Land’s End to John O’Groats

Penzance - Land's End - Lizard - Falmouth

Not knowing what might be open at that time of the morning and not wanting to delay my start, I'd brought a plastic bowl of cereal with me and, having bought some milk from a supermarket, I tucked into breakfast sitting by the harbour, then it was off to Land's End.

Penzance to Land's End doesn't look too bad on the map, but there's a few steep hills to be surmounted right from the start. Just as I set off it began drizzling, lightly at first but getting much heavier as I went along until, about half way, I was surrounded by thick, clinging fog. As Land's End neared I could hear the sound of the foghorn ahead.

I got to Land's End at about 9.30. Unfortunately I arrived just after a tractor which had driven all the way from John O'Groats on recycled chip pan oil, and it took them a long time to manoeuvre into position for the obligatory photograph by the signpost. As a result by the time I'd had my photo taken – a bit of a waste of time as not much was visible in the fog – registered at the start, and ridden to the very cliff edge, it was 11 o'clock by the time I got under way.

The run back into Penzance was a lot easier, and the sun soon began to break through the murk. It was lunchtime by the time I got to Helston so I stopped for a bite to eat, then I continued on to The Lizard. Suddenly remembering my brother's birthday, I stopped to buy a card, then it was off to Helford. I made good time over the downs at Goonhilly and through the narrow lanes, but then I got lost trying to find the ferry landing stage and finally reached it just in time to see the 4.10 boat heading out across the river.

The hour's wait for the next boat was quite chilly, and I'd lost the rhythm I needed to tackle the steep climb up on the far side. The delays had set me back badly. I'd expected not only to be able to get the ferry to St Mawes that evening but to get as far as Par. However, by the time I got to Falmouth the last boat had gone, so I set about finding a B&B for the night.

55 miles from LE, 65 miles today.

Falmouth - St Mawes - St Austell - Fowey - Liskeard - Gunnislake

I'd hoped for an early start to make up some the the previous day's lost time but the first ferry from Falmouth wasn't until 9.30, but even so, it set out into a thick morning mist. The first day had taught me that I was carrying far too much, so I'd sorted through my panniers the previous evening and when I got to St Mawes I sent a large parcel home. Which was just in time in view of the very steep climb out of the village!

Despite the hills it involved, I'd chosen the route along the south coast to avoid using busy main roads and it came as a shock when I had to join the A390 for a few miles into St Austell. It put me completely off the idea of main road riding. From St Austell I found a back way to Par, where I joined the road to Fowey, with yet another steep climb.

From Fowey I crossed on the Bodinnick Ferry and tackled the inevitable steep climb out of the valley. I wanted to avoid using the A390 again so I made my way through narrow lanes and up and down more steep hills through St Pinnock to get to Liskeard. The A390 is a quieter road east of Liskeard but it involves a lot of climbing, reaching almost 700 feet beyond Callington. I got to Gunnislake at about 7.15 and, with my legs and knees protesting loudly, decided to stop for the night at the Cornish Inn, a few yards short of the Devon border. I made the mistake of having a pint or two before going up to my room, so my evening meal was a little late!

115 miles from LE, 60 today.

Gunnislake - Tavistock - Okehampton - Crediton - Tiverton - Wellington

Stopping for the night in a beautiful river valley is all very well but when I left Gunnislake next morning I was faced with the massive climb. The main road, which winds up the hill was very busy so I opted for the old road which is quiet and straight, but much, much steeper. The four miles to Tavistock took me nearly an hour! Then, after stopping to get my route card stamped at the post office, I set off over the flank of Dartmoor to Okehampton.

The steadier climb onto the moor was welcome but I did find myself wondering for the first time what I had left myself in for. I was on my third day and hardly out of Cornwall. And, as many other people have found, I began to reflect on many aspects of my life. A trip like this, especially a solitary one, has the potential to be life-changing.

At Sourton I turned off the A386 onto the new cycle path just opened on the course of the old Southern Railway Exeter to Plymouth main line. The tarred path ran downhill to Meldon Viaduct, a tall, spindly structure which crosses 150 feet above the West Okement River. After lunching at Okehampton I tackled the climb up out of the town and then had a good run through to Crediton. From there to Bickleigh, on the other hand, involved a 4-mile climb of over 600 feet, followed by a similar (and more than welcome) descent into the valley of the River Exe, and an easy ride into Tiverton.

