Monday 30 September 2013

Post 13, Day 7 : Countdown


Today was going to be exciting, not only were we now counting down the miles having past the midway point, we were about to cross the border from England for the last time and enter Scotland to start what feels to me, like the homeward leg. For the past few days we have been blessed with cool, bright, dry weather. Today was to be no exception and everyone seemed dressed to take advantage of what might be our last sunny day.

The temperature had most definitely shifted down as we travelled further north. Despite the uninterrupted sun, there was a distinct chill in the air. This was a reminder to me of how far we had travelled in such a short time. Many of the route notes (in fact many of the images at the top of each of these posts)  have needed to shift a little due to Hotel issues. This means that, on the most part, the rides are a tad longer than billed and in some instances a lot steeper.

We set of for a short 14 mile sprint to the border, where we planned to pose for group photos  at the last/first house in Scotland.


The head wind was ferocious but we pushed hard to get up to a healthy pace.

Its inspiring to me that despite the relentless demands we've  placed on ourselves we are all still able to push on with gusto and produce some astounding speeds. 20...22...23...25...28mph rolled up on my speedo before we slowed for a regroup and a fast left turn to the border.


Well, I say "we"....without realising it  a small contingent had pushed so hard that they flew past the turn and rolled on for a few miles before stopping to read all the text messages calling them back.

We waited excitedly at the border, taking photos at various vantage points.


I refused to walk past the Border to take shots, that short journey HAD to be done on the bike.

Soon the full group had reassembled and with group shots taken, Pete, the hardy Scotsman amongst us, cracked out a surprise bottle of whisky for us all to take a wee dram, in celebration. In the chilly morning air, the whisky took my breath away but did a good job of warming me from within.

Pretty soon we were ready to roll and across the border we went. As has happened on so many occasions during this trip, the terrain and scenery changed yet again. Small stone houses appeared, substantial and purposeful villages built proudly with colonnades and sandstone blockwork stood oddly out of place in such a wild, open, and mostly deserted land. Sweeping roads with no hedgerows offered tantalising views of what was to come.

For the first time on the entire trip, as we entered Scotland proper, we picked up the most amazing tail wind that swept us up and literally blasted us along at a phenomenal pace, with very little effort. We were cruising at 27mph, in top gear and rolling almost silently as the wind matched our speed. All I could hear was the buzzing of my tyres on the road and the wise cracks from my friends.

Despite our speed, everything was quiet and felt oddly still


Our progress was halted slightly when Nick picked up a puncture and the rest of the group rolled by. We took our time knowing that the wind was with us and that in no time we would be at the tea stop. A few minutes later, were were jumping back in the windy express and headed for tea and biscuits.

After tea, the terrain inevitably changed again and as we turned into the wind, the road surface became unbearably slow. Huge  repetitive rutts left us shaken and made it hard work just to move, let alone gather momentum. At one point I was shifting down to pedal down hill and almost standing up to do so.

We were certainly paying for the express ticket we rode on earlier. For the next 30 miles we pushed on, all the while fighting hard against the road surface and the wind as they worked on us like some mercyless tag team. It was hard going and to add to the agony, whilst the roads were wide, and for the most part quiet, they were visited by huge lorries that appeared at a pace and thundered by, buffeting us still more.



By lunch I felt done in and was grateful for an hours break.


Fed and watered, Garmin charged and tales of relentlessly rutty roads swapped, we pedalled back out onto the road in search of our last stop...an Ice cream parlour, some 25 miles away. The thought of decent ice cream was good motivation and we rode hard to the stop. After the stop, and fuelled by choc-chip  ice cream we found the road surface improved a little and with only 20 odd miles remaining, we chose to give it our all and see what average speed we could maintain. We rolled into Kilmarnock, exhausted but feeling very happy with ourselves.

The sensation of rolling through each town at the end of each long day is wonderful. We sweep with purpose, in a tight group all moving fluidly to the stop and roll up feeling very much as if we have earned our stay.

