Day 0 – Italy Beckons

So here we are on the eve of another tour this time to Italy and the delights of Tuscany. Over the next four days I will be riding from Livorno in the west on the Ligurian Sea to Ancona in the east on the Adriatic. All in all a distance of about 250 miles with 20,000 feet of climbing. (For non cyclist readers height climbed is an indicator of pain, sorry pleasure!

Tuscany is not an area that I know - I've passed through it a couple of times whilst heading south. I've also read about the spectacular old hill top towns and villages, some of which I hope to see and blog about as the tour progresses. Our tour avoids the main cities like Florence and Sienna, sticking instead to small and hopefully quiet minor roads. It's a region with a rich history so I hope to learn a bit more about it. We’ll be passing through the heart of Chianti country so I expect to enjoy a glass or three. And then there’s the Italian food. I love Italian food!

As a country with a long and rich cycling heritage I’ll be interested to see how we are regarded by the people we encounter en route. And riding on the ‘wrong’ side of the road could bring some interesting challenges, especially as we ride out of potentially busy Livorno tomorrow morning. We're going to be riding along part of the route of this year's Giro d’Italia and I wonder if we'll get some shouts of “bravissimo” from the roadside. Well, I'm allowed to dream.

Everything has gone very smoothly so far. Kim, our tour leader and Amanda who's helping to support the ride, have brought me to the airport for our flight to Pisa. Checking in at Stansted was painless and I was even able to enjoy the luxury of the Executive Lounge thanks to Kim’s card! Who says there's no such thing as a free lunch. As I write this, at 30,000 feet on the flight, my bike is already in Italy. Martyn, Amanda's husband and a good friend who I ride with sometimes, has been driving the support vehicle through France and Switzerland to ensure our bikes are ready for the Grand Depart tomorrow morning. I got to know Martyn on last year’s Lejog. If I have half as much fun as I did then, I will be a very happy cyclist indeed!

Well, it's a now a few hours later. We’ve all arrived and checked in at our hotel for the night, the Hotel Gran Duca on the seafront in Livorno. In front of the hotel is a statue of Ferdinando I de'Medici, Grand Duke of Tuscany (1549-1609). The statue was created by Bandini e Pietro Tacca in 1595, and is surrounded by pirates in chains.

As I write today's despatch from the front line I'm sitting on the terrace of my bedroom looking over the harbour. I've enjoyed a lovely dinner (seafood gnocchi) and a couple of glasses of wine. I wonder what tomorrow will bring?

Tour of Tuscany 2016

Coming soon - a ride from Livorno through Tuscany to Ancona. Watch this space ......

Some Reflections After the Event


I spent the week after arriving at John O'Groats visiting friends in the north of the country as I gradually worked my way back to Suffolk. I also used this time to reflect on the Lejog experience. So I thought I would complete the story by sharing some of my reflections. And at the risk of writing what to some might read like a speech at the Oscars!

I was struck by how incredibly lucky I was to be able to ride with 14 other strangers who got on so well together. One of the great joys of cycling is that it is a real leveller - in terms of attitudes and personalities. On a bike everyone is equal no matter whether they are experienced riders or not. We all wanted to enjoy ourselves and share a wonderful experience. Of course there were disagreements and annoyances - but they were all handled with great sensitivity and maturity. When one of the group was under pressure - with a puncture or mechanical, or was just feeling the strain of the ride, others in the group quietly closed ranks to help their colleague through the challenge. Often nothing was said, no recognition was sought. It was just the right thing to do. So to my 14 fellow riders I say 'Chapeau'!

Martyn and Ray provided the back up support for us. A keen rider himself, Martyn never showed any frustration or irritation at having to stop or ride slowly to deal with a complication or issue. He took everything in his stride and then some. And what a route he had planned. I will never forget the ever cheerful Ray who's impromptu diners were a guaranteed pick me up under all circumstances. And the Bettyhill sausage rolls were a stroke of genius! Without Martyn and Ray our tour could not have been the success it was.

I feel incredibly lucky to have been able to see so much of my country in such a short time. And I can definitely say that Britain is indeed a green and pleasant land. There are some new places I found that I will certainly be returning to for another ride. The riding itself was great fun. For me, as an experienced long distance cyclist, it wasn't too hard - with the exception of some of the hills which would challenge anyone, no matter how experienced. I was incredibly lucky too not to have any punctures or major mechanicals - especially considering the pounding my Bianchi took.

I was greatly touched by the fantastic support I received through sponsorship donations to Prostate Cancer UK. I just know that the money raised will be gratefully received and wisely used. I spent a lot of time thinking about people I know who have suffered the disease - many of whom have beaten it through their courage and determination. And I spent some time, a shed a few tears, thinking about friends who are no longer with us - particularly on 'The Lecht Day'. Along the way I received many messages of support and encouragement - from friends and strangers. Opening up my email, Facebook and Strava at the end of each day was a highpoint.











The ride finished with a dinner in Inverness where as a group we all celebrated our achievements and shared a few stories. And the great thing was that nobody took it too seriously. Having fun was the order of business. Rumours that I was sighted in a nightclub at 3am downing a tequila slammer and doing some funky stuff on the dance floor are entirely true!

