Day 17. Lanivet to Land’s End.

The final day was here at last. We set off to return me to the point I stopped at on Monday after a good breakfast. The bike loaded onto the roof of the car and we set off for Lanivet. The hills on the way were pretty big and I was raring to go!

Dropped off at Lanivet, a few photos taken, and I was ready to begin. I headed off away from the car, back the way I had come previously, feeling strong and really positive about the day ahead. Turning off the main road, I headed towards Tremore and Inches, along narrow lanes with typical Cornish high hedges. The lack of roadsigns didn’t seem to as much of an issue as before, I was feeling rested and as such my decision making seemed to be a bit better, along with the fact that there isn’t too much variation from traveling due west. I passed through lovely little villages, climbing hills with far more ease than previously, my knee really feeling the benefit of having had a rest day. It also helped that for this day, the final day, I wasn’t carrying my panniers, and the bike felt lively and responsive and I was able to make good progress.

I joined the A39 for a few miles, down to St Columb Major, and then took another minor road/lane almost all the way into Newquay. The lanes were especially fun, without the weight of all my kit I was really enjoying swooshing down into village and hamlets, past farms, and then climbing up onto ridges again – this must be what it’s like for most cyclists, traveling with a support crew must make the journey much more relaxing and easy on the body!

South of Perranporth I joined the A3075, a fairly quick road, but not too busy either. The cycling was mostly easy, with only one steep climb at Rejerrah. I was now pretty close to Truro itself, just a few miles away to the south, I was tempted to call in and get some lunch with Alice, as a surprise, but instead pressed on towards Three Burrows and then a lovely, long descent to Blackwater. Freed of all my luggage made a huge difference, I no longer dreaded losing too much height on the downhill’s, knowing that the inevitable upcoming hills wouldn’t be so bad.

I stopped for lunch on the outskirts of Redruth, quickly inhaling a sandwich and flapjack. The weather had cooled considerably over the morning, with the wind rising too, and I soon felt cold once I’d stopped. Redruth and Camborne weren’t especially picturesque, and seemed to be one larger conurbation, with lots of out of town shopping areas and car sales rooms. Past Camborne and the road steadily rose again towards Roseworthy, but dropped again down to Hayle and St Erth. I followed the road south towards Marizion, along tree lined lanes. I was conscious that I was quickly running out of road, the end fast approaching. I was excited, eager to reach the end, and as I rolled over the last hill and down into Marizion with view of the sea and of St Michael’s mount just a short way across the bay, it actually hit me that I had very nearly cycled the entire length of the UK.

I followed a cycle path from Marizion along the sea to Penzance. The cycle path was really rocky and gravelly, which was great fun. As I bumped along the path, picking out the least rocky route I was reminded of just how good my tyres are. I passed someone with a flat tyre, offered to help but was waved on – they obviously had it under control. I hadn’t had a single puncture in over 1000 miles of sometimes poor roads, gravel paths and thorny, overgrown footpaths (Monmouthshire) – pretty amazing. If anyone reading is thinking of doing something similar, then you really can’t get better than Schwalbe marathon tyres!

At Penzance I text Alice to say I would likely be finished in about an hour. West of Penzance, the hills again rose upwards, undulating along for the final 10 miles. I was working my way up one of the last hills at Catchall when I heard a car beeping madly at me – then alongside me Alice and her parents swept past in their car! Great! I was nearly there and as they disappeared around the next corner I felt a huge wave of adrenaline and euphoria wash over me! I stamped down on my pedals, grinding out a big gear and propelled myself along the final few miles at more than 25mph, sometimes reaching more than 30+mph. With just two miles to go I slowed down to try and soak up the experience and emotions I was feeling as I neared the end of my trip. I stopped for a few minutes, caught my breath, text Alice to say I was almost there, and had a good look around at the scenery.