Jen is always on the door, cheering as we arrive, making us feel even more like the returning warriors. Its a great sensation and one that I shall miss when this trip is done. Today, for the record, we averaged over 18 miles per hour across the entire 100 miles, hills, rutty roads and savage winds included. Its an immense achievement, given the toll that the riding is taking on the group.

Tomorrow, we shall briefly take a ferry across the wild, west of Scotland, now that something I've never done before.

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Sunday 29 September 2013

Post 12, Day 6; Middle...


Today was a big day, meeting the halfway point of the challenge is a huge milestone. We planned to celebrate by accepting an extremely kind offer from Craig (who lives in Preston and has been looking forward to this day all tour) to take us off mission, add a few miles to our total and lead us away from the busy and unrewarding roads up to Carlisle.

It was an amazing gesture and Craig kept point almost all day (no mean feat in this headwind) guiding us through some beautiful country that was empty, save of a few cars. Craig is great company, with a cracking sense of humour and an extremely accommodating nature, today was a fine example of his willingness to help the group. It was the perfect celebration of the fact that we had now travelled halfway across Britain, under our own steam.



As well as providing great scenery, the peaceful, open countryside allowed us to ride rapidly in a sweeping peleton, two by two and 5 deep.


We kept an amazing pace, and at some points caught a rare tail wind that swept us along still faster. The group were communicating like pro's and were carving around bends en-masse and with grace...it was exhilarating and thoroughly enjoyable. So much so that, despite a puncture and one stop,



 ...we found ourselves riding over 40 miles before stopping for tea at a beautiful cake shop on Morcombe Sands.



Eventually we joined the planned route and merged with the busier A6, heading into Cumbria, the lake District and the town of Kendal. This provided an opportunity to nip into a shop and pick up some customary Mint cake..and then to pose like fools.



The next part of the day promised some more amazing scenery. Our route took us up to the top of Shap Fell, a long and winding 1200 foot climb onto the top of the world. A year...no wait...a month ago I would have struggled to take on a hill like this, but with the exhilaration of riding amongst a fantastic team, the great weather and the new ability that the past few days had honed into me, we wound our way up, all the while being buzzed by fast moving motorcycles, who had the same idea. Craig and Angus pulled ahead for a short while, whilst Philip stuck it out with me (as I enjoyed a break from the fast pace earlier in the day)  and insisted that we wound in the hill together, I never did thank you properly for that Phill...

There, that should do it...

The top of Shap was beautiful but somehow undefined. Where I was expecting a huge sign shouting out my achievement for all the world to see, sat a layby and a small bin. It didn't matter, the entire area...in fact everything as far as my eyes could see, was so beautiful that I shall forgive Shap Fell for not supporting my efforts.



The sweeping downhill from the Shap

Today not only marked the halfway mark for us all but was also a physical milestone for me. I seem to be coping well and am more than capable of holding my own in the lead group, the training really has paid off and today, over 100 miles we averaged over 15MPH, Despite the huge hills and relentless head wind.

This is a point that I hoped I would get to, to be halfway there and not struggling, to be enjoying the riding and not just getting through it, to be making this an experience not a tedious trial.

I can honestly say that despite the doldrums of yesterday and the prospect of some inevitably horrendous weather (this gorgeous sun cannot last), I look forward to each days ride.

Tomorrow, we enter Scotland, I doubt I'll sleep well tonight.

Feeling on top of the world



PS, keeping this blog up to date is fun but I'm aware that its also tricky, not only to find a reliable internet connection but also to starve others of the laptop needed to do so, so please excuse any grammatical errors or typoes. I promise I'll tidy the whole thing up when I'm finished and at home with a beer one night.

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Saturday 28 September 2013

post 11; Day 5, the doldrums.

The weather this morning perfectly mirrored the mood of the group. There was a general fogginess some gloominess ...and everything was decidedly still.

