Big Birthday Bike Ride

Aftershock!

2007-10-08T11:36:00.000-07:00

Post Script.

Twelve hours after leaving John o'Groats, we arrived back home in West Yorkshire. The equivalent distance had taken us nine days to cycle. In all, we spent 108 hours in the saddle, over 16 days, and cycled 976 miles. Giving an average speed of 9mph, average distance per day of 61 miles, and an average time in the saddle of 6hrs 45min per day.

The next day, Matthew was in school to get his ‘A’ level results, which were a very impressive A,B,C,C.

Whilst trying to remember one of the places we passed through on Leg 3, I decided to import Garmin’s track log for that day into the Route Planning software. I was tickled to see all the little loops and whorls that we made from time to time, especially where we wiggly-wee-d-in-Wellington.

Did I mention that we promised Georgina that we would get a puppy when we returned home? We thought this might be a good goal to focus on to take her mind off the pain. Well, virtually before we'd unpacked, the hunt was on, and we now have a very lively 10-week old Springer Spaniel named 'Molly'.

Back to work, and all that remains is to collect the sponsorship from my colleagues. The people in my department have generously promised over £600 pounds, and my employers, HBOS will add £500 to that through the "Matched Funds" scheme. When we get all the money in, we’ll publish a final total.

"And what of the Rapunzels?" I hear you ask. Well, I'm afraid we must leave that story up in the air, so to speak. "Does that leave the door open for a sequel?" you may ask. No way man, no sirree bob! The opportunities for conversation are a bit limiting (in fact we hardly talk any more). Let's face it they're a little, how to put this tactfully, 'one-dimensional'. To be fair to Rapunzel, way back in January, at the start of this saga she did provide the answer: as I left the shower-room pondering in which direction we should do the ride, North-to-South, or South-to-North, she simply said "Going Up". Sound advice indeed.

Finally, it's time to thank all those people who have contributed in some way to this event. The list is huge: friends, family, colleagues, complete strangers we met along the way, the campsites who waived their fees, organisations who provided cash, comestibles and services free of charge, all those patient lorry drivers. And of course, advice, support, and help of a practical nature from those who have been there, done that, got the blisters to prove it. Matthew and Jonathan of course, but above all, thank you Jacky for sacrificing three weeks of your summer holiday for the both of us.

14/08/07

2007-10-08T11:34:00.000-07:00

Tuesday 14th August 2007. Leg 16: Helmsdale to John o’Groats.

Woken at 3.00 a.m., not by rain, but by a lorry, to the realisation that we’re in a field next to the A9 in the far North of Scotland. What for? What on earth for? It all comes back to me, before I doze of again for another 4 hours.

A beautiful, still, cloudless morning to start our final leg.

Dropped off at Helmsdale, for a 9:50 set-off. We’re in good spirits as we tackle the climb out of Helmsdale. We know we can do it. However, it’s a stinker of an ascent topping out at 700 feet.

To add insult to injury, there’s another similar climb out of Berriedale, to 500 feet. This is taking the smiles off our faces a bit.

The support team are there on one of the climbs, watching us winch our way up towards them. Then we say goodbye to them until noon, when they’ve got the bacon butties going at a place which used to be Castle Hill Filling Station. The petrol pump originates from the pre-decimalisation days of Gallons, with prices in Shillings and Pence. (Pounds not shown on the dial, as you could fill most cars’ tanks for mere shillings).

We’re in Gunn country, with Dunbeath, birthplace of Neil M.Gunn (I betray my ignorance), and Latheron, home of the clan Gunn heritage centre. Dad used to say that our family were entitled to wear the Gunn tartan. Don’t know which particular branch of our forebears that was.

A little further on, a dilapidated hotel, long ceased trading, “TH GU ST HOUS ”. Obviously built in the immediate post-war years during the national ‘E’ shortage. (The government had already enforced the use of sans serif typefaces in the press, to conserve printers’ ink: a restriction which was removed when sweet-rationing ended in 1953).

Half past one: stop to meet the van at Lybster. I love these place names. There’s Lybster, Occumster, and my favourite Badlipster (sounds like some sort of insult – don’t trust him, he’s a Badlipster). Then there’s Haster and Thrumster (or is that Hamster and Thruster?) Absolutely no truth in the rumour that Marc Boland wrote Jeepster during a tour of these parts in the late 60’s.

Now we’re passing “The Hill o’ Many Stanes” – does exactly what it says on the tin.

Lots of oats in evidence in the fields along the roadside.

This is a multi-buzzarded area (including one example dead by the roadside).

Up the A99, the last road in Britain. The weather – ye couldnae ask for better, Captain, very slightly marred by a cool S.E. which is chilly on the downhill sections.

Wick 15:30. Lovely loos – well kept for Viking territory. Sat by the river with Matt and Jon. Leave at 15:45. Most incongruous thing we see next is a huge matrix sign on the other side of the road, presumably to remind the tourists from the Faroe Isles to drive on the left.

Loo stop at Keiss, where a RAF Tornado flies low over the township. “Only” 10 miles to go, now. This is where those jokes about South to North being the hard way as it’s all up hill seem to ring true. I kid on to Georgina that I can’t go any further.

About this time, a thought comes into my head “Wouldn’t it be a cool thing to take the punk attitude, stop 3 miles short of John o’Groats, throw the bikes into the nearest burn, and say “Can’t be arsed!”

Song for today “This is The End.” by the Doors.

Final downhill into John o’Groats is a tremendous relief. Great views of the Orkneys lying out there offshore. Finally coast into the car park to see Jacky, Matthew and Jonathan, next to the van. Photos, both official and unofficial are taken. Chips from a hot food stall. We pose for a photo of us opening a bottle of Landlord. Georgina shivering in a cool easterly, waiting for the photographer. Me impervious to the cold (well not really). We see recumbent rider. He arrived one hour before us. Buy the Tee-shirt, sign the book, and look unsuccessfully for an entry from Mr. Robinson’s party. (We later found out that they did complete the ride).

Then, blow me, Jonathan and Georgina have only wandered off for a walk down by the ocean, and he’s only gone and proposed to her, and she’s only gone and accepted. Ta da!!!! Then they’ve only gone and come back to show us the ring. Well, what a year this is turning out to be! Of course, we were sort of expecting this sooner or later, but what a place to pop the question! How romantic!

Then Jacky tells us that we’re not staying on the campsite, as I’d thought. Instead, as a surprise, she’s booked us all in at the Seaview Hotel. Ahh, luxury. Of course a bottle of bubbly had to be drunk with the meal, but the Taylor’s Landlord we’d drunk earlier is IMHO “The Champagne of the North”.

“Mr. King, how do you feel, now you’ve completed the challenge?”

“Well, My knees are twingeing a bit: I think that when we get home, I may need a session with my knee specialist, “Patella Guru”. In fact, I’ve got Thumbshift thumb, Broken Bandaged Bum, Twistgrip wrist, Bulgin’ thighs, Dustin Eyes, Po’ knees, and old ankle gone cobbly an’ all. However, I will now draw a discreet veil over my “Anus Horribilis”.

“Finally, Mr. King, any advice for anyone thinking of taking up the challenge (apart from the obvious DON’T)”

“Yes, remember you are not cycling to John o’Groats, you’re patiently reeling it in, like a fish on a very long line. The secret is to keep pedalling, and it will come to you. Eventually”.

I rest my **se.

Distance covered: 52.6 miles
Moving time: 05:35
Average speed: 9.4 mph
Maximum speed: 27.7 mph.

13/08/07

2007-10-08T11:31:00.000-07:00

Monday 13th August 2007. Leg 15: Inverness to Brora + 10.

Day 15 in the Big Brother household, and Pete’s writin’ ees diaree. Th’other housemates are asleep……

Jacky has reversed the motorhome somewhat too close to a Silver Birch. Consequently, I have fulfilled a childhood ambition to sleep in a tree-house. Let me tell you that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Creaks and groans have kept me awake for most of the night.

Spent time last night trying to re-plan the final day, but now think my original route was OK, so we’ll stick with that. Today’s route has now shifted onto the A9 for the bulk of the way, which makes it shorter, easier cycling. We hope to push on beyond Brora camp-site, before being collected and taken back to the campsite. This will shorten the final day.

Matthew and Jonathan have driven up from Yorkshire to support us for the final two legs. They actually arrived in Inverness about 3.30 this morning, and have slept in the car not far from the campsite. They come a-knocking at 7.30 a.m. for breakfast. Good to see them again.

It’s a dull morning, and a bit breezy.

We head off from the campsite, wiggling our way through Inverness. This is where we see our first road sign for JoG – just 120 miles to go!. And soon we’re on the bridge north of town, crossing the Moray Firth. A strong side-wind on the bridge and it’s spotting onto rain, keeping our speed low as we timidly wobble along the footway high above the Moray Firth. Next, we’re enjoying good fast cycle path, which dives away from the A9, and finishes abruptly after about a mile. Bah, humbug!

Me: “Time to light the third boiler, don’t you think, Georgina!”

G: “but papa, don’t you think there may be ice-bergs around in these Northern latitudes?”

Me: “I do feel you’re being over-cautious, my daughter. This is the month of August, and the newspapers will be anxious for a story.”

By the time we reach the Cromarty Firth, we cross the long bridge with heavy ice-cold rain driving into out left ears, and lots of spray from passing lorries.

It’s a relief to get to Skiach services for a rendezvous, although we had been hoping to get further by this time. We’re both starving. We have our second Breakfast here. It’s just turned afternoon.

We haven’t managed to avoid the showers like yesterday. Definitely a different kind of rain. A more cunning rain, that sneaks up behind you, dowses you, and runs away giggling like a child with a “Super-Soaker” water pistol.

The A9 is an interesting road. On the older stretches, you can play “Bisect the Cat’s Eye”. A real test of skill, this: if you’re not accurate, you get a jolt from the cast iron chair in which the Cat’s Eye sits. A game for the newer stretches is “Rumble-strip yodelling”. You can probably work out what this involves. No particular talent is required for it, but it helps if the nerve endings in your backside have already been deadened by 800 miles of conditioning.

We’ve turned North-East, so the wind is behind us now. Suddenly, I hit a big bump, and one hook of my right pannier dislodges, causing it to swing forward into my heel. No sooner have I started to brake and shout “Stopping!”, than a further bump dislodges the pannier and dumps it in the road. Luckily the following traffic avoids it, before I can run back to retrieve it. No damage done (sandwiches possibly a bit boffed). Note to self: double check pannier is properly locked on in future).

Soon, we’re cracking on again. Georgina lets me know, she needs the loo, so I tell her not to fret, that we should be in Golspie within a quarter of an hour.