I left Tiverton along the old railway path, forgetting how rough parts of it were. I thought about stopping at Sampford Peverell, but it was too early for that so I joined the A38 (blissfully empty as the traffic uses the adjoining M5) and pushed on into Wellington. I found a B&B where I not only had a very comfortable night's sleep and an excellent breakfast but even a massage to revive my aching leg muscles.

180 miles from LE, 65 today.

Wellington - Taunton - Athelney - Glastonbury - Wells - Frome - Westbury - Market Lavington

I left Wellington under a cloudless sky and continued up the A38 to Taunton. I'd thought about turning off the A38 onto the lanes through Bradford on Tone but I found myself behind a lady cyclist who went that way and it might have looked as though I was following her. In any case the A38 was very quiet. From Taunton I headed out onto the Somerset Levels, following quiet lanes out to Athelney (scene of the burning of King Alfred's cakes) and Burrow Bridge.

After a brief stretch of main road to Othery, I joined up with another cyclist for a few miles until he turned north, heading home for Bristol. I continued on to Glastonbury, where I stopped for lunch. I'd planned to have a look at the Abbey but all view of it was blocked by a new visitor centre and gift shop, and the admission charge seemed rather steep for a quick visit.

From Glastonbury I made my way through the lanes to the beautiful city of Wells, taking advantage of the easy riding for once through Wells I was faced by the Mendips and a climb to nearly 1000 feet. It didn't help that the temperature was soaring into the high 90s, and I found myself dashing from one tree-shaded stretch of road to the next, drinking vast quantities of water as I went.

I finally reached the summit near Oakhill and began the fast run down to Frome – too fast, as it turned out, because I ran into a massive pot hole on the way, which was to cause me problems later. From Frome I headed for Westbury, where I'd planned to stop for the night but it turned out that B&Bs were thin on the ground. Eventually by ringing around I found a rather pricy one a few miles further on at Lavington. Unfortunately, being a Sunday, by the time I got there and changed I was too late to get a meal in a local pub, so I had to settle for a snack meal from the village shop. It made for a disappointing end to a very hot day.

256 miles from LE, 76 miles today.

Market Lavington - Pewsey - Burbage - Great Bedwyn - Hungerford - Newbury - Cholsey

I'd left the B&B and cycled half a mile when I heard the distinctive 'ping' of a spoke breaking, the after effect, no doubt, of hitting the pot hole the previous evening. Now I can fix basic bike problems but not a broken spoke, especially when it's on the rear wheel drive-side, which requires the removal of the gear cassette. The distortion of the wheel meant that I had to disconnect the back brakes so I headed very cautiously to Pewsey, the nearest town of any size.

I soon found a shop advertising bike repairs but just as quickly discovered that its skills didn't go far beyond mending a puncture, but they knew someone who might be able to help. "‘Go down the road past the pub and you’ll find a turning on the left – an unmade lane. Go up there and on the left there’s a big shed. The retired chap who owns it is always tinkering with bikes. You might be lucky and find him in."

My hopes rose, but when I got to the shed it was locked. Next door hadn’t seen him that morning and didn’t know where he lived. My spirits slumped. I’d have to ride another 8 slow miles to Bedwyn and take the train from there into Newbury. I was already a day behind schedule and this was making it worse.

I walked back to the road and, on the spur of the moment, instead of setting off straight away, I decided to get a sandwich for lunch. As I left the shop I heard a voice behind me. "I gather you were looking for me. Do you need some help?" My guardian angel was obviously looking after me. We returned to the shed and I was ushered into a veritable Aladdin’s Cave of bikes. Within an hour I was on my way.

I left Pewsey on the country lanes which skirt the edge of the Savernake Forest, then paralleling both railway and canal through Great Bedwyn, Hungerford, and Kintbury to Newbury. I was heading for Wallingford, on the Thames, but the afternoon was fast disappearing. Bearing in mind my difficulty in finding B&B the previous night, and the cost of it, I decided on a change of plan. I could catch a train from Cholsey and be home in little more than an hour. There I could catch up on some washing and unload yet more excess baggage.

315 miles from LE, only 59 miles today.

