Day 1 - John O’Groats to Golspie - 71 miles

I am 71 miles in, sitting tired but content in the dining room of my pub bed-and-breakfast and awaiting dinner. As well as eating into the miles, today was to act as a litmus test for the rest of the trip, a check on the wisdom of my current plan and a guide to where I might make changes. Even now I am not sure how it went: I got here not long after I had anticipated but my stops were short and aspects were harder than I had expected making me question the wisdom of what I was doing. Tomorrow I was hoping to go a little further and that the terrain may be a little more forgiving but after today I think I need to stay flexible.

The day started later than I had hoped - Sunday breakfast timings got in the way of an early departure - and the walk from my accommodation to the main hotel lent evidence to the forecast seventeen mph headwinds I would face. After a short section paralleling the coast I headed south on a series of long single-track roads, gently undulating through an exposed and barren landscape of heather and tussock grass. Had it not been for the cold wind on exposed skin and its incessant noise in my ears it would have been a relatively comfortable and fast ride. But that day was not today. 

As I pedalled under overcast skies I could see the grey outline of the Grampian mountains in the distance, looming closer as time passed; I would be passing through them in three days if all went well. Between me and those mountains were slanting grey columns of wispy rain and I could not help but think that I was cycling towards them and they were being blown towards me.

It was over three hours before I hit the coast road near the small village of Lybster, once a nineteenth century herring port, my fears of rain proving largely unfounded. I had covered some thirty miles and felt I had fought for every one of them. Now on a main road I hoped for a gently undulating profile and a better and faster surface to compensate for added traffic. But it was a coast road along rugged cliffs, a road that needed to negotiate headlands. Although for the most part the climbs were relatively gentle they were long, I was still to some extent in the grip of the wind, and they proved tiring; I felt I was being slowly worn down. Throw in two very steep and long descents followed by matching ascents and I was at times wondering if I had pushed myself too far. 

By mid afternoon things were improving: the coastal terrain was now lower and the road had dropped down to follow the coast. There were still headlands but they were fewer and more gentle and even in my tired state they were not so daunting. Road signs began to indicate villages that I had stopped at on yesterday’s train journey - Helmsdale, Brora, Golspie - and despite the mileages being higher than I would have liked it gave a sense of progress and the feeling that the day’s end was within my grasp. I took the opportunity to rest at Brora for an extended stop, only six miles from my destination but it was not as late as I my tiredness had me believe and I felt I had earned the break. Just over an hour later I had negotiated the last few gentle inclines of the day and was riding into the car park of the Golspie Inn on the edge of the village, my thoughts turning to rest and a hot shower.

John O’Groats

I am in John O’Groats, a selection of grey and pebble dashed houses seemingly sprinkled randomly around this distant corner of Scotland like some remote island settlement. And despite playing to its location it still has a sense of the untouched about it. Through my hotel dining room window, sheep filled pasture drops away to the harbour, to clear skies, and to a line of deep blue sea. In the near distance the flat silhouette of various Orkney Islands separate the two. It is a pleasing way to round off the day and a relaxing prelude to tougher times tomorrow when my journey proper begins.

The day started early. From my tiny bed in my tiny room I could see through the tiny window a small square of overcast Inverness sky. It did not look promising but the forecast was for better weather later and whatever the day held I felt refreshed, the frustrations of getting to Inverness lost to a night of sleep.  

I headed towards the station, had one of those breakfasts that is bad for the body but good for the soul, and killed time until I got on the train for my journey to Wick, the nearest railhead to John O’Groats and famous for once being the largest herring fishing port in Europe and for Ebenezer Place, at 6 feet 9 inches the shortest street in the world. It was a rail journey that followed parts of my cycle route for the first two days, such is the limited routing of transport infrastructure this far north: we skirted the bright and flat waters of the Cromarty and Dornoch Firths with their long stretches of exposed mud flats and their surfaces reflecting the surrounding hills; we ran alongside the eastern coastline with its small towns separated by stretches of endless sand and rocky beaches; and we crossed remote moorland and green valley floors surrounded on both sides by low hills and stretches of yellow gorse in full bloom.

