Day 10

Again I was up before the rest of the household, and out into the kind of misty drizzle Scotland must have a copyright on.
I'm not great at decisions first thing in the morning - tea or coffee is about my limit, and that's an easy one anyway because I never have tea. But I had to choose between the peaceful cycle path along the edge of Loch Lomand and the hurly burly of the A82 heading north.
My initial option was to brave the big road, but ten minutes later I was regretting it. It was an assault on the senses too early in the day - the constant air brake blast and grinding of gears - and that was just me on the bike.
So, I hopped off the 82 and took my chances on the cycle path. When I say cycle path, maybe I should say assault course. Because it was like something out of 'It's A Knockout'. Ride along a nice smooth piece, then quickly off the bike, run with it and jump over that tree that has fallen across the path. Back on and then try not to skid on the landslide of mud. Oops, watch out for stray dogs launching at you from the undergrowth, and be careful not to overbalance or you'll be in that big lake on your right.
However, after 15 miles I was still upright with only minor scratches and shouting at Eddie Waring - "I'll play my joker!"
Well it is Day 10, I was always going to go a little loopy at some point. Yes, Ok, I know, it wasn't the first incident, but there is a name to live up to here.
After the Lomand shenanigans it was into the serious stuff - the big hills, I was entering The Highlands.
Surprisingly you will not be hearing me moan about the swine of a West wind, nor the miserable downpours that popped up throughout the day, nor the energy-sapping hills, because... it was all worth it for the spectacular, breath-taking views every inch of the way up the A82 to Glen Coe.
I was able to share these delights not only with Nev but also with a lovely couple from Australia who I kept bumping into at all the picture spots (yes, sorry about that, but it's only a hire car) and a chap I met up with from Bradford, who I was seriously impressed by - four panniers and completely self-contained, tent, food, clothes, the lot, all hanging from his bike. All I was carrying was my drink. Oh, but I was of course towing my Mars Bar Trailer, so that probably just about evened it up.
Anyway, well done man from Bradford I will be toasting your fortitude and spirit of adventure, any time now...
If you want me I'll be in the bar.
Jez




Said man from Bradford, just about to be overtaken by Buffoon on the charge. Yes, Ok I can see he's stopped, but I would have got him anyway.

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Location:Glen Coe, Scottish Highlands

Day 9

Weighed down by maps and print-outs and scribbled instructions, kindly provided by our brilliant host, I set out with fire in my heart, ready to do battle with the greatly feared Glasgow. Within 10 minutes I was back...forgot my Snickers.
Although the day's cycling once again began in the rain, the first 50 miles of the day were among the most pleasant so far. Along the old main Carlisle to Glasgow road which now is no longer the route of choice for motorists when there is a motorway option right next door. That means it's one of those rarities - a quiet road for cyclists.
Along the way I cycled with two guys from Glasgow and swapped end-to-end stories. It was all going swimmingly well until they informed me that they had decided to put in two rest days at home on account of the terrible weather that was forecast for Wednesday!! I thanked them for alerting me to that and then asked them if National Cycle Route 75 was a good way through the city. They said not, but seeing as I didn't have a Plan B decided to ignore their advice.
BIG mistake! Having navigated by chip shops and bus station and shoe shops to find the route, I quickly wished I hadn't.
Very soon I was carrying my bike along glass-strewn paths, through questionable neighbourhoods and being glared at by threatening locals. I don't want to be mean to Glasgow, but this was not an environment in which I felt comfy. By this point I had lost CNC 75, maybe the locals had torn down the signs and used them to attack lost cyclists.
I wasn't hanging around to test this theory and headed, quite quickly, back to a major road.
It was then navigation by compass. I set it for west and just got my head down. Which was again a good tactic, especially around Parkhead where I decided it wouldn't be prudent to wait for the traffic lights to turn green. I don't think cycling is big in that part of the city, but I do think some of the guys lurching out of The Sharmrock Bar would have liked a closer look at my sat nav.
Finally, finally I cleared the city centre and headed for Dumbarton. I found myself on roads that looked suspiciously like motorways, but by then I was past caring and figured they were still safer than some of the 'quieter' roads I had recently used in the east side of the city.
Eighty two miles on the clock today, and without doubt the most stressful day's cycling so far.
Now then, what do they prescribe for stress in these parts? Ah yes...
If you want me I'll be having a wee dram in the bar.
Jez


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Location:Bonhill, Loch Lomand