Cholsey - Wallingford - Chinnor - Wendover - Dunstable - Hitchin - Buntingford - Newport (Essex)

I left home to get the first train of the morning with the idea of being back in Cholsey by soon after seven. I was now a day and a half behind schedule and I wanted to make some real progress. However, as I set off down the road I realised I’d left my water bottles behind and by the time I’d gone back for them I’d missed the train. The next one was late, and so it was nearly a quarter to nine by the time I got to Cholsey. Then, as I stepped out of the station, there was a bright flash of lightning, a crash of thunder, and the heavens opened. I waited for nearly half an hour before the rain eased from torrential to steady. So much for my good intentions!

I'd plotted a route along the ancient Lower Icknield Way which would take me from Wallingford to Luton and Dunstable. The road runs along below the Chiltern ridge but it crosses countless spurs of those hills, so there's plenty of ups and downs. Most of it was very scenic and I enjoyed it. I had problems finding my way out of Hitchin onto a minor road which squeezed between Stevenage and Letchworth, but I got there in the end.

I finally reach Newport but as there was no B&B to be found I continued on into Saffron Walden. Both the pubs there were full, as were all the B&Bs in the area. It was begiining to get late, so I decided to head for Audley End and catch a train into Cambridge. I was bound to find a B&B there. I did – the only one with any vacancies wanted £45 and it looked as though all their other guests had been sent there by the Social Services. I declined the offer.

Not being quite sure what to do next I headed back to the station. Then I noticed that there was a train to Attleborough, only 5 miles from my parents' home. I rang them and asked if they could collect me just after 11. I finally got to bed at 1.

406 miles from LE, 91 today – not bad but 6 of that was a wasted trip to Saffron Walden and back

Newport (Essex) - Sudbury - Needham Market - Halesworth - Lowestoft - Harleston - New Buckenham

I was up at 7 and on the 8.40 train from Attleborough, getting back to Audley End about 10.20. It was a warm day with a good breeze blowing on my back. I'd also left most of my luggage with my parents, with whom I was due to spend that next night anyway. As a result, I flew along, with only a brief diversion through the ancient town of Lavenham for entertainment. On a mixture of easy B-roads and country lanes I wound my way eastwards through Needham Market, Framlingham, and Halesworth, pausing only for the briefest of moments in each. Towns and villages passed by almost in a flash, and I pulled into Lowestoft at about 7.30 in the evening.

I'd expected to find the 'most easterly point' well publicised but in the end there was only a signpost pointing into an industrial estate. Tucked away at the back was Ness Point. After the obligatory photographs I was on my way again and I rolled up at my parents at 11 that night.

526 miles from LE, 120 miles today.

New Buckenham - Watton - Downham Market - Wisbech

I left my parents at about 10.30, having woken very late and still feeling very tired. I'd planned for this to be a 100-mile day across the easy Norfolk landscape but it turned out to be a very windy day and soon after I set out it began raining. The rain got heavier and heavier and by the time I got out onto the Fens it was blowing almost horizontally.

I stopped in the only shelter I could find, a petrol station. As the rain was blowing straight under the canopy I sought refuge in the tiny shop-cum-office. After half an hour the less-than-friendly attendant suggested that I might like to buy something. I opted for a packet of crisps. After an hour it became clear that the rain wasn't going to ease so I set off. I got as far as Wisbech, very wet and very tired, and decided to give up for the day. I cycled into the town centre and then found that I passed the only B&B around with vacancies back on the outskirts. Not one of the best days!

585 miles from LE, only 59 today.

Wisbech - Spalding - Heckington - Lincoln

I left Wisbech at about 8.30, pausing in the town for some supplies. The rain had stopped, though it was very cloudy and often threatening, and the wind was blowing strongly from the north-west, just the direction in which I was headed. For some reason I took a rather long-winded route across to Spalding, adding an extra 5 miles onto the journey. When the wind was bringing my speed down as low as 6 or 7 mph that was rather silly. It was worse after Spalding where the route involved five straight, flat miles with a head-on 25mph wind blowing across the Fens.

Fortunately at Dowsby the route turned north and the going was much easier. The scenery, running along the fen edge, was also a little more varied, with hills rising to the west.

I arrived in Lincoln at about 7pm and was lucky to find a B&B as an air show at nearby RAF Waddington had attracted visitors to the city. I wasn't the miost salubrious I'd ever encountered but it was a bed.

662 miles from LE, 77 today, not too bad considering the wind but 5 of them unnecessary.

Lincoln - Goole - Selby - Tadcaster

Next morning I followed the ridge running north from Lincoln passing Scampton airfield, before turning off onto quiet lanes. I'd picked a route that skirted Gainsborough, passed through the rather lovely and peaceful Laughton Forest, and then headed along the east bank of the River Trent. Not that I could see much of the river because of the high flood banks.