I had over four hours of that remote Scottish landscape before I reached Wick and the start of a seventeen mile ride north to John O’Groats. It was a ride more memorable for the headwind than the views. On my right was the sea, to my left pasture and occasional farm buildings surrounded by the rusting remains of machinery and vehicles suggesting the mentality of the homesteader where nothing is thrown in case it might useful. Here though, any sense of real remoteness - of the wild of nature - was lost to the long stretches of manicured land past which I cycled, sectioned by stone walls and barbed wire fencing. I remembered little from the same ride fourteen years ago but I did remember clearly the climb around the edge of a barren hill three miles from John O’Groats, the views from the high point across to the Orkney Islands in the deep blue of the Pentland Firth, and further to the right the grey dots amid the green that make up John O’Groats. I remember too the long, sweeping descent to the village, last time done with two others but this time alone.

I have now reached the start of my ride. Tonight I will relax in my comfortable room, well fed and relaxed. Tomorrow the real effort begins.

Heading North

For me there is always a sense of trepidation just before I begin a big journey: butterflies in the stomach, a knot of uncertainty wrapping itself around my plans, and me wondering what might go wrong. I can only assume it is because I am in some middle ground between the organising and the doing, that point when my trip is almost upon me but when I still have time and space in my head with nothing else to fill it. Certainly once I start a trip - once ‘rubber hits road’ - the trip itself becomes my preoccupation and while problems do occur I am much more in the moment and deal with them as they arise. 

Maybe this time those worries were meant as some forewarning of how today would turn out: it has been a fraught journey. An overcrowded and late train from Bristol meant I missed my connection to a fast Edinburgh train at Birmingham. But as my Bristol train was also Edinburgh bound, just arriving later but not so late that I would miss my onward connection to Inverness, I need not worry. Or so I thought. That late train got later and, despite a valiant struggle with bike and baggage through the crowds of Edinburgh Waverley, I missed the train to Inverness by two minutes. I was re ticketed onto a slow route via Perth and up through Scottish Highland blackness, with old and tiny but familiar sounding stations - Pitlochry, Dalwhinnie, Aviemore - the only puddles of light on an otherwise dark journey. It was not until 11pm - over twelve hours after leaving Bristol - that I collapsed into my tiny, single room in some Inverness back street, tired from my trip and with thoughts of rest and sleep trumping thoughts of dinner.

A Tour through Britain

My trip from the far north to the far south west of Britain will take me through a variety of scenery and landscapes, some of which are considered among the finest in the country. I am hoping that in my anticipated thirteen days of cycling I will have time enough - and energy enough - to appreciate them. 

Heading south from John O’Groats, the first part of my journey will take me over a section of the Caithness hills and to the rugged east coast with its steep coves into small villages, once busy fishing ports. I follow the coastline until Inverness at which point my journey takes me inland.

That inland journey takes me into the beauty of the Great Glen, that diagonal geological scar across Scotland that goes from Inverness on the east coast to Fort William in the west. This section will take me alongside Loch Ness and two other main Lochs: Loch Oich and Loch Lochy. Fort William, known as the ‘outdoor capital of the UK’, is the point at which I head south again on a hilly route through the western edge of the Grampian Mountains, past Glen Coe, alongside Loch Lomond and into the massive conurbation of Glasgow, the largest city in Scotland.

After cycling through Glasgow, following a meandering route by the Clyde, my journey once again takes me due south, to the Scottish border and to Gretna Green, famous as a runaway wedding destination. My journey continues on through the southern hills of the Lake District and the halfway point of the ride.

South of the Lake District I head through the suburban chaos of northern English cities and towns that lie between Manchester and Liverpool and then into the West Midlands - Much Wenlock, Kidderminster, Worcester - loosely following the course of the River Severn until Gloucester. I am then on familiar territory as I continue for a night at home in Corsham.

Corsham is the point from which I head south west and the final leg of my journey. A pleasingly flat section through the Somerset Levels takes me to the market town of Taunton and from there I head into the South West Peninsula of Devon and Cornwall. I pass through Exeter and across Dartmoor National Park before heading towards the old copper mining town of Liskeard. I briefly brush the coast at St Austell, head inland to Truro and am then back by the coast again at Penzance. It is then one final push along the last few miles to Land’s End and the conclusion of my journey.

