It was her fault - Josie Dew.
We 
were at Rob and Hanni's final party in Over in the summer of 2003, and Rob, keen cyclist that he is, thought I should meet Adrian and Carin. They were addicts, and raved about this book they'd just read. Well, they lent it to us, and I was hooked. 'The Wind in my Wheels' is inspirational, and when the following New Year arrived, Katie said "I think you should do it this year".
I've said for many years that one day I'll cycle from Land's End to John O'Groats, and we suddenly realised that there was perhaps a small window between the years of family holidays, and that time when the old body might not be up to it. Josie Dew writes very entertainingly about travelling by pedal power, and if a chit of a girl like that can do it, well ... why not?
For any budding cycling tourist, the book is a must-read.
I've always enjoyed cycling, and travelling round the countryside at that speed unassisted by motor power in the fresh air gives me a great deal of enjoyment. Land's End to John O'Groats (or LEJOG, or End to End) is a well beaten path, not only by cyclists. Even so, it is the ultimate British bike ride. As I write this now, having done it, a ride from say Cherbourg to Biaritz seems much more attractive: better roads, better weather, better camp sites, and better food and drink. But you've got to do LEJOG first.
So the preparations began.
For anybody who needs a reason, here's an extract from another of Josie Dew's books 'Slow Coast Home' - a 5000 mile cycle journey round the shores of England And Wales.
Cyclists say that you cannot beat travelling by bicycle - it is neither too fast nor too slow but is just the right speed for noticing things worth noticing.
[...]
With the media full of news about rapes, murders, child molesters, sex offenders and thieves, it is easy to forget just how nice the majority of the people living in Britain are. Before venturing forth on Vera, I had been disillusioned into thinking that the place was full of suspicious characters. It was a pleasant surprise to discover that such undesirables form only a tiny minority; riding through Britain from toe to tip, I found everyone (with one exception) to be chatty, friendly, generous, interesting, hospitable and humorous.
And the countryside, too - I had forgotten just how beautiful it was. When I was seventeen, I cycled round the coast of Britain and Ireland without really appreciating it; although I loved what I saw, I was more wrapped up in the adventure of cycling off alone somewhere. But now, slowly wending my way along narrow and leafy country lanes, I realized not only what a lovely land it was but also how tragically it was being ruined and overrun by the absurd volume of traffic. Cycling over Dartmoor at eight mph, for example, I overtook a continuous line of crawling traffic. The car parks were packed - but not with the vehicles of those who wanted to go for a brisk hike across the rolling moorland. Rather, they 'stretched their legs' with a return trip to Mr Whippy's ice-cream van and then sat encapsulated in their hot metal boxes, eating and licking their lips before rejoining the jams.
In the sizzling sunshine, I passed families cooped up in their cars; the offspring were fighting over a bag of crisps on the back seat, mother was tetchy and in tears, while father steamed and head-butted the steering wheel. I thought: those poor people. Like a fairy godmother I wanted to wave my magic wand (a bicycle pump) and introduce them to the joys of one or two or three wheels. They would have been so much happier mounted on a tandem, the children racing alongside enjoying the wind, the sun and the fresh air. But the majority of people seem to regard bicycles as toys, things for children, certainly not something to take seriously as a 'proper' form of transport. They often say to me, 'When I was your age I used to ride everywhere, I did.'
'So why don't you now?' I ask.
'Oooh! You must be joking! I couldn't - not any more,' they say, 'it would kill me at my age. And it's so dangerous, too.'It is all a myth. Cycling is easy. There is no race, unless you want one. You go at your own speed, taking your time, and these days there are gears so low that you can ride up a wall - no trouble. As for danger, as long as you ride sensibly and take precautions, I believe cycling is no more dangerous than driving a car.
Today the roads are choking with traffic. I become exasperated when a constant convoy of cars passes me as I cycle along. Where are all those people going? Wherever it is, they do not usually have to go there, or at least not so often. Maybe most of them just drive around in circles.
As a result of my increasing addiction to cycling, I discovered that the more I depended upon my bicycle, the more I disliked cars. I admit they are useful and convenient but it is an overrated convenience which is surreptitiously taking over our lives and making too many people lazy and overweight. Life, it seems, has become too easy and we are paying for that with poor health, stress and dirty air.
Apart from the havoc that cars create in the world at large, they can also do strange things to their drivers. Once inside a car, a perfectly pleasant person seems to undergo a personality transformation and turns into some sort of snarling devil at the mere flick of the ignition key. Normally sane and responsible people can turn nasty the moment they get behind the wheel: they suddenly decide that they are invincible as well as infallible and they let off psychological steam from within the apparent security of their vehicles, releasing pent-up frustration and subconscious aggression in a way they would never do on foot.
Cars have become quiet, cosy cocoons which give drivers a sense of isolation and privacy. How often do you see someone sitting in the car next to you, inches away, quite blatantly cleaning their ears or picking their noses? It is a habit that they would scrupulously avoid in any other public place but, safely ensconced in their comfortable compartment, they feel insulated from the real world outside their glass windows.
Perhaps I am something of an ozone-free, stinging-nettle tea sort of person but I do not wear sandals, nor a beard. I just love cycling, that is all, and hate to see and be threatened by the multiplying swarms of vehicles on the roads - vehicles which kill not only their own occupants but also pedestrians, animals, cyclists and the surroundings. By simply getting 'on yer bike' you can reduce the traffic, help clean the air, improve your health and alleviate your own feelings of stress. At the same time you would be ensuring that fewer new roads carve up the countryside. The billions of pounds could go on something more useful than making another lane for the M25 and the environment as a whole would be healthier and happier.
That's WHY!