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