Emotions are running higher now as we settle into the work of riding without the novelty of "beginning".

Tears have already been shed and many within our group are beginning to feel the consequences of the continuous mileage. Others seem to be thriving on the experience and its fair to say that the rest, are all someplace in the middle.

And it was with this added dynamic that we set out today on the fourth 100 (odd) mile day in a row.

Our route today would lead us to Preston, via a series of counties, villages and most importantly, large  busy towns. The prospect of a long day spent negotiating traffic, on a Saturday didn't sit easy with some and I decided to hang back a little and offer my urban riding experience to the group. This suited me as I was keen to save my energy for the ride across Cumbria tomorrow (and the inevitable climbs that this would require).

We immediately ran into challenges as, yet again, the Gpx data that we had been supplied, varied enormously from the course notes, sending the group off in totally opposite directions from the moment we left the car park. This was disconcerting and annoying as many of the people who we wanted to spend the day riding with, went off alone.

Whilst the route was busy and congested it was also extremely flat with very little in the way of hills and as we pressed on over busy arterial roads the banter faded and the work started. If I'm honest, this wasn't a great start .

However, the sun battled on and with the surprise arrival of Philip, who had been finding his way independently via the use of an old street map, the mood immediately lifted. Soon we were stripping off layers and at Phillips suggestion we were scouring maps to find a less busy route. I was so pleased to see Philip this morning, his positive approach to life cant fail to rub off on you, he is a great companion for a long days ride and today, he proved to be the perfect antidote.

The second we pulled off of the main A49, the mood changed. We rode two a breast, along deserted lanes chatting and chuckling as we had for so many miles before, the comedy horn even woke up and made an appearance. Phillip did laps of the roundabouts screaming "weeee" as he went and worked hard to cheer us all up...

Things were picking up.

Eventually we caught up with the A49 once more and as the sun lifted the fog, so did it our spirits. The pace quickened and other members of the group appeared at various points along the road, each with a different story to tell about where they had been directed.

As the route progressed, we began to enter the urban sections, crossing into busy Saturday traffic. Its amazing how much difference my own experience of city riding comes into play in these environments. I've learnt many things by commuting through London on a bicycle, over many years, some are practical, some provide added safety but of all the things I have learnt, the most important is to stay calm.

Despite sounding simple, staying calm in dense, heavy traffic is incredibly challenging and for one member of our group things just got a little too much at some point and as a direct result, they came into contact with vehicles on two occasions. The second of which caused them a little physical damage but probably a fair bit more emotional denting.

I was mindful that, in a group of 10, one person could have two incidents within 50 miles, I wondered how that would translate across a city full of riders.

I cant say I wasn't happy to see the end of today's ride. Whilst it is important to have days like this, if only to allow us to cover the miles, it struck me that despite crossing Shropshire, Cheshire and Lancashire in one day, the most interesting thing that I saw to take a photo of... was my afternoon tea stop treat


These little fellas are fast becoming addictive.

Cumbria tomorrow and the lake district.

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Want More, see my London to Brussels Blog


Friday 27 September 2013

Post 10: Day 4, Contrast





South Wales is gorgeous!



After a rather industrial crossing of the Severn last night, we climbed out of our beds and out of the beautiful and luxurious hotel for a short early wakeup climb of another kind, up onto the mouth of the Wye Valley.


I still struggle to believe that the countryside can change so much across such a slim section of water. We had left flat land, fierce roads and row after row of warehouses and entered a stunning, dramatic and breathtaking world of dramatic outcrops, granite peaks and just the right type of coniferous forest all coming to a smooth finish on glassy topped rivers.











The tapestry was rich and perfectly coordinated by gods own landscape gardener. If you ever find yourself in Bristol and in need of inspiration, then please treat yourself to the toll and drive 5 short miles to feed your soul in this wondrous place.