Then it happened. Puncture number two. Following G. down the hard shoulder, a big bang as I hit something hard, and my tyre’s flat in seconds. This turned out to be a pinch-puncture – two little snake-bite holes in the tube, but no damage to the tyre - (now I do regret letting air out of the tyres a few days ago). Blow number two: I get the spare out, and it’s for a 700c wheel (road bike size). A brand new tube, sold in the wrong box, by the looks of things. This will not do. I will have to use the old repair outfit by the roadside. Which I do, and it seems to be effective.

Every cloud has a silver lining, though, because the man outside whose house we have punctured, on seeing our helmets bobbing about, comes out and asks us what we’re doing. On hearing that we’re doing LE-JoG for the MS Society, he promptly reaches for the back pocket, and makes a £20 donation. Yay! Makes all that hassle worth while!

Cakes and coffee at Harry Gow’s café at Tain, As we’re leaving at ten to three, a recumbent trike goes past. He’s flying a large “Skull-and-Crossbones” pennant, and looking quite business-like. We think he, too, may be heading for John o’Groats.

Out of Tain, we cross our last major stretch of water, the Dornoch Firth, keeping our eyes open for ‘growlers’.

Paninis with the road crew in ‘Trawlers’, Golspie at half-five.

Then we set off again, passing a sign-post for ‘Doll’ Minutes later, we pass another signpost for ‘Doll’, then we pass a third identical signpost. How quaint.

Now we’re ‘Beyond the Valley of the Dolls’, heading for Brora, and yes, we’re so fired up we go on another 10 miles to Helmsdale, where Jacky picks us up. Today, we have run before a 20 knot Sou’Wester, which has been much appreciated, despite the rain which accompanied it.

Back on the campsite, it transpires the recumbent guy is there too. His support vehicle is a classic VeeDub campervan. He is riding an Optima trike, which is slow up hills, but very fast down.

I mention that we have seen a remarkable number of cars with ‘FO’ plates. This keeps us bemused for a while. (I think it was Jonathan who suggested Faroe Isles, which turned out to be correct when I checked later on t’Internet).

Distance covered: 70.2 miles
Moving time: 06:50
Average speed: 10.3 mph
Maximum speed: 24.8 mph.

12/08/07

2007-10-08T11:28:00.000-07:00

Sunday 12th August 2007. Leg 14: Glen Nevis to Inverness.

Woken at 2.40 a.m. by heavy rain on roof of van. This seemed to continue all night, until we dragged ourselves wearily out of bed. The rain seemed especially heavy, now. Georgina quipped “At least it’s a different type of rain from yesterday. This is Full-on rain.” Then it stopped.

Ben Nevis has his head in cloud (probably as usual).

Have latterly taken to using Garmin with the route navigation feature switched off. The route is so obvious (A82 etc). This may save him a few needless calculations, and hence conserve battery power.

After yesterday’s soaking Brooks has taken on a new shape – a perfect cast of my big-end. Interesting point to note, my butt is asymmetrical, as witnessed by the larger indentation on the Brooks’ left flank. The big question: which is cause and which effect? i.e. Have I conferred my asymmetry on Brooks, or has he made me that way?

Georgina’s luggage took a good soaking yesterday. Her flat-topped carrier developed a puddle, which very quickly penetrated to the interior. This has prompted a clear-out and declutter, which has removed dozens of minor ointments, unguents, and lotions. This has resulted in a reduction in weight of approximately 50%.

Road to Spean Bridge, lots of Harebells, and very interesting array of errant wheel-trims (rough road surfaces hereabouts). Grumpy farmer in a field, with a scythe. P’raps he’s bringing in the bracken. Did nobody suggest there’s more of a living to be had in harvesting wheel-trims?

Spean Bridge is reached by 11, and first meeting with Jacky’s “Bistro Bus” near the Commando Memorial. A quick photo stop, then we’re off again, to meet up again further down the road, near Invergloy at noon. We’re heading up the Great Glen, for Loch Ness, but this is next to one of the lesser lochs, Loch Lochy. Bacon butties are again on the menu. She should start a franchise or summat. Jacky’s Rolling Chuck Wagon & Bike Hire. All done in a corporate style: white van with spare Red Bike on the back. Georgina is a bit off-colour, for which she is taking Diocalm, but I do believe she’s going to manage a butty.

Through Glengarrie, after which the hat is not named.

Jacky’s Chuck Wagon becomes Jacky’s Rolling Shelter on the next sighting as we just happen to rendezvous as a heavy rain shower makes it’s presence felt around 2 o’clock. This happens again at 3 o’clock.

Verdict on A82 up the Great Glen:
Hillier than expected. Most motorists very patient, with the odd pillock who thinks we shouldn’t get in his way. If you’re expecting to catch a glimpse of Nessie, then forget it, as the vegetation is way to high to see anything Lochside.

Weather: a mixture of sun and heavy showers. Once more, we have a tail-wind (the wind blowin’ up me and up the canyon, ‘sfar as I can see.) By the time we got to Urquhart Castle, I passed up the opportunity of a photo-stop.

Fiddlers Café in Drumndadrochit for cakes and drinks. Another downpour. Somehow “Drookit in Drumnadrochit” hasn’t quite got the same evocative ring as say “Sleepless in Seattle” or “Going Loco down in Acupulco”.

On the outskirts of Inverness a B&B called “The Old Manse B&B”. The “e” was obscured by vegetation, so I was sorely tempted to stay the night there and let Georgina continue the journey to the campsite without me.

Made it to the campsite at 7 p.m. (not bad going, obviously wind assistance is a contributory factor). But again my proposed route up the other (traffic free) side of Loch Ness has been abandoned in favour of the A82, and I am disappointed that I didn’t have the nerve to hold out for that. It just might have been a better route.

Phil McCone (I’m not making this up), the Scots Ice Cream man tinkles his way round the campsite, his jingle playing the Happy Wanderer “Fol-de-ree, fol-de-rah” etc. Very appropriate for outdoor types.

I didn’t like the shower here, the cubicle was long, narrow, dark, and somewhat coffin-like. I now sympathise with race-horses who baulk when being led into the starting gate.

And so, before bedtime, it’s Sudoku for the support team, Sudocrem for the riders’ bums.

Distance covered: 66.2 miles
Moving time: 06:35
Average speed: 10.0 mph
Maximum speed: 26.8 mph.

11/08/07

2007-10-08T11:26:00.000-07:00

Saturday 11th August 2007. Leg 13: Loch Awe to Glen Nevis.

Woken at 3.40 a.m. by heavy rain on roof of van. Wet start at 9:45.

It was hereabouts that the Burton expedition ran into heavy rain in deepest equatorial Glencoe, and it looks the same fate is going to befall us. This rain may just tickle your face, but it is persistent, and continuous, and a soaking is guaranteed.

Jacky drops us back at Loch Awe, so that we can continue from where we left off.

Up the Pass of Brander, past the campsite we’ve just stayed at, and onto Taynuilt and the Connel Bridge in the wet.

A little up the road, a dead hedgehog, perfectly formed. Probable cause of death: drowning.

Jacky is parked near Benderloch, doing a good impersonation of a road-side cafe. Cycling gloves are wrung out, before tucking into hot coffee and bacon butties - very nice! Noon – time to push on, weather still wetting us.

Georgina: “Now I understand why people wear those ludicrous ponchos.”

Me: “In my day, they were called ‘Cycle Capes’ “

This starts me off whistling the theme tune to “The Greatest Cape”

Georgina mentions that her gear change indicator windows are steaming up. I look down at mine, and they’re the same. Mr. Shimano, surely you get weather like this in Japan? I would have thought leak-proof gear changer windows would be essential. Anyway, the only thing that’s leak-proof around here is our skin, and we’re soaked through to it.

As we navigate round the coast road to North Ballachulish, snacks are taken in various bus shelters, mainly to keep the saddles of the bikes dry (we already couldn’t get much wetter). Suddenly, we recognise the Pap of Glencoe in the misty distance. Joining the road from Glencoe at the Ballachulish bridge, the traffic level is starting to increase. (It’s been comparatively quiet since Bute.) Now we’re back on the main route to Fort William, and points North and West.

A couple of very near misses from motorists who don’t seem to be aware of the width of their cars. Also one of the continental tourists in a left hand drive car, clearly comes close enough for us to read his satnav. At least the rain has abated. Approaching Fort William, we are under the trees. This confuses Garmin, who now says we at an altitude of -3 feet. I know we’ve been under water for most of the day, but under Loch Linnhe is taking things a bit far.

On the last few miles into Fort William, we take to the pavement, as we are fed up of tourist coaches bearing down on us. Toilet stop in Fort William, before the final 2 miles into Glen Nevis campsite, which is reached at 17:50. Ben Nevis is well shrouded, only the lower flanks are in view

Georgina, despite (or maybe because of) the weather, has really been in winning mood today, with lots of quips. The hills haven’t been too demanding, the distance not excessive, and the rain has mercifully kept us cool.

The showers at Glen Nevis campsite are simply to die for, my dear. Not only do they have a plentiful supply of hot water, feeding the showerhead via a simple mixer valve arrangement, but also ample dry area, which is raised above the tray. A splash panel efficiently ensures that very little water gets onto the floor area. Shelf, seat and hooks for all the clothing and washing tackle you need. And a music system playing Capercaillie! AND a SQUEEGEE in every cubicle for removing the odd splash which does overstep the mark!!!

But the best thing about them is – get this – when you use them, TIME STANDS STILL! Yes, you can luxuriate for as long as you wish in the deliciously hot aqueous flow, dry yourself at a leisurely pace, and when you emerge from the cubicle no time whatsoever has elapsed in the outside world.

“How do you know this?” I hear you ask. Well, my proof is that tonight. as I entered the cubicle, I passed a young Nordic type who was combing his flowing blond locks, while regarding himself admiringly in the mirror. On emerging from my delightfully long and invigorating shower, the exact same person was engaged in the exact same activity, seemingly no nearer to taming the wayward hair.

I looked at my watch, it read 18:47. (Just wish I had checked it on the way in, that would have clinched it).

The day is rounded off with a lovely meal in the Glen Nevis restaurant. World Dryer Corporation model XA5 482 in the toilet. Seems to do what is says on the tin. Jacky tells me that Tony Wilson (of Factory records, the Hacienda, Joy Division etc) has died. Shame – he was a hero of my second childhood. And so to bed.

Distance covered: 57.8 miles
Moving time: 05:58
Average speed: 9.7 mph
Maximum speed: 25.0 mph.

10/08/07

2007-10-08T11:19:00.000-07:00

Friday 10th August 2007. Leg 12: Glendaruel to Loch Awe.

Woken at 3.30 a.m. by heavy rain on roof of van. Damp morning. Apply midge repellent, get sheets signed at reception. Lady at campsite chips in some sponsorship, as does a man in the queue for the shop. Lots of helpful advice and encouragement, including a suggestion of using the Otter Ferry. Have to pass up on this, because it’s a bit too much south-west for us, and will add some miles, even though it may avoid some hill-climbing. Besides, we’ve already dropped our original planned stay at Inverary in favour of pushing on to Bridge of Awe campsite. I’m getting a bit punch-drunk with all this re-planning.

