mysteriously that it seemed much much easier. It wasn't the terrain that was making it hard, it was our bodies, seizing up in the cold. It even got so our breath was visible hanging in the air.

There's a view there somewhere, but not today.

We made it to Hawick, and found a place to stay, with the Richards at Oakwood House. We had a hearty Chinese dinner and reflected on how hard the 44 miles we cut through the countryside today had been.

Monday 19th June
Nepalling

Yesterday evening, whilst running a hair dryer over our wet togs we worked out that if we could do 50 to 55 miles a day, we would be at JOG for Tuesday 28th June, making us just JUST over schedule. Hurrah. Well, today had a slow start, from Hawick out is a 4 mile incline, not heavy, just omnipresent, and very wearing. We had earlier in the trip sent back some surplus clothes back home. Now, although the weather is not too bad it is a bit more bracing than we are properly equipped for, so we stopped in Galashiels to get some supplies. Fully stocked up with leggings (or Nora Batties as they have been dubbed), a repurposed Motocross top (which is probably a bit disappointed not to be on the back of some over hyped Generation Xer busting supermans off a vert (or whatever)) and other various warm items, we set off again. From Galashiels to Edinburgh is pretty much uphill, an 8 mile incline this time, but fortified against the cold we pressed on undaunted.

The weather has been dry today, and refreshingly cool (if you are dressed for it) but riding through cities and towns has become something of a pain, and with Steph's gammy leg it was extra difficult. In city traffic you see you have to keep up with the flow, and this can be quite draining. In order to get our breath back we had a little break on the way in to Edinburgh and had a breeze around Cameron Toll shopping centre. (Yes, we make a point to visit the cultural highlights) and there we got chatting to another cyclist, a fellow by the name of William Donaldson, who had spent 3 years riding some 17,000 miles round the world. We asked where the best places were and he said Leicester! No, not really, he said Nepal, but I'm guessing that's just because he hasn't been to Leicester yet. Apparently Nepal is quite rideable, provided you stay in the valleys and don't try yeti racing. "That's where you should go next time!" Thanks William. Just for the record, I think our next epic journey will be a relaxathon, where we will attempt to absolutely anything other than ride a bike over a long distance for three whole weeks. We'll see.

Nonetheless, the Edinburgh Youth Hostel was a magnificent place, two enormous very old houses right next to each other converted into one great big hostel. Unfortunately the women's dorm was on the third floor. I can assure you that Steph's dodgy leg enjoyed every one of the 72 steps up there. Interestingly Edinburgh's Youth Hostel has been the first one we have encountered which has had actual young people in it. We aren't the oldest here, but it is jam packed with backpackers, tourists, travelers and globetrotters from every corner of the planet.

Eglington YH, nestled amogst the Beemers and Mercs, and the odd Aston Martin, and next door to the German Consulate.

It was still light at gone 10.30pm, and cars were still driving around with no headlights on at 10.15pm. Funny atmosphere here, but its really nice. Every time someone opens their mouths and you hear an Och Aye inflection I think "Wow, we've ridden this far!" Tonight we will no doubt dream of next years visit to Nepal. Apparently its almost as hilly as Cornwall.

Tuesday 20th June
Morning has Broken (dammit!)

The Eglington Hostel in Edinburgh was, as we mentioned, a very nice place to look at but it was difficult getting up the 72 steps tot e ladies dorm. Breakfast was in the basement. 91 steps down + bad leg = large frown. Aside from this, the night was pretty troublesome. The curtains seemed to be made from the most translucent material ever, so when it got fully light at 3.30 in the morning (yes, you read that right) Steph was wide awake, and until breakfast she was worrying her insect bites. Today we decided to book the train tickets back to Civilisation, but found ourselves hampered by poor road surface. Now, just to illuminate this issue, we have cycled so far from the very bottom of this country to nearly the top, more than 600 miles of every kind of road. The very worst road surface we have encountered though has not been a dirty disused cycle path running across some farmers field, nor has it been some beaten and worn rock valley cutting up the side of a mountain. No. It has been Princes St. The main thoroughfare in Edinburgh.