Along the Wye Valley


The ride today was predicted to be a 100 mile mainly flat one with some lumpy bits to end on. What it also turned out to be was sublimely fast and hugely satisfying. We cruised along the base of the Wye Valley and eventually climbed up and back across the border into England and Hereford. the terrain once again changed dramatically and after our first tea stop, the now open, empty and smooth roads proved too much to resist... 
Craig Climbing hard

Angus, myself and Craig, a whippet of a rider from Lancashire, pulled quietly away from the pack. The roads were fast, uninterrupted, dry and bathed in the warmth of the bright sun, whilst some may have been disgruntled with the condition of yesterdays roads, there were no complaints today.

By the lunch stop we realised we had been riding at a average speed of 21 MPH for the last 30 Miles and each agreed that today had been the best riding that we had ever experienced.

After lunch the landscape adjusted once more with a few hills to negotiate and some long sweeping drops. We meandered a little in the afternoon as we struggled to find our way with the limited GPX Data we had been provided. 

I should explain...GPX data is a file that is supplied to us and loaded onto our sat navs to help guide us. Unfortunately the GPX fies we had didn't match our course notes (a hard copy back up) and this created a bit of stress. It also meant that we missed our last tea stop for the day and so rode the last 50 miles, without a stop.

We had a bit of a comedy moment during the last 30 miles of the ride today. As we approached the lumpy bits of Shrewsbury, the above mentioned GPX sent us on a few climbs up short but near vertical hills, only to throw us back down the other side at a huge pace. After the third such diversion, we began to wonder if the sat Nav had developed its own HAL-like sense of humour. What made it worse was that, shortly before the first climb we passed a chap in a loose, flappy jacket riding a shopping bike.... only to find ourselves right behind him again on the low-bits. After the third pointless climb and reunion, this chap couldn't resist but ask us why we were making the journey so much harder for ourselves.

We stumbled for an excuse, babbled on about being in training, blasted past him and followed the sat nav once more up another vast incline.

When we inevitably met this chap again none of us had the nerve to overtake him for a fourth time and so, instead we sculked along behind him for a few miles until, eventually and to our great relief... he turned off


The countryside that we are riding in is beautiful and impressive but what impresses me even more is the overall distance that we are covering since we began...Tomorrow we reach Preston


Thursday 26 September 2013

Post 9: Day 3, High rollers and big surprises

Whilst the ride today was going to be long, it was also promised to be flat. Probably the flattest of the entire trip but also, most likely the busiest. To cover the miles we need to cover, we cant avoid busy roads and we accept that not every day can be full of delightfully picturesque back roads, sweeping through chocolate box villages.



Over the past days the group has begun to subtlety split into sub groups who share stamina and ability. Today however, because of the busy roads, we all chose to keep safety in numbers and ride as a group.

This was to be a choice that I would pay for later.


The decision to ride as a group also provided a great opportunity for us all get to know each other a little more. Riding  along with 20 like minded souls, swapping jokes, tales and insults was the perfect distraction to the roaring HGV's and so the miles flew by.
The mix of fast, busy roads and the accompanied entertainment meant that we left Devon and entered Somerset at ramming speed. We waved at the "Somerset" sign that was carved into rock at the side of the road but gave up all hope of a photo opportunity



We rode a few small hills but for the most part the flat A38 carried us across this new county stopping only for traffic lights and to stretch out the numbness of maintaining a regular and unvaried pace.

The banter continued and for much of the ride we were in stitches. The slightest occurrence seemed to cause another round of contagious laughter. Watching Tommy, a generous and hilarious Phil Mitchell lookalike, take a straight drop to the floor as he forgot to unclip in the layby we had commandeered was funny enough, but seeing him leap up like a meerkat and immediately lean cooly on his bike as if nothing had happened...set us into fits of hysterics.