I had always wanted to do something like this trip, and during my twenties I had had my heart set on walking the distance. That was unrealistic due to time constraints and I never did do it. However since getting into cycling I had fantasized about doing a longer tour. It was at land’s End the previous summer that I finally said I was going to do it, feeling inspired by the scenery and finality of the land ending and ocean stretching out ahead…

I swept down over the low hill from Sennan and raced towards the finish line. There I could see a large home-made banner being held aloft by Alice’s folks and Alice standing to the side, filming my approach! I slowed down slightly and swept under the banner – that was it, almost, the trip done! I had finally finished. It had taken longer than I’d expected, and had been far, far harder than I’d expected too, but all the more rewarding for it! I posed for a few photos underneath the banner, enjoyed a glass of champagne and was presented with a finishers medal that Alice had ordered for me – a huge surprise, and really thoughtful of her!

All that was left for me to do was to cycle the final few metres down to the very end of the country, to have my photo taken at the official sign. I felt elated, but slightly numb too, there was a lot to take in and it hadn’t really sunk in, in fact it still hasn’t really. I suppose I expected to somehow feel different, like I’d been subtly but fundamentally changed, but I felt the same as before. My natural state is to downplay my emotions, and along with that goes the instinct to downplay my achievements too. I had massively enjoyed cycling the length of the UK. The scenery had been incredible – we really do like in a very diverse and beautiful landscape, but the greatest part of the trip for me was meeting so many friendly, welcoming and interesting people. I’ve said it before in this blog, but it’s worth restating – the kindness of strangers is by far and away the greatest thing I experienced on the trip! We all live our own lives, busy and stressful at times, and I think many people (myself included) often look negatively on strangers, quick to assume the worst and eager to avoid even the smallest of friendly gestures, such as making eye contact or even smiling, but this trip opened my eyes to the fact that there are many other people willing to share their time, experience and knowledge in conversation with complete strangers, and that, I think, is bloody marvellous!

Whilst the reason for doing the trip was personal, I did decide to raise some money for charity along the way. If you enjoyed reading my blog, then please sponsor me - https://www.justgiving.com/teams/RichardsJOGLE2013
Many thanks xx

So, what’s next? I really don’t know at the moment, but there will of course be something in the pipeline…watch this space and thanks for reading!

 

 

Day 16. Rest day.

There isn’t a whole lot to say about the rest day, except to say that we had a lovely and relaxing time. The sun was shining and it was gloriously hot too. We went to the beach at Perranporth and sat up in the dunes, reading our books and just relaxing – lovely! Back in Truro for the early evening we sat out in our small garden, overlooking the cathedral, and enjoyed a glass of wine in the afternoon sun. My knee felt much better than it had the previous day, and I was eager to get going the next day – Land’s End here I come!

Day 15. Lapford to Lanivet.

I woke fairly early this morning – my field was again close to a railway line and I was woken by the 7:05 to wherever – pretty handy really! I’d had an uncomfortable night’s sleep and my shoulders and back ached. I was getting a bit sick of sleeping in a tent by this point, of having damp and dirty clothes and no access to a nice hot shower! All that was due to change though, as today I was aiming squarely for Truro. To see my wife, to get clean, to have a proper meal, and to sleep in a proper bed, what more motivation could I need?

Heading back past the petrol station I had stocked up at last night, and then turning right, up a steep but mercifully short hill (I hated long climbs first thing, before I’d had time to warm up my tight and achy muscles) and then on towards Zeal Monachorum and the A3072. Okehampton wasn’t too many miles further and the thankfully quiet road was straightforward too – hilly though! There was a steep climb out of Okehampton and the views south towards Dartmoor were imposing. I was forced onto the A30, only for half a mile, but it was more than enough – the road was really busy with heavy traffic climbing slowly up another steep hill. I got off the main road at the very first junction and instead headed along the old A30, along a great downhill that lasted for at least five miles. The next five miles were all uphill though and I soon found myself finally crossing a bridge over the river Tamar – I had at last reached Cornwall!