Today we have three major long ascents in front of us. (800 feet up the A896 out of Glendaruel, 400 feet up the A815 away from the east side of Loch Fyne, and the 700 feet pull up the A819 through Glen Aray out of Inverary).

Before we set off I have a little grumble about the sugar-free grapefruit concentrate which has been purchased. Georgina says she likes it. I complain I can taste Aspartame. It is becoming increasingly difficult to find a soft drink which doesn’t contain it. Nobody in the drinks industry asked me if I wanted it. I object to Aspartame on three counts: (1) I don’t like the taste (2) I’m not convinced it’s safe (OK, so sugar rots your teeth, well at least that’s a known side effect) (3) I want sugar when I’m cycling. Sugar is energy.

Arrange with Jacky to meet at Strachur around lunch-time. Then we’re off at 9:40. Steaming up the A896, it’s my specs which are steaming up. Weather is still dull, but picking up after the rain.

On the long climb, discuss with Georgina whether I should wash the hot damp sweat-pads of my helmet in a nearby burn. She predicts the result will be steam emanating from the vents in my helmet, so I abandon that idea. I recognise Angelica along the roadside. Reminds me of when we were in Iceland, we were told the tale of the Norse outlaw who survived over winter, living in a hole in the ground and eating the roots of the Angelica plant. He’d have had a feast here.

Just before Strachur, Georgina complains that something’s not right with her bike. This is when we notice her rear tyre is a little soft. Is it a puncture? Maybe when I let that air out of the tyres a few days ago, I didn’t tighten the valve properly. Let’s pump the tyre up to see if that helps. Is there such a thing as ‘False Puncture Syndrome’?

Lunch at a small tea-room in Strachur. Georgina plumps for the Full Scottish, while I order a panini. G. fresh from her Environmental Science degree course, comments sotto voce on the waste-water disposal arrangements, and EU directives and the like. Well the meal was nice.

On departing the tea-rooms at 12.40, we watch Jacky sail off into the distance, turn to our bikes, and the realisation hits us “It is a puncture”.

It’s off with the wheel, out with the tube. No sign of anything penetrating the tyre carcass, but there’s this little crease in the tube, due to it being a wide tube in a narrow tyre. The tube has been crammed into the tyre by yours truly, and finally fatigued along the crease after some 600 miles. Letting air out of the tyre probably didn’t help as it’s allowed the tube to flex more, and contributed to the problem. In with a fresh tube (of the correct cross-section) and we’re back on our way. I’m a bit annoyed with myself that this has happened, partially due to the fact that this bike was a substitute for the Moulton, which I decided at the last minute to leave at home.

A car passes by in the opposite direction near Loch Fyne, with a beep and a wolf-whistle at Georgina. Yes, a wolf-whistling car. How strange.

Loch Fyne Oyster bar at 15:00 hours. Loch Fyne Oyster-catchers.

Inverary 16:00 hours (33 miles done). Bag of chips each and an Ice Cream for me.

On the last big pull up Glen Aray, a Freelander passes us at speed with the noise of Grabthar’s hammer coming from under the bonnet. Georgina and I look at each other and remark “That was loud”.

This puts me in mind of my Dad’s work colleague, Stan Borthwick. Stan came from North of the Border, and his standard diagnosis of any car mechanical malady would be “It’s yer tappets, Bill”. Not only was this invariably wrong, but also dad’s name was not “Bill”. Dad could put up with the inaccurate appellation “Bill”, but it was a major source of irritation when Dad was trying unsuccessfully to start his umpteenth-hand Renault Dauphine with the umpteenth swing of the starter handle, (a) that he (Stan) was there offering advice even though he knew nothing about car mechanics, and (b) that he (Dad) knew that he (Stan) knew nothing about car mechanics, but (c) that he (Dad) also new nothing about car mechanics, and so was not only (c.1) powerless to get the car started, but moreover (c.2) powerless to tell him (Stan) that he (Stan) was talking utter drivel. Even if it had been “Yer tappets, Bill”, neither Dad nor Stan would have had the faintest idea what to do with them, (a) where to find them, and (b) once found, whether to (i) tighten them, (ii) loosen them, (iii) grease them, (iv) de-grease them, or (v) hit them with a large hammer. Stan might just as well have claimed “It’s Yer Beryllium spheres, Bill”, for all the good it would have done. But I digress.

On this occasion Stan’s standard diagnosis is very close to the truth, for the whole of the top end of this Freelander’s engine is in terminal melt-down. And so it transpires that a few minutes later, we come upon the now-quiet Freelander in a layby, with the bonnet up, and the driver asking us if we’ve got any water, ‘cos his engine is (or has just been) on fire! There is another car parked nearby. The two occupants have got out, and the lady passenger is giving the Freelander driver a small bottle of freshly squeezed orange juice to throw on the engine (what a waste). The flames are out by now, but what a smell of oil and caramelised orange juice! We donate some water from my camelback, and after determining that his engine has probably imploded due to being driven without oil, we leave him to the recovery services. Ho hum, one less 4x4 on the road.

Jacky picked us up at Loch Awe village at 17:00 and took us to the campsite at Bridge of Awe. We had done enough for the day, with all those climbs.

Distance covered: 51.0 miles
Moving time: 06:04
Average speed: 8.4 mph
Maximum speed: 26.0 mph.

Day 13 09/08/07

2007-09-17T12:34:00.000-07:00

Thursday 9th August 2007. Leg 11: Tarbolton to Glendaruel.

So this is Middlemuir Caravan park. We are parked on a slight slope. More ‘Titanic’ parallels, this time it’s the crockery, which seems to want to slide from the shelves at the slightest opportunity.

Off at 09:15, into a bright and apparently windless day. Not a cloud on the horizon.

Second breakfast at Monkton Lodge services near Prestwick Airport. Muffins, cappuccino, J2O. Hanging on the wall, an empty box, labelled “Take-Away Menu” causes to me to pause a while and ponder.

Swarms of tiny black flies hit us on the A77. Keep your mouth shut.

Then onto the A78, where “The Great White Whiskerless One” stares impassively as we pass (see Finn McCool, Leg 9).

Negotiating the roads round Irvine, there was much more broken glass to be seen on the roadside. Every morning before we set out, I make sure I check the tyres for embedded sharp objects. Note to self: extra vigilance require when checking tomorrow.

Meet Jacky at Tesco Irvine, 11:30. The hugest tower of Pringles I have ever seen is there. Is it in the guidebooks? Very tasty paninis in the café, surrounded by happy-looking pre-school kiddies being fed (Tesco – very little whelps). Left after a very long stay of about an hour.

Up the A78, very hot on the ascents, with a few short stops along the way to try and get some shade for Georgina. Some like it hot. She does not.

Then we’re on the flat coastal run to Wemyss Bay (meeting J. in a layby North of Largs). My eye was caught by a Hillman Imp in pristine condition, just south of the ferry terminal. Boarded the 16:45 ferry, together with white van lady, yay!

At Rothesay, Jacky pushes on towards the ferry off Bute to Colintraive. We stop for a bit a snap, and the weather has suddenly gone overcast. Fancied an Ice Cream, but we felt our delicate Sassenach pallets might not be up to Irn Bru flavour, not helped by the chip-fat smell emanating from the shop. We headed for Rhubodach (Rubber Duck?) to follow Jacky’s tyre-tracks to the ferry. Georgina’s verdict on Rothesay: “like a cross between Tobermory and Morecambe, but without the nice ice cream.”

Just rolled down to the ferry, up the ramp and off it went. (Good of them to wait for us).

9 miles North, arrived at campsite around 20:00, via the back road up the Glen. Consequently nearly couldn’t find the campsite. But we asked at a nearby cottage. Owls in evidence in the trees, and quite a few midges too. Jacky had prepared a hearty meal Further re-planning ensued, to capitalise on the miles gained from yesterday’s sacrifice of the rest day.

A few spots of rain, followed by overnight rain.

The insect scores:
Midges: few – black flies: infinity.
Couple of buzzards and the odd heron spotted along the route.

(Thoughts as I drift off to sleep: Am I imagining it, or is the Brooks a tad less uncomfortable today? Could be down to better road services. Georgina has been very tolerant of the few bad calls I’ve made today on the navigation front. Perhaps we are finally gelling together as a team. Is this Glenda Jackson? No Glendaruel Zzz…)

Distance covered: 63.2 miles
Moving time: 06:48
Average speed: 9.3 mph
Maximum speed: 28.0 mph.

Day 12 08/08/07

2007-09-17T12:32:00.000-07:00

Wednesday 8th August 2007. Leg 10: Penpont to Tarbolton via North Nowheresville (Map Ref 884944).

Bad kharma this morning as the enormity of Scotland looms ahead of us. Yes, we’ve done 600 miles. Yes, we’ve crossed the border to leave England behind. But today is a big psychological downer, for a number of reasons. Firstly, we’re losing a rest day. Secondly, I feel I’ve failed in my planning, as all my routes seem to have ended in the recycle bin. Thirdly, we threw in the towel last night 7 miles short of the campsite, which in itself was a minor defeat. But that’s compounded this morning by not being able to agree on where to re-start the cycling today.

I’m holding out for being taken back down the A76 to last night’s pick-up point. Georgina is not keen on that idea, and thinks we should just start at Thornhill,a few miles to the East of here. I can’t agree to that, as it would mean that we’d had too much assistance, and hence I’d feel we’d cheated. Besides there would be a 7-mile gap in Garmin’s tracklog, which would offend my obsessive compulsive nature. The argument continues with a massive falling out, where I finally say that if we’re going to do that, I’m ready to just call it a day and go home. (and I really mean it).

Jacky is doing her best to mediate, but I stomp off to the toilet block, to reflect. Mentally, Georgina and I have not quite ‘gelled’. Which is a great shame, as physically on the bikes it’s as though we’re joined at the hip. We both pedal with a similar cadence, we respond to road conditions alike, changing gear virtually simultaneously. And she has been great as my eyes and ears, warning me if I fail to notice anything dangerous ahead or behind.

When I return, the atmosphere seems to have improved, and everyone is much more in the mood to compromise. The middle path agreed upon is that we will cycle off the campsite, and do a little southward loop just to put in a few extra miles, without completely retracing our steps back to the original pick-up point. Everyone is mighty relieved. That iceberg just grazed us.

Meanwhile on the saddle front, the one which Jonathan brought over to Ainsdale is no more comfy than the Brooks (the damage is done). So I take the decision to swap saddles again. (“Zippin’ up my boots, Goin’ back to my Brooks, yeah” – Odyssey.)