After much stopping and even more chuckling, punctuated at appropriate times by the sound of Andy's comedy horn, honking the punch line to every comedic moment, we eventually turned of off the main road and entered Somerset proper heading for the town of Wedmore.

Toby J, if you are reading this, we were all over your manor today but try as I might I don't recall , from our child hood visits, Somerset being so incredibly flat.

I guess all that was about to change...

In the village of Wedmore we met Cheddar Road, spotting its name on a road sign high on the side of a dry stone wall ...the writing was literally on the wall and the flatlands were about to change.


For a while we continued along stream accompanied roads, the view was flat and far reaching. Then, as we swung around a willow festooned bend a new horizon was suddenly upon us.

For 180 degrees all we could see was a great lump of "Mendip". Slumped in the surrounding flat lands like some vast sleeping dog. In defiance of all childhood lessons, we simply couldn't let this one lie.

We crept closer and closer until the impressive hillside blocked us on all sides leaving us nowhere to go

... but up.

And up we went..and up ..and up some more. After so long locked in the horizontal, the shock of climbing again was sharp and brutal. The group opened up as some went on the attack and others resigned themselves to digging deep and winding in the hill.

When we eventually reached the summit, we busied ourselves wolfing down lunch whilst the enveloping mist did an equally efficient job of swallowing the view. Rain was coming.... so we pushed on.

On the descent from the Mendips we suffered our first (and we hoped last) fall. Pete, a tough and weathered scot, lost traction whilst braking in the wet and dropped like a stone. Like a true Scott, he wiped the blood from his skinned knee, picked up his bike and started to mount up. It was all we could do to stop him whilst we gave both him and his bike a going over. Even now as I type this I'm grateful it was Pete who dropped his bike. If it were any of the rest of us we would most likely have given up there and then, I'm looking forward to Scotland even more now, there a hardy lot these Scots.


As we picked our way towards the Severn bridge the rain started to come in. Whilst it wasn't heavy it made navigating a little harder and what happened next would prove to be a defining moment for me that day.

We approached a bend with Matthew in command position, he dropped along a right turn and sat himself up on a terrace overlooking the road, looking for all the world like Simba surveying the Savanna. We diligently followed him around the bend and I took point. As I did I could see a hill in front of me, "thats ok" i thought, "the route notes mentioned a hill at the end of the ride" but the hill soon grew, then grew some more but still the group pushed on panting and in some cases screaming their way up

When I eventually reached the top, I popped out the route notes to settle my mind. Sure there was a hill at the end but we were 20 miles from the end and this wasnt a hill...it was a cliff face!! and a tall one at that.

Turns out, that the entire group had climbed all this way...for nothing.

The thing is though, that to a man (and woman) no-one grumbled, no-one complained, no-one even seemed upset. It was all another laughable chapter in a great days riding with a great group of riders. Didnt stop me feeling like a pratt though and to try to ease my guilt I declared that the team had now entered a elite club, that from now on they were to be referred to as the "High Rollers". It didn't work, I still got a good ribbing.

The approach to the Severn, was ultra busy, huge lorries roared past us at speed and many of the group were frustrated and worried for the safety of the us all. To add to this, the area was deeply unattractive with row after row of industrial units, warehouse and faceless heavy plant works. It was a relief to find ourselves approaching the impressive Severn Bridge.

Crossing the Severn Bridge by bike is a milestone for me and was exciting and frightening in equal measure. Whilst the bridge has a dedicated, safe and free cycle path, if you take a moment to stop mid bridge, you can feel the whole thing swaying and rumbling from the weight of the thundering traffic. It was with no small relief that we crossed, finally...into South Wales.



As we rocked up to the hotel, after 88 hard miles, we were immediately impressed. The hotel was more like a large country castle, with a tree lined avenue approach that made us feel like arriving dignitaries...in lycra.

We stored the bikes in their 1st class accommodation,complete with chandelier and broad loom carpets...  

and headed off in search of our rooms; but what I found instead was a real surprise.

