Preparations
The Hot South West
Welsh Borders
Negotiating The North West
A Change Of Plans
Southern Scotland
Over The Mountains
The Scottish Outback
Useful Links...
Scottish Youth Hostels Association SYHA
The Ultimate Links List of Land's End to John O'Groats Cycle Trips
Preparations
Sometime towards the end of 2003, the notion to cycle from Lands End to John O’Groats crystallized into a definite intent. I have been a keen cyclist since my early teens. During university days, I did several long tours around Europe as far as Italy and back. However, in recent years I had not attempted anything anywhere near as ambitious as this ride.
Having failed to persuade any of my usual cycling cohorts to undertake the trip, and mindful of the way family responsibilities can sometimes make definite plans difficult, the ride was going to be solo. This also has the advantage over larger groups of minimising the probability of mechanical or human breakdowns, or for that matter any number of unfortunate chance happenings, but of course, if things do go wrong you are on your own.
Over the Christmas break, I sat down with a ring bound 1 in 200,000 road atlas to plan a route (a ring bound atlas allows you to tear out and fold only the required pages!). Using CTC planned routes and my imaginary nose as guides; I traced a route on the maps and compiled a detailed itinerary based on staying at English and Scottish youth hostels. I was going to ride south to north an average of 70 miles per day and complete the ride in two weeks.
The most important preparation for any tour is reaching the right level of fitness. If you ride regularly and can do your planned daily touring distance without being too knackered the next day, you will be o.k. On this basis, I was happy that keeping up regular short hacks over the winter and spring, and getting some longer rides in over early summer would be enough – no need to train for the Etap! This was also the opportunity for bedding down the equipment. I made any changes to the bike, such as new tyres, well before departure.
Luggage is clearly a big issue for cyclists. How much to take? The answer is as little as possible and fitting in two rear panniers. Although I confess to not having tried it, I am convinced that cycling and camping do not go together. Struggling up hills loaded to the gunnels with tents, sleeping bags and stoves does not appeal. The first time I toured with friends, we gathered our essential ‘must take’ things and then threw away half of them. Think light. If you really need talcum powder for your feet, take some in a plastic bag. Don’t carry a lump of china clay the length of the country in a Boots family sized container!
So finally it was D-Day. It was the middle of June and the weather was sunny and hot. As I cycled the 4 miles to the railway station to take the train down to Penzance, I felt that mixture of anticipation and excitement. Despite my experience, preparations and overall confidence in my ability to complete the journey, I was surprised at the little bit of nervous trepidation I also felt.
The Hot South West
I reached Penzance around 3:30pm after an enjoyable train ride over I.K.Brunel’s Royal Albert Bridge at Saltash, Plymouth and around the Cornish coast. The plan was now to cycle down to Lands End via the coast road and Mousehole, take pictures at the Lands End signpost and then get back to the Youth Hostel at Penzance in time for tea. This was duly completed, and as you might expect at a start/finish point, I met my first fellow End To Ender, a woman of around 45 who was also starting, but who unlike me, was a veteran of a previous successful End To End. There is apparently a plaque at Lands End in memory of a rider who did the trip 10 times in total, only to be killed by a lorry in Truro on his final attempt – there’s a lesson in there somewhere!
Day 1 proper was another beautiful day as I headed out around Marazion Bay and St. Michael’s Mount. As I followed my CTC based route towards Truro, I quickly found that it is difficult to navigate unfamiliar lanes using a 1 in 200,000 road atlas. Due to frequent stops to check the map, a navigation error and steep gradients, I had barely made Truro by lunch, although the countryside littered with romantic tin mining ruins was fantastic. The afternoon was hot, but my route took me on faster main roads via Wadebridge. I was already learning to adapt my planned route and would in future use mainly B roads and minor A roads and avoid too many unnecessary detours. That night I stayed at the Tintagel Youth Hostel, which is isolated on the cliffs, a good mile walk along the coast path back to the town for a pub meal and to catch some of the England v France Euro 2004 match.
The first port of call on Day 2 was Boscastle, which was shrouded in early morning mist and whose geography would be changed forever some months later by the “Great Flood”. The plan was to reach Bude and then head directly across Exmoor via Great Torrington and South Molten to Minehead. It was still very hot weather and I had now established the routine of frequent stops at filling stations to buy bottled water and fizzy drinks. I was consuming vast amounts of liquid. The combination of the heat, undulating topography and only the second day in the saddle, made this the hardest leg of the trip. By South Molton I was thoroughly finished and stopped for the day after only 58 miles and well short of my original planned goal of Minehead. I quickly found B&B at the Old Coaching Inn, but although I was confident I could make up a shortfall in distance on one day over the subsequent days, my carefully planned schedule to use youth hostels was now not going to work. From now on I would use my original plans merely as a guide and it turned out that this liberation was a good thing. Although there would be “panics” trying to find accommodation on a turn up on the doorstep basis, especially in remote areas of Scotland, flexible plans work best.