All this kerfuffle means that we do not get away till 10:45. But, hey, we’ve now actually got a reasonable distance of about 47 miles to Tarbolton, in place of the originally planned implausible 80 to catch the last ferry to Bute. The only other fly in the ointment is that we have quite a climb ahead of us out of Galloway into Ayrshire.

Cakes in Thornhill after just 4 miles. We’re not exactly making immense progress. We see some cyclists heading south, possibly doing the JoGLE.
Georgina likes the monument, which has a big plinth and a spindly column, as though they ran out of dosh after the first 6 feet. I feel it’s a bit like the Stonehenge on Spinal Tap.

General trend of the road is upward. Six miles out of Thornhill we stop in a layby on the A76 next to the river Nith, and hey, Presto! Here comes Jacky. Beautiful river, beautiful day: plenty sun, and not much wind in evidence at the moment. Pity about the discarded Telly in the lay-by though. Really spoils the view somewhat. Nevertheless, old habits die hard, and we stand and watch it for a while, before remarking “There’s nothing on the Telly”. (“Broken Household Appliance, Natural Forest” – Grandaddy seems so very appropriate).

Roadkill is tending to be small mammals today.

At 13:45 ,we dined on bananas at Kirkconnel on a bench near the river, but you don’t want to know about that. At some point, we hit such rough road surfaces, that I decided to stop, and let some air out of our tyres, just to give a less bone-shaking ride. I knew that this may increase the chances of pinch-punctures, but I felt I would be able to justify this sop to passenger comfort should a Board of Trade enquiry be called.

Ayrshire border was reached at 15:00. Shortly after, bumped into Jacky reading Harry Potter in a lay-by. 23 miles done (half-way mark?)

Eventually you cruise along the A76 at an altitude of 700 feet, before gently descending to the lower lands of Ayrshire.

Cumnock toilet stop 17:00, very fine example of gents’ upright urinals in the Victorian style. Feel these ought to be featured on those ‘Cash in the Attic daytime programs. There must be a market for collectors in the U.S.A.

Turning West from the A76 toward Tarbolton, the road surfaces deteriorated, but there was more downhill to exult in. Last turning for the campsite took a long time to appear, though. Made landfall 18:45. Thus was our ‘rest day’ spent.

Weather notes: Wind still westerly. Sunny / cloudy / sunny. Georgina was hot / cold / hot, with cycling top off / on / off. Wind abated towards evening. Very pleasant.

A76 pretty good, not too busy, but some rough surfaces latterly.

After 45 miles in the saddle, you don’t have to walk like John Wayne, but it helps.

Distance covered: 44.2 miles
Moving time: 05:34
Average speed: 7.9 mph
Maximum speed: 26.5 mph.

Day 11 07/08/07

2007-09-17T12:30:00.000-07:00

Tuesday 7th August, 2007. Leg 9: Lazonby – South Nowheresville (Map Ref 913861)

My Ischial Protuberances have decided to do a Jim Morrison and the Doors’ "Break on Through to the other side". They are now exploring an entirely new dimension in pain.

We set off to find the A6, as we thought this would give us a bit of a boost, speedwise, however it was a hardish climb out of Lazonby. What time we got away is not recorded, but we were in Carlisle at noon enjoying a Big Mac Meal each. Hand dryer in the gents was World Dryer Corporation serial number 156777. Must tick that off in my Ian Allan spotters’ book.

After the meal, was aghast to find that I'd left Garmin on the handlebars right in the middle of busy pedestrian precinct. Mighty relieved to see he was still there. Hats off to the citizens of Carlisle for honesty.

On the A7, a heavily laden touring cyclist passed us going south. He was cycling with one leg. The other wedged on the down tube. I thought that seemed somewhat nonchalant.

One mile south of Longtown, met Jacky in layby, 3:30 ish. She mentioned that she'd encountered the cyclist. He was German, and had injured his leg. He was trying to get to hospital in Carlisle. She couldn't help as she was heading the other way.

By this time, we had only come 23 miles, about a third of the way.

Cycling through Longtown, a song for cyclists which popped into my head at this point was "Born to be Mild" by Steppenwolf (should that be Steppensheep?). You know the one...

"Get yer pedals turnin'
Head out on the highway
lookin' for a tea-room,
for malt loaf or Eccles cake."

My reverie was disturbed by a loud crack, which turned out to be caused by Georgina's back tyre flicking a large stone sideways, which rebounded off the door of a parked car. Apologies to the motorist whose paintwork may have been damaged by this.

At length, the song in my head mutated into that lament to saddle soreness, "Between a Rock and a Hard Place" by the Rolling Stones.

We turned West along the A6071 into a rather harsh headwind and Dylan's "All Along the Watchtower seemed appropriate for this border country. (Two riders were approaching, and the wind began to howl).

I then tried whistling something appropriately Gaelic, designed to lift our moods as we headed toward Scotland, a Dick Gaughan song. I don't think Georgina was impressed. We stopped for a snack. I drew out a couple of bananas from my right hand pannier. Imagining them as a pair of pearl-handled duelling pistols, I asked Georgina to choose her weapon. She shot me a look of disdain, and chose the least blemished of the two. As we set off again, two buzzards appeared, rather too much like vultures for my liking.

At Gretna, Jacky was waiting for that "crossing the border" photo-opportunity. We posed and continued Westward through the town, in search of a toilet. Somehow, we managed to miss the facilities, but we were able to flag Jacky down for use of the cassette toilet just before getting onto the A75.

Fairly hard going for the next 30-odd miles along the A75 into the headwind. With me in front most of the time. We're going slowly, slowly going crazy, with Georgina imagining the cat's eyes to be aliens part-buried in the road, and waiting to spring out and scuttle Space-Invader-like across the tarmac.

Now we had heavy rain showers to contend with. ("A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall" - Bob Dylan).

I think I can safely say that the A75 has the most litter-strewn verges we have encountered so far. I trust it’s only Iron Brew in those half-empty bottles.

Eleven miles East of Dumfries, there is a hole in the A75 the shape of Ireland. Legend has it that this was created when Finn McCool, lorry driver with McCool’s Refrigerated Logistics, broke down late one night on his way to the Stranraer ferry. With a rapidly defrosting consignment of frozen turkeys, and realising he had missed the sailing, in a blind fury he tore up a chunk of road with his bare hands, and flung it clear across Dumfries and Galloway into South Ayrshire, to land on the soft shoulder of the A78 near Irvine. There the jagged fragment sits, its rubber cat’s eye in a cast-iron chair presiding over the passing traffic, like a miniature Buddha. The only witnesses to its fall from the heavens were a tribe of feral cats, who worship it to this day as “The Great White Whiskerless One From The Sky". (Sorry for the excessively long sentences in the above section, these may be reduced on appeal).

17:30 loo stop and coffee and coke at the rather plush Hetland Hall hotel, where on our approach, a couple of American guests asked if we’d come far. (“Ownly from bladdy Lend’s End!” I thought to myself).

Pavement picnic alongside the A75 at 18:30.

Dumfries (loo stop) 19:30.

Sang a number of songs designed to cheer us up over the last 13 miles to Penpont. “500 miles” by the Proclaimers seemed appropriate. All were received in stony silence by Georgina.

Dead halt 20:30. 7 miles to go. Georgina would / could go no further. Radioed a Mayday to the “S.S. Carpathia” a.k.a. Jacky + Mercedes motorhome, who steamed down the A76 to pick us up. A huge relief.

Weather summary: overcast at first. Strong Westerly. 3 heavy showers, one nearly hailstones. Fine evening, with wind dropped.
Total buzzard count: 5.

It was only when we got to the campsite that Jacky disclosed that she had been taken poorly during the day with flu’-like symptoms, and had had to lie down in the back of the van on the campsite for 3 hours. This had given her the strength to fight back, and somehow rally herself to pick us up. So while we’d been struggling most of the day against a headwind, we’d been oblivious to Jacky’s plight. Luckily the symptoms cleared, and Jacky was to feel much better after a good night’s sleep. The voyage could so easily have ended in failure that day. We never saw that particular “iceberg” coming.

Distance covered: 60.7 miles
Moving time: 07:48
Average speed: 7.8 mph
Maximum speed: 27.9 mph.

Day 10 06/08/07

2007-09-17T12:26:00.000-07:00

Monday 6th August, 2007. Leg 8: Lancaster – Lazonby.

Full English breakfast in hotel before checking out. Collected bikes from the 'cellar' where the drinks are kept cool. Condensation on the bikes as soon as they hit the outside world. Didn't have time to use the spa or the pool: another frustration of our demanding schedule. Three pints of beer were some compensation last night, though.

Today is going to be a bit hard as we head towards the Fells. Am kind of looking forward to it, as I feel like we're on home turf, in t'North Country. Wind seems good, southerly, some cloud cover, giving cooler conditions than yesterday.

Got off at 9:50, and headed for Hornby up the Lune valley. RAF jets active overhead. Then Ingleborough appeared. We cycled in its presence for the next 10 miles, till we reached Kirby Lonsdale. Lunch was wraps from Booths, eaten by the bottom bridge in K.L.

Ice cream in Sedbegh, where we met up with Jacky at 2 o'clock. Departed 2.20, after another RAF fly-past over the town.

An hour later, spirits still high as we ate a few wild raspberries from the hedge alongside the B6257. Georgina amazed that two old railway viaducts are passed without so much as a photo-stop. Got a busy schedule.

Crossing underneath the West Coast Mainline and the M6, followed by a long climb and steep descent into Tebay for a toilet stop, sandwiches, and an enforced sojourn in the bus-shelter waiting for a very heavy shower to abate. Set off again, nearly 5 p.m. and still a long way from Lazonby.

Big pull up the hill out of Orton to traverse from the Lune gorge to the Eden Valley, wondering if the ominous clouds behind would catch us up (they didn't).

Celebratory half pint and coke in the White Horse, King's Meaburn, near enough our half way point (495 miles).

Very unpleasant short stretch of A66 to negotiate, lorries bearing down on us, with no room to get past.

More short steep hills, including the one up to Culgaith where "Woah, Nelly" a RAF Tornado (fast and raucous!) passed directly overhead. 19:20 hours, sir! Didn't know they flew so late (or quite so low).

Georgina's knees hurt. My knees hurt.

Arriving at Lazonby at ten to nine, we're both done for - quite a contrast from yesterday's easy time of it. There's a swimming pool, but that shut at 7.

More 'fine tuning' of the route for tomorrow. (to use more 'A' roads, of course).

Distance covered: 65.2 miles
Moving time: 08:05
Average speed: 8.1 mph
Maximum speed: 26.1 mph.

Day 9 05/08/07

2007-09-09T04:59:00.000-07:00

Sunday 5th August 2007. Leg 7: Ainsdale to Lancaster.

Jonathan has driven over from West Yorks, and brought the saddle from my commuter bike, as my bum is very sore. Have high hopes that this will help.

