Day 12: Thurso to John O'Groats

Total: 28.0 miles
Time in saddle:  1 hr 27 mins
Average speed: 18.4 mph
Maximum speed:  34.7 mph
Cumulative: 981 miles
Chafing rating: 1/5 (nice)

What better incentive to get back on the bike than to wake up in the Royal Hotel in Thurso! I took a shower first thing. It took 3 minutes to get wet but only 10 seconds to get burnt. Breakfast was served in a room with all the charm of a derelict village hall and several team members complained of having been bitten all night by bed-bugs. We ate our breakfast quickly before it went off.

Before we left we had a group photo in the entrance hall organised by Bryan. Bryan is Bursar at Harrow School. He has been a brilliant member of the group, always on hand to take over any organisation needed. He has, from Day 1, handed out awards at dinner. These have ranged from Team Player of the Day, to the award he gave Tommy Tarmac after sharing a dorm with him in the Youth Hostel in South Laggan, for playing Beethoven’s 5th in the middle of the night with his backside. Last night I got an award for my Nessie picture on the blog a few days ago. My certificate says the award is for “Having a Soft Side”. 

The group photo is something I shall treasure. Every member of this group has added something really positive to the effort and we have all at various times depended on each other during the ride. Everyone left the hotel this morning in great shape and no-one has pulled out. This, I am certain, is down not just to the training, but to the camaraderie.

Back Row: Matt, Colin, Philip, Nick, Me, John, Don, Bryan
Middle Row: Sarah, Jo, Alistair, Pete, Lizzie, Maria
Front Row: Tommy Tarmac, Mick, Andy, Craig, Tommy, Simon, Vajrin

Thurso looks a lot nicer in the sunshine. We were lucky this morning as we had fairly clear skies and wide views. The shortest route to John O’Groats from Thurso is 20 miles but we added an extra 8 to visit Dunnet Head, the most northerly point of the mainland. I remember sailing round this forbidding cliff with my friend James and his father and uncle when I was 13 and being absolutely terrified. But from the road, there is very little excitement to the landscape. Windblown, grassy fields with curious low walls of vertically laid, slate slabs stretch into the distance, punctuated by drab, grey, pebble-dashed bungalows. But we were no longer sight-seeing. The focus for us now was on getting there. 

Within 3 miles I was starting to feel very emotional. At various stages, every member of my family was in my thoughts, especially my wife and son who have  been so supportive of this venture. I cannot wait to hear their voices in person and to hug them. I really can’t wait for that hug. 

I thought about my mother and how she would be at home wondering when I would finish, and about my father and how he would have expressed his pride with vigorous handshakes and lots of “good griefs” and “superbs”. I started to put my foot down. 

I thought of my sister, Fiona, who had raced up to Preston on a whim to offer her support, of my sister, Victoria, nursing a broken hip while I have the time of my life, and of her son, Alex, who waited patiently beside the awful A403 near the Severn Bridge to cheer us on. I felt completely fired up, and rode hard to Dunnet Head fighting back tears. 

I cycled as far as I could and then ran up a steep grassy slope to the lookout, carrying my bike over my head, before putting it down in the windiest and wildest place I have ever been. The Orkneys were clearly visible across the cold, grey, frothy sea, and to the south, I could see for miles and miles, the terrain we had cycled yesterday. I was blown all over the place and all I had for company was a couple wrapped up warmly, admiring the view. I put my bike down and was completely overwhelmed by the situation, by missing family, by the relentlessness of what we had done and by the timelessness of the landscape. I knelt down by my bike and sobbed openly. When I turned round, the couple had gone.

Nearly done it, or is it Dunnet?

I saw the others arriving further down the hill and we all posed for photos on the headland. And then I was off again. We were all to regroup at the Seaview Hotel. But to that point we were left to our own devices and I wanted to cycle the last bit alone. I rode like the clappers to John O’Groats, counting each mile down on road signs, each seemingly taking an age, although I covered the last 12 miles in 33 minutes. At last, I could see the Seaview in the distance at the end of a long straight road and I hammered up the road as fast as I could, punching the air with excitement and relief. At the stop I just slumped over the handlebars and the tears started flowing again. And then I felt fine.

Poor Ian, the DA Rep, was quite taken aback and ushered me into the hotel for a coffee. It was a classy establishment …

… but the coffee was good. I took it outside to wait for the others. After about 15 minutes, 2 riders appeared in the distance, gradually edging closer. I was delighted to see they were John and Nick arriving together. Both have been brilliant on this trip. I hope we will be bonded forever after LEJOG. 

In dribs and drabs the group assembled at the hotel and we all relaxed inside awaiting the formation of the peloton for the final 400m to the finish. A box of toys appeared. John went into song, I phoned home and Nick indulged himself in Moo at the Farm.

Boys with toys

And then we were off again for the last ride together down to John O’Groats.

Last bit (photo by John)

It was a chaotic finish as the road split into 3 and we finished in delta formation not really knowing where to go until we heard Jen, the DA Rep cracking open a bottle of champage and shouting her catchphrase, “Come on my lovelies.” 

Hard-working guides: Ian, Jen and Lahcen of DiscoverAdventure

There were hugs all around, a lot of laughter and sincere emotion. Champagne and whisky flowed and we all had our photos taken by the Land's End to John O'Groats sign.

Each of us went into our own rituals. John soaked his bike in champagne while Don and I dipped our wheels in the sea.
 

An important ceremony

Team photo courtesy of Jo and Sarah

Several of us bought some expensive tat from the gift shop and then we boarded the bus for Inverness, feeling slightly lost without our bikes. It wasn’t long before the bus began re-tracing our route down the A9, a strange experience and one that brought home how far we have cycled. Some phoned home, others chatted and laughed, some slept.

John

The Beaufort Hotel in Inverness is a far cry from the Royal in Thurso. We have a celebration meal and party here tonight and then we all go our separate ways tomorrow. Philip, the fittest Grandad I know, has had medals made for us all. I have loved every minute of this trip, even the ones I hated. I expect some form of comedown in the next week or so, but for now my emotions have moved from teary to elated, and can feel a great sense of fulfilment from the ride. I will post a final summary in the next few days and then close the blog.  

Now, I need a drink …