Woke up this morning to blue skies, sun and not a breath of wind. Would you believe it? Call it Sod’s Law if you like but we were thinking of some of the poor souls we saw last evening as we drove south. They were still slogging northwards into that bloody wind. One pair, on mountain bikes, looked pretty grim. They had that haggard, haunted look and the bikes were wobbling around on the road. We hope they get a beautiful day to finish.

Just before we get the polish and dusters out and give the bikes a well deserved clean we thought we’d just put a few reflections together before too much time passes and we forget the relevant bits and pieces. Or at least those bits and pieces that we might want to forget.

So, on the morning of the day after finishing the overwhelming feeling is one of delight, tinged with a certain amount of relief. We cycled a total of some 960 miles with an incredible ascent of somewhere in the region of 44,000 feet. We’re not too sure how accurate that is but it’s what Garmin tells us so we’ll take it as a fair approximation. Amazingly, the toughest days in terms of height gained were the first 4 or 5 days. Almost 20,000 feet of ascent in five days over 330 miles. That’s why we were so knackered in Cornwall, Devon and Somerset. We did initially have this vision of stopping every few miles for a cream tea in the sun but it wasn’t to be - it wqas pretty much full on cycling, head down and cursing the hills that went on and on and on…

The weather was pretty mixed, it has to be said, but started off reasonably, other than a very wet start from Land’s End. We even had cycling shorts on for a few days but I think we probably had at least some rain most days, including a spectacular hailstorm near Boscastle and another one near the end just outside Wick. We had snow on one day, mixed with sleet and we had wind in our faces every day. That was the biggest surprise of all. We had deliberately gone from south to north to take advantage of the normal prevailing wind but that certainly wasn’t the case this year. On about half of the days the wind wasn’t really a big problem. We were either sheltered from it or it was so light it was merely an inconvenience but on other days, particularly the final three days, it stopped us in our tracks in places and was, occasionally, a real safety hazard. I was blown onto the barrier on the Kessock Bridge ands Hamish, while performing his regular buttock de-clenching, was brought to a rolling stop on several occasions.

The wind certainly slowed us down. We had hoped for an average speed of between 10 and 12 mph for the entire trip but ended averaging just over 10mph. We had also originally planned 70 mile days over two weeks but ended up with a slightly shorter average of  64 miles over 15 days. Bearing in mind neither of us had ever cycled much more than 70 miles in a day before I guess that wasn’t too bad.

We felt fairly happy with our choice of route. Initially we followed the CTC route plan and while it did avoid the busy main roads it did have a penchant for seeking out the steepest hills and out of the way side lanes. I’m sure it was pretty scenic but we were too busy trying to keep the wheels turning to notice many of the views. About half way through we chose our own route, largely because Hamish had scouted out the route in the north of England previously and I was pretty familiar with the landscape in Scotland.

The breakdown of the route was as follows;

Land End to St Columb Major - Great Torrington - Bridgwater - St Arvans (near Chepstow) - Ludlow - Nantwich - Clitheroe - Sedbergh (Hamish’s hoose) - Longtown - Peebles - Perth - Newtonmore (my hoose) - Conon Bridge - Helmsdale - John o Groats.

We used B&B accommodation virtually the whole way, other than a couple of overnights at our own houses, two nights in a Travel Lodge and one night in a Premier Inn. In the TL and PI were were allowed to take our bikes into the room with us and this was an issue with booking B&B. We felt it was important our bikes were under a roof and locked away for the night and some of the B&B we tried to book didn’t have this facility. All the B&B were very good indeed and some were excellent. We only booked a night, or maybe two nights in advance, simply because we weren’t sure where we might be several days down the line. I used an iPad to check availability and we then booked in advance by phone. On the only day we didn’t book in advance (Bridgewater) we couldn’t find any B&B’s at all, or hotels and it was only by good fortune that someone said there was a Premier Inn just along the road. That saved our asses from extra miles cycling. The only other area we had difficulty booking accommodation was in the Dingwall area. Everything was booked solid, mostly by firms involved in the oil and renewable energy sector and by squads of workman on various projects in the highlands. Later in the season, when the LEJOG numbers really build up, it might be an idea to book everything in advance and not risk ad hoc booking along the way.

