Day 20 - Helmsdale to John O'Groats

Here at last - 1000 odd miles from the start, 3 weeks ago.

If you're wondering where the pointy bits of the signpost are, they're owned by a man called Pete who takes them home with him at night. If Pete isn't around, call him up – he only lives down the road apparently – and he’ll load up his car, come down with the signposts and charge you a tenner to have your photo taken. I'm not kidding, this is really how it works.

Anyway, we're here. But - we're getting ahead of ourselves: let's backpedal (*cough*) to the start of today...

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Cycling into the clouds, early in the day:

The road behind us. That's the sea on the left and a llama farm (seriously) on the right:

Rosie invents the tupperware bar bag (note Co-Op Bacon crispies):

Disused Fuel Pumps of the Highlands (No.1)

Godawful old biddies' tearoom. Like stepping into a time vortex: Nescafe, toasties and Heinz soup:

Disused Fuel Pumps of the Highlands (No.2)

Pithy summary of the day's cycling conditions:

Disused Fuel Pumps of the Highlands (No.3)

Moorland grass – the only thing living up here, seemingly. 3 miles to go:

Our accommodation for the night:

Only kidding, although our actual hotel wasn't much better. The landscape up here is bleak and littered with abandoned farmhouses. It feels like you're cycling towards the ends of the earth, figuratively as well as literally.

Speeding into John O'Groats at last:

That’s about it! Thanks again for all the support, people :)

Some final snaps from the finish line...

Day 19 - Tain to Helmsdale

Good weather? Check.
Short distance? Check – just 33 miles.
Flat landscape? Check.
Rosie’s back holding up well? Check.

Acting on a tip-off and with time to spare, we took a detour to the east coast beach town of Dornoch. But – as often happens, we were distracted by the lure of internet access - this time, a single scabby PC in the corner of the local Post Office...

Updating the blog, Dornoch-style (yes, that is a purple Scotland hat with the tags still on):

So – no time for Dornoch in the end, but no matter. The whole area seemed peppered with equally idyllic tourist  towns and beaches...

Beach break, Golspie:

The day after tomorrow, we'll be coming back down this line – on metal wheels this time, and mercifully shielded from the wind:

Nearing the end now. Just the windswept, uphill drag to John O’Groats tomorrow...

Day 18 - Drumnadrochit to Tain

A long, steep climb to start the day.

Note that Rosie has reprieved the dayglo volunteer's tabard. Aside from boosting our roadside visibility, this makes drivers – perhaps subconsciously thinking 'traffic warden' or other authority figure – give us a wide berth more generally.

The scenery changes quickly in Scotland. When we left Drumnadrochit an hour ago, there was nowt but dense pine forest and lush lochside greenery. Now, collapsing in a sweaty heap at the top of the hill, we looked around and saw... moorland:

Later, following a sign for 'Tea, Ice Cream, Toilets', we rolled up at an enormous cafe/gift shop with WiFi – and it's thanks to that happy discovery that you're reading this now. 3 hours later and a stone heavier, we rode into the evening for the last 20 miles...



Flat cycling for the rest of the day, taking in the towns of Alness, where the air smells of Weetabix, and Invergordon, where the town museum is fronted by huge murals depicting mad scenes of maritime drama (think Moby Dick, TinTin, Captain Pugwash).

Finally, a shortcut to Tain took us into uncharted but lovely territory – the ultra-quiet, forested Scottish B-road:

Day 17 - Fort William to Drumnadrochit

More brownie points to cycle-friendly host Andrew for preparing a champion breakfast, including his wife's home-made mackerel paté. We even got oaty bars ('slow energy release, aye?!') for the ride.

A fine but strenuous day, beside and between the lochs...

More purple, Loch Lochy:

Miles of long, straight road, beside Loch Lochy:

And again:

Yellow:

Skanky hands update:

Fort Augustus, early evening:

Late arrival at our B+B meant a brisk power-walk down the road to meet the food deadline at the Loch Ness Inn. It was worth it: crunchy vegetables at last.