At Althorpe I crossed to the west bank of the river on a combined rail and road bridge of supreme ugliness. The area around Scunthorpe is not usually though of as a beauty spot, but the marshland around the confluence of the Trent and the Ouse was very isolated and much of it very beautiful apart from some intrusive power lines. I passed the 700-mile point – making this my longest tour yet – and felt like a celebratory pint, but all the pubs were closed! Goole, or the port area at least, was very depressing.

At this point I decided to change my plans. My original intention had been to travel through York, but due to my delays I'd have arrived there in the midst of the CTC's annual York Cycle Show. Finding a B&B might have been a problem so I decided to bypass the city. To get a few miles under my belt I decided to use the main road pass the massive Drax power station. You only realise how large it is when you turn onto the approach road and it dawns on you that it's still 4 miles away.

I passed through Selby – I couldn't afford the time to stop but it looked well worth a longer visit – and then continued on through Cawood and Ulleskelf into Tadcaster.

I had to hunt around for a B&B but eventually found one. In the evening I walked into the town and found a very pleasant bistro for a meal. I ended up talking with a couple who had noticed my End to End t-shirt and saw me studying the map. After talking for a while they stood up and announced to the assembled diners what I was doing and raised almost £90 for my charity sponsorship.

As a result of this I was very late returning to my B&B. The house was in darkness when I got there. I tried my key in the front door but it refused to turn. My first thought was that I’d been locked out, but then I realised that, worse than that, I’d come to the wrong house. I’d lost my bearings in an estate of exactly similar houses. Just then, an upstairs window flew open and the suspicious householder leaned out. I hastily explained my presence and then beat an equally hasty retreat. The last thing I wanted was for the police to turn up, demanding to know why I was trying to get into a strange house, and why I had £90 of banknotes and loose change in my possession.

743 miles from LE, 81 today.

Tadcaster - Knaresborough - Pateley Bridge - Grassington

After my late night escapade and it being a Sunday, it was 10.30 before I left Tadcaster. Soon after starting out I came across a cycling club who were on an outing from York to Knaresborough. They tucked me inside their column, breaking the wind for me, and we hurtled along for miles at a pace that was frightening, considering my well-laden bike, the distance I’d already cycled, and the distance I'd yet to do. But it was exhilarating being part of a column of twenty or thirty riders, powering up and down hills and sweeping round bends with a momentum of its own. But it was also exhausting, as I was soon to discover. At least I didn't have to do any navigating, though I've no idea what route we took.

At Knaresborough the cycling club stopped for lunch before starting the return leg of their trip, and as I continued on my way they lined the edge of the road and applauded. It brought a lump to my throat and a tear to my eye. I’d love to have ridden triumphantly out of town but as soon as I was out of sight down the road I pulled in to the kerb to recover!

From Knaresborough the scenery changes, gradually at first but as I entered Nidderdale it was obvious I was in the Pennines as the hills got bigger and more frequent. After Pateley Bridge there was no doubt about it. A massive climb of 1,000 feet, miles of it, much of it at 1-in-6, took me up onto the moors. It was very beautiful even though the weather had changed to match the bleak moorland scenery, to which the thin cries of a flock of lapwings gave an even lonelier feel. But it was also very demanding and I was regretting the use of so much energy earlier in the day. This countryside is not to be trifled with.

I got to Grassington just before 5. I could stop a bit earlier than I'd planned or I could push on to Hawes, at least another 3 hours of hard climbing. The early bath won.

787 miles from LE, 44 today, with a lot of climbing.

Grassington - Hawes - Garsdale Head - Kirkby Stephen - Appleby - Langwathby

The first hour was along the minor road to Conistone and Kettlewell, which was easy going but the recently resurfaced road was melting in the already hot day. At Buckden I turned off into the bit of Wharfdale that is known as Langstrothdale on the road for Hawes. The scenery was utterly majestic but the climbing soon began in earnest. In the 7½ miles from Buckden the road climbs continuously from 750 feet to over 1900 feet at Fleet Moss, the highest point by far that I was to reach on my ride.

Running down the other side was steep, with sheep running around all over, so I had to keep my speed under control, and stop from time to time to let my wheel rims cool. I passed through Gayle and into busy Hawes, in Wensleydale. After a brief stop for lunch I headed out for lonely Garsdale Head and then over Ais Gill summit. The climb of over 400 feet from Hawes seemed easy compared to the morning's efforts.