Day 8

The writing was on the wall as I began the slow climb out of Kendall around half seven. I was heading into a black void where there used to be a sky and some mountains.
The rain only waited a few minutes before it started to lash down. The westerly wind joined in the fun and I was under siege for the next 20 miles. Knowing when the odds are against me, I eventually sought refuge in a bus shelter five miles from Carlisle and tried to get my shivers under control. I was seriously cold and soaked to the skin.
But, just a few short miles from this moment of deep gloom, the sky began to lighten, and although the fiercely gusting wind refused to join in with the more enlightened approach to weather conditions, the afternoon was so much better.
Just before lunch we crossed the border at Gretna and then, re-energised by a sarnie or two, I struck out for Lockerbie and then Moffat.
On arrival here in Moffat the last chill of the morning was burnt away by a spectacularly warm Scottish welcome from our josts at the Buchan Guest House. Brenda has to be one of the chirpiest people I have met, and even as I write she's washing my cycling kit for me - what a star.
So, some detailed planning and co-ordination now needed as we prepare to plot a way around the metropolis that is Glasgow tomorrow.
Just before I go (you know where) a huge thank-you for the brilliant support I am receiving through family and friends' text (when it works) and through my Twitter pals - you have provided a massive boost and kept me going - cheers.
If you want me I'll be in McBar
Jez


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Location:Moffat, Dumfries & Galloway

Day 7

I decided to skip breakfast when I woke to the sound of a howling wind splashing rain outside my window of the intriguing 'Hark The Bounty'. The day was going to be tough and this weather would not make it easy. So once I had found my way out of the still-sleeping pub I hit the road.
Some stunning scenery regularly lashed by full-power showers and slashing winds, were features of the morning. Twice I had to pull over for a few minutes when conditions deteriorated to a point where they became dangerous until I could see my way again.
Sis Liz and brother-in-law were on the road with me again today, allowing Nev a little respite from the sandwich-buying, map reading, lay-by waiting. Their presence gave me a real boost, and although the conditions made the going hard in places, progress was encouraging and I arrived in Keswick, after negotiating the weekend Lake District traffic, shortly after 3pm.
So, about halfway I reckon now - time for a quick health-check and stock-take..
Bike - filthy but performing brilliantly
My legs - still way too short but coping well
My back - in need of WD40 - I'm creaking like an old gate
My head - a bit fuzzy and mixed-up but still sending the right signals to the legs
Nev - Now delivering my bags to my room ahead of my arrival - what a star. However, despite frequent requests still not painting 'Go Buffoon' on the road at the summit of the big climbs.
Mars Bars - supplies getting worryingly low - trailer almost half empty.
Ready for a beer.
By now you should know where I'll be if you want me.
Jez




Liz and Rich providing great support

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Day 6

A day of two halves.
It was raining when I rolled out of our Runcorn motel and was still raining when I completed the second lap of the Runcorn industrial estates. My sat nav just wasn't up to the task of getting me out of the industrial north west and I had to phone Nev to give me a summary of the route (which I should have got before) to enable me to set an approximate course and hope for the best.
I had found my escape route - the A49 - and was feeling a little more relaxed at the point when I got my first puncture of the trip - smack in the middle of Warrington. A wrestling match with a stubborn tyre ensued but I was eventually back on the road and crawling through the hiss and grind and the great north west conurbation - Warrington - Wigan - Blackburn. This is stressful cycling - endless roundabouts, never enough room and constantly peering at the route notes, sat nav and road signs. However - top marks to Wigan for a really good effort on the cycle paths.
After lunch, and despite a nasty head wind, things took a turn for the better. Sis Liz and brother-in-law Rich were Clitheroe bound and by mid-afternoon, in a lay-by north of Blackburn we met up and together weaved our way uphill (mainly) and down dale (not so much) all the way to our overnight halt and the strange, Hark to Bounty pub where we chanced upon a Fish Friday spectacular and politely joined in.
A difficult day for obvious reasons but made so much better by family support. Cheers Liz and Rich.
If you want me I'll be in the bar (wifey knows - she rang the Hark and there they found me)
Jez


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Location:Slaidburn, Lancs

Day 5

I was 33 miles into today's ride when I got the message to call home.
Within three hours we were back. Dad died this morning.
Although I didn't get back in time to say goodbye I think we both knew we had already done that when I left on Saturday morning.
Before he went dad stressed that he wanted me to complete this ride. So, feeling decidedly shell-shocked, I am, at my lovely family's insistence, back on the ride - and will carry on. I am convinced that is what he wanted, and, as a close friend has just said "that was his only way to get on the ride with you."
So from here on on it's me and dad on this ride and that is a huge comfort to me right now.
Jez

