LeJog - 920 miles via Nottingham

In June 2009 Phil & Myself cycled from Lands End to John O'Groats in 8 days. We took a 920 mile east of the Pennines route via our home town of Nottingham. We traveled very light and found B&B and Inn accommodation speculatively...

0 – Lands End

 We'd pre-booked at a B&B in Sennen and in the early evening, were greeted by warm sunny weather. We dropped off our bar-bags and headed down to Lands End, a couple of miles down the road. The obligatory photos were taken and it was really relaxed with a holiday atmosphere. Conscious of calorie intake we headed back past the pub and slap up duck & lamb meals. We were off to a great start.

1 – Hard Drizzle Dawn to Dusk

In the morning with forecast correct, drizzle greeted us. The E2E procession had already started and our 8 day intentions were quickly put into perspective, as a hand cyclist churned up the hill outside.

Two chaps sharing the B&B, mentioned they were going lightweight, they fetched their bikes from the garage and a most unlikely pair of machines were produced. A sensible Dawes tourer and a week old Boardman carbon race bike, a huge luggage plinth sprouted from the carbon seat tube from which was hung 2 huge panniers. Then we wheeled ours out with their skimpy bar-bags... No mate, this is lightweight. I wonder if they made it, fell out, or if matey's seatpost survived?

We set off and the constant undulation of Cornwall is soon apparent. With Penzance, skirted we headed toward the North coast and the trawl through the less than salubrious Camborne and Redruth. The puncture fairy was soon busy and the wet flinty roads took their toll on my race tyres. 3 punctures created a depressing projection for the days to come. Phil didn't get one with his slightly more robust tyres. We swung north to make the most of the slightly less hilly terrain thereabouts. Heading towards Newquay, then the A39 skirting Wadebridge where the North Cornwall Show was being hosted. A long drag up from the river Camel, a badly coned section we were riding in, to avoid the show traffic, turned out to be for oncoming traffic! Fortunately no motorist realised. On to Camelford, it appeared to be closed, but there was a café open for lunch, baked potatoes I recall, oh and cake.

We had in mind for the 1st night, the Travelodge just short of Okehampton at 95 miles. We sealed the deal shortly after leaving Camelford, phoning ahead to Travelodge central. It would make a low mileage day, but despite being fresh we didn't want to jeopardise the following days, if we couldn't make it in eight days then so be it, but if we pushed too hard the first day, we might not make it at all!

Continuing, we soon left the A39 and were on quiet lanes to Launceston, through there and on lovely stretches of the old A30 towards Okehampton and dinner! Though where and what that was we were eager to discover. We were directed towards the Prewley Moor Arms. A very hospitable landlord did us proud, with everything dried out by a log fire - yes that's right in June!! All checked in at the Travelodge, Phil mended the three tubes whilst I was busy Twittering and looking up forecasts.

2 - The Mechanicals Day.

With anticipation, we awoke to blue skies, but it was cold. Back at the Prewley Moor Arms, we got them out of bed to make our breakfast, since they didn't seem to have any guests.

The first 15 miles drops drastically from Dartmoor into Exeter. During the descent I shifted with the current rear shifter for the last time. My first thought as it went slack was a broken cable, and then the whole lever was in my hand. "Erm Phil, we have a problem". Despite our ludicrously lightweight approach, a spare shifter is not something anyone would consider packing. Phil phoned around some work colleagues to do the donkey work and a shifter was located in Exeter, on a Sunday!

A few miles later Phil's bar-bag broke, left as it was it was in danger of bouncing out of the bracket, the thought of what would then ensue at speed wasn't to be contemplated, fortunately he managed to lash it together with the choice application of an array of cable-ties I'd brought for just such an occasion.

After a compromised 2 gear 10 mile ride to Exeter, an early cafe stop and a large bank debit, I sported a brand new lever. The going quickly got a lot flatter as we headed north towards Taunton. The weather was kind and we had a sunny day, but the arm and leg warmers only came off for about an hour. An exorbitant second cafe stop in Taunton was easily the worst of the whole trip, a poor cheese omelette, chips and tea for £7.50, outrageous.