We visited three bike shops en route, Brenin Cycles in Market Drayton, Rock to Roll Cycles in Brampton and Mike’s Bikes in Aviemore. Brenin Cycles kindly fixed a cleat in one of my shoes - I had lost one of the screws, and refused to take any money. Robin Clark from Rock to Roll Cycles really went out of his way to help us out of a real jam when one of Hamish’s tyres blew and he even took the trouble to give the bike a thorough going over. In all three cases the bike shops were welcoming, encouraging and very attentive. My thanks also to Alpine Bikes of Perth and Inverness for servicing and advice and Hamish would like to thank Ghyllside Bikes in Ambleside; Marie Raynor of Sole to Soul in Bentham for keeping his body upright and moving, and Shaar Holroyd of Kendal Alternative Nutrition for advice and freebies.

Thanks to Edinburgh Cycle Cooperative for the bits and pieces of kit they gave me - it all worked superbly well (especially the Revolution Leader waterproof jacket which was superb and the Revolution Forsa windproof jacket which was a Godsend)and I’ll blog about the individual items later, and to Rohan for sending me some of their new cycling range.

The bikes, who actually did all the hard work, performed superbly. I was using a Ridgback World Panorama touring bike and it performed admirably. Nothing went wrong and I can’t fault it in any way. It has been cursed and abused and yet it did its job day after day without complaint. Hamish used a customised hybrid bike, a Marin San Anselmo, which apart from the tyre blowout was a cracking wee workhorse.

Finally, many thanks to all of you who helped and encouraged us on the way - the wee guy in Somerset who let us shelter from the train and offered us a couple of glasses of cider - the lady from the post office in Brampton who found a cycle shop for us - the guy near Wick who complained the Scots still had a thing about Culloden - everyone who politely and patiently gave us directions when we were temporarily misplaced - all the waiters and waitresses who fed us cakes and scones and tea and coffee - and all the other End to Enders we saw passing in the opposite direction. We hope they have as great a time as we had. And of course we couldn’t have done it without the support from our nearest and dearest, a constant source of encouragement.

And many thanks to all of you who kept in touch through this blog, through Twitter and Facebook. It was really great checking in every night to read your comments, but we haven’t yet mentioned the great secret of End to Enders, and long distance cyclists in general. A truly heartfelt thanks to the makers of Soreen Malt Loaves - this fabulous energy source is appetising, comforting and absolutely delicious in a yummy, sticky, gooey sort of way. Highly recommended.

So what’s next? Well, we’re looking at an End to End through Ireland for next year. The thought of all those Irish pubs with Guinness and folk music and of course, the Irish craig. Can’t wait…

We couldn’t believe it. After everything the weather has chucked at us over the last few days the last thing we expected was snow but that was what we got this morning in Helmsdale. It took a lot of willpower to pull on the waterproofs and set off for the final 54 miles to John o’ Groats. Fortunately the snow didn’t last too long but we did get a medley of rain, sleet and hail for much of the morning. And the bitterly cold north wind that has haunted us for all of this trip was as strong and mischievous as ever, slowing our progress to less than 10mph.

The first 15 miles or so were pretty hilly but a huge brute of a thing coming out of Berriedale was as hilly as anything we’ve climbed. After that all we really had to worry about was the weather but we had good kit so it was really just a question of keeping warm. Pretty flat roads took us to lovely Wick and we sheltered in a cafe and had some lunch. The cafe was as cold as the weather outside so we didn’t linger and set off for the final 17 miles. Things improved for a while and the wind died down but picked up again as we approached the end. The Nordic weather gods had obviously decided to show us some sympathy and embraced our entrance to JOG? By now the rain had gone off and the sun came out and as we cycled the last mile into JOG Gina passed us in the car. Great timing. I think our turnaround at John o’Groats was the fastest ever. Posed for a couple of photos, did a quick change in the men’s loos and bundled everything in the car and set off for a warm cafe. It was absolutely bitter in the north wind and we wanted out of there as soon as possible. Not that John o’ Groats had a lot to offer - everything was shut!

We’re at my place in Newtonmore now, thawed out, sitting in front of the stove with a glass of malt in hand, the first for several weeks. Tomorrow I’ll try and write a blog outlining our thoughts about the trip. There was certainly a lot of ups and downs, but the ups outweigh the downs tenfold. The agony and the ecstasy.