From there the ride was downhill through Kirkby Stephen and Warcop, followed by a frightening couple of miles on the A66 to Appleby. Not wanting to risk the main road any more, I diverted off through Colby and Bolton, adding a few extra hilly but worthwhile miles. Then I crossed the A66 and continued through Culgaith to Langwathby. There I found a superb B&B on the C2C route and spent a pleasant evening in the village pub with a couple who were cycling that route.

852 miles from LE, 65 today, not at all bad considering the climbing.

Langwathby - Lazonby - Armathwaite - Carlisle - Gretna - Beattock - Moffat

I'd reckoned on the 20-mile run into Carlisle being a downhill doddle but it took me nearly three hours, albeit with a couple of shop stops. The route I took was very up and down but I thought it would be better than the A6. It was certainly very pleasant and very quiet right up until the last couple of miles into Carlisle.

I left Carlisle using the quiet lanes followed by the Reivers Way through Rockcliffe, but then the busy A74 offers the only handy way across the River Esk to the Scottish border. When the A74 became the M74 I turned off into Gretna. After having a picture taken at the Welcome to Scotland sign by a passing couple who lived just two miles from my own home, and visiting the blacksmith's, I joined the old A74 (now demoted to a B-road, and adopted as a cycleway). It was quiet as far as traffic was concerned but the adjacent motorway made for a noisy ride through Lockerbie and on to Beattock.

The motorway appeared to have killed the little village of Beattock, with both the hotel and the caravan park closed. I headed into Moffatt and found a B&B where they welcome ramblers and the husband was a cyclist. The owner noticed the odd angle at which I was holding my neck and arranged for an emergency massage to help get it back into shape.

916 miles from LE, 64 today.

Moffat - Abington - Douglas - Rutherglen - Clyde Tunnel - Erskine Bridge

I left Moffatt, an appealing little town, and headed back to the old main road north. The climb began almost immediately but although it was a long pull there was only one stretch that was at all steep. Or perhaps I was getting used to it – after 12 miles I crested the 1000-feet top at 14mph!

The cycleway continued all the way over the top, at first in the form of cycle lanes on the road and then, after Abington, half of the old dual carriageway as been turned into a separate cycle track. Which is fine, except that at Douglas the cycle route ends and you're left to compete with the traffic on the way into Glasgow. At Douglas I met a young couple with a small child who had left Land's End back in May and were taking it at a steady 40 miles a day.

The run into Glasgow started well enough but the traffic soon became very heavy. I diverted through Rutherglen in search of the A8, which would have taken me to my night's stop with relatives near Greenock. But (probably fortunately) the A8 proved elusive and, after a pleasant tour of the Glasgow suburbs, some of them twice, a sign for the Clyde Tunnel looked encouraging, so I used it to cross to the north bank of the river. This I followed through Clydebank to the Erskine Bridge, which I crossed to reached Bishopton, from where I caught a train along the river.

989 miles from LE, 73 today plus an extra 5 off route to get to Bishopton, an excellent total considering it included Beattock summit.

Erskine Bridge - Dumbarton - Balloch - Tarbert - Crianlarich - Tyndrum

The morning got off to a slow start. I caught the train back to Bishopton and popped into the post office there, forgetting it was pension day! Then, having finally got to the front of the queue and after crossing back over the Erskine Bridge (and experiencing the alarming way in which the cycle path sways as heavy lorries pass by), I called into Dumbarton for supplies, and it was nearly 11.30 by the time I was away from there. I followed the cycle route along the River Leven, which was slow, mostly through having to avoid vast quantities of broken glass. It wasn't quite the ideal place in which to celebrate passing the 1000-mile mark.

This took me to Balloch, where I joined the A82 beside Loc Lomond. It was easy going but busy in parts. You're aware of thge scenery but the need to look out for the traffic means you're not really able to take it all in. From near sea level at the head of the loch the road clims to 600 feet in the 8 miles to Crianlarich followed by a further, if easier climb to Tyndrum. There were a lot of B&Bs along the loch-side and more around Crianlarich, but by the time I got to Tyndrum there were only one or two, and costly ones at that.

I had to stop early as there's really nowhere else for miles north of Tyndrum.

1041 miles from LE, 52 today plus an extra 5 off route from Bishopton.