After Bridgewater I made the worst navigational error of the trip, and added an extra couple of miles by going too far east down the A39 towards Glastonbury. The wind was light and variable and despite the hold ups with mechanicals and navigation, we made good time. We scythed through the Mendips at Axbridge and shot north over the pan flat Severn flood plains towards Bristol, dodging showers and taking food at a Co-op in Winscombe. The Clifton suspension bridge was a psychological high and we stopped quickly for photos, before heading out of Bristol, mindful of tomorrow night's target of Nottingham we settled eventually on Almondsbury. There was a little confusion over which pub to harass, for rooms and food, at either end of the village on a steep hill. We turned down the buzzing pub, in favour of the one willing to whip up some food. We were supplied with adhoc pizza, beans on toast and a newly decorated twin room.

3 - The 140 miles to Nottingham

Today was another mainly flat day that took us along the country lanes of the Vale of Berkeley before, just after Slimbridge, heading along the A38 towards Gloucester and the Avon valley. 13 miles of exposed A38 followed, into a strong headwind to Gloucester. Gloucester is rubbish. With Cheltenham and Bishop's Cleeve passed we neatly avoided the Cotswolds.

Exiting Evesham I took the wrong turn and we were whistling north down a hill on the A46. The only bit of off-road we indulged in, it cut the corner off (and the hill!) and we were back on route, just south of the Avon. Cleeve Hill is a tiny but a very abrupt interruption in the mainly flat terrain. Cycling long the Avon Valley towards Stratford was very pleasant, but with a moderate headwind for the rest of the day.

It was Phil's turn with the punctures, suffering two, and thoughts of swapping the race tyres in Nottingham slipped further to the back of my mind. We benefitted having recced the route from Warwick, several weeks previously, and very little GPS consultation was necessary, thus making the rest of the days ride more enjoyable.

I'd had too much sugary stuff too early in the day, but despite the bad guts for the last third of the ride, I was riding well and the 140 miles were easily manageable. Well, we had trained for this.

Through Leamington and tucking around the south-east of Coventry to Hinckley, we then slipped west a little and took advantage of the flat and beautiful area around the Ashby-de-la-Zouch canal. The familiar lanes around Griffydam passed and soon Castle Donnington came and went. I left Phil in Long Eaton; well it's where he lives! And I headed on for the 6 miles to Beeston and my own bed.

4 – Nottingham to Thirsk

I wondered what it would be like leaving Nottingham, whether I'd wake up in the morning and just want to roll over and go back to sleep. But it was quite easy, we were mid-job, it wasn't done. Phil turned up at eight and we were off, suffering the appalling Nottingham ring road in the rush hour, and soon battling the now familiar headwind as we toiled north along the A60 towards Ollerton.

With what would appear to be a detour via Retford we realigned ourselves to avoid the A1 and stuffed our faces in the now ritualistic manner at Gregg's bakery. Armed with a caffeine kick and topped up tank, we carried on. From Retford it rapidly becomes pan flat and continues like that all the way to Darlington.

The bad roads of Bawtry came and went and eventually the much anticipated cheapest Cafe we knew of. The Bridge Cafe in Thorne: beans on 4 toast plus tea - £5 for the both of us. We learned that a Sheffield club also visited the cafe, perhaps they come from Hull and Leeds too.

Next on to Selby, I've always wanted to go to Selby, my mum's maiden name! Nice big church, but didn't take time to appreciate the place as we whizzed around the centre, and out onto the final stretch to York along the River Ouse. This section seemed to take a long time, and I knew we had to be well north of York that evening, so I felt quite low for the few miles into York.

York lifted the spirits and a Lidl was soon found with a food boost and the usual Muller Rice. Despite the now persistent rain, I was buoyed by York, and the deliberate routing past the Minster also helped. The heavens truly opened at that point, and the rush hour traffic exiting York made for an exciting exit along the A19. The shower gave way to sunshine and the remainder of the day stayed dry but the headwind of course, remained. Soon we turned off the A19 following the Vale of York as the River Ouse gave way to the Ure and then Swaledale.

