LEJOG

Lands End to John O’Groats

The pinnacle of many cyclists’ aspirations, cycling from one end of the UK to the other, seems an overwhelming challenge.  Certainly, when you do the numbers, over 1,000 miles of pedalling might not be for everyone and especially when you are set to cover over 85 miles every day for two weeks, it’s terrifying.  So if you have a calculator you will note that the numbers do not add up, ha ha, in fact by the time the first and the last day were removed as they were shorter, it really was.  So, you’re either going to be on the wrong side of a Gin and Tonic before you sign up, completely bonkers, or have that FOMO feeling that you simply cannot miss out on the opportunity - take your pick. 

So just over a year before we set off, the decision had been made and so the training started.  If you thought about just how much time in the saddle was going to be needed to complete such a feat, you would wonder whether there would be time for anything else in your life.  And I can certainly say, looking back, that life as we knew it changed during the training time. 

We booked with Pedal Britain and opted for a September departure, largely because we wanted to avoid the midges in Scotland - this proved to a wise move.  Basically, we had a 12-month run in to train.  But being fit and being ready for a LEJOG are two entirely different things.  A forty-mile ride was bread and butter to us - we could knock those out a couple of times a week without any problem.  But when you think: well that’s just a morning ride, and you need to do the same after lunch, and wait, yes, tomorrow and the day after and the day after that the feeling is overwhelming. How on earth can your body withstand such a battering?

Balancing work and training was the hardest part, we redefined the word flexible working, whether it was early mornings, lunchtimes, or even taking the whole day, the build-up was very gradual.  Early on I had some advice from a bike coach who said “focus on the back-to- back.  Keep the distances consistent but do them three days on the trot”.  Then the following month, up the distance by no more than 10 miles at a time.   This certainly helped enormously to remove the worry of whether we could ride 85 miles, but fitting them in used up every weekend and bank holiday we had.

We trained in the wind, the rain, whatever weather was thrown at us.  When we went to France to get some back-to-back training we had a heat wave, so that put an end to that one, so we went walking instead.  We just kept moving, one way or another.

By the time we left all of us had cycled at least 5,000km since the start of the year.  On Day 1, Land’s End basked in the sun for our start, little did we know just what a pounding our bodies were going to get.  Cornwall and Devon were relentless, the scenery magnificent, but the elevation was unreal, gorgeous fishing villages gave way to serious inclines.  We thought the worst was over when we arrived in Devon, but no, Dartmoor was like a tumble dryer, the wind howled, the temperature was hot, it zapped the life out of you.  With no time to breathe, the Somerset levels were just that, flat, and a massive relief not to have to push up the hills. One of the longest inclines of the whole trip (but not the steepest) was in Wookey Hole, a relentless 9km climb to the summit of the Mendip Hills - stunning.

Pushing up through Bristol and into the Wye Valley brought one of the most amazing descents, at last some downhill, at least for a short while.  We followed the river for 20km, before the elevation kicked in, up and over Monmouth and into Hereford, where we were treated to the most spectacular sunset, or it might have been we were just so tired it just looked amazing.

The Cheshire plains were glorious, at least to someone like me who was born there, home at last, they were kind, delicious ice creams certainly made the heat of the day more bearable.  We pushed up through the Forest of Bowland and the Lakes, the glory of the country we live in just kept on giving, and so did the hills ! Our longest day was over 90 miles and around 2000m of elevation - it was unreal.  And as if that wasn’t enough, someone took the plug out of the sky and the rain just came.  I often say: once you are wet you cannot get wetter, but that is not true, this was a whole new meaning of soaked.  The end of the day saw us arrive in Scotland, only just over half- way.

The lowlands felt like it was just a job that needed to be done, knowing that we had some treats in front of us.  Loch Lomond was something else, you just wanted to stop and take photos to remember the moment.  We thought that was the best we were going to get until we reached Glencoe, then it just got better.  It really does look like the scenery from the movie Skyfall - speaking of which I must go and watch that again.   Nessy didn’t make an appearance for us, but the wind most certainly did, we were battered by cross winds as we crossed into Inverness, forcing us to walk across the bridge. 

Then we simply headed north, leaving civilisation behind, and the hills just opened out into big spaces.  With sheep to keep us company, we hardly saw anyone.  After what felt like a never ending day we hit the north coast at Bettyhill, so named because it’s at the top of a hill.  It felt like we were in another world, wild beaches, rolling seas, and just another 80km to our destination. 

Arriving at John O’Groats, it really was quite emotional to think about all the ground we had covered, all the anti-inflammatory pills we had taken to get us there, well as least some of us (lol), the highs the lows, the depths we had dug to in getting there.  No energy had been spared, we were empty, euphoric, but there was nothing left in us, other than the warm glowing satisfying feeling, knowing that we had done it – we completed the LEJOG!