MANY thanks to everyone who has been in touch concerned about our welfare. I didn’t manage to blog last night simply because there was no signal or wifi in the hotel in Conan Bridge and not because we had succumbed to the weather which the various television stations and newspapers have been describing as “severe”.

Yesterday was certainly a tough day. 70 miles from Newtonmore to Conan Bridge in what can only be described as horrible conditions. It was pouring when we left Newtonmore so we stopped in Aviemore for a full breakfast at the Mountain Cafe then we visited Mike’s Bikes for some minor repairs to Hamish’s bike and some waterproof over boots. It was good to catch up with Mike and Jenny and Mike managed to locate the cause of the rubbing sound from Hamish’s rear wheel, and then fix it. He did this free of charge which we greatly appreciated and shows again the value of local independent bike shops. We really have to support shops them.

We left Aviemore in a deluge and the rain stayed with us to Tomatin, where we took some shelter in the local shop for a while, and all the way to Culloden and down to Inverness. It was so windy we had to push the bikes over the Kessock Bridge after I was blown against the barrier twice. Scary stuff, especially with artics blasting past only inches away.

At one point on the A9 just north of the bridge we encountered our first experience of road rage. We had pulled out of a lay by when a plonker in a Ford Fiesta took exception to having to slow down a little. He blasted us on the his horn and we duly responded with a vigorous two finger salute. He pulled in to the side, jumped out of his car and was a little taken aback when two 62 year olds,         well up for a fight, got the verbals in first. He just got back into his car and accelerated past us in a cloud of high dudgeon.

We stayed in the Conan Bridge Hotel, a traditional highland hotel which is a little tired,mto put it kindly. The old fashioned decor and lack of facilities was more than compensated for by the very friendly staff and we had a nice meal and yet another early night. Slept like babies.

This morning we woke to more rain and very strong winds, still coming from the north. For the life of me I can’t recall when the wind last blew from the north for two full weeks but we’ve had the blast in our faces every day since we left Land’s End. It has certainly made the End to End something of a challenge, particularly today, which was probably the toughest day of the trip. It might have been a tad under 60 miles but they were the hardest miles I’ve ever cycled. Just to make it more interesting it rained all the way to Tain but at least the weather gods had the decency to switch off the rain this afternoon. But they turned up the intensity of the wind. We had to push our bikes over the Dornoch Firth Bridge and even at that the wind stopped us several times in our tracks. When we started cycling again we were down to a steady 6-7 miles an hour and Hamish, who has the disconcerting habit of standing up in the pedals every so often to de-clench his buttocks, found himself coming to a complete standstill. Worst of all were the cross winds. They would suddenly catch you and blow you into the middle of the road and God only knows why we weren’t hit by a passing car or truck. It was very scary indeed.

Without wanting to make this blog sound like a continual winge about the weather I should say we have had a marvellous time and even in the worst of the conditions we’ve managed to keep smiling and singing and joking. Poor old Hamish had to put up with me singing Grannie’s Hieland Hame as we passed through Golspie, although I’ve no idea how I managed to remember the words to it.

We’ve stopped for the night at Jutta’s B&B just outside Helmsdale and the chap here made us an excellent spaghetti Bolognese for supper. It’s a grand spot and right on main road which makes it useful for a  quick start tomorrow morning. If the wind blows like it did today we could be in for another epic but hopefully it might ease off during the night. We made the mistake of watching the BBC news weather - they are forecasting snow! It would be a great pity to have to cop out on the last day but we’ll do our damnest to reach John O’Groats tomorrow, on our bikes. We are both hugely encouraged by everyone who has tweeted and emailed and texted to urge us on day after day and we were quite touched by those of you who were concerned because a blog didn’t appear last night. I must admit, it felt odd being in a place where we couldn’t use a phone or get on to the Internet, and I never ever thought I’d find myself admitting that. Maybe I’m more of a techie than I thought. And here’s a final thought - Hamish has just told me we’ve ridden 923.8 miles so far. So with 54 miles to do tomorrow we will just miss the magic grand but 975 miles won’t sound too bad. Not for two golden oldies…

Stayed at the Trevel Lodge in Perth and had a good night. Up early as we had another 70 mile day in front of us, and we had to get over the 1560ft Drumochter Pass. First obstacle of the day was getting round the Broxburn roundabout in Perth’s rush hour. We  eventually chickened out and pushed the bikes round. It was raining too and the BBC weather forecast on the telly wasn’t very encouraging.,At one point the weather girl made an extraordinary statement. She said the heavy showers would be interspersed with heavy rain. Huh!