Day 16 - Oban to Fort William

Excitement. We have our laptop back:

Big thanks to Wayne Ward of Lancaster Computers for fixing it and posting it on, and to Mrs Stewart (Glenview Guesthouse) for fetching it from the Post Office in Oban!

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It rained from the start today but we didn’t mind – we're used to it now. That said, we were still glad to see this fantastic place loom out of the mist:

It's a cafe. It's a second-hand bookshop. The owner looks like Robin Williams. What's not to like? Anyway – I did the least sensible thing a supposedly weight-conscious cyclist can do, and bought a stack of hefty hardbacks. 'It's ok', I reasoned, 'I'll send these home when we get to Fort William...'.

Rain fell steadily through the afternoon. Witness the glamour of cycle-touring:

Rosie's back, also, was suffering badly again today. By the time we limped damply into Fort William, we were really ready to stop.

Luckily, the B+B owner was both a keen cyclist and a kind human being. Within minutes, our soaked clothes were in the washing machine and our water bottles in the dishwasher. He even stuffed our wet shoes with newspaper to dry them out...

Day 15 - Catacol to Oban

Getting dressed in the morning. From 'What do I feel like wearing?' to 'What stinks the least?'. Sometimes you have to compromise – especially when there's no time for luxuries like laundry.

This, for example, is what's left of my socks:

One pair went feral and had to be binned; the others have all been lost en-route.

Anyway – we had to do the ferry hustle again today, and get out of our place by about 9:00. This kind of haste doesn't suit us; the upside, though, was that we got to see early morning for once. Early morning, on Arran anyway, was looking good:

The day was long and gruelling – 60 miles and over 3000ft of climbs. But it was also one of the most photogenic so far. With that in mind, I'll shut up and revert to photojournal mode for today...

Getting the ferry with dozens of other cyclists:

Back on the mainland - Rosie raids the Larder, Tarbet:

Al fresco, Tarbet:

The long, empty road behind us:

Loch Fyne lives up to its name:

In Ayrshire, buildings are big, solid and painted black + white. This looks fantastic against the green landscape:

The natural environment isn't bad either. This is a typical rocky path down to the lochside...

It's a long day for us though, and a stiff headwind all the way. Rosie was having the worst day so far, with back pain getting worse and sucking all the fun out of the journey. For the last 20 miles, we were making frequent stops to break out the mini-pharmacy of pain relief preparations we carry around with us: ibuprofen gel + tablets, deep heat, Indian muscle rub...

Much later than planned, we finally rolled into Oban, 'Gateway to the Isles'. Tonight: Chinese food for a change. Tomorrow: a prospective return to the online world when we – hopefully – pick up our fixed netbook.

Day 14 - Straiton to Catacol

An early (for us) start was needed to make sure we made the afternoon ferry to Arran. Having a deadline took the edge off our usual relaxed approach a bit. Nonetheless, Scotland, as always, was fantastic cycling country...

There are signs to tell you when you're passing a place you would otherwise have missed. Here's one place:

...and here's another one:

Pots of houmous are placed around the countryside for tourists:

Even the beasts can count on getting a lift:

Our second full day in Scotland and still the contrast with the English part of our journey is apparent: no one-way systems, no unsigned minor roads, no noticeable rush hour; just us, the chatter of insects and birds, and the occasional roar of military jets on manoeuvres.

More photos...

Dead tree points the way:

Power:

Nature:

Public meeting for mutual sideburn admiration:

Ferry raising its snout:

From the deck (that's Arran on the horizon):

Stepping off the ferry on Arran, there's only one navigational choice to make:

East coast:

Struggling over the bleakest most windswept moorland imaginable, to get to the north coast, rest, food and sleep:

Our B+B tonight is in Catacol, on the north coast...

I haven't mentioned the crazy hours of daylight yet... Basically, this far north and at this time of year, it barely gets dark. The birds don't know what the hell is going on, and are tweeting past closing time. This is the view from our B+B's bar at 10:30:

That's all! More tomorrow...