We stopped at a Hotel at Asenby, as usual Phil steamed in, headlight blazing, amusing high society. Unsurprisingly it was a little out of our budget with £150 rooms. As we rode off a chef careered out of the hotel, gesticulating accommodation further on. The next pub in Topcliffe had a lousy attitude and they were unresponsive to Phil's haggling tactics. But at Busby Stoop, sufficiently lowly accommodation was forthcoming, and a slap up lamb shank was eagerly devoured. It was an odd place, just a single pub at a crossroads that used to be a roundabout with a May Pole in the centre.

5 – The Tough Day

I still wasn't walking. I was going to say "...with style", but no-one could describe it as walking in any style. Fortunately I could still ride, and whilst the flat Vale of York continued, I rode rather well. Fuelled on the, now wearing, Full English, we made a brisk pace through what remained of York's vale. Ever so gently the vale gave way to undulation and much more rapidly, my pace slowed, Phil was going well, but up the hills if one could call them that, I was rapidly slowed to a single figure MPH. I'm going to blame the Full English, but I don't learn, "I've paid for it, I'm damned well gonna eat it!" In retrospect, I wouldn't do that again, I'd pre-order beans on 8 toasts or something. Body needs carbs, a more immediate source of energy. That amount of fat might do well for a more sedate endurance activity, but cycling it would seem, is just never going to be that. Pocket ruling head as usual.

A caffeine kick at some poncy organic village store near Northallerton with the blue rinse brigade and then we were on towards Scotch Corner. The Roman road of Dere Street led towards West Auckland. And as Scotch Corner separated the Vale of York from undulating Teesdale, West Auckland heralds the start of the Northumberland fells. West Auckland is an odd place, about 2 shops and the hugest sort of village green space you've ever seen, you'd definitely need a binoculars to join the curtain twitching club here.

I hadn't recovered and the bigger hills that hit us now, were taking their toll. The headwind was strong as we continued northwest towards the border. The A62 remained for the rest of the day, rolling up and down endlessly over Northumberland. The first day through Cornwall and Devon is supposed to be the most demanding day, but I think after 4 days, this easily beats it. My local hills are the Peak District, but nowhere there, is like the endless rolling hills of Northumberland. The A62 never seems to find a moor to ride atop of, no sooner is it up, it is down.

Despite, this being my lowest day, it was majestic, and of all the land we covered, to my eye, this was the most impressive. Corbridge is a lovely little village and I'd recommend anyone stop off here when an opportunity arises. Martha's Tea Room served us the usual beans on toast, and sunshine allowed us alfresco dining, soaking up of much needed sun and a relaxing escape from the headwind. The bakery next door provided a big wodge of cake! On Dere Street once more we were led to Redesdale which continued the rolling theme. The mighty Cheviots waited for the final huge climb to the border at Carter Bar.

We were in Scotland, though familiar with crossing numerous counties in a day, this was a first! Right on cue, the heavens opened, though they waited for photos first, which was nice. Time was pressing, it was already late, and now it was darker as torrential rain lashed down during a frankly ludicrous and dangerous 10 mile descent to Jedburgh. Drenched we probed for B&Bs. A little man in the main street terrace obliged and the B&B's top floor was accommodating. Fish & Chip supper sufficed at this late hour, clothing was processed. And then I slept...

6 - A slow day through Edinburgh and a late day past Perth.

The range still had its final hand to play as we rose through Lauder and on to the final spectacular climb of Dun Law, in a lay-by on the summit a huge wind farm transporter was parked up, it was hauling turbine blades, my god they are big when they're on the ground! Then it was downhill, pretty much all the way to Edinburgh.

The town planners had been busy and the map was enough out of date to lead us down the hill to the ring road where we were greeted by a no cycling sign. I knew this was the case during planning, but we were upon it before I realised. There was nothing for it. We were NOT going back up the hill. And GPS said only 1km to more cycle friendly roads. So I deduced the direction and we braved the stretch to the island, rozzers do your worst! Now off course slightly and having to dive through the entire stretch of Edinburgh from East to West. And so the traffic lights began...