Thankfully after half an hour of heavy rain interspersed with showers the rain went off and the sun came out some had a great ride through Luncarty and Stanley and on to Dunkeld where we had the best scone of the trip in the Menzies deli. On to Ballinluag and then Pitlochry where we stopped for lunch.

Duringnlunchnitnrained again but by the time we finished it had gone off and the sun appeared and it stayed more of less like that all the way through Blair Atholl, up to Calvine and on to Dalnaspidal where we suffered a hail storm of biblical proportions. Soaked and cold we reached Drumochter summit to meet a freezing cold north wind. I had hoped we’d get a fast ride down the north side of Drumochter to Dalwhinnie but the wind was strong we had to pedal hard all the way. The last 11 miles to Newtonmore from Dalwhinnie were hellish cold an hard and by the time we reached my house in Newtonmore we had to sit at the fire and thaw out before we could do anything.

Pin many ways, despite the weather at the end, this was the best day of the trip so far. The scenery was great and the weather for much of the time was lovely. Butbwebare both now really concerned about fighting a northerly wind for our last three days. They could be very slow days indeed. Tomorrow night, all going well, we hope to reach Conan Bridge.

I wasn’t very sure if we could cycle between Peebles and Perth in a day. It looked like an awful long way on the map and we had to get round Edinburgh toon in the process, and get over the Forth Road bridge.

After a good night in the Lindores Guest House in Peebles (highly recommended by the way) we hightailed it to the Edinburgh road and battled with the Monday morning commuters. It felt like one long grind uphill, then a long swift descent and we were in Penicuik, only a stone’s throw from Fairmilehead in Edinburgh where we would begin working our way round the western fringes of the capital.

We had no real difficulties, stopped for coffee and a scone with the douce ladies of Cramond and then headed for the bridge. We thought the route was pretty well signposted for cyclists and in no time at all we were through Dalmeny, South Queensferry and onto the bridge itself. We left sunny Edinburgh behind and Fife greeted us a with a hail shower, probably in revenge for all the things I’ve written about Fife in the past (pit bings, men with flat caps and greyhound dugs, the perceived frugality of the local populace, etc.). The Kingdom certainly got its own back today. Shower after shower hit us until we passed the sign for Perth and Kinross. Then the sun came out, would you believe it?

Since we were passing the end of their road we thought it would be nice to pop in and say hello to Ramblers Scotland in Milnathort. I am a vice president after all. Karen Robertson very kindly made us a pot of coffee and we ate all their biscuits before heading for Glenfarg, home of the world famous Glenfarg Folk Club, Bridge of Earn, and finally the Fair City of Perth itself. Needless to say the Travel Lodge where we had booked in for the night was at the top of a hill, the highest point in Perth I think.

We were just in time to watch the news and weather but wished we hadn’t. Snow forecast, more northerly winds and maybe, just maybe, a few hints of sunshine between the snow, hail and rain showers. It looked bad but it looked even worse in the south of England. Glad we’re where we are and not starting out from Land’s End. Don’t you just love springtime in the UK?

Just one more word before I finish for the night. And it’s for Scotland’s councils. Please do something about the shocking pot-holed state of our roads. There is a marked difference between the quality of the road surfaces in England and Scotland and Hamish and I have the bruised and battered arses to prove it. We finished tonight feeling as though we had been operating a pneumatic drill all day and our bikes have developed rattles in places that never existed before. Worst of all were the roads in Edinburgh. Forget bloody civic pride tram cars and fix your road infrastructure! Someone is going to get seriously hurt trying to avoid the pot holes. One was so big I said to Hamish, “Look at the size of the pot hole, look at the size of that pot hole.” He said, “Why did you say that twice?” “I didn’t,” I replied, “that was the echo.” ( with due acknowledgement to the late and great Chic Murray). Good night…

WITHIN an hour of setting off from Longtown we crossed the border into Scotland. No passports, no identity checks just a big sign saying Failte gu Alba. It was good to be home. Even Hamish, who has lived in Englandshire for 20 years, had a tear in his eye.