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Location:Runcorn Cheshire

Day 4

Fortunately I speak a fair bit of Welsh, so I can inform you that Monmouth - from where I departed this morning, means, 'little settlement at the foot of a bloody great big hill'
Yes, that was my early morning wake-up call again today, another thigh-busting climb out of the Wye valley, leaving below our fourth night accommodation. Monmouth was welcoming , interesting and lively - none of which could be said of our hosts the previous evening.
With bitching left in my slipstream I trundled along on what proved to be one of the most enjoyable phases of the ride so far.
On the many, many occasions that I sat pondering this ride over the previous months, one snapshot kept appearing to me - a quiet country road, sun just coming up, friendly locals, and a tail wind.
Full house!
I think this beautiful part of the journey was my snapshot developing before my eyes.
Rolling hills to either side of a relatively flat road, a gentle sun just staring to illuminate the scene and a series of locals waiting to catch the bus into town.
There was someone waiting at the end of every little lane. Old farmers in their tweed jackets and ties, young students clutching folders, ladies with shopping bags to fill. Each one bade me a cheery good morning - it was just like something from Cider With Rosie.
I was glad of those 'make your heart glad' images still nestling in my head, because I was about to need them to chase away the less pleasurable things that were a to unfold...
I lost Nev, or Nev lost me - the jury is still out but evidence in the form of road atlases, and direction notes from previous evening will be considered. Nev has ruled sat nav evidence as inadmissable. They may as well send me down now!
Then my chain jammed, I almost fell off and in freeing said chain jam, jammed my finger into a few teeth of the big chain ring. So, my blt was garnished with a touch of Halfords Dry Lube oil and a drizzle of my very own A Positive - yum.
But that painful little incident was positively pleasurable compared with the shocking mountains I had to climb this afternoon. They were humongous. They put 35 minutes on my final 15 miles and my legs were shrieking at me by the time I rolled into Clun - "What the hell do you think you're doing to us" they yelled, and they had a point.
What's going on? Each successive county has tried to outdo the last with the ridiculousness of its mountains. But in this twisted competition I think Shropshire takes the crown. My 60 miles today seemed like 160 and then, good old Shropshire showed me its little slogan on the county boundary sign - 'Shropshire - county of hills' Well it's not something to be proud of is it??
If you want me I'll be in the bar, and I may be a while.
Jez




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Location:Clun Shropshire

Day 3

I'm not sure when anyone will get to read this blog because we are now in a part of Wales where the internet is still to be discovered and mobile phone signals toy with you - ooh there's a little half a bar for you, oh no it's not its a 'no service' and you may as well add 'at all' while you're about it.
Looking at my pink porcelained en-suite room there are a few other things that have not yet seen the light of day in this particular area, like television, a smidgin of taste and individually packaged biscuits without which no drinks tray is complete.
Less moaning Buffoon and on with the journey.
The splendor of The Magdalene was quickly forgotten as the day's events began to unfold. I had barely had time to wipe the surplus Golden Shread from around my mouth when those hills spotted me and began to pump themselves up. The climb out of Wells went on for three miles, or in other terms, one and a half near-miss coronaries. I was blowing so hard at one point a cyclist traveling in the opposite direction shouted across and asked if the wind had changed direction - bloody cheek.
My dad has a word for hills like that, he would definitely describe it as a 'snorker'.
It wasn't the only snorker in a grueling morning, but there was at least a little flat relief through the beautiful city of Bath.
My route today was a last-minute change of plan and so rather than my sat nav telling me where to go I had a crumpled up piece of paper in my back pocket with shorthand directions and a bit of the caramel part from a Mars Bar smeared down one side...I've absolutely no idea!
The new route had been devised to avoid Bristol and that it did rather well - by taking a wide arc to the east and dropping back down to join the bike lane across the Severn Bridge, which I didn't know even existed until last night.
Nev wrenched his bike from the back of the car and road with me across the bridge, in what can only be described as 'testing conditions.
The wind was blasting up the Bristol Channel and trying to maintain a straight line was impossible. But we got over and as Nev returned to the car I nipped through border control unnoticed and into Wales.
The final leg of the day, and believe me, I was definitely on my last legs, was a superb run from Chepstow to Monmouth alongside the Wye - stunning scenery and a relatively flat surface.
Cycled 83 miles today but tomorrow looks like it should be much easier.
If you want me I'll the bar -throom, soaking my aching legs. Oh, that's right there's no bath.