Also across from home territory are Debbie and Simon Hassell, who have come to cycle this leg for us. Simon’s parents have driven them over, and will take them back home after this leg.

We are looking forward to a little luxury this evening, as we have booked a night in the Lancaster Holiday Inn to celebrate the approximate half-way point. And of course, it’s just a couple of weeks since Georgina had her degree conferred at Lancaster University.

A leisurely start time of 10.00 a.m. followed by a 50 mile run to Lancaster is just what we need after previous exertions.

Along the front at Southport, in the baking sun, where a good cycle path is to be had. Then it’s inland towards Preston. The sunshine has brought out classic cars in their hundreds. MGs, TRs,and a surprising number of bubble cars. Man, they must be hot inside those canopies.

Ice creams on approach to Preston. Our first of the trip. This is more like it!

Lunch on the lawn at the entrance to an NHS establishment north of Preston. Got to keep stoked up with energy, the Hassells have their preventative medicine from the bonk-bag in the form of tortilla wraps. Sounds nice. The Hassells are into triathlons (I would say Simon in a serious way, but not an over-serious way, as that would be out of character). Debby was telling us how they have done a lot of cycling in the French Alps. And the occasional mountain biking. I was asking her what she thought about mountain bikes, and she said “They’re alright once you get used to pedalling and going nowhere.” Which I thought was profound.

Simon and I trade thoughts on the different levels of friendliness of the various echelons of cyclists. There are very few roadies who will even acknowledge your presence on the road, let alone say “hello” as you pass them in the opposite direction. This is very sad. My theory is that they are all so competitive, that any other thing on two wheels is seen as a potential threat, to be beaten at all costs (even when you’re going in the opposite direction). Very snooty they tend to be. Simon says that Tri-athletes tend to be a lot more friendly, and if he is typical of the breed, then I would agree with him. As for mountain bikers (who have somehow lost there mountain and ended up on road), well you never can tell. The jury’s out. I just think we should all stick together as an endangered species, and the less cliques and bickering the better.

Up the A6, which seems to have quite a bit of cycle path, and arriving at Lancaster Holiday Inn at 5 p.m., to a welcome committee of Jean (Jonathan’s mum) and Terry, Sheila, Aodhan and Conor (Jacky’s cousin and family), Phil (my bro), and of course Jacky and Jonathan.

Sat outside under the parasol and did “the song” for the benefit of those who had missed it, after warming up with a rendition of Captain Beefheart’s “Orange Claw Hammer” for Conor’s benefit and to up the embarrassment factor for everyone else.

Debbie and Simon left us to head home with parents. Nice meal with Jean and Terry, Phil, Jonathan, Georgina, Jacky.

And so to bed.

Sign on a Preston shop front: “Ambulant Physiotherapist”. Wot is one of them? Do they go walk-abouts doing random acts of physiotherapy?
Advert on a parked car at the Lancaster Holiday Inn: “Teeth Whitening smile spa. Look good, feel great. A Hollywood smile in under an hour. Only £199. Limited period”.

Think we may be in need of treatment from both of the above. We are certainly feeling it in the knees, and not smiling enough on this journey.

Distance covered: 48.9 miles
Moving time: 04:34
Average speed: 10.7 mph
Maximum speed: 23.1 mph.

Day 8 04/08/07

2007-09-09T04:57:00.000-07:00

Saturday 4th August 2007. Leg 6: Oswestry to Ainsdale.

Managed quite an early start: 09:00.

Whittington 10:00 (ruined castle). Ruined castles have long held a fascination for me. Georgina is flatly unimpressed.

Wrexham Little Chef 12:00. We flouted the system. Didn’t wait to be seated. Just found a seat by the window where we could watch the bikes. Consequently the waitresses struggled to come to terms with this anarchic approach. Caused similar havoc as we left, ‘cos I thought we could just pay at the till, but no, it appeared you have to “ask for the bill” first. Things would be a whole lot simpler if they were just self-service. Or why not go one step further and let you cook your own meal in their kitchen? Just think of the cost-savings.

Hawarden, toilet stop at the Glynne Arms, and lunch on the wall opposite 14:00 hours, watching guests make their way down the road to a nearby wedding. A latecomer got out of the car and asked us if we were locals, we answered honestly, and he didn’t probe further. Had he asked “Where’s the wedding?” we would have been able to point him in the direction whence the sound of the bells were coming.

A550 across the base of the Wirral was, in places, a nice dual (or should that be duel?). We found our place on the two-foot shoulder, and at one point enjoyed undertaking some traffic which was held up in a road-works induced tail-back.

“I’ll be with you in my own time” – Family.

At length, the A550 led us to the A41 up the Wirral. Georgina’s “Dad, Birkenhead six and a half!” caused me to come to a sudden stop. What I heard was “Dad, me chain’s come off!” After coming to an understanding we were off again.

Arrived at Woodside Ferry terminal 16:00. Next ferry not for 40 minutes. Time to photograph the preserved tram and replica submarine (‘Resurgam’, which unfortunately turned out to be a misnomer), and slump in a nice leather armchair. Bad news that the restaurant closed early to prepare for a function in the evening. Had a bit of a browse through the display of Mersey ferries through the ages.

Watched the “Royal Daffodil” come in and tie up before taking our bikes on board. There is now a piped soundtrack, ending with the Gerry and the Pacemakers song. A bit of a shame that this once vital mode of transport has been reduced to a novelty tourist attraction. Anyway, we used it to get from A to B (actually from B to L).

On the Liverpool shore, we parked up next to the Cunard building, under the watchful left eye of a Liver bird. We watched smugly as a pair of traffic wardens ticketed away, but of course did not trouble us.

Then we cycled out of the city along the scarcely inhabited dock road. Garmin was asked to navigate on-road, which he dutifully did, but occasionally would advise us to turn up side streets just to locate a misplaced way-point. Eventually switched navigation off completely after he got a bit insistent on us doing ‘U’ turns. By this time we out of the city and heading towards golf-course land.

Arriving at the campsite at Ainsdale at a respectable 7 p.m. Not such a bad day.
Weather quite overcast most of the day, but very warm, with a following wind. Buzzard count down to one, but a couple of kestrels and another unfortunate flattened fox.

Distance covered: 64.1 miles
Moving time: 06:28
Average speed: 9.9 mph
Maximum speed: 23.9 mph.

Day 7 03/08/07

2007-09-09T04:54:00.000-07:00

Friday 3rd August 2007. Leg 5: East Nowheresville (Map Ref 533245) to Oswestry

Just the three of us now. Jacky dropped Georgina and me on the B4521 near Three Ashes (further East than the A466, but an equivalent distance from the campsite to the previous leg’s pick up point). This smacks vaguely of cheating, but in the scheme of things we justified it as a minor route adjustment.

On the road by 09:45, and rolling into Hereford where we espied the van in the local ASDA car park. Toilet stop and a “Fancy meeting you here!” to Jacky, and we continued onward.

Arriving in Canon’s Pyon for a lunch-stop at 12:00, we flagged down a passing motorhome, driven by Jacky no less. Another turn up for the books. So we had the folding chairs out.

Cloud cover increasing slightly and a slight tail-wind help.

We get a text from Jacky recommending the visitor’s centre at Craven Arms, so we head for that. Fentiman’s Ginger Ale and chocolate cake for me, and Fentiman’s very bitter lemonade and crisps for Georgina. We leave at 16:25, refreshed.

Georgina went into panic when she saw a sign near Shrewsbury saying “Oswestry 17 miles”. I tried to set her mind at rest by explaining campsite was some miles this side of Oz.

Some yobs started questioning (in fluent Anglo-Saxon) our right to be on the road. We didn’t engage in the argument as any words would have been lost in the noise of their exhaust. I drive, I pay road tax, ergo I have as much right to be on the road as they do. I merely choose to cycle. Now if they’d questioned our sanity, then they would have had a point.

Arrived at the campsite 19:50

Summary of the day: smoother road surfaces, tail wind, easier terrain, good run. Result!

Songs of the day: “You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille” Kenny Rogers. (I draw a veil over this one, but suffice it to say that dock leaves make very good toilet paper).

“You gotta roll with it” Oasis. Mind-numbing stuff. Just wish I could numb my bum, which is “all too much for me to take”.

Speaking of saddle soreness, every night of late, Georgina has managed a chapter of the new Harry Potter: “Harry Potter and the Pelvic Gallows” in which Bumblebone is impaled on the Anvil of Anguish. “Excruciatus!”

Distance covered: 73.5 miles
Moving time: 07:14
Average speed: 10.2 mph
Maximum speed: 29.1 mph.

Day 5 02/08/07

2007-09-09T04:51:00.000-07:00

Thursday 2nd August 2007. Rest Day.

Photo caption. “We tried all sorts to get mobile signal”.

Rest day. Took the opportunity for a major re-planning exercise. We need to sacrifice our next rest day to make the subsequent days more achievable. Certainly an 80-mile dash to Wemyss Bay for the 7.45 p.m. last ferry to Bute is not going to be feasible on present form. Also we need to continue our tactics of using A-roads, rather than my original pootling country lanes, which would have been nice, had we the luxury of time.

Early morning rain gave way to a beautiful day. Matthew, Jonathan and I had a game of pitch and putt. Matthew did a powerful 150 yard drive clean across to the hedge, you know the one with the stream behind it. The ball was lost from this world. This gave me the opportunity to duck out of the game and do some bike maintenance (lube chains, and sort a gear cable out on Georgina’s bike).

Some re-booking of campsites is required. The only place we can get mobile phone signal is on the pitch and putt course, so it’s back there to book Tarbolton in Ayrshire.

The day was rounded off by a nice meal in the local (The Mill), and we were joined by Rebecca, Joe and Holly (Explorer Scout friends) who were on their way back to Yorkshire from a visit to Wales. This rendezvous presumably came about due to the power of the mobile phone.

The lads, Matthew and Jonathan then drove back to ‘real life’ in Yorkshire, with the plan being to meet up with them later in the trip.

Just a teensy bit worried about our “Carbon Footprint” on this tour. OK, cycling is very much low environmental impact, but factor in the diesel that the motorhome is using, and Jonathan’s car ‘Graham’ scurrying up and down country lanes keeping tabs on our movements, then we might just as well have jetted off to the U.S.A.

Day 4 01/08/07

2007-08-30T03:11:00.000-07:00

Wednesday 1st August 2007. Leg 4: Winscombe to West Nowheresville (Map Ref 497224).

Can’t seem to think of anything funny after yesterday. These last three legs have been hard, hot, long days, with a bit of northerly to contend with. Hoping for easier terrain today.

Campsite a bit of a ‘hippyville’ (fairly near Glastonbury). Left at 10:00 and headed for A370 over some nasty lumpy bits. Jonathan popping up from time to time and asking Georgina how she’s feeling. Getting curt monosyllabic replies from Georgina, who is not a happy bunny.