The day after the ride was a strange one as my legs thought I was playing some cruel mind game when they realised the lycra was not coming out and we weren't going to be riding. In fact having been on such a high it was something of an anticlimax to realise that I didn't have much to do. Well, no riding with friends for a while.

Well, what next? I've had a couple of rides since getting home and my average speed seems to have picked up. So hill climbing definitely has its benefits. I've received lots of positive feedback about my blog so I'm going to keep it going but only on an occasional basis. You can sign up to receive email alerts if you're interested. I've managed to work out that I have a wide readership on at least four continents so that's good for my ego if nothing else.

And on the bike? Well, I've just read a rather good book about riding across America - 3,500 miles. So watch this space ..........  Hahah!

Day 13 – Nowhere Left to Ride

For some in our group, today began at about 1:00am with the Northern Lights. It was as if nature had laid on a spectacular fireworks display to mark our impending achievements. At 6:00am under gradually lightening skies we each slowly began to prepare for our final day of riding. The mood amongst the group was completely different from any previous morning. A confused mixture of emotions – euphoria at the prospect of actually reaching our goal. Sadness at the thought that as a group this might be the last time we would ride together. Apprehension at the prospect of the ride ahead as some of us had been told that it was going to be as hard as anything we had faced so far. But above all, a sense of achievement that both individually and collectively we had each shared a unique experience.

So after the usual hearty breakfast and with relatively little fanfare we loaded our kit into the support van, gave our bikes one final check over, climbed onto our saddles, pushed away, clipped into our pedals and rode off. We headed upwards out of the spectacular natural harbour at Tongue, pausing to help one of our number who had the misfortune to suffer a puncture within the first mile.



The rest of the day passed in a blur – a high speed blur. With a following tailwind we sped along the north coast of Scotland under blue skies. Yet again, nature had provided the most spectacular backdrop for the final day of our adventure. The immense wilderness of yesterday gradually receded behind us, with the massive mountain summits forming a hazy and distant backdrop. But they were still a brooding presence ensuring that we couldn't forget them. We rode down and up through a series of valleys carrying rivers northwards to the sea. The descents were fast, the ascents were sharp but no matter; with nearly 1000 miles in our legs we sped along, often freewheeling with our bikes clicking, clacking and whirring in a sort of avant-garde cyclists symphony.

As we progressed eastwards the countryside took on a more gentle and nurtured appearance as the peat and heather moors transformed into a softer and more cultivated landscape of arable and pastoral agriculture. Wide, straight, open roads, more reminiscent of East Anglia, were the order of the day. The miles were rolling by.

We sped through Thurso in a blur and after a quick discussion we set off for Dunnet Head, the most northerly point in mainland Britain. The few extra miles that this diversion involved were at best a minor consideration. At this point we could have ridden anywhere we chose as we were all on an incredible high. We paused to look out at Stroma, the most southerly of the Orkney Islands. A fierce squall was working its way across the sea – a reminder of the power of nature, and for some of us, a reminder of how lucky we had been with the weather over the  trip.



After a quick photocall we retraced our route which brought us back to the ever smiling Ray and some refreshments. Then in a slightly subdued atmosphere we rode on together for the last time. Before leaving Tongue at the start of the day we had agreed to all meet and pedal into John O’Groats together. And so, we finished as we had started in Land’s End thirteen days ago. Fifteen cyclists, who had come together to ride the length of Britain.



Each of us knew we had shared something that mere words can hardly describe. And now, there was nowhere left to ride.


Miles today 76
Total miles from Land’s End  1016 (+ 17)
Miles to John O’Groats -25

Day 12 – Into the Big Country

Breakfast this morning was an entirely different experience to yesterday. The was lots of chatter and banter. Jokes and bravado as the ‘Lecht experience’ was recounted. Everyone agreed that each of us had left and each of us had taken something from the experience. For me, the climb will always remain as a place that I faced and overcame my demons – with a little help from my friends.

We eased out of Conon Bridge on full stomachs and we hardly noticed the first few gentle climbs. I had the somewhat unique experience of the Dingwall lollipop lady stepping into the road at a junction to stop the traffic and let me through. Back at home in Stanton the lollipop lady unusually takes great delight in stopping me!

Gradually as we rode northwards the countryside opened up and the spectacular Dornoch Firth appeared in front of us. The scenery was spectacular but the best was yet to come. We picked our way along the valley of the beautiful River Shin as far a Lairg where the land opened up on a scale I have never seen elsewhere in Britain. The sheer scale of the landscape almost defies description. Huge sweeping peat and heather moors encompassed by distant mountain ranges made me feel totally insignificant. The good weather meant the views were outstanding.


Gradually we approached the Crask Inn where we stopped for the traditional travellers swift half and a top up at Ray’s Diner. Our halt coincided with a torrential rainstorm so we stayed at the Inn rather longer than intended.

Once the rain had cleared we sped off northwards and amazingly the views got better and better. I took the opportunity to increase the pace a tad and sped off the front of the group to enjoy some of the best riding I have ever experienced along the side of Loch Loyal. All too soon the final climb was upon us and then we swooped down into Tongue – our overnight halt.