There were no cheap tickets back home, and there was no chance of getting the bikes on the train, so we are faced with the prospect of having to have the bike couriered back to Leicester by TNT, which is, to be honest, crazy, but short of leaving them here, there isn't much choice.

We also decided to get the hostels and B+Bs booked up as much as possible so we visited the Tourist Information centre. There was a massive queue, and at the end of it we were really only able to book the next night and no more. We then spent far too long searching for a loo to use before setting off at the terribly late hour of 11.45. We had a long ride ahead of us, which was not aided by the pouring rain we had most of the day. We did make it to Perth though, without too much trouble, fortunately the terrain was quite benign. Steph's leg was OK, her new cycling style kept the pressure off it until we hit Perth.

We got settled in to the B+B in Perth, and thought about the next day's journey. It looked like it would be a tough one, bad weather was forecast and it was rumoured that the roads were tough. We steeled ourselves and tried to get a good nights sleep.

Wednesday 21th June
Are you sure?

This morning we stocked up on sugar laden goodies for the ride, and got some more warm clothes to fortify us against the predicted foul weather today. Once we set off it was OK going, but the weather was very changeable, we were getting sudden strong winds, hail, bright sun shine, and the requisite clothing changes really slowed us down. We were riding on the A9 for part of the day, but it was very busy. We ducked onto the cycle path, but it was slow going, and it was clear that we really needed to be back on the A9 to make and real progress. The best part was when we hit a section of road that had been closed. We just rode on, and there was nothing wrong with the road, it was just nice and empty and we stormed on. We rode 30 miles to Pitlochry and stopped into the Tourist Information centre there and tried to book our beds int he hostel tonight in Dalwhinnie. When we called up the hostel though, the lady said: "Are you sure?" We were a little unsure what she meant: "There's wild weather on the road." She said. "If you are wet now, you stand a risk of getting hypothermia." Well, so warned we decided to stay in Pitlochry and transferred our booking over to the Pitlochry hostel. We spent the afternoon mooching around, sorry, recovering our strength, and planning our next move. (i.e. to bed)

The local forecast posted at Pitlochry YH - brrrrrrrrrrrr, and its summer!

Thursday 21th June
In the Lee of a Gorse Bush

We set off early today, or tried to, G was a little late to breakfast, although to be fair, since Pitlochry hostel doesn't do breakfast, our breakfast consisted of white chocolate and lemon muffins and coffee. Not, some might argue, the most nutritionally balanced meal, but it seemed to suffice. So, 8.30 saw us hit the road, which we knew would be a hard drag uphill for the most part. Not only did it turn out the be uphill, but there was a strong headwind too. We climbed for 23 miles through rain and wind. Whilst sitting sheltered in the lee of a gorse bush we saw a trio of cheery cyclists go screaming by, seemingly unperturbed by the foul weather. This did not boost morale. We then gazed longingly at a cyclist riding the other way, downhill with a strong tail wind assisting his descent. One day maybe that will be us. Eventually we reached a sign informing us that we had reached the Drumochter Pass summit, some 13000ft above sea level. We rode the short distance into town, and at 2.00pm we stopped in a tea shop, and met the three cheery cyclists we had seen earlier.

Just before Dromochter Pass summit, another great view lost to the rain.

We decided that Loch Ness, which was to have been our destination for today, was a little too far, so a detour to Aviemore was suggested by the three. They were heading there, and they suggested, so we should too. We had discounted Aviemore as it is a ski resort, and we assumed, up the side of a mountain. Not so, we were assured, so we booked ourselves into the Youth Hostel on the phone, which the three cyclists thought was such a good idea they did the same. Graham discovers a broken spoke.

After the awful morning, the afternoon featured the best cycling of the trip so far, in my opinion. The YH is modern, but no catering. Whilst eating our haggis dinner (I kid you not) someone in fancy dress turns up at the front of the restaurant and starts strangling a cat. Sorry, that should read - a piper comes to the hotel to entertain us with some traditional tunes on the bagpipes.

Friday 22nd June
To the Castle!

