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WOW, Well, it's over now........ we did it

1068 miles in 14 days riding......... 98 hours and 45 minutes in the saddle, and an average speed of nearly 11 mph...... WOW.

Will write a full blog of the event in the next few days, but firstly I really have to say a big THANKS YOU to all those wonderful people that gave us donations and support throughout our ride...... I will load a full list of names with my blog.....

Here is a summary of the route took:-

The Actual Journey......

We started on Saturday 25th April, and our route took us from Lands End to Padstow, and from there, inland to Holsworthy, and then Taunton. It rained on and off for the first three days, but the next, from Taunton to Symonds Yat, was a total wash out. After riding for 7 hours into in north easterly headwind and torrential rain we were soaked and shattered. At Portishead we called it quits. As we sat in a pub eating our evening meal, we dripped disconsolately into the carpet. We had no hope of camping here and there wasn’t a hotel room available within 15 miles, so we taxi’d back to Clevedon for the night. The next day was a little kinder, but after we’d crossed the Avonmouth Viaduct and Severn Bridge, it turned rainy again and we were soaked again before we reached Symonds Yat, and our intended hotel stop at the Saracens Head.
Thankfully, after the low of the first five days, the weather got brighter, and as we were getting fitter, we made longer and longer rides. From Symonds Yat, we reached Bishops Castle easily, and the next day Chester, where Chris’ ancient bike came under the scrutiny of an agricultural mechanic. He and Chris spent about five hours that evening tinkering with wheels and brakes, chains, cables and tyres. I sat and watched the sun going down over the apple orchard, and the house-martins wheeling and swirling amongst the trees, scooping up insects. This is what it is all about, I reflected happily.
The next day, we had the long run through the urbanization between Liverpool and Manchester, and on into southern Lancashire. It dragged a little, and the campsite in the Forest of Bowland was probably the worst I’ve ever experienced. But, we’d planned a BBQ for that night, and had a great time in conversation with a young team of Duke of Edinburgh Award Scheme’rs who were on their Silver Award, and on their second night under the stars.
Up early the next day, we rode like the wind, and got to Carlisle in record time. I’d arranged a pit stop there as a mate lives nearby, and the bikes got their first proper re-adjustment since setting out. We crossed into Scotland at Gretna the next morning, and by the end of the day were at Kirkfieldbank, only 12 miles south of Glasgow, making back the day we’d lost to the rain. Riding through Glasgow was ‘interesting’ as the roads there have more pot-holes than I would ever like to see again in a single day! I had 3 punctures in the 6 hours it took us to get through the city to the southern shores of Loch Lomond, where we camped at Ardlui. The campsite was surrounded by a 6 foot high perimeter fence, to keep out wild deer, but it gave the place the feel of a POW camp! To add to the archaism, just as the sun went down, a steam loco trundled past, dragging a full train of Pullman coaches. I wondered if we’d traveled back in time to 1944!
I’d most looked forward to the Scottish sections, and I wasn’t disappointed. From Loch Lomond, over the Rannoch Moor and down to Glencoe, the mountains, lochs and glens were so beautiful, I cannot do them justice in just a few words here. The 10-mile-long descent off the moor to the sea, where the bike whirred on the tarmac; sunlight flashed of the snow still standing on the tops; and the view to the west extended for over 50 miles, was one that I would go back to do again tomorrow! I enjoyed it so much I had to stop at the bottom to scrape the dead flies off my teeth.
From Glencoe, we followed the Caledonian Canal from one coast to the other. Loch Ness was the stuff of legend, with its cold black waters sitting motionless beneath the brilliant blue sky, barely even worried by the wake-ripples of the few small boats wandering up and down. We made Fort Augustus before we ran out of daylight, and I was exhilarated. We were surrounded by some of the oldest mountains in the world, and that night, I lay awake watching them fade from green and brown, to orange, then red, then pink, then from grey to black as they stood against the dark blue star studded sky. There was even a crescent moon hanging in the west. Fantastic.
Inverness the following day was a shock! Heavy traffic, fast roads and little space for cyclists. I’d been warned off the A9 and I could see why now. The 15 miles or so from Inverness to Dingwall were just plain awful, but eventually they gave way to stunning scenery as we took the quieter roads to the Dornoch Firth and our stop for the night at Bonar Bridge. We camped in a park next to the firth, and it was as good as any place. From here there was only 150 miles to go, and 4 days to do it, so we felt comfortable in slowing it down a bit. We turned due north to head straight to the top of Britain, and on the way passed the Crask Inn. This is a pub literally in the middle of nowhere, and I was so glad it was there too. Give or take a mile or two, it marked our 1000-miles-on-the-road point, so we pulled in for celebratory bacon butty. Here, the landlord advised us to take an alternative route to the coast via Strath Naver, and I was glad we did that too. It was one of the most serene places on earth. We stopped at Loch Naver for an impromptu picnic, and then purred along the Strath between the gorse and the river right down to the sea at Bettyhill.
Now we had three days to make a two day ride, and so we did take it easy. We pulled up at 3 pm, and took time out to do some laundry and drink some beer. We even found time for an ice-cream!
Our penultimate day saw us race the 30-odd miles from Bettyhill to Thurso, where we dropped our surplus gear at the campsite, and with empty bikes fairly sprinted to John O’Groats. We got there around 2:30, just about the time I’d planned it months before!! Hoorah ! We had the obligatory ‘we did it’ photo taken, and then headed back for an evening of debauchery in the Thurso nightclubs!
Next day was Sunday, and apart from about 2 hours in the morning when I nipped out for some breakfast, I spent nearly the whole day in my sleeping bag, catching up.
I’d booked return rail tickets for the Monday, and since we were headed for different destinations, Chris and I shook hands and climbed on different trains. That was at 6:30 a.m. Five trains and twenty hours later, I climbed off at Port Talbot, shattered, but happy. A life-time’s achievement under my belt.
When I totted up the money we’d collected for the Dog’s Trust, it came out at £886. Not quite the £1000 I’d hoped for, but close enough to make the effort worthwhile. The web-page is still open if you want to help me reach to the target ??!!

Paul Walters

I'd like to thank the following guys for their kind support to date :

Adrian, Nicola and Lauren Barratt, for the first donation ! You are officially, "Very Nice People"

Stuart Eadie of "Calsterman" for the supply of gear for the trip..check out his web-site on Ebay http://stores.ebay.co.uk/Calstermans-Outdoor-Survival-Store

Neil Craig of Forza Cycles and Triathlon in Llantwit Major, for help with the bike, luggage and mechanical advice - check out www.forzacycles.co.uk

Maria of Winners Pet Supplies in Pyle, and Julie of the Prince of Wales in Mawddlam

Lorraine, the barmaid at the Old Plough Inn in Shortlanesend, Cornwall, for the first donation given en-route.

Mrs Jones of the Foxholes Castle Camping Site at Bishops Castle, for allowing us to camp free in lieu of a donation. You are a VERY VERY nice person!

Mrs and Mr Dalglish of Tamarstone Farm Camping Site, Holsworthy, Devon.