Since there was no pipe band to bid us welcome we just pushed on as we didn’t really know what was in store for us today. We were heading for Peebles, which rather surprised out host at the B&B the previous night. He reckoned most of the End to Enders who stay with him simply follow the B road that parallels the M6 all the way to Lockerbie and Moffat, in an attempt to avoid the hills further east. But we’re made of tougher stuff than that and we didn’t like the idea of riding all day to the accompanying roar and growl of traffic on the motorway.

Our route took us to Langholm then across the hills to Eskdalemuir. It was magnificent cycling, up easy graded hills and long swooping descents, and the weather was bright and sunny, if a bit cold. The wind was coming from the north yet again, so even on some of the downhills we had to fight it.

We weren’t too sure what the route would be like and if we’d find anywhere to eat so you can imagine our delight when we saw signs for the retreat at the Samye Ling Centre, a Tibetan Bhudist retreat at Eskdalemuir. It was fantastic, like stepping out of the Scottish borders and straight into Tibet. Prayer flags unfurled in the wind, chortens gleamed in the sunshine and the gold roof of the temple shone and glistened. And wonder of wonders - they had a tearoom! I had vegetable soup and a cheese and onion pasty, very veggie of course, and Hamish had lots of cakes. We were served by a shaven headed Bhudist nun, dressed in scarlet robes. The inmates, or retreaters, or whatever you call them, just looked like the drop-out hippie types you find wandering the streets of Kathmandu, dressed in baggy linen trousers, woollen hats and lots of scarves. What is it about Bhudists and scarves. Even the guys wear at least three. Anyway, everyone was very pleasant and we left with full bellies and heaps of good karma. One of those places I must go back to sometime.

After Samye Ling it was more wonderful cycling on lovely roads through superb hilly landscapes. Over Ettrick, one of the great areas of the borderlands, and down to Ramseycleuch then another uphill over the hills to Mount Benger, which was once the farm of James Hogg the Ettrick Shepherd. From there it was a final long pull and through to Traquair and a 7 mile ride along the banks of the Tweed into Peebles and our B&B at Lindores Guest House, a superbly furnished town house just a few minutes from the main street and an excellent Indian restaurant. With the Samye Ling centre for lunch and a curry for supper it’s been quite an eastern day.

So far so good. Yesterday and today have been great despite the cold northerly wind but I’m aware that if this wind keeps coming from the north then we’ll probably struggle a bit on the last few exposed days. We are undoubtedly fitter than we were at the beginning and the rest of the days will be in the 60-70 mile region, so nothing desperately hard. We’ll head for Perth tomorrow - Peebles to Perth has a nice ring about it and the next night I’ll be homeward bound to Newtonmore. After than its only two more nights, one in Dingwall and one in Helmsdale, and we’ll virtually have made it. It feels hard to believe we’ve come all this way in such a short time, and we’ve certainly seen some lovely parts of the country we probably wouldn’t have seen otherwise. This is also a good time to thank everyone who have been so encouraging and supportive through this blog and through Twitter and Facebook. Thanks a million for your interest, believe me it has made a huge difference to us.

WHAT a magnificent day’s cycling we had today. We left Sedbergh fairly early, about 8am, and followed the minor road that runs along the western side of the Howgills and through the Lune Gorge to Tebay  and one of the best trucker stops in the country. Well fortified after a second breakfast (Hamish’s B&B wasn’t bad at all) we hightailed it up the steep hill beyond Orton and onto Crosby Ravensworth Fell. Once we had that height gained the cycling was brilliant,mrunningbthrough a lovely litany of fell villages - Crosbly Ravensworth, Maulds Meaburn, King’s Meaburn and down to Temple Sowerby. This is a part of Cumbria I didn’t know at all and I loved it.

Beyond Temple Sowerby we passed another series of lovely Cumbrian villages and settlements - Culgaith, Langwathby,Lazenby and up a hill to Kirkoswald where we stopped for lunch. At that point we had covered almost 40 miles and were in high spirits at the though of an easy afternoon.We were tempting fate…

About 3 miles out of Brampton Hamish, who was riding just behind me, called out that something was wrong. Next moment there was a loud bang and I half expected to see him fall out of the saddle as though he had been shot. He wasn’t, but his rear tyre was well and truly shot through. Up to that point the weather had been pretty good, indeed I had stripped down to my cycling top because it felt hot. However, As Sod’s Law would have it, as soon as we had the tyre off the heavens opened and we got a right royal soaking. And to make matters worse it wasn’t just the inner tube that had gone but the tyre had torn at the rim.

