John O’Groats to Land's End

For my second End to End, in July 2001, I decided that a trip through Ireland, and covering every country in these islands, would be an interesting variation. This time, since it had to be pre-booked I decided to get the overnight Caledonian Sleeper journey out of the way at the start, and so I began my ride at John O'Groats. From there I headed for the west coast of Scotland and then down to Stranraer, from where I caught a ferry on the short crossing to Belfast. My route through Ireland took me down the east coast through Dublin to Rosslare.

Another ferry then took me over to Fishguard in Wales, from where I followed the south coast through Cardiff and Newport, crossing into England by the old Severn Bridge. There I rejoined the more conventional End to End route and made my way down through Bristol and into the West Country.

Rather than use the main A9 road I decided to head west from John O'Groats along the coast road through Thurso to Bettyhill, turning south there through the deserted valley of Strathnaver to cross the hills near Altnaharra. It was a superb ride with a tremendous 17-mile downhill run into Lairg. The following day was damp and overcast, which was a pity, as I had two big hills to climb to get into the Great Glen; the tops were in the clouds and I was deprived of some magnificent views.

From Fort William I took the road up through Glen Coe, a climb of nearly 1,200 feet in far too few miles, then over Rannoch Moor. Instead of taking the more usual route through Glasgow, I decided to make for Kilcreggan on the Clyde Estuary and take a small ferry across to Gourouck. My aim was to leave myself better placed for the run down to Stranraer, which ought to have been a delightful ride, except that the wind was blowing fiercely off the sea most of the way, with some heavy spells of rain added in, to the extent that I was virtually blown to a stop.

The result of this, coupled with an error in my calculation of the distance of the previous day's stage (40 miles went adrift somewhere), meant that I was now running about a day late. A delay of this extent wouldn't normally cause me too much concern, but on this occasion it meant I would be arriving in Belfast in the early evening of July 11th. Now, as any student of Irish history and politics will tell you, that is not a good time to be cycling round the streets of Belfast, especially if you have an English accent!

What I found most touching was the concern expressed by friends of both Protestant and Catholic persuasions. All advised me that I needed to be very careful. All assumed, of course, that any danger would come from the other side. In the end the only harm that came to me was from a drunken Scotsman on the ferry who took umbrage at the leg hairs poking through my lycra shorts and insisted on plucking them! Even so, I was mighty glad of an exceptionally strong wind on my back, which enabled me to get 25 miles out of Belfast in not much more than an hour.

After travelling down the outside of Strangford Lough, and crossing over on the ferry at Portaferry to join the "mainland" again, I was soon heading through the foothills of the Mountains of Mourne on my way to the border. I crossed into the Republic on a small ferryboat which took me across Carlingford Lough from Warrenpoint to Omeath. As I crossed the lough I found myself admiring the mountainous scenery behind the village - until I realised that was the direction in which my onward route lay!

From Dundalk I had to use the main Belfast to Dublin road for a while, but then it was back onto the country lanes to Drogheda and on to the outskirts of Dublin. Riding through the city in the evening rush hour was an interesting experience, and it was with trepidation that I tested out the cycle lanes which give priority to cyclists continuing straight ahead over cars turning left. (In certain situations Irish law insists that cyclists make use of cycle lanes, although I was not aware of this at the time, and I almost certainly broke the law at some time, although no-one said anything to me.)

From Dublin I was to have headed up into the Wicklow Mountains, but because of my late running I decided on the coast road instead. Which was just as well. Leaving Greystones on my way to Wicklow, my rear tyre exploded! Better there than up in the hills. From Wicklow to Arklow I again took to the quiet coast road, but another stretch of main road followed, before I turned off for Wexford and Rosslare.

A very early start saw me in Fishguard by mid-morning and I was soon enjoying a beautifully sunny day's riding through South Wales. After Carmarthen I took to part of the National Cycle Network route 4 through the Pembrey Forest (rough and winding), and then along the seafront through the Millennium Coastal Park (fabulous) past Llanelli. From there I continued on the cycle route through Gowerton and along an old railway line to Swansea Bay.

Avoiding Port Talbot meant using the A48, but after Bridgend I took the quieter coastal route through Llantwit Major. By the time I got there, the wind was blowing a gale, yet again, and the rain lashing down. I persevered through Barry and on to Cardiff but by that time I had had several scares as heavy lorries passed by me with inches to spare, their backdraft and the wind making it almost impossible to control the bike. At Cardiff I decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and hopped on a train for home while the storm blew itself out!

Two days later I was back in the saddle, taking the marsh road from Cardiff to Newport, from where I braved the A48 to Chepstow and the Severn Bridge. It seemed strange to have travelled 800 miles and only just be starting the English leg of my trip. Bristol was its usual nightmare - I always get lost there - but eventually I found the road to Weston-super-Mare. From there to Bridgwater I opted for a fast run down the A38 (with the M5 running parallel it's not usually too busy) to Taunton, where I turned off towards Exmoor. From Bampton the road to South Molton climbs steeply, and having been defeated by this hill years ago, I was determined to beat it this time. And I did; non-stop the whole way up!

From South Molton the typical roller-coaster Devon countryside prevails and it was hard work. I'd been looking forward to a respite by using the Tarka Trail cycle route, but it was still closed in the aftermath of the Foot & Mouth crisis, so it was more hills on the way to Holsworthy and into Cornwall. From Camelford I followed the Sustrans West Country Way route across Bodmin Moor and then joined the Camel Trail into Bodmin.

From Bodmin I decided to take the A30 for a quick run. As it happened, I was there on a Saturday and the traffic on the A30 was solid. I sailed past on the outside, earning a few furious looks from stationary motorists! From Newquay, I followed the coast road through Portreath to Hayle, then, instead of heading straight for Penzance, I decided to take the north coast route through St Ives, Zennor, and St Just. The scenery was wonderful, but caused me problems when a spoke broke in the middle of nowhere. To stop my brakes binding on the distorted wheel, I had to release my back brakes, which was an interesting experience on this very hilly road.

But despite these problems, I eventually arrived at Land's End, and experienced once again the intense emotional feeling that goes with crossing the Finish line after a journey of 1,087 miles.

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