Meet the support team at Gordano services (that roundabout is a nightmare for cyclists). Coffee there, 20 miles done and it’s 13:40 already and baking hot.

Then we let Garmin do some on-road navigation for us (I’ve somehow truncated the route, so the first part is lost), His suggestion of cycling up the M5 is not taken up. We press on to find the Avon cycleway which will take us across the Avon alongside the M5. Garmin keeps asking us to take ‘U’ turns etc, which we continue to ignore, preferring to follow various sign-posts. These take us all round the houses and must have added a couple of miles to the route.

Eventually we’re across the Avon, and heading down towards “Severn Beach”

Seems to take a hell of a long time to get to the Severn Bridge. The terrain is reasonable, but the traffic is busy. Every other car seems to be a police car. Crossing the Severn is the nearest thing to flying on a bike. Garmin display has this little arrow heading north-west across an ocean of blue.

We’re still a long long way from our destination, and Georgina is in low spirits (again). Give Chepstow a miss as this would add another couple of needless miles to the journey, and continue towards Monmouth. Sit at the Victorian fountain at St. Arvans looking at the next hill and feeling (literally and metaphorically) low. Georgina digs deep, and we set off again, via the road past Tintern Abbey. A nice uppy-downy sort of a road.

Did a bit of owl-startling at 7 o’clock. This simple rural sport consists of cycling past a tree which contains an owl, and observing the reaction of the owl. One point is scored for every owl startled from its perch. There are moves afoot to make this sort of thing illegal.

We made it to Monmouth just in time for a toilet stop at Waitrose before closing time (8 p.m.). The whole support team are in the car park waiting. They advise us to take a more Easterly route up the A466. This we do, but it’s still the wrong kind of hills, and we finally give up at 9:45 p.m. Jacky and the lads coming out to pick us up and drive us to Peterchurch in the beautiful Golden Valley.

Distance covered: 62.5 miles
Moving time: 07:50
Average speed: 8.0 mph
Maximum speed: 25.1 mph.

Day 3 31/07/07

2007-08-30T03:10:00.000-07:00

Tuesday 31st July 2007. Leg 3: Crockernwell to Winscombe.

Croissants and Danishes and coffee courtesy of the campsite owners. Verrry yummy.

Off a little earlier, at 9.45 a.m.

Lunch 12:00 at Upton Pyne under the oak trees’ dappled shade. (I’ll have an apple-ade in the dappled shade, please)

Then pressed on to make Tiverton services by 16:00 hrs. Burger King raised our spirits. (Never thought I’d see the day when I would utter that phrase).

Wellington 17:30. “Best medium sized town in the West” provided a toilet stop (armour-plated loos, free of charge). Cycle-paths!

But we ground to a full stop at 6 p.m. in the searing heat on the grass verge after another pull up into a place called Rumwell, just outside of Taunton. Georgina was just unable to take the heat and the prospect of another 30 miles cycling yet to come. A gentleman came out of his house and, seeing Georgina’s distress, fetched Georgina a glass of iced water. This was gratefully accepted. A little later his wife kindly donated a wet handkerchief to protect G’s neck from the sun. You cannot put a price on such simple acts of kindness. At the time they made the difference between success and failure. On again, refreshed.

Towards sunset, we were on the easier ground of the Somerset Levels.

The last hour was cycled in the dark (we almost had the full complement of lights, but Georgina had to use a head torch). Were met close to the campsite by Matthew and Jonathan. They chivalrously offered to cycle our bikes the last 2 miles (including the final steep hill), but we declined. Arrived at Winscombe at 23:00.

Knackered! Thus ended a gruelling 80 mile leg.

Distance covered: 79.9 miles
Moving time: 09:08
Average speed: 8.7 mph
Maximum speed: 38.1 mph. (not reset)

Day 2 30/07/07

2007-08-30T03:09:00.000-07:00

Monday 30th July 2007. Leg 2: Lanivet to Crockernwell.

Day 2 dawned bright and cloudless and still. I have a slight headache (not alcohol induced, I would like to emphasize). G. has a sore bum.

We talk tactics to see if we can make it easier for ourselves. A30 is fast but unpleasant and potentially lethal. Smaller roads are pleasant, but slow.

Set off 10.00 a.m. (late again!) Went for the A30. There’s something to be said for cycling down the A30, The word is “pants”. Rendezvous with the support vehicle at Penlan Eating House and Garage 11.30 a.m. Matthew saw a lizard.

The rest is a bit of a blur, really. Lost count of the hard modern style road reflectors I hit as I followed G. down the 2-foot shoulder of the A30. You can’t beat the old retracting cat’s eye for comfort.

Interesting things wot we saw:
Winnebago towing a Freelander, no less.
Mrs. Bag-it says take your rubbish home. (Signs in every lay-by)
Old Westland helicopter fuselage on a low-loader heading west.

Roadkill varities:
Rabbit: many
Badger: 1
Fox: 1
Gloves (not foxgloves, just gloves): various species grouped together according to their past beliefs.
Cyclists: 0 (thank God)

Well that was Cornwall, this is Devon.

Song lyric for today: “Devon (Devon is a place where nothing ever happens…)” Talking Heads.

Arrived Crockernwell 9.00 p.m. All sunned out.

Distance covered: 58.2 miles
Moving time: 06:42
Average speed: 8.7 mph
Maximum speed: 38.1 mph. (not reset)

Day 1 28/07/07

2007-08-30T03:08:00.000-07:00

Friday 27th / Saturday 28th July 2007

Picked up motorhome from Compact Camper Hire, Holme-upon-Spalding-Moor. Jacky drove the 60 miles home, and we spent a fraught 5 hours packing it. Set off at 11 p.m. to drive through the night the 420 miles to Crows-An-Wra campsite. If you don't think we'd be daft enough to take a 22 foot motorhome through the narrow streets of Mousehole, you'd be incorrect.

On arrival we set up base camp for the assault on the big beardy man with the flat head who is the (map of the) British Mainland.

We met my brother Phil's friend Sue's sister Liz and her husband Kev, who run the site, and were told that Sue was coming over from Goldsithney later on.

Back in the 'van' an assortment of loony gestures and incidents can be put down to the fact that we were all running on insufficient sleep. I nearly trepanned myself on a window that had been left open, and Matthew smashed the cafetiere (so it's back to basic bush craft survival skills for us).

Reality TV has nothing on this. I'm a calamity, get me out of here!

Rain set in about 3 p.m., a bit of a miserable end to the day, but let’s see what tomorrow brings!

Perhaps it was a mistake to have watched Titanic on the telly before we left home…

Me: “Georgina, I have built two machines which will take us the length of Britain in comfort and style. Each tyre has an air-tight compartment that is nigh-on un-puncturable by virtue of linings of the finest Kevlar known to science.”

G: “Pray tell me, papa, how many people are undertaking the journey?”

Me: “Why, just the two of us, as well you know, my pretty young girl!”

G: “But am I correct in my observation that the number of lifeboats is nil?”

Me: “Ah, don’t you worry your little head about that. The Board of Trade regulations do not stipulate a minimum number of lifeboats per bicycle. Besides, I have taken the trouble to pack sufficient spare tubes, tyres and vulcanising patches for every conceivable eventuality.”

G: "But papa, are we not going close to the bottle banks of Glasgow where we could sustain deep lacerations?"

Me: "Rest easy child, for I have charted a course which will take us well to the West, toward the benign influences of the Gulf Stream, and onto the Isle of Bute, where broken glass is unheard of and the fabled Bute-Isle Rubber trees grow. It is a cyclist's paradise: flat, yet flat-free."

And so, fully prepared, we were eager to begin the big adventure.

Sunday 29th July 2007. Leg 1: Land’s End to Lanivet.

Left Crows-An-Wra campsite 9.30 a.m. down to Land’s End in the motorhome with bikes on back. Wet start. Faffy pre-amble of photos, card-stamping etc. Bumped into Mr. Robinson from North Halifax Grammar (G and Matt’s old school). He’s cycling with some mates from Land’s End to John o’Groats in aid of Overgate Hospice. One of these chaps tells us he has been diagnosed as having MS.

Left L.E. about 11.00 a.m. (so much for an early start). Mainly back roads to Penzance, meeting Jacky and the lads near Morrisons. It’s already 1.00 p.m. – at this rate we’ll be going till 9.

Route takes us to Marazion (St. Michael’s Mount-see photo), Praze-an-Beeble (not to be confused with Zaphod Beeblebrox), then Redruth (toilet stop – in the salubrious multi-story car park.)

Finally arrive at Lanivet campsite at 9.00 p.m. very tired, but day 1 accomplished.

The latter part of the journey completed on the fast A30. Some crucial survival skills are required on this road. In particular slip-road tactics, which consist of continuing up the shoulder of the slip-road as if going off at the junction, then at the last second checking behind for traffic exiting at 60 mph, and finally traversing the neck of the slip to rejoin the trunk road. A similar procedure is needed at the “on” slip, but looking for traffic accelerating up to 60 coming onto the trunk road. Georgina took to this very useful technique like a duck to water.

Weather picked up, but a slight northerly wind all day.

Highlights:
Washed my cycling glove ‘cos I forgot I was wearing it when washing my hands.
Pete’s Pinks (sign in Leedstown).
5 buzzards, 1 lizard.

Lowlights:
Georgina’s new chain (fitted in haste before we came away) was not threaded through the derailleur properly. She cycled all the way to Penzance with it in this state. Shoot the engineer!
Georgina’s twittering transmission, after standing out in last night’s rain, drove the pair of us mad (sounded like a demented skylark was following her). Chain lube - just splash it all over.

10 miles from journey’s end we (meaning I) decided to take the scenic route, and trying to navigate back to the A30 found our way blocked by a Road Closed sign. Georgina’s morale hit rock bottom. We just walked our bikes through the road works and onto the hard shoulder, and found a lay-by to have a little cry, sis. Tried to convince G. that bikes are exempt from such things as “Road Closed” signs. I think she was still in car mode.

(Here is what I have to say on the “road closed” palaver: The “road” was not “closed”, it had not been built! So we carried our bikes across the muddy, rubbley foundations of the not yet built slip road. Thank you!)

Distance covered: 57.9 miles
Moving time: 07:04
Average speed: 8.2 mph
Maximum speed: 38.1 mph.

The write up!

2007-08-30T03:06:00.000-07:00

Over the next few days, I (Georgina) will be uploading Dad's blog from the cycling trip. However... it is quite long so I will deliver it to you in bite size chunks! The parts in italics are my comments on the trip! Enjoy!?!

Quick catch up (and back track) before the BIG one!

2007-08-27T03:42:00.000-07:00

Thursday 19th July, 2007

Georgina's 21st birthday today. Collected the cake from "Cakes for the Occasion" in Crosshills. It has been made in the shape of Britain, with a LeJoG route picked out in coloured icing, topped off by a little cyclist doing the ride. The lady there donated the cake free of charge. We will put the £24 into the fund in lieu of payment.