We managed to patch  it up, which wasn’t bad for two mechanical illiterates, but as we reached the outskirts of Brampton the inner went again. We pushed the bikes into town and Hamish asked the first person we saw if there was a bike shop in town. She said she didn’t think so. We pressed on but a few minutes later the lady pulled up in her car and said she had phoned her mother who thought there might be a bike shop. I looked after the bikes in the town square while Hamlag went off with the lady in her car. Turned out there was a bike shop after all, a fairly new one at that, called Rock to Roll Cycles.The owner, Robin Clark, brought Hamish back for his bike, took him and the bike back to the shop and not only fitted a new inner and tyre but gave the rest of the bike a thorough going over as well. It was tremendous service and this shop thoroughly deserves to do well. If you’re in the Brampton area please support him. Small independent shops like this one are so important, as we discovered. What was especially pleasing was that Robin had volunteered to come out of the shop to pick up the bike - beyond the call of duty.

After that it was heads down through another rain shower on the final 11 miles to Longtown where we booked into the excellent Briar Lea guest house. A great, but eventful day. Now for something to eat…

ENJOYED A very relaxed evening in Clitheroe at an excellent Italian restaurant which was great in every respect other than it had very hard seats. after a day of 80 miles in the saddle the last thing we wanted was more pressure on our butts. The lasagne made up for it.

Very good B&B too. The Brooklyn Guest House was outstanding and obviously caters a lot for cyclists. We’ve been really lucky with accommodation so far - I hope Hamish can keep the high standard going - we’re staying at his place in Sedbergh tonight.

Although this was really only half a day it was a pretty tough half day. Out of Clitheroe towards Waddington then over Easington Fell and down to Newton. More climbing too us up and over to Slaidburn where we had a coffee and scone before the big one, the long, relentless climb over the Slaidburn Pass. In actual fact I thoroughly enjoyed the ride. It was lovely being away from the traffic and mad drivers and it was great riding to the accompaniment of curlews and skylarks rather than souped up Ford Fiestas. We even watch a hen harrier quartering the moor in search of prey. Beautiful scenery and lovely weather, although we were cycling into a head wind all day. I certainly saw the Forest of Bowland in a different light today. It looked spectacular.

We had lunch inHigh Bentham then bolted for Burton in Lonsdale, Kirkby Lonsdale and Sedbergh. Got the washing machine going, cleaned the bikes and pumped up the tyres, then enjoyed a long shower before a steak in the pub. Even bumped into my old pal Paul Hannon of Yorkshire walking guidebook fame - he was walking the Cumbria Way.

Spent some time this evening booking accommodation for the next two nights in Longtown and Peebles, then it’ll be on to Perth then home to Newtonmore before the final bash north.

It was great to get over the 500 mile point today. Hamish made us sing the old Proclaimers song, 500 Miles. Only problem was that neither of us knew the words, or the tune for that matter. All we could remember was ‘Tarrarumba, Tarrarumba, dumpity, dumpity dum, dum, dum.’We wiggled our arses as we sang it and almost fell off the bikes. I’m sure the sheep had a bit of a giggle…

The weather forecast looks better for the next few days but it looks as though we’ll we heading into a north wind for the rest of the trip. We’d probably have been better cycling from John O’ Groats south…

ARRIVED in the northern town of Clitheroe after a long and hard day of just under 80 miles. But it wasn’t the distance that made it hard but the navigation and the all consuming traffic. This was mentally hard cycling, thinking not only for ourselves but also trying to work out what drivers are going to do. You just have to be so mentally alert and more than once I was convinced that the modern invention of vehicle indicators hadn’t yet reached these parts.

I now know what white van drivers have the reputation they have and I’m now convinced that even if I ride along with neon lights flashing from my arse drivers will still try and shave past rather give me a wide berth, but as I said it’s been a long day.