This morning over breakfast we talked to our more experienced cycling pals about our plans for the day. We had hoped to make it to Carbisdale, but it was suggested that it was too far, 86 miles. "I wouldn't want to ride that far." Graham seemed to think otherwise, so irrespective of any contrary advice we set off... to Carbisdale after getting the broken spoke fixed.

The morning was tough, but interesting. We followed the A9 from Aviemore to Inverness. The scenery was breathtaking, absolutely beautiful, as we rode over valleys and bridges. It was by no means an easy ride, but succession of incredible vista after incredible vista made up for any difficulty. We rode over 5 bridges in total, and the best moment was cresting a ridge and looking down over Dornoch Firth, spread out in front of us, looking for all the world like our map. The only significant difference was the lack of identifying text, it looked so fantastic. We watched the sun set over the Firth. We watched a kite dogfighting crows and gulls and we saw an eagle hunting over the hills. Magnificent. The scenery has been like nothing so far, we both have decided that we want to come back some time. (After a long rest though you understand).

The camera doesn't lie, but it can't tell the complete truth either. This was one of those 'You had to be there, and been through hell to get there' moments.

We ate in a pub then fought on to Carbisdale Castle, our hostel for the night and a real ancient castle. (Complete with impassable cycle access...) Today was our longest ride, Not quite the 86 miles suggested, more like 75, but still a serious distance. There were lots of noisy kids in the castle, but that wasn't a problem. Tomorrow we will only have 45 miles to go. Night all.

It really is a YH.

Saturday 23rd June
Can't talk long, getting psyched.

We set out today through more awesome scenery, an interesting ride, lots of varied terrain, but boy was it uphill. There was a strong force 4 headwind slowing us down, and combined with the hills this dropped our average speed to a frankly embarrassing 8 mph. I think our mistake had been in thinking that a short ride in terms of distance would be an easy one. Whoever laid this terrain out obviously decided to cram as much into this 45 mile ride as possible!

Nevertheless we made it to our destination, Tongue, (crazy name, boring place) put away some food, got to the youth hostel, and booked ourselves the rooms for tomorrow night. At the hotel. In John O'Groats.

65 miles tomorrow, that's the plan. We're ready for it to be the hardest yet.

Bring it on.

Sunday 24th June
It is done

The start of the day is a breakfast of cakes, energy bars and coffee and whatever else we can find in the bar bags. Another hostel that doesn't cater. Then its off up the first hill of the day in the drizzle. We'd been warned. Then another, bigger, hill. And another. In all there were 6 major climbs in the first 30 miles or so. Cornwall with knobs on.

We pass Dounreay Nuclear Plant and are tempted to stop for a fission chip lunch at the visitor centre but decide not. At Thurso we stop for the last sandwiches and a sit down, then its off for the last push.

The sun appears and the Orkneys can been seen out to sea, closer than I'd imagined. John O'Groats can be seen for several miles along the coast and we press on. Its gone 6 o'clock so we know there won't be a great crowd to greet us, probably just as well as I think we're both struggling to keep all the emotions of the last 20 days under control as we cross the finish line together.

A passer by is press ganged to take our piccies at the post and we sign the book in the hotel bar.

Its over.

Too late for the 'offy' pics, hence no fingers in the post. Orkneys in the backgroud.

One hell of a ride for a quick pint, or two.....

Monday 25th June
Home James...

After a good night's sleep, happy in the knowledge that there's no cycling today, we have a hearty breakfast and book the bikes on to a local courier. Graham gets them ready by turning the handlebars round and taking the pedals off. Just as he finishes the van arrives and they're gone, not to reappear for a week. When they do they've been well wrapped in cardboard, padding and polythene. Not bad for £20 each. We get the bus to Thurso and the train south. Great surprise when we meet the 3 cyclist who doubted us getting to Carbisdale. Chatted all the way to Inverness where they are to catch the sleeper to London. Annoyingly, they'd booked their return after us and managed to get their bikes in the train - grrrrrrrrr.

We get 2 more trains to Edinburgh and an overnight stay at another YH (just as impressive) and then the train south. A quick change at Peterborough and we're home. Work tomorrow - sooooooperrrr!