We gratefully accepted the first cafe we came to and yes beans on toast plus more toast. An extra cake take-out and we carried on into the centre and the roadworks that needed bypassing. In hind sight trying to cycle through the Prince's Street Gardens was a bad idea since we had to negotiate a fair few flights of steps. Not so soon, we were heading out and on to Craigiehall.

A devious planned route took us around and then attempted to go through what turned out to be an army base. Thanks EdinburghFixed forum contributor for that one!! Sidling around it wasn't too much bother and soon we were at the Forth road & rail bridges where we sat a while to enjoy the Forth. These days there is a separate lane for walkers & cyclists and the headwind today was less, quite a spectacular crossing.

The trawl through Kelty and Kinross was a little tedious, not the most beautiful places in the world. By now we were at the craving sandwiches and energy drink part of the day. But here it seems you could only get chocolate and crisps. Sugar and fat only, carbs were not on the menu. Spirits lifted briefly through Glen Farg, but the headwind really got up through the Earn Valley.

Perth was cold, ideally we would have reached where we wanted at this time, but we hadn't. After Edinburgh's delays it was going to be a very late one. Pitlochry was the aim, just pushing as far as was reasonably possible. So we had our dinner, Pie and chips. The GPS was dead, so I fired up the back-up battery for the first time and we headed out of Perth. With time pressing we abandoned the old A9 route and trudged north on the new A9 with attendant high traffic content.

The next 27 miles were interminable. A terrible headwind. Tired and bedraggled E2Eers, toiled in the gutter mile upon mile, with not even an evening meal to look forward to. More struggle along the Tay and eventually the Pitlochry slip road happened. The first B&B was taken, Phil bullied the lady and we had a breakfast and went to bed.

7 - Cairngorms

A sunny cold morning and not a Full English! Salmon, scrambled egg and plenty of toast made a much better start. We forgot to take the obligatory night stop photo, so did so on the outskirts of Pitlochry. Pass of Killiekrankie. It took me a fair few miles to get up to speed. A gentle long climb was mainly on the old road through Killiecrankie and Blair Athol.

A longish stretch where we had to resort to the A9, Phil got into a real stroppy panic as he realised he'd dropped his jacket off of his bike. I should have noticed it, since I was sucking his wheel most the morning. I calmed him down a bit, and then he bullied some nearby teenagers in a lay-by to drive him up the road to look for it. He soon found it in another lay-by and with a much relieved Phil, all was well again.

Headwinds continued but the scenery was fantastic, okay this isn't the west of Scotland but all the same, Cairngorm National Park, I wasn't complaining. Dalwhinnie proved an expensive stop at a small filling station, but the sun was warm and we soaked it up.

Twin places of Newtonmore & Kinross, a Coffee and Muffin stop outside in the lovely village, sunny and I was actually hot, I think for the first time. I roasted there blissfully, stuffing carbs, pepping up on the coffee and Twittering away.

Aviemore was the next goal, a nice big dinner in Aviemore... I don't remember the next bit that well, though I was riding better. West Auckland to Pitlochry was hard, those demons were expunged.

Sunny Aviemore, blustery a headwind of course, and a long wait for food at a pub. An old lonely Yorkshireman regaled us of tails of his cycling days whilst we waited. An E2E couple that we'd seen near Dunfermline came past. We didn't see them again. Fed, we climbed back on for the final series of climbs before the final long descent to Inverness.