We left Nantwich after an excellent B&B in the Red Cow pub in the rain and rather enjoyed the last rural ride of the day all the way to our mid morning cake and coffee stop in genteel Knutsford. As we munched through pan o chocolate and raisin swirls the heavens opened and we felt quite smug being served our munches by pretty assistants. Once we tarted the rain did too but it eventually dried up to be a reasonable day. But the route wasn’t quite so reasonable.

It was so obvious we were now well out of the affluent south.Without wanting to go into a political rant the disparity between south and north of England is at times overwhelming. We passed through a series of conurbations - Bolton, Leigh, Chorley and around and they all looked like planning disasters, all bowing down to the great gods of the supermarket and shopping mall trends. It was so sad to see the hearts of these placed torn out to make way for one way systems, roundabouts and new roads all leading in and out of ginormous supermarkets.

Beyond Chorley we got a little lost trying to avoid the busy roads and this cost us some time but we eventually got on to the Blackburn ring road and reached Whalley, then our B&B in Clitheroe. The lass who ran it took pity on us and gave us tea and biscuits as soon as we arrived. Then it was a quick shower, an excellent Italian meal, and back to the B&B for bed and oblivion. Looking forward to a shorter day today, over the Slaidburn to Sedbergh and a break at Hamish’s house. He has just reminded me we’ll be back to big hills too. Ho Hum…

I’M writing this beside a log fire in the Red Cow inn in Nantwich, Cheshire. We’ve only just thawed out after a very wet and windy day cycling 70 miles from Ludlow.

In actual fact it’s probably been the easiest day of the trip so far, on nice flat roads with only a few little hills around Much Wenlock but the northerly wind did become a bit irritating and definitely slowed us a bit. It was pretty wet when we left Lulow this morning but apart from one or two little showers it stayed reasonably dry all day until we reached Market Drayton. With only about ten miles to go the heavens opened and it poured down. By the time we reached Nantwich my hands were numb and I was shivering. Thank goodness for the Edinburgh Cycling Cooperative raincoat I had on. It has kept me bone dry through some horrendous showers and even this afternoon, the wettest we’ve endured so far, it has kept the rain out. For such a lightweight jacket it’s quality is remarkable. According to the weather forecast it might have to do its magic work for a few more days too.

Nothing much remarkable today, other than what I thought was an attack by a rabid squirrel. It suddenly jumped out of a tree in front of me and I’m not sure who was more surprised, him or me! Hamish reckoned it was a Ninja Squirrel, so I believed him. Look out for the newspaper headlines, Shropshire Squirrels Take Over the World!

I’ not sure if I mentioned it earlier but on day one I lost a screw on one of my Shimano SPD cleats. I just took the whole cleat off my shoe and I’ve been cycling since without it, but today I just happened to pass a bike shop in Market Drayton. I popped in and the lad very kindly found a cleat screw for me, put the cleat back on my shoe and refused any money. It was very kind of him so let’s hear it for Brenin Bikes of Market Drayton. thanks a million.

I hadn’t quite realised how much I missed the cleats until I started moving again and I certainly felt more secure and in control with them.

It would have been nice to see a little more of the countryside today but everything was shrouded in mist and low cloud, even Wenlock Edge and the Wreaken, which aren’t exactly high. We did stop for a bit of a late breakfast in Much Wenlock, and while we ere there paid homage to the birthplace of the modern Olympic Games. We thought it important since every television news programme and  radio programme were telling us it’s only 100 days to the start of the London Olympics. I must confess, nothing could be further from my mind at the moment and while I’m on the subject, a thousand apologies to every one who has been trying to get in touch with me over the past few days. I’m afraid that keeping the wheels turning has taken up my full attention over the past few days and I promise to answer all the texts and emails as soon as I get home, whenever that will be.

In actual fact we’re feeling fairly confident now. We should reach Hamish’s place in Sedbergh in a couple of nights and that will certainly feel like a half way point. More importantly, we’ll be on familiar territory then and won’t have to worry about navigation. We might even be able to wash some clothes. Sweaty clothing isn’t the problem though. I think the stuff Hamish washes his hair with is the same stuff he rubs into his knees every morning. It’s like cycling behind a garden shed. I sometimes pray for a whiff of sillage…

That’s dinner arrived so I’ll sign off. Not sure where we’ll be tomorrow night but that’s part of the fun of a trip like this. Into the great unknown…