Tyndrum - Rannoch Moor - Glen Coe - Ballachulish - Corran Ferry - Strontian - Kilchoan

I took what I assumed might be the last chance of a mobile phone signal to ring the office to tell them where I was. I was due back at work on the Monday morning but as they'd been monitoring my progress they'd already guessed I was unlikely to make that deadline. They'd also assumed that I wasn't going to give up at that point!

From Tyndrum it's straight into the climb. There's a slight respite before Bridge of Orchy but after Loch Tulla, where (despite it being all but July) there was still snow on the surrounding peaks, the climb started in earnest with a hairpin bend taking the road high up the hillside, over 300 feet in a mile, and another 150 in the mile after that. In fact, it seemed surprisingly easy. Get into granny gear and crawl slowly up the gradient, accepting that it's not one to be rushed on a loaded tourer.

Then suddenly, the gradient eased and I was out onto the bleak plateau of Rannoch Moor, heading towards the twin peaks of Buachaille Etive Mor and Beinn a Chrulaiste, guarding the entrance to Glen Coe, and marking the beginning of a tremendous 12-mile run back down to sea level. I paused at the visitor centre for a personal needs break (there are no bushes to hide behind on Rannoch Moor) and met a host of cyclists heading south on a CTC tour of the Islands.

A high speed run took me down to Ballachulish and over the bridge to Onich and the Corran Ferry, which would take me over onto the Ardnamurchan peninsula. The ferry was waiting as I arrived and I rode straight on. A few minutes later I was eating lunch on the slipway at Ardgour on the far side.

The first few miles of my trip out to Ardnamurchan began on the A861 which, at this point, is a fairly broad, level, and open road running along the seas shore. As I passed seals could be seen swimming just off the coast and the week before my visit an evening ferry journey had witnessed a battle between a seal and a large salmon.

After 5 miles the road swings inland and climbs up into Glen Tarbert, hemmed in between 2,500 feet mountain ridges towering up spectacularly on either side. After climbing up to over 300 feet the road drops back down to sea level and you're soon at Strontian, the main town on the peninsula, where I popped into the Tourist Information Office to book accommodation in Kilchoan.

Then it was back off again. The road becomes narrower now and, although it hugs the shore, it starts to undulate wildly. One moment it's at sea level, the next a steep 200 feet up the hillside, very reminiscent of Cornwall. At Salen I turned off the A861 onto the even narrower B8007, passing through a very un-Scottish forest of oak, birches, hazel and ash. For a short while the road runs along the shore but then begins to undulate once more as it heads towards Glenborrodale and Glenmore, where you'll find the Ardnamurchan Natural History Centre.

After Glenmore the road continues to undulate but then it suddenly turns inland and starts to climb up and up, passing over the flank of Ben Hiant, the Holy Mountain. It crosses wild, lonely moorland, a complete contrast to the almost homely coastal stretch, before curving round Beinn Nan Losgann, with Loch Mudle down below on the right. Then, in the distance is Kilchoan, and it's a downhill run the rest of the way.

1122 miles from LE, 81 today despite all the climbing!

Kilchoan - Ardnamurchan Point - Kilchoan - Strontian - Corran Ferry - Fort William

I slept in late after yesterday's demanding day, which scuppered my vague idea of heading out to the lighthouse before breakfast! This was just as well, because when I finally left at 10 I didn't get back from the 12-mile round trip until 1, despite leaving all my gear at the Kilchoan House Hotel, where I'd spent an excellent night. "There's no great hills" Alan, the landlord, assured me. I think he might have forgotten the 300 feet climb in the first mile or so out of Kilchoan! It all became worthwhile though, when, on the way back from the lighthouse, an eagle flew overhead.

After having lunch in Kilchoan I set off on my way. I'd planned to head north and take the road through Glenfinnan, but Alan warned that the road northwards was long and hilly. Seeing how he thought the road to the lighhouse was flat, I took this news very seriously and decided to return via the Corran Ferry instead. I wasn't looking forward to the climb out of Kilchoan but the approach from the west isn't as bad as that from the east.

Ardnamurchan was an amazing, almost magical place, and I was reluctant to leave it, which perhsp explains why I took so long to do so. It was 7 by the time I got to the Corran Ferry and the next departure wasn't till 7.30. When I got to the other side I asked about B&B at the hotel, as it was turning rather cool, but it was a tad too expensive and I pushed on to Fort William, along what is normaly a very busy road.