My wife and two daughters had been driven up by a mate of mine (thanks to Jim for taking such good care of them for me) just to support me and say Hi. It was a beautiful surprise but one cut short by the fact that I had chosen today as a day to hang back with the main group and take my time...the result was that after driving for over 3 hours and waiting another 4, they had so little time left before they had to leave for the long drive home.


So a lovely ride in the company of a group of people who are fast becoming good friends, with a wonderful, if short lived surprise. I wonder what tomorrow shall bring.

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Wednesday 25 September 2013

Post 8, Day 2; Hills and rain





DAY 2, Hills... and Rain…








Was it Billy Connelly who said that “there's no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothing?

Unfortunately today, I had both.

We cruised out onto the hills of Liskeard at dawn, fuelled by porridge and optimism. Today was billed as a “Hard Day”, short on miles and big on hills. We would leave Cornwall and climb the heights of Dartmoor, before dipping up and down to Exeter.



Despite the anticipation, once we got moving we found that, whilst the hills were tough and extremely long, they weren't as bad as our imagination had coloured them…and despite the gradient, it all seemed to be going well.




Pretty soon, were crossing out of Cornwall and entering Devon, with a long climb up to Tavistock.


Tavistock is a beautiful market town in the foothills of Dartmoor. At our tea stop in the village we established that Bryan (a sinewy giant of a man) had a dangerously snagging freehub and a small group of us set off in search of a local bike shop to see if we couldn't sort it out.

This was excellent displacement activity, we darted about town, here and there...efficiently delaying the inevitable climb up onto the moors, for as long as possible.


Once found,  Tavistock Cycles worked hard to sort the issue and within 30 minutes we were rolling again, the chap in the shop refused payment of any kind and was happy instead to simply trade cycle stories, it was rich currency.



I like Tavistock, it's a relaxed, friendly kind of town, full of patient types, I wanted to stay…but time was pushing on and the moors were calling.

We set off.

All the while we rode, we were reserving energy in the anticipation that things would soon get tough. But the thing is, they just didn't. Sure at times it was hard and the hills were long but our training was really paying off and we each felt that we were well within our comfort zones.

So, instead what followed was some epic riding. We swept along the down hills, the wind filling our ears, the ups were taken in our stride, dropping the gears and winding it in. The views on the moor were just stunning, windswept, dramatic and encouraging us along with every push of the pedal. All the while we climbed up further into the mist. Occasionally my ears were popping from the altitude and my lungs bursting from the effort…but constantly up and up we climbed.



By way of a distraction, the wildlife was abundant along the road. Suicidal sheep, nonchalant ponies, cows...then more cows... and then really big cows who made us realise pretty soon that this was actually their road, as they stood fast,  letting cars and cyclist weave around them whilst they enjoyed lunch.




Our lunch (a tiny church hall in Postbridge), was plentiful. As we get to know one another the organising team (Jen, Ian and Lachen) are beginning to find our tastes and stocking up well on all the right food.

When we left, Matthew (our best dressed rider) mentioned that it had just started to rain a little, which was no surprise as we were well and truly up in the clouds by now.

We hit the top of the moor just as the rain began to come in thick and fast, we were keen to push on and get out of the cloud and so began to put the hammer down. We were flying and dropped nearly 1000 feet in a matter of minutes. Sadly, the rain stayed with us and seemed to be getting worse as we hit the lowlands but it was warm and there were plenty of sharp long hills to work up a steam, we shrugged of the rain.

Last tea stop was up the last sharp hill into Exeter, we refilled our bidons and scoffed bananas and jelly babies as fast as we could before pushing on for the last 15 miles. The rain, by now, was falling fast and we were dressed for sun. Negotiating Exeter in heavy rain was tricky, just seeing the Garmin was hard enough, let alone making out the route but despite a few wrong turns (that were swiftly dealt with with Uturns) we were out of the town and onto the final stretch to Cullumpton.