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Location:Monmouth, Monmouthshire

Day Two

Good evening Glas ton berreeee. How ya doin? Can't hear ya, how ya doin....
Yes, that's right I'm in rock HQ and ready to rock the town! Actually, we may go out for a pie and a pint and then get back for an early night. It's not exactly rock n roll but then Keith Richard didn't have to get up the morning after a gig and bike to Wales.
It's been a day of mixed scenery and mixed progress. Leaving Okehampton after a cracking slice of toast and Activia yoghurt I was assaulted for almost 30 miles by a succession of thug-like hills, no, make that mountains, and by the time I trundled into Tiverton I felt pretty well beaten up.
However, there were compensations. The first came in the shape of the scenery - gorgeous rolling vistas that I could just about pick out despite the dizziness and nausea which accompanied every climb.
The second advantage came in the shape on an unsuspecting cyclist from Tiverton, who joined me for a few miles and was kind enough to ask me how far I was going. Well, actually....
Lunch was spent in a lay-by just beyond Tiverton, and that was the last I saw of Nev for the journey. Having struggled gamely with his sat nav he resorted to sticking big bits of paper all over the dashboard. This didn't work either and we polled up in Glastonbury, completely independently. Tomorrow I will suggest we make an early start and navigate by the stars.
We're in the kind of b&b that is too grand to call itself a b&b it's simply Magdalene House, and I've already worked out that there must be more than 200 quid's worth of lotions and potions in the bathroom. If only I had a spare holdall and wasn't on the bike...
What on earth are we doing here? I wouldn't have accepted the booking if I owned it!
If you want me I'll be in the bar
Jez

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Location:Glastonbury, Somerset

Day One

I wasn't expecting to be that nervous. Possibly it was the wind and rain rattling the windows all night and wondering if the gale was still pointing in roughly the right direction. Anyway by the time I arrived at the start my stomach was in a half granny, full twist double sheep shank.
My anxiety was not helped when I found I was sharing the start-line with 150 proper cyclists - all shaved legs and not a cycle clip between them.
Anyway I found a gap among the staggered starts, hit the road and set about getting overtaken, again, and again, and.... After half an hour of this I started to feel something was wrong. Surely I'm not that slow? So as each new whizz kid went passed I yelled after them "Drug Testing ahead" Just to see how they reacted.
But in an hour they had all disappeared - either taken another route or, and this is my guess, were hiding.
So by just after Penzance I was on my own. By this time the wind had got very angry - hammering the slab-fronted grey houses and making me thank God it was on my side. They have bus shelters like bunkers down here, and I could see why. Just going for a walk must be considered an extreme sport...it was WILD.
After the early excitement of the start, and sharing the road with 150 other cyclists, things then began to settle down into a reasonably relaxed tedium.
The A30 is dull, hilly and busy. The last 80 miles of it delivered only two cyclist sightings, and I don't blame you Devon and Cornish cyclists - it's not really the way to see the area.
But for me today it served its purpose and I rolled in to Okehampton in a respectable time having completed 97 miles for the day.
I think I may have nightmares tonight about going the other way on the A30 today. Those two cyclists I did see were going the other way and didn't seem to be doing too well at maintaining forward momentum. My cheery wave was returned with a clenched teeth grimace and a look that said "You ought to try it this way Mr Cheery." No thanks.
My back-up man Nev did a brilliant job today, securing sarnies, keeping a check on me and guiding me in the last four miles to the b&b - which incidentally is very nice - MeadowLea on Station Road.
So, one down 12 to go and 97 miles on the clock.
If you want me I'll be in the bar
Jez




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Location:Okehampton, Devon

Ready for lift-off

I may have completed the hardest part of this journey already - pulling away from home and leaving my poorly dad for two weeks.
However, the decision whether to embark on this trip was not difficult - it was made for me. When I tentatively suggested to dad a couple of days ago that I maybe should not go, I was shot down in flames and left in no doubt as to the right course of action. So, that said I won't bang on about the emotional difficulties I am experiencing, just blog about the ride.
A very close friend, who knows better than most people what I'm going through, summed it up brilliantly in her 'Good Luck' card which included the line, which will be my mantra, - 'Don't think....just pedal.'
So, here I sit in my room at Sunnybank House B&B in Sennen, what have I learned so far...
* they are a bit shy with their B in their BLTs in Bristol
* Nev cannot operate a mobile phone with resorting to language not befitting a man of his years
* there are no flat bits at all on tomorrow's mammoth first leg
* If you want somewhere nice to eat near Land's End, don't go anywhere near Land's End
* In Cornwall they eat bangers and mash in a bowl.
So, that's probably about enough intellectualism for one night, I have drinks bottles to prepare, kit to sort out and sleep to sleep before my continental breakfast at 6.30am!
Jez