1190 miles from LE, 78 today, a lot further than I expected.

Fort William - Spean bridge - Fort Augustus - Inverness - Alness

As I left Fort William it became obvious that the wind was blowing a lot more strongly that the weather forecast had suggested. A 20mph wind blowing from the north-east was going to be right in my face as I cycled up the Great Glen and I felt the impact as soon as I turned off at Spean Bridge.

The ride was pleasant enough, although on the A82 you can never really forget the traffic. Between it and the wind it detracted from the scenery, but then the scenery had a hard job measuring up to Rannoch Moor, Glen Coe and Ardnamurchan. Fort Augustus was very attractive but the other places on the edge of Loch Ness were very touristy.

It was nearly five o'clock as I passed through Inverness and headed out over the Kessock Bridge. The Tourist Information Centre was closing as I arrived, but the manager came out and suggested a name to contact for B&B in Alness. It was another 20 miles across the neck of the Black Isle, and another climb of over 500 feet, which I could have done without, but it was a good recommendation and it helped to get a few more miles on my total. However, by the time I got there my shoulders were very painful, which the first signs for John O'Groats (still 100 miles away) did little to overcome.

1278 miles from LE, 88 today.

Alness - Tain - Golspie - Brora - Helmsdale - Wick

I was supposed to be back at work today, but here I was in the Far North of Scotland, still pedalling away. I spotted a physiotherapists in Alness and thought about having my shoulders massaged as they were becoming extremely rigid. But time was short and I decided to press on, a decision I was soon to regret. Within a few miles, despite the bright sunshine the cold, strong wind was picking up and giving me agony. The undulating coast road through Golspie and Brora was delightful, and at 4 o'clock I arrived at Helmsdale.

I asked in the Tourist Office about accommodation and they recommended pressing on to Wick, though with a warning about the hills ahead of me. "You'll know when you've got to the top" they said, "you'll see the llamas!" So it was with some trepidation that I set out on the 37-mile trip to Wick, expecting to arrive about 9 o'clock.

The hill out of Helmsdale was all that they promised – a long drag up to 800 feet round countless hairpin bends, then an abrupt descent into Berriedale, followed by an equally abrupt 13% climb up to 500 feet again. After that things got better but it was still hard, painful work in the fierce wind and the gathering gloom. To try and ease my aching shoulders I put on two jerseys plus an old windproof jacket, but all that did was make me sweat profusely and get very damp inside.

Beyond Latheron, where the A9 went off to Thurso, I began counting the miles down, one by one, singing to myself to keep my spirits and momentum up. It was supposed to have the effect of a shanty, but it must have sounded more like a dirge.

It started to get tempting to hail down a passing lorry or bus, but I couldn't do that after all this way. So I pressed on into the gloom and eventually got to Wick just before 9. After checking the station opening times for the next day I headed to my B&B, had a quick bath, then dashed out for a meal at an Italian café, followed by a couple of pints. It seemed distinctly odd to be leaving the pub at 11.30 and there still to be some light in the sky!

1365 miles from LE, 87 hard miles today.

Wick - John O'Groats - Dunnet Head - Thurso

At 9.30 I was waiting for the station to open so that I could book my sleeper berth and bike reservation for the journey home. Then I set off for John O'Groats. The wind was still making it hard work but the countryside was quite level(ish), at least compared with yesterday. At long last, as I climbed the final crest of Warth Hill, I could see the end of the road ahead below me and it brought a tear or two of relief to my eye. At midday I rolled into John O'Groats, 1383 miles from Lands End.

I found it something of an anti-climax, especially being on my own. I had a quick pint in the hotel bar, had my picture taken, and then headed onwards, for I had yet to get to Dunnet Head and then to Thurso for the afternoon train. For the first time in days I had the wind behind me and I sped along. Even my shoulders eased up as the warm sun came out.

There were a couple of German tourists at Dunnet Head when I got there, but after taking a picture of me they went on their way, leaving me and the puffins to enjoy the scenery and the solitude. I had done what I had set out to do, 1397 miles from Land's End. All to soon I had to tear myself away and head into Thurso. I got there about 3.15 and had to buy some new reading glasses to replace the ones I must have dropped on Warth Hill. I had no intention of going back to get them! Then to the station, where I changed in the station toilets, and joined the 16.45 train to Inverness, arriving there in just enough time to connect with the sleeper to London.