We arrived at the impressive Padbrook Park Hotel, drenched, hot and insanely happy. The Hotel supplied a dry, carpeted room to store the bikes along with plenty of old tea cloths to wipe down the essentials, ready for tomorrow.

Today was fantastic, made better still by the realisation that we had cracked what was billed as the Hardest day, with a good deal of energy in reserve.

As a post script, I have to admit that,  I've made a new friend. Just like my missus she’s shapely, sleek, intelligent and most importantly…she’s always right. This little Garmin is a wonder, it’s the first time I've really stretched its legs and we would be literally lost without it.

Doesn't she look fine?

Day Three Tomorrow, we shall leave the south and finally head north, before crossing into Wales.

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Tuesday 24 September 2013

Post 7; Day 1, No Returns





One of the major factors in choosing to ride from Lands end to john O Groats, as opposed John O Groats to Lands End, is the South Westerly prevailing winds that are known to literally blow you along in the early days of the ride. these winds are a gift.

If they work...
hold on, shouldn't this flag be pointing the other way?

For some reason, today, the wind decided to defy convention to blow in the opposite direction and straight into our faces.


Having said that, it was a small price to pay. The contrary wind brought with it a mostly cloudless blue sky accompanied by warm sun. Riding in these conditions was going to be bliss, despite the wind.

We rocked up at Lands End in the Discover Adventure organised coach. Each of us was anxious, not just about the task ahead but the level of performance that would be...could be...expected.

Getting going was imperative, it would allow us to just ride and in doing so, get to know our strengths and weaknesses. But getting going took some time. There were bikes to unload, info sheets to hand out, maps to digest, speeches to give and photos to be taken of us each standing at the famous Lands End sign.





ready to hit the road
None of this was frustrating, it all had to be done and all added to the experience but none the less I was glad to push the pedals for the first time.

Oddly, the start line at lands End is blocked by a no entry sign, none the less, myself and a few others nipped across the line before nipping back and returning to the pack in the "correct" direction.

We were off!! It was flat, warm, beautiful, exciting, scary and most of all great fun. Within 2 miles a delegation of the team had managed to take the wrong route. We watched them from across the hedges getting further and further away as we pushed on. The adrenaline helped, all of the hills that we had driven up in the coach to get there looked huge and long, yet now that we were riding they melted away. It was easy going, although the terrain was in reality pretty lumpy.

Soon we hit the Penzance area (from where we had left on the coach that same morning) and stopped to take in the stunning views of St Micheal's Mount. We had promised each other to take time on the tour to stop and smell the roses now and again.




We wound through tiny streeted coastal towns at a good pace until pretty soon we were at our first tea stop. Bananas and water were taken on board and a brief chance to stretch out my legs before pressing on once more. We were 23 miles into a 1000 journey, it was time to go.


From this stop we climbed hard to the moors outside of Leeds town before dropping down to Redruth and onto Truro. The climb out of Truro was proceeded by an epic drop, moving with traffic this time and negotiating a safe position on the busy road. We climbed out of Truro to a well earned lunch stop in the town hall of Probus, the least likely sounding Corninsh town...(it sounds more like a spaceship or a procedure, than a mining town).

After lunch we promised to push on and miss the next tea stop as the weather was closing in and none of us were keen to ride in rain.

The dramatic hills soon changed our minds and we welcomed our last tea stop after the most epic climb I think I had ever ridden. A 10% lump that went on for miles and miles, climbing out of the seaside town of St Austell. 

Interesting rock structures accompanied us for tea,

Steady now...




Our group had, by this point  separated into a number of small teams, each finding strength from one another to push on up the now very challenging hills.

By the end of the first day, there were hours between the groups, each arriving with a heady mix of exhaustion and pride.

The best feeling about riding this way is the sense of progress, the sense of not having to return to the start.

No Returns....

11 more to go.

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