If Okehampton had seemed hilly then Launceston was positively vertical! Climbing up into the town was pretty hard work and there didn’t seem to be anywhere appealing to stop for lunch. I carried on, deciding that I had plenty of food left, and headed towards South Petherwin and then the oddly named village of Congdon’s Shop. The scenery was really stunning, far more than I’d expected of the upland area of eastern Cornwall. Upton Cross came next, and then along to Minions and Common Moor, both really beautiful, with wide, beautiful skies, rolling upland hills, phallic upright stones and wild horses roaming free.

I managed to take another wrong turn up a lane without a signpost and found myself following the river Fowey, which was little more than a stream. As before, I instinctively knew I’d made a wrong turn but didn’t want to admit it to myself, instead hoping that just around the next corner I’d come to another turning. I didn’t and instead I spent a few minutes inwardly complaining about both the scale of maps I was carrying, and the poor quality of road signs in a county that sells itself as both a holiday destination and also an outdoor activities playground. After my hissy fit had come to its natural conclusion I came across a police officer sitting on his police motorbike in the middle of nowhere! He was sitting there listening to his radio without a care in the world, and didn’t seem initially very keen to help. He soon warmed up though, and even turned off his radio – I suppose there isn’t much crime in Cornwall?! It turned out that he was originally from the same area of the country as me, and he told me the story of how he came to live in Cornwall. He also confirmed I was heading in the wrong direction and set me off in the right direction again.

Back on route and heading towards St Neot and my left knee collapsed completely, sending agonising shooting pain up and down the entire length of my knee, spasms rippling through the knee in waves. I stopped immediately and got the weight off my leg which was in real pain. After a few minutes rest the pain had subsided a bit, but I didn’t feel confident in reaching Truro in anything like a reasonable time. I phoned Alice and we discussed the various options – 1) being to stop and camp for the night, get plenty of rest and then continue tomorrow, and 2) being to get a lift to Truro and take tomorrow as a proper rest day. We agreed to go with option 2 and I decided to carry on and try to reach Bodmin, or beyond to Lanivet, partly so that Alice and her parents wouldn’t have to come too far, but mostly so that I would have a few miles less to do on the final day.

Thankfully St Neot to Bodmin was mostly downhill or level roads, and I was able to gingerly make my way as far as Lanivet in time to meet Alice and her parents at about 7pm. It didn’t take long to strip the bike of panniers and other luggage and the bike itself was soon strapped to the roof while I rested and caught up with everyone on the return car journey to Truro, which was certainly quicker than the alternative!

Showered, fed and watered too, it was soon time for an early night, after we’d discussed the plans for the next days. My knee was already feeling a bit better just for stopping when I did, and I was tempted to carry on the following day, eager to get to Land’s End and also feeling a bit guilty too for stopping when it got tough. It wasn’t how I’d imagined the penultimate day going, but truth be told it wasn’t all bad either, at least this had happened now, when there was help available, and not right at the beginning of the trip, in remote Scotland! Alice and I agreed that the best thing for my knee, but also for my enjoyment of the trip, would be to actually take a full day off, rest, recuperate, and then face the final day feeling fresh and raring to go…

 

 

Day 14. Brean to Lapford.

This morning started out really well! All packed up and ready to hit the road shortly after 9am. The first few miles were great too – completely flat, which was always nice as my legs were often really achy first thing and took a good few miles to warm up properly.

I was really desperate for a cooked breakfast this morning, and so tried the nearest Tesco, to no avail, then on to the nearest Asda, to no avail either. There was nothing else for it, it had to be McDonalds! Trouble was the nearest one was all the way in Bridgwater. I raced along the flat roads from Highbridge to Bridgwater in record time, fixated on the salivating prospect of a sausage and egg McMuffin, hashbrown and hot chocolate. I arrived with just in time, but really needing the loo too – nightmare! Sadly I missed breakfast that morning, but the quarter pounder was a fair compromise.