- Sennen Cove

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Location:Sennen, Cornwall

FAQs

This will be my final blog post before the start of my End to End ride on Sunday 22 May. This is down to the fact that I’m running out of time to do all the things I need to before lift-off, and so Mr Blog has just been ushered into the ‘non-emergency ward’ of my own personal little Planning Asylum.

I thought it would be a neat way to wrap all the pre-ride stuff up by embarking on a quick question and answer session so I can address as many of the queries that are being fired at me, as possible, in one go.

So here are the FAQs

Why are you cycling uphill?

Because I would feel a fraud if I cast-off from John O’Groats and freewheeled all the way to Cornwall in two days.
Actually it’s to do with prevailing winds and other meteorological ‘stuff’ that won’t happen anyway.


Will You Be Camping Out?

Only if I decide to wear that rather fetching cerise top with white detailing. Otherwise I will be in manly black and doing bed and breakfast.


Will you be passing through Dudley?

If he steps out in front of me on one of the bigger descents, yes there is a chance.

Do you have any special dietary requirements?

Yes! Seeing as I am going to be burning calories like a pyromaniac in a paper mill I figure this is a brilliant opportunity to eat what the hell I like. So, I will be taking on board mainly pies, anything deep fried, and snacks with a nutritional value in the negative range. Beer by the bucketfull will also be obligatory.

What training have you been doing?

What training have YOU been doing? Nag nag nag! It does my head in. Just leave it, right?

Are you sure you need all those Mars Bars?

Perfectly sure - they are a vital source of glucose which everyone knows is a critical ingredient in any top athlete’s diet. Besides, I’m not going to reduce my stock now I have had a trailer specially made to transport them.

Will the ride be filmed at all?

At the time of writing discussions with ‘a number of leading production companies’ are ongoing, although, rather disturbingly, the fore-runners in the battle for the rights appear to be the operation behind ’20 Funniest Disasters’


Will I be able to see see you en route and buy you a beer?

Yes


Next blog posting - live from Land’s End


Jez

Super Sub

It is with great pleasure that I am able to impart news of a development of the positive variety in the planning for my bicycle adventure. We have a Super Sub!
You may remember, in my last installment, I explained that my dad - the inspiration for the ride - was not going to be able to provide vital support owing to health problems. That was a major blow, and will of course remain so, but at least the ride can proceed thanks to a very kind offer (eagerly snapped up) of an old family friend - step forward and take a bow (Uncle) Nev Greensmith.
Nev isn’t a real uncle,  but if it was performance-related he would be right up there in the League of Real Uncles.  He knows a thing or two about cycling as well which could be useful, seeing as I don’t.
He was also present at two of the more memorable events of my life - The 1979 European Cup final in Munich, and a laugh-a-mile coast-to-coast ride with our mountain bike gang 11 years ago. So, Nev’s a darned good sub - thanks.
In other news this week I have taken the decision to re-classify myself from ‘road cyclist’ to ‘touring cyclist’. This re-classification (which has yet to be ratified by the British Cycling Federation) is based mainly on speed.
I get overtaken a fair amount by flash young upstarts (oh, yes old upstarts as well) and feel that if I become a ‘touring cyclist’ these overtakes would no longer be deemed legitimate manoeuvres and therefore I get to feel a lot better about it all.
The whole ‘left for dead’ business reached crisis point earlier in the week when some Sky team-wannabe went past me so quickly I mistakenly thought I had stopped, and tried to get off. Even though I was only registering 11mph on the speedo let me tell you it’s really not a good idea to dismount at this speed.
So, hopefully my new classification will be confirmed before I start my LEJOG ride on Sunday 22nd May and I will be able to bellow at all passing cyclists - ‘you haven’t really overtaken me, I’m a tourist’. I realise I may have to practice saying that quickly so they get the full gist while still in ear-shot.
In any case I think my resignation as a ‘road cyclist’ may only just have pre-empted being struck-off on a number of counts including...

consistently traveling at embarrassingly slow speeds
refusal to shave legs
non-ownership of at least one professional team replica top
ownership of a cycle clip

I’ll keep you posted.

Jez