Friday, 20th July, 2007
G's graduation ceremony. Much pomp and ceremony, Chris Bonnington "By my authority as Chancellor I confer etc..." Inspirational speech. Tom McKillop awarded honorary degree. Interesting success story of son of a Scottish miner becoming head of Astra-Zeneca, then latterly Royal Bank of Scotland.

We will be passing through his birthplace Dreghorn in Ayshire in a couple of weeks. (Also the birthplace of John Boyd Dunlop, inventor of the pneumatic tyre, so better not get any punctures there).

Lots of photographs and lots of waiting around. Miraculously, the weather stayed dry. Later, I noticed a sign on the George Fox building "Bicycles not allowed in this building". Adherents to the mollycule theory as advanced by Flann O'Brien will understand why I was personally reluctant to enter.

Saturday, 21st July, 2007

Saturday we held Georgina's birthday party. A selection of memorable moments...
...all the family and friends who turned up to make it a splendid occasion.
...an uninvited guest, the mouse who turned up in the downstairs cloakroom. (Hoots Mon, there's a moose loose aboot this hoose!)
§ I performed "the" folk song, the "Seven Couch Potato Nights".
§ vast quantities of beer disappeared down the necks of the three old reprobates Messrs Jones, Allan and Ellis (we had to send Matthew out down the offie).
§ uncle Phil's neighbours'-Chinese-chicken-alarm-clock story.
§ drunkenly making a late-night smoothie out of the remains of Karen's fruit salad, but forgetting to place the collecting jug under the spout,
§ the rubbish weather (more or less constant rain all day) which meant the gazebo stayed uninhabited.
§ the usual scene of chaos the morning after.
§ taking photos of Cameron, Sally and Celia on the Worth Valley Steam Railway on their way home with a camera from which the memory card had been removed.

Monday 23rd July, 2007
Been raining heavily down south. Places like Bristol, Hereford, Tewkesbury, Oxford have been or are in imminent danger of flooding. We all feel for the people in these places. A lot of the place names we plan to pass near, or through in the coming fortnight. Perhaps we'll witness the aftermath. Hope we get some fair weather soon.

Ride into work was a good one, despite it being very humid and an easterly wind, with bothersome flies getting a free ride up the Big Hill (futile attempts to dislodge them, a bit tricky at 2.8 mph). Need to put in some effort to work off the results of the weekend's over-indulgence).

The sheep on the left hand side of the moor road have been shorn (fleeced, even). Those on the right are still in their woollies.

Time out 0:54 (Pretty satisfied with this showing)

Just missed the heavy rain on way home.

Return 0:56 (moist, but moistly dry)

Tuesday 24th July, 2007
Bunnie in the bilberries. His right eye stares impassively in the sun as I pass. Yesterday he scuttled off through a hole in the wall.

Campervan parked on the back road, with a German number-plate and a rather nice "On-One" MTB on the back. Brave souls.

We've picked the wettest summer since the great flood of biblical times to do our ride. Had Noah been around today, I like to think he would have saved a pair of cyclists, but wouldn't have bothered with the 4x4's on the basis that they were outside his terms of reference (and beside they wouldn't scan lyrics-wise).

Wind gone round to North West.

Time out 0:50:39 (A real blast down Pellon Lane)

At work, strange howling noises have been heard reverberating through the building, like some large beast in pain. Could it be the ogre that imprisons the Rapunzels, or could it be building work which is continuing? Men drilling deep into the rock from which the very fabric of the building is fashioned. Each vibration reverberating long and low throughout the place, like a long low reverberating vibration.

There is a short flight of stairs near the rear door, appearing to lead to a netherworld which is even deeper down than the dungeon where the Lead Balloon is stabled. In recent weeks I have occasionally witnessed dungareed young men walking purposefully down a short flight of stairs before turning to pass silently into the gloom.

The latest of these, hardly out of boyhood, was today carrying a white paint tin in each hand, like a pair of votive candles, in a futile effort to illuminate the gloom. He's the fourth I've counted going down there, but not one has been seen to emerge. Perhaps this is linked to Rapunzel's extra button. Did I mention she had an extra button? Yes, that's another curious thing. Rapunzel 2 has 13 buttons, whereas Rapunzel has 14. Rapunzel’s extra button is marked "-1" (Dan Dan Darrrr!). I’ve tried pressing this button, but to no effect. But there is no denying that Rapunzel has access to the netherworld. Another dimension, to which I am not privy.

At lunchtime, resolve to find another way down. Grabbing the torch from my bike, I trace the footsteps of the young bucks down the short staircase. As I turn the corner at the bottom, my way is barred by stout iron doors. None shall pass (I say again!).

Head for home. Lovely weather, if a bit breezy in a North Westerly sort of way.

Return 0:55

Wednesday 25th July, 2007

My last day at work before the main event. So came in by car. Weather a very wetting incessant fine rain, so riding in would not have been particularly pleasurable.

WE DID IT!!!

2007-08-19T00:43:00.000-07:00

Just to quickly let everyone know we did it! We cycled all the way from Land's End to John O'Groats!!!

Anyway its all been a bit hectic since returning but there will be a new post here soon no doubt telling you all about it!

Just a quick thanks to everyone for all there support xxx

last one before we go!

2007-07-27T03:57:00.000-07:00

Monday 16th July 2007

It Beeps!

Garmin on the handlebars, ready to navigate. Brooks saddle has been fitted to Lead Balloon. Before setting off, I straddle the saddle to assess height, find it's a bit low, and jack it up by 1/4 inch. In the meantime, Garmin detects I've travelled 3 feet. He must be keen to get going, just hold your horses, Garmin! Set off at last. He displays 'South to WP0101'. He beeps! (approaching WP0101). He gives false directions! (North East to WP0101), etc. This will take a bit of getting used to.

Just before Big Hill, I decide a stop for faffage is in order. Adjust angle of handlebar mount, and change orientation option from 'Track up' to 'North up'- That way, I can understand it better when the display says 'South East to WP0109' or whatever.

Compare Garmin route planning approaches. Precise detail (I'm a stickler for it) vs. broad brush approach (the Burton expedition). Soon find my large number of waypoints can be a distraction.

Way-points are so precise. Arguably, too precise. As you approach the way-point, if you've slightly misplaced it, Garmin tells you to dog-leg to the way-point (this is with the off-road option). Tomorrow will try the on-road option - rather assumes the moor road is on the Garmin's map as some sort of track. Also could see if there's an option to reduce the level of Way-point precision, to maybe 5 or 10 metres. (No luck on that front: can’t find one).

So engrossed in the Garmin and following its directions, I nearly missed the owl, which appeared as a disturbance in my peripheral vision. I temporarily abandoned all thoughts of getting to work to watch this wonderful creature working the moor, not too far off to my right. Then along came a white van, and it was time to move on.

Garmin is great out in the open, where you can see the road stretching ahead, but navigating through towns is not so hot - as you don't have time to consult the Garmin and look around. Might be safer walking through parts of town.

Oh, and did I mention the weather was nice and breezy, not at all rainy like the last few days seem to have been. I enjoyed this ride, hammering the Brooks into submission in a hard-assed no nonsense way.

Time out 1:01 (including stops)

Managed to dodge the showers on the way back home. Some very dark clouds up ahead, but I only got slightly wet.

Return 0:51 (may the wind always be at your back)

Tuesday 17th July 2007

Tried some other options on the Garmin to suppress the 'dog-legging' tendency where way-points are just off-road. This has made no difference. Will just have to learn to live with it.

A very stiff cool breeze from the South West, which is going to bring with it some rain, but hopefully I'll be at work before it arrives.

On the holey road to redemption: someone has answered my prayers and filled those pot-holes which nearly gave me grief last week.

We have a Z.C.C. situation. Zero Curlew Count. Where could they be hiding. Don't suppose it's too wet for them. Finished breeding and taken the kids to the coast, perhaps?

Two yellow cranes making their way up to the wind turbines - some serious Meccano action about to take place.

Sun comes out towards the end of another enjoyable journey. "Shake Some Action" by the Flamin' Groovies echoes around my head from 6 Music this morning.

Time out 0:57

Decided to spend some time fine-tuning the route:
1) remove some way-points to simplify navigation
2) move the way-points slightly before a change of course, so that Garmin will give adequate warning of direction to next way-point

Hope this will help. Took about half and hour of tinkering with day 1.

Coming back, decided to see how easy it is to deviate from planned route and re-join it at a later way-point. Garmin was very good at giving me information about how to pick up the route - although it probably would have preferred me to stick to the plan it was flexible enough to go with the flow, so to speak, and eventually I came back into line.

Return 0:52 (may the force be etc)

Wednesday 18th July 2007

Weather a bit overcast and South-westerly moist breeze. Disturbed three pigeons in quick succession on the lower slopes of "Mont Beegeel". Perhaps they were feasting on the Bilberries which are very plentisome at this time of year. Again only small birds on the tops. Come back curlews, all is forgiven.

Found myself singing the theme tune to "The Monkees". This song was sweet and inoffensive in its time. Only thing is, the words began to mutate for My Generation...

"Here we come: walkin' down the street,
we get the funniest looks from every one we meet.
Hey, Hey, we're the grumpies,
people say we grumpy around
that we're too busy whingeing
and puttin' everybody down"

"We're just tired of bein' friendless
as we make our way to the grave
but we’re not just vegetation
and how we zimmer with rage"

Too dark, I think you'll agree. The words in this column do not necessarily reflect the views of the writer (in fact I'm not really sure where these came from – deep within my cycle, perhaps).

Tomorrow is Georgina's 21st birthday. There is shopping to be done tonight, so Matthew is going to pick me up after work, and throw Lead Balloon in the back of the car.

Time out 0:55

Home in the car with Matthew, as explained earlier. Back home, after shopping done and taking a shower, decided to check the derriere for the spot which appeared last week. This was done using a mirror in the privacy of the bathroom.

Have been religiously applying the tea-tree oil in the vicinity. The area is now as smooth and amazingly blended (to quote the good Captain Beefheart), but no sign of the Scarlet Pimpleness. The tea-tree oil has been amazingly effective! I may well write a learned paper on the efficacy of tea-tree oil. A sort of tea-tree treatise, if you like.

take a look

2007-07-22T08:46:00.000-07:00

It was my 21st birthday party and Dad wrote/sung a very topical song! Take a look (misses the first verse sorry!). Good one Dad!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pD8sWrgudJk

almost time to go

2007-07-22T08:43:00.000-07:00

Thursday 5th July 2007

The one and only long distance training run. Been looking forward to this. Georgina is using toe clips for the first time. They’re strapless little numbers. These are what I use, as I like to be able to get my feet free at short notice.