Preparing

As in my cycle rides across Spain and across Europe to the Black Sea I will be self supporting on this latest trip: all I need for the duration of my journey will be carried with me on my bicycle. My ride from John O’Groats to Land’s End is some 950 miles, long by any standard but still significantly shorter than the distances I covered in Spain or when cycling to the Black Sea. This then will be a journey of days rather than weeks, although during that time my daily distances will be consistently further and the terrain will be consistently tougher than for those other two journeys.

Fourteen years ago I used my road bike, lighter and faster for a given level of effort: that effort might take me around forty percent further on the road bike than on my heavier hybrid. This time though I will be on the heavier bicycle, slower but more suited for rougher roads and better able to carry loads. It is the same bicycle that has seen me through many long trips in England and Wales and my more recent trips overseas; to date it has served me well. 

My main preparation effort for this trip has been in route planning. There are any number of routes that people use to cycle between Land’s End and John O’Groats: via the west of Britain, via the east of Britain, avoiding main roads, maximising use of Sustrans cycleways. There is no official route. For my part I wanted to get a balance of maximising my average speed by using quieter main roads (generally less hilly and longer but which may not follow the most direct route), and of minimising distance by linking smaller roads that are more direct (but which slows you down with more focus required on navigation and more junctions to negotiate). I had already decided I would stay west in order to again enjoy cycling Glen Coe and along the Great Glen so my route through Scotland left few options and was quickly sorted. South of Scotland though, with more road choices and more traffic, planning required more thought. Apart from the dog leg through Scotland and up the Great Glen my 950 mile route is two relatively straight lines, one to the south and a night at home here in Corsham, and the next to the south west and Land’s End. Each is a mix of main roads where I expect them to be quiet, more minor roads and, where they help, parts of the Sustrans national cycle network. In some areas I will be able to cycle for large parts of the day on one or two roads, in others I will be more focused on navigation as I follow a series of quiet roads to maintain my general direction.

The route is planned and entered into my navigation computer, a necessity for the more fragmented sections, and in a few days from today I will be turning that planning on paper into miles on the road.

Introduction

In 2012 I cycled from Land's End to John O'Groats, a journey that often forms something of a rite of passage among long distance cyclists in the UK. Although not a regular cyclist, for some time I had looked on it as an ‘interesting’ challenge, something that appealed to that sliver of an adventurous streak that lay within. For a while it remained no more than an aspiration as I was distracted by other activities and by less demanding ways of spending a two week break. I am therefore forever grateful to John, my neighbour and a fellow rider on that 2012 trip, who provided the focus that helped make that interesting challenge a reality. In doing so he opened up a new world of what might be achieved through cycling and changed what had previously been occasional and unadventurous ventures into something more regular and more enterprising. Those twelve long and saddle-sore days from the far south west to the far north were to become the start of something bigger. Cycling has subsequently taken me on various trips around Britain and other countries. It has allowed me to see far more of those places than I might otherwise have done, taking me through more remote areas and at a pace that allowed me to appreciate them more fully. 

The last three years have, among other things, seen me cycle across Europe to the Black Sea and from the north to the south of Spain. Nevertheless, despite those adventurous forays overseas, my thoughts have never strayed far from home and for a while John and I have been talking about a reverse of our 2012 trip, cycling from John O'Groats to Land's End. Like the 2012 trip this was to be supported, that is a third party would follow us in a vehicle carrying our baggage and any essential spares. Although that trip, originally planned for this year, has now been slipped by twelve months the idea of a 2026 long-distance British ride had now been firmly planted in my mind. As a result that joint and supported John O’Groats to Land's End ride has now become a solo and unsupported effort. 

On this ride I will be doing the reverse of that which most others would tackle: Land's End is the more common starting point for those attempting this trip, the prevailing south westerly winds helping you along on your journey - although from what I recall from fourteen years ago that is no guarantee. There is also no prescribed route from start to finish: our original route took us west through Glasgow and along the 'Great Glen' to Inverness; other routes stay east and pass through Edinburgh. For my part, the ride through Glen Coe and along the Great Glen was a highlight and I am keen to repeat that section so this year I aim to follow a similar - though not identical- route to that of 2012. Next year's route will follow the alternative, more easterly course. With slightly different routes and the different challenges for a supported and an unsupported ride I feel there is enough to make the two journeys sufficiently dissimilar that doing both would not be wasted effort.

Approximate Route