Day Nine

29.03.2009 - Brora - John O'Groats

We tried to make an earlier start and ended up leaving around 0900h after bacon sandwiches, sacrificing our fried breakfast, it would have been the 8th in a row. It would have been a first in my life, breaking the record of 7 from the day before. The amount of food we've been eating deserves mention. Big breakfast, big lunch, big dinner, lots of munchies, tea stop in the evening. Still it looks like we are losing weight. What can I say. It's crazy.

A friend at work who knows about nutrition says that when you get stuck in that loop - eat and exercise and repeat - the body uses a considerable amount of energy to digest the food so I figure we need to eat even more to make up for the digestion overhead.

Anyway, we set off and the road was flat for a long while, while the strong tail wind made us sail effortlessly at 20mph. It felt like it would be that way until the end but we then hit some respectable coastal ascents and descents, Ben clocked 47mph on one downhill falling 3 short of hitting the mythical 50. Some were quite scary. On one bridge I felt that a strong cross wind could throw me over.

At one point, just before another tea stop at the "Tea Room" in Dunbeath the valley covered in heather, with a stream down the middle did look unreal but I had no idea then of the scenery I would see the following two days - driving back to London along the north and west coast.

We all agreed the terrain was unexpectedly hilly and had a good look at the ordnance survey map to assess what laid ahead. The contour lines were definitely more spaced out from Dunbeath to Wick, where most of our team would be getting the sleeper train back the next day, and non existent from Wick to John O'Groats - 61 metres/200 feet between lines with some gentle ascents and descents for the final section that could not be accounted for on the map.

The day was glorious beyond words. In the North Sea, the Beatrice oil field was visible. Angus and I stopped by a graveyard, facing the sea and the oil field. Angus jumped over a fence and proceeded to a monument on the opposite side of the road, erected in honour of the fallen men in WWII from those surroundings. He was surprised to count about 50, in an area that seemed to scarcely populated, and imagining the impact of the loss in the community.

After a few more beautiful folding rocky cliffs on the coast we arrived in Wick and by a red light spotted two Scottish lassies walking side by side with a bottle of Irn Brew each. That was quite funny because stereotypical and Angus told me to take a photo, which I did, and got a good reaction from the girls as we cycled past.

Then it was the last turn to John O'Groats and a sadness set in. The journey was over. The wind was pushing us. There was no way we would not get there and there we got. My mother and aunt, our support crew passed us a few miles before the end and were awaiting us. At the end. Handshakes, hugs and photos.

Then we headed to the pub and signed the guest book, a must for all "End-to-enders". My mother refused initially but I twisted her arm, given that a motorcycled gang were the first Saturday entry.

I managed to find Mark Parson's entry. He did it the year before in a group a six, in 5 days. One of the members being a very fit 70 year old man. On the entry they wrote about 3 1/2 days of rain.

We had rain, snow, hail, headwind and cold weather but also a lot of sunshine and tailwind and I don't mean Henry's farts. Enough to get tans and cracked lips.

And that was the end. We racked our bikes and drove back to Wick. Me and Henry shaved our heads and the hairdresser, like a drunken woman we met in an Edinburgh pub, made a contribution for "Riders for health". I was touched and my view of charity changed on this trip. And that was it.