I certainly hope to return and ride here again. This has to be one of the best parts of Britain, if not THE very best. For any readers who haven't been here before I can't recommend a visit too highly!

Miles today 79

Total miles from Land’s End  935 (+ 17)

Miles to John O’Groats  51

Day 11 – Friends, Old and New

For the first time since leaving Land’s End, breakfast this morning was a rather subdued event. There was little chatter, just the occasional “good morning” with a sort of grunted reply. Whenever eye contact was made it wasn’t held. Everyone was in their own world, mentally focussing on a point about twenty metres ahead of their front wheel. What brought the group together were eight letters; two words. Two short words – ‘The Lecht’. For today was the climb that everyone had been fearing. Opinions were united that the climb was going to be tough – tougher than anything we had faced so far. But no one could anticipate how hard. So it was a somewhat reluctant peloton that rolled out of Ballater, bound for Conon Bridge 87 miles away.

Simon Warren has this to say about The Lecht in his climber’s bible. “The Lecht can lay claim to being the most formidable-looking climb in Britain, lying like a giant staircase across a barren land, a petrifying slope of tarmac bisecting an empty moor. You know you’re in trouble when a road has a ski station at its summit. In all its glory, laid out before you, the Lecht strikes fear into the heart.”

A short, sharp warm up climb at 20% was the prelude to the main event. Then it was a long steady one mile ascent to the first false summit. A rapid descent through Cock Bridge in the rain brought us to a wall of a climb; the easiest bit was 20%, the hairpin bends were steeper still. This was a climb to dig deep.

The long and not so winding road after the steep bit.

Before leaving this morning I had decided to dedicate today to a couple of friends who are no longer with us. As I climbed I found myself thinking about them and what they would have made of my efforts. What I know is that they were there for me and without them I doubt I could have got to the top. So thank you B and I for your support, help and encouragement. And most of all for pushing me through the temptation to give up.












The descent off The Lecht was fast and furious. Fortunately the heavy rain didn’t start until we reached the bottom. Then it was a case of going full gas to Grantown-on-Spey with raindrops the size of peas rattling off my glasses. At Grantown I met Matthew, the son of old friends, who rode with us all the way to Inverness. I certainly enjoyed his company and it was nice to spend a some time riding with a new companion. All too soon we were in Inverness and then it was a 10 mile solo ride to Conon Bridge, our overnight halt.

So today was a very good day – but for totally different reasons. The best of reasons and the best of friends – old and new, here and gone.

Miles today 87
Total miles from Land’s End  856 (+ 17)
Miles to John O’Groats  130

Day 10 – A Day in the Mountains

Rather like the Tour de France, today was the first proper day in the mountains. Indeed as we rode northwards I was reminded of the Tour as it approaches the Pyrenees. Okay, we're not talking about the same heights, but the gradients are comparable. As we rolled out of Perth we passed the historic Palace at Scone where Scottish Monarchs have traditionally been crowned. Rab and Davy put me right on my pronunciation - it's Scoon, not Scone. Suitably chastened I decided to listen rather more and talk rather less about the attractions we would pass en route.

Slowly, indeed almost imperceptibly, we climbed from Perth towards Blairgowrie. A following wind meant that we fairly whizzed along. Then leaving Blairgowrie it all changed. A steep climb out of the town, which I vaguely recall is linked to a geological fault line, brought us to Ray’s Diner. After this it was every rider for themselves as we headed towards the Spital of Glenshee and the main climb of the day. A quick photocall followed by a tightening of my shoe fasteners and it was time to choose a low gear and pedal steadily upwards for the next 5 miles. At a maximum of 12% the climb isn't particularly steep but it's length, which as an East Anglian I am not used to, coupled with a headwind, meant that sustaining forward motion was a challenge. Interestingly, as the climb continued the challenge became rather more mental than physical. I rode through the last stretch, the toughest 400 yards I've ridden for a long time, by aiming (mentally and physically) at one snow post after another. The ‘Welcome to Aberdeenshire’ sign was certainly very welcome.


We all regrouped at the Glenshee Ski Centre café for a hot chocolate toast – it was distinctly chilly at the top - and then we clipped into our pedals for the descent. I had hopes of setting a new PB on the descent (my current PB stands at 54.2mph) but unfortunately the stiff headwind put paid to that. A real shame since this is a fabulous descent with wide open roads, sweeping bends and excellent visibility for oncoming traffic. Sheep are the only real hazard. So, maybe I'll have to return. Or maybe not!





We dropped into the Dee Valley pausing for a brief top up at the Braemar branch of Ray’s Diner and then we swept along. I did phone ahead to Balmoral to see if we could call in for a cuppa but unfortunately HMQ was out walking her corgis.

Along the way we engaged in a few mind games with a couple of local riders who had the temerity to overtake us – we let them have their moment of glory and then left them for dust. All too soon we were freewheeling into Ballater and looking for our base for the night.

If I had to sum up today in one word – “Stupendous” – would be the word!

Miles today 67
Total miles from Land’s End  769 (+ 17)
Miles to John O’Groats  217