Inverness isn't a wonderful place, the arm warmers and leg warmers had been off since about Aviemore. Now they were back on, and on to stay for the duration. Eight days in June, and only 4 hours with arms and legs out, what a disgrace! Over the little suspension bridge we rode and on to the flatter lands of the Black Isle and Cromarty. I had designs on North Kessock for supplies, but as we were high up at the end of the bridge I balked at descending to the village. So I made the executive decision to risk happening on something, though I was far from sure, it looked a little erm... placeless for a long way. A petrol station saved us, but Phil was running a little too low, sorry Phil. A long descent, to the stilted bridge, I wasn't planning on pedalling down that hill, but hey ho. Halfway across the Cromorty Firth I retraced to find Phil who was depleted, a sorrowful fallen heap. We weren't going to make Tain, another five miles further. No matter, we settled on Alness. Again the first B&B turned out fine, and flip-flopping into the town, my attire especially, caused much amusement. We settled on the curry house, well it made a change. Small town mentality of Alness failed to get us lynched on the return to the B&B.

8 - Wet & Cold.

Tootling back through Alness in the drizzle and out on to the A9, it soon dried up, but not for long. Spirits were high, we had all but done it. With just 120 miles to go, we passed yesterday's original evening destination, with a little ribbing. Quite flat initially, but we knew there were some coastal monsters to come. Some initial climbs masquerading as the real deal presented themselves as the rain started; light at first, but it was so cold. I didn't record actual temperatures throughout, but I did have a thermometer on my computer. All morning it hovered around 10C. Stopping at Helmsdale for lunch in a nice little cafe, more beans on toast with more toast and a warning from a local about Berriedale Brae ahead. We were now at the foot of the Berriedale Brae, an infamous long climb and mad descent, split into two big climbs. The clag was down, so was the temperature eight point something for the rest of the trip. The descent at Berriedale was indeed quite mad, a switchback in the rain with very little visibility. Another long climb up the other side, and some weird butchers Phil had hunted down. He had another puncture, but carried on oblivious. Stopping eventually on the exposed road, we were COLD. With 50 miles to go, these were not pretty. Eventually hauling in to Wick, a Lidl opportunity presented itself, we rode on in. Muller Riced up, we found the cafe and ate. So now it was just the 15 miles to John o'Groats and back then. No problem, a simple 30 miles. Headwind as usual, the miles crawled by and oh so cold. We took the road out to Duncansby Head first, and celebrated with a photo. The campervans from Denmark were not about to give us a lift back to Wick, I know, Phil tried. So we rode back, took in the end of the road at John o'Groats and had another quick photo in the rain by the un-limbed sign, then headed back to Wick. Hang on... We'd done it! But it was as anticlimactic as that.

The hotel in John o'Groats is bad, but we tried to get in anyway. It was full. Now I was very cold. Fortunately the headwind couldn't last, going back we had a tailwind and a taste, despite our less than fresh state, of what it could have been like had the wind behaved. So the 15 miles back went more easily and for once in Scotland I towed Phil home. We booked in to a B&B and headed back to the Wick cafe. If the weather had been kinder, we'd have lolled around at John o'Groats, reclined on the pier in the sun, and indulged in many a hearty slap of the back.

Fin - 920 miles in 8 days in June.

Lots of rain hit the UK during the week, but we very luckily, escaped the worst of it. But we had moderate headwinds on most days. And it was cold. 8 degrees C, rain, clag right down and a headwind, made the weather on the last day the worst.

We went light, very light, with a minimal set of tools and 4 tubes between us. I had my phone for GPS and charger. Clothes consisted of bib shorts and short sleeved cycling top, Helly, arm & leg warmers, thin balaclava, thin gloves & mitts, plus a decent waterproof jacket. I also took a pair of flip-flops for evening and a light pair of knee length shorts for the evening. I left the shorts in Nottingham. The rest was a decent supply of ibuprofen, isotonic tablets, and the obligatory bum butter. For the most part the bar-bag was half empty.

We hired a one way van to Penzance and reserved bike space on trains from Wick to Derby. We gave ourselves 9 days in-between, but expected to take 8. We pre-booked B&Bs at either end, all others were happened upon. Deliberately timing the trip outside of school holidays we had little trouble with accommodation. Cost all inclusive of travel, all food and accommodation, exclusive of broken equipment - £650 each. Ouch!

What's next? Well we liked it so much and don't think we change much, so we are going to apply the same system to France. Next year it's Fin 2 Fin...