The run from South Molton to Dunster, although involving some climbs, seemed much easier going than the day before and Exmoor seemed more of a place of beauty, than of torture! I took the A39 and blasted along to Bridgewater with the wind at my back, slowed only by a climb over the northern tip of the Quantock Hills and some stops for the view out across the Bristol Channel. From Bridgewater I headed north through Highbridge, which gets my vote for the worst attempt at a cycle path between Lands End and John O’Groats for their pathetic effort along the A38 – full of potholes, and more intermittent than electric power in post Saddam Baghdad. I was hoping to find somewhere to stay beyond the airport, but eventually crossed the Clifton Suspension Bridge (another Brunel masterpiece) and stayed in a fairly expensive hotel in Clifton itself. However, the price did include being allowed to keep my bike, still clean at this point, in my hotel room!
Welsh Borders
Day 4 began with a typical 9:00am start, a ride out of Bristol through Westbury-on-Trim and then on to Aust to cross the Severn and Wye estuaries on the Old Severn Bridge. The cycle path uses the seaward maintenance road and affords fantastic views down the Bristol Channel to the new Second Severn Crossing, which now carries the M4 and the bulk of the traffic to and from Wales. After an exhilarating ride across the bridge, I had now passed the first major natural barrier on my journey, and could palpably feel the sense of progress towards my goal ever northwards.
My route now took me up the Wye Valley to Monmouth, Hereford and a halt at Leominster. It was still very hot.
Day 5 was the day the fine weather broke, heralding the cooler, changeable and sometimes quite wet and windy conditions I would experience for the remainder of the journey.
Day 5 also took me to another bridge, but this time one I didn’t need to cross; the Iron Bridge at Coalbrookdale, Shropshire, which I had always wanted to see. The bridge built in 1779 was the first to be built of iron, marking the birth place of the Industrial Revolution. Its design is a curious cross between wood and iron working techniques, and today nobody is quite sure how it was actually erected.
South of Telford I passed another lone and fully loaded End To Ender cycling north and exchanged some pleasantries before parting company. We bumped into each other again scouting around for less than plentiful lodgings in Nantwich that evening. We ended up staying at the same pub and exchanging End To End experiences over a few beers. His name was Adrian. Following a similar route and pace, we would end up meeting several more times over the next week, and eventually reached John O’Groats on the same afternoon!
Negotiating The North West
Getting around Greater Manchester area was probably the toughest part of the assignment from a navigational point of view. A few gaps still remain in the route I have marked on my maps for future reference, because I can’t work out the exact route I took! However the first part of the day did involve negotiating a busy motorway intersection near Warrington, a back road with a toll bridge over the Manchester Ship Canal and riding past steaming and caustic smelling chemical works. Not surprising perhaps then that the ship canal was the only photographic record of the day. Leigh and Bolton were both dreary after which the torrential rain began as I began a long climb over the moors via Ryal Fold. By the time I got to Blackburn I was very wet cold and tired and my brakes appeared to have ceased to work at all in the pouring rain. I was fairly desperate to stop, but Blackburn seemed devoid of Hotels or B&B’s, and each pub I passed seemed to be full of ever more menacing looking drunk Euro 2004 fans than the last. Finally I emerged from Blackburn. After dripping all over the floor of one hopeful looking establishment, which turned out only to be a trendy wine bar, I arrived at an out of town modern business hotel near Whalley. Not realising how desperate I was for a room, the receptionist agreed a reduced rate of only £75 for the night and I was made; the room was more like an apartment and very warm, with towel rails for clothes drying purposes!
A Change Of Plans
Day 7 dawned a much better day. I crossed the River Ribble and climbed onto the forest of Bowland following the road to Slaidburn, which had been my objective from the day before. There is a great run off the top of the hills down to High Bentham, where I stopped for lunch and made an important decision.
My original route plan was to head east over the Pennines and then through North Yorkshire and Durham. The climbs involved in this route, including dropping into so many east – west heading valleys didn’t seem such a good idea now. I considered the alternative and decided the builders of the A6 trunk road, the M6 motorway and the West Coast Main Line railway couldn’t have all been wrong. The best way north from here was via Carlisle, so I headed towards Sedbergh and finally to Tebay.
Lancashire is the half way point between Lands End and John O’Groats. This is surprising to most Southerners, because Scotland is much bigger than we think it is! However, I had passed another milestone and was bang on target.