Back on the road again, and without the lure of a tasty but nutritionally worthless meal, I found that my left knee was really starting to hurt again. The cause, I had decided was partly because each time I stopped for a quick breather, I put my left leg down. This meant that potentially hundreds of times each day I twisted my left foot out of the clipless pedal system and then supported my weight on the one leg. Also, the effect of frequently clipping out of my left pedal had seriously worn down the left cleat, to the extent that I couldn’t now properly clip in. This was a bit of a nightmare, especially when cycling uphill or cycling out of the seat. The extra work that my muscles had to do just to keep the knee in line was really taking a toll and that morning my knee would spasm almost constantly and I was reduced to cycling really slowly whilst alternatively gritting my teeth and swearing, loudly!

I located a bike shop that was on my route, using my phone, and was soon in possession of a brand new set of cleats. Looking at the old ones next to the new ones really brought it home to me just how far I had come in a relatively short period of time, and how lucky I was not to have had anything else go wrong so far! The new cleats were a joy to use – so precise and effortless to clip in, and secure too, perfect! I made my way out of Taunton, after making a wrong turn and traveling around the ring-road twice, and found myself heading towards Milverton and Wiveliscombe along gently undulating and quiet roads, through pretty Somerset countryside. At Wiveliscombe the road took a turn for the steep, climbing out of the village and then levelled out again along to Shillingford and Bampton. I was now in North Devon and close to Exmoor and the scenery was pretty beautiful. I could see what many of the cyclists I had met and spoken to along the way meant when they said that Cornwall and Devon were hard work – the roads might not have been as high as the roads in the Highlands, and the peaks certainly weren’t, but the hills were brutally steep at times, and straight up and over too! At Oakford I came the closest I had come on the whole trip to just getting off and pushing the bike to the top, only the fact I had new cleats stopped me as I felt that to get off and walk with brand new cleats would be criminal!

Another difficulty I faced in the South West was the endless maze of minor roads. At times I imagined that from above the roads must look like spaghetti that had been dropped on the floor. It was made worse by the fact that quite often I would come to a junction and there wouldn’t be any signage indicating the way forward, I would turn one way, go up a hill and then realise that I was heading around in a big circle. The roads were always fairly quiet and the scenery lovely, but at times it did get wearing and I would think about stopping for the day nice and early to allow my tired body time to recuperate, ready for the next day. One such place I was really tempted to do this was when I passed a sign saying “No man’s land” that pointed to an open field! Sadly I didn’t have any food, so couldn’t stop and carried on towards Witheridge. I didn’t however realise what Witheridge’s name meant until I got there and had to cycle up a massive ridge! The evening was now drawing in quickly and the village didn’t seem to have an open shop.

I carried on along the B3042, and then along smaller lanes to Forches Cross. By this time there really wasn’t much light left and at a cross roads (again without a sign) I managed to flag down a startled looking driver to ask for directions and the location of the nearest shop. With just a couple of miles to go I set off in the direction of Lapford and the garage shop I would find there. My brakes were now almost completely useless and going down a long and steep hill I had to resort to putting the heel of my (expensive) cycling shoes down to try and slow me down – this was getting desperate and not especially intelligent as my fragile knee wouldn’t take too much extra strain.

My bike loaded up with food again I set off from the petrol station to find somewhere to camp. The sky was an especially beautiful pink and the last embers of light from the sun faded over the surrounding ridges, before plunging the area into almost complete darkness. I found an open field right next to a small cottage – usually this wouldn’t be an ideal campsite, but it was really dark and I was desperate to get some rest. Fortunately the owner of the cottage was outside, working in his garage. I startled him when I called out to him, but he soon recovered and didn’t see why I wouldn’t be able to camp in the field as it was unused – bonus! We chatted for a while, and his wife joined us too, the both of them offering advice for tomorrow’s route. Pitching the tent took no time at all, food consumed and then straight to bed, shattered! Truro tomorrow, or so I hoped…