Southern Scotland
I left a very chilly but fine Tebay before 9:00am and flew up the A6 through Shap and Penrith to Carlisle; the second place I visited on my journey to have been subsequently badly flooded! I continued on the A7 and crossed into Scotland stopping for a late lunch at Langholm. At this point an excursion into the hills along the road to Eskdalemuir seemed like a nice idea. Wrong! I was soon passing through very remote and hilly countryside with a microclimate that produced several vicious hailstorms. Places marked on my road atlas maps that one might have expected to be small settlements with a pub or B&B, consisted of a single farm or cottage. There is an inn at Ettrick, but it was full and a further 25 miles ride to Selkirk seemed like the only alternative as the evening approached and the days mileage mounted. I eventually risked a detour to a remote farmhouse B&B where I was able to stop.
Day 9 saw me heading for Edinburgh via Peebles. I had intended to skirt around the city to the Forth Road Bridge, but ended up in the center of town on Princes Street anyway. I headed out of the city to South Queensferry where there are great views across the Firth of Forth framed by the road bridge and the famous red oxide coloured Forth Rail Bridge with its distinct double cantilever design and Victorian era iron construction.
The next day, having set off from a not very inspiring stop at Cowdenbeath near Kinross, I had an easy day crossing Perthshire, reaching a pre-booked stop at the youth hostel in Pitlochry by 4 o’clock.
Over The Mountains
There are two ways across the Grampian Mountains, which include the Cairngorms. One is via Braemar and Glen Shee, and the other is to follow the A9 and the railway over the Pass of Drumochter to Aviemore. My route was the latter and cold rain lashed down all day. In these conditions, you are soon soaked and must be able to keep going to generate heat. The good news was that the A9 has a superb cycle way, part cinder track, but in places using the old main road at some distance from the modern dual carriageway. The youth hostel at Aviemore also deserves a mention for it’s warmth, roasting hot drying room, and for the two Danish chaps in the dormitory, one of whom snored so loudly that his companion carried a bag of ear plugs for those unfortunate enough to share with them on their travels!
Day 12 was another very poor day weather wise, with stinging cold rain over Slochd Summit to Inverness. At Inverness I crossed the Kessock Bridge over the Moray Firth and onto the Black Isle, which was mostly obscured by low cloud, and then over the Cromarty Firth with views of the oilrigs parked off Invergordon. The day had a sting in the tail with a hard climb against a head wind over the hills between the Cromarty and Durnoch Firths. The days halt came at the bizarre Carbisdale Castle Youth Hostel near Bonar Bridge, which occupies an only slightly converted stately home complete with grand staircases and marble statues.
The Scottish Outback
With two days to go and much better weather, I now felt nothing would stop me finishing at John O’Groats, while at the same time failure for any reason at this stage would have been really sickening.
After stopping at Shin Falls (seemingly a favourite destination for coach loads of pensioners), I reached Lairg at the southern end of Loch Shin. Lairg seemed as if it might be the final outpost of commercial activity in the North, so I checked I had cash and some emergency rations before heading to Altnahara on the A836, which is a main road, but only single track with passing places. At the top of the climb in the middle of nowhere is the Crask Inn where I didn’t stop, but learned later that as well as the usual services one might expect, they can also temporarily weld bicycle frames for hapless End To End cyclists. The far north really is about as remote and wild as you can get in the UK, not least thanks to the Highland Clearances in places like Straithnaver at the beginning of the 19th century, which left the area virtually devoid of any population. I had pre-booked a B&B at Bettyhill on the north coast. The distances between, and small size of settlements now made it too risky to turn up on chance.
It was the final day; Day 14. The weather was fine, but the unhelpfully strong northerly breeze of the past few days had swung round and become a gale force headwind as I cycled east along the hilly coast road. After Dounreay (experimental nuclear reactor site), the going was somewhat flatter to Thurso, where I checked out the railway station only to discover the likely hood of getting my bike on a train south any time soon was about zero. So on to John O'Groats, the last 15 mile leg!
And when you get there? ... a triumphant punch of the air on arrival, a (chilly) picture at the John O'Groats signpost, tea and cakes in the cafe, phone friends and family to say you've done it! And then? ... you pay a taxi driver £120 to take you and your bike to Inverness because the wind and rain is back and suddenly anymore cycling doesn't appeal.
My journey home unexpectedly continued as I jumped on the last train to Glasgow which happened to be waiting in the station at Inverness and had room for the bike. Unfortunately this meant wandering around Glasgow at midnight looking for accommodation and only just avoiding a night on a park bench in the company of Glasgow's drunks. The next day I arrived home in the evening after a day on the railways which felt a bit like a fast rewind of the previous week and a half.
Mission Complete.