A bit of light rain at the start. A bit of cycling on the pavement to undertake a long line of cars held up by road works. Through the centre of Keighley, and out onto the open road. Difficult to carry on a conversation. Walkie-talkies might be a cool idea?

Navigate from the Aire valley into Wharfedale by cycling up the Cringles out of Silsden. Warm work, but we made it, with just one stop half-way up. Then up Wharfedale to Bolton Abbey and beyond up the steep back road up the east side of the dale.

Sit-bones started to complain after about 25 miles on the Brooks. Obviously not causing enough pain to other parts of my body to take my mind off this area. Ah well, lean forward and think of Scotland.

Georgina spotted an owl on a slurry tank, then we interrupted a stoat trying to cross the road. He obviously wasn’t in the tufty club, as he didn’t look before crossing. But then, woah, he sort of levitated, did an about turn and dived for cover in the hedgerow, whence he’d come. Following this we were overflown by a large owl as we cycled through wooded country. All interesting stuff.

The plan had been to return via Grassington and Skipton, but a navigational error by yours truly at Burnsall led to a return past Barden Tower and home. So instead of our planned 60 miles, we did 45 or 50, depending on which device you believe (Garmin or Cycle computer).

It started to rain as we got within 2 miles of home. We would have had an absolute soaking if we'd gone the full 60 miles.

Home a bit tired, but not overly so. Sore backside. Also troubled by the odd knee twinge on the way round. Moving average speed according to Garmin was 8.4 mph. (5.4 hours cycling). So if this is representative, we’ll need to be in the saddle for 8 or 9 hours to achieve 70 miles. Ooh, fun!

Afterwards, I saved the Garmin track log, and was surprised to find it was 6940 miles long, beginning in Garmin corporation’s Taiwan factory, where it was born! How did it know that, as it had no batteries in when it arrived? Clever little unit worked out a great circle route from last time it was powered up, when it was being tested in the factory.

Monday 9th July 2007

First use of bike since our little training run up Wharfedale on Thursday. Bum OK, legs OK, knees twingeing slightly. Sub 28mins up the Big Hill. (impressive, huh?) and a fast run all the way.

What's going on here? Good weather certainly helps - sunny / cloudy with a pleasantly cool breeze, meaning I doff the jacket for the first time on a morning run. The weather has picked up now that the annual rain dance that is Wimbledon has finished.

I've got the new Garmin Cx on the handlebars. Doesn't have a detailed UK base map loaded, so all I get is a lonely-looking little arrow pointing out into a bewilderness of blank screen. Put it on the compass screen, which also shows speed. It reads consistently low by 1 to 2 per cent compared with the cycle computer.

I put this down to the fact that the latter measures distance by revolution of the wheel, which is affected by hill climbing, wiggling, tyre pressure, tread wear, etc, whereas navigation by satellite isn't. Which is correct? Who knows?

To use a ‘Strictly Come Dancing’ analogy, Garmin is Arlene Philips to the Cycle computer’s Bruno Tonioli. Arlene consistently marks low, picking up on technical imperfections, while St. Bruno (sorry, whilst Bruno) gives credit for passionate interpretation of cycling style.

Time out - 0:53 (creditable)

Return - 0:55

Tuesday 10th July 2007

Weather fab. Absolutely no wind. Turbines completely becalmed. Fly Flats Reservoir flat. Best time ever up Big Hill on Lead Balloon just a smidge over 26 minutes.

Country road all pot-holed and rutted after the recent heavy rains. Nearly came a cropper when I let front wheel drop into a hole. Gave myself quite a jolt. Also felt quite stupid.

A bit worried about some sort of boil-like excrescence which has appeared in a rather unfortunate place. It is situated in the lower of what the 'Doc' in the Sunday Post used to euphemistically term 'The Body Forks' (to be blunt it's groin' in me groin). This could prove seriously uncomfortable if allowed to develop. Not a good thing to happen when you're about to embark on a 1,000 mile cycle tour. Wonder if it's linked to change of undershorts? These new ones are supposed to be antibacterial. Trouble is, the seam on the insert might be the source of some chafing. Not sure what steps to take to tackle it. Think I'll try the trusted tea-tree oil. I will keep a 'watching brief' on this one (hah!).

Time out - 0:52 (speedy, or what?)

Came back in car, which Matthew had driven in at lunch-time as he's off on his D of E gold expedition with the school.

Evening: I've reached John o'Groats!!! Easy to get carried away here, as it's just a virtual John o'Groats on the route-planning software, and not the real McCoy. Nevertheless, it feels like a great achievement to have a fully-fledged route which goes from end to end. Haven't worked out the total distance yet, but each leg seems to have grown slightly compared to my original estimates using the road atlas.

Wednesday 11th July

Stormed up the Big Hill, and down Pellon Lane into Halifax. Overcast with slight tail-wind. Thought I should put in a bit of extra effort after using the car yesterday evening.

Time out - 0:49:47 (Must be a record! Normally this would have been rounded up, but I've included the seconds because that looks more impressive, don't you think?)

Return 0:57 (despite a VERY stiff headwind up Long Causeway) The boy done good.

Bought some little walkie-Talkies from eBay. Can't wait to try them! Gadget heaven!

Computer reset

DST 109miles
TIME 10:36:47
AVG 10.7 miles
MAX 37.4 mph
ODO 1276.7 miles

Friday 13th July

Finally successfully loaded down some routes and maps to the Garmin. Then decided to plot my route to work, so that I can practice navigation on Monday.

If you’re interested, the statistics of my commute are:
Direction Distance (miles) Ascent (feet) Descent (feet)
Outward 9.41 1124 1425
Return 9.02 1239 938
Total 18.43 2363 2363

This is a much hillier terrain than the route I’ve settled on for first day in Cornwall, so I’m reassured.

new blog

2007-07-15T12:45:00.000-07:00

Sunday 1st July 2007

First off, apologies for the extra apostrophe that crept into last weeks blog. There: I've left one out this week to redress the balance. (Not so sure about that last colon, though).

Here we are in July already, scary or what? End of this month we'll be off on the Big Birthday Bike Ride.

Ordered a Garmin eTrex Legend Cx from t’internet.

Monday 2nd July 2007

And I don't feel at all competent this morning up the Big Hill. I slump to the challenging headwind, with that light-heavy-wetting moorland mizzle turning to actual rain at the Halifax side of the moor.

Reasons to be cheerful: our family doctor, Dr. Burton (who, by the way, has just retired) did the End to End last year, I think. Am meeting him tonight to take him up on his kind offer of advice. Particularly of interest is the use of GPS, but I hope to pick his brains on all sorts of relevant topics.

Time out 1:01 (challenging wind)

Garmin’s grey breadcrumb trail like some sort of Etch-a-Sketch. I now think the A629 is in the wrong place on the base-map. Bit worried the tracklog will end up permanently etched into the screen, so decide to vary my route home.

Return 1:03 (via Flappit pub)

Tuesday 3rd July 2007

Car trouble, so took it to garage this morning. Consequently no bike riding.

Last night's meeting with (now ex-) Dr. Burton was very productive, good advice on routes, GPS use, bike problems, anecdotes of his actual ride. (including one aubergine, sorry face-plant, right at the start - chute!!!).

His ride was done with his daughter and her partner, at a rather faster pace than we're planning. Dr. Burton’s wife drove their motorhome, and acted as team soigneuse, giving the riders rest and succour at the end of the day.

The scores to beat are: Bikes - 3, Punctures - 0, Broken spokes - 1. Still no definitive answer on the female saddle conundrum. His daughter used the standard one as fitted to the Ridgeback machine.

Dr.B. told me about the day of incessant rain in Scotland. Of course it won’t rain on our ride, oh no! It will be warm sun and cooling zephyrs all the way! If only! “Yes, what DO you do if it does rain all day?” I here you say. “Be wet; be vey wet.” And ask yourself, “How come dolphins always look so cheerful?”

Got home from work to find that the Garmin e-Trex Legend Cx has arrived. That was quick delivery. This has the following advantages over the one we have on loan: - USB connectivity, 2GB of memory, colour, longer battery life.

Spent a couple of hours doing detailed route planning through Cornwall and Devon.

Wednesday 4th July 2007

Another day when I had to use the car, as it needs a new rear tyre, so dropped it off at the garage. The weather is still very unsettled, so I would probably have had a soaking. But I'm feeling guilty to be off the bike again. Absolve myself by remembering that Georgina and I are going for a long 60-70 mile training run tomorrow, so that will compensate. Just hope the weather is fair tomorrow.

Shock news! Rapunzel has taken a hissy-fit. An e-mail has been circulated to say that she is stuck between floors 7 and 8, and is slowly going down. I rush out to see what is going on. There's a man on her roof, a blue-collar-maintenance type. He is talking on a mobile phone. What good is that going to do? You should coax her down gently. Perhaps he's trying to call for back-up, or worse still get her sectioned. I feel powerless to act, as he won't be amenable to suggestions. “Treat her gently, sir; can’t you see she’s highly strung?”

Later, I find out it's regular maintenance carried out by Property Services. Good job I didn't try to intervene - could have been very embarrassing. Panic over.

Back home for another few hours of route-planning.

WARNING Long blog!

2007-07-04T13:58:00.000-07:00

Saturday 23rd June 2007

Went to York Cycle Rally. The rain held off while we were there. The trade stands are always a good source of bargains. Bought a few bits of equipment, and some clothing to wear on the ride. Could have spent a great deal more, but managed to restrain myself. Georgina and I have now got matching Camelbaks (we already had matching knees).

Sunday 24th June 2007

Checked the bird book re: the owls I saw last week. Think they may have been the “Short-eared” variety.

Strikes me I haven’t mentioned much on the “energy bar” front. Well I seem to have settled on Nature Valley Granola Bars. Kind of dry, but with crystalline sugary bits – just add lemonade for a nice porridge shandy. The bicycle song is taking shape, adopting the folk theme seems to be a fruitful route. Continue to watch this space.

Replaced the rear sprocket on the Lead Balloon, the old one was 20T, the replacement 21T. This means slightly lower gearing all round. As George Stephenson said to his son Robert "Howay bonnie lad, it's not Rocket science, y'knaa". Anyway, this gives me a 15” bottom, if you’ll pardon the expression. Should make for an easier time up the Big Hill. (See photo).

Monday 25th June 2007

Gave the bike a miss this morning in view of the dreadful weather. Rain and high winds have been forecast, and the rain is here. I don't fancy a gale force Northerly on the way home.

Tuesday 26th June 2007

Been loads of flooding in places like Sheffield, some fatalities, and zillions of pounds worth of damage. Thankful to live up in the hills where we do. This feeling doesn't last long when I tackle the Big Hill after a lay-off of 5 days. The weather is merciful, though, with cool Nor'-by-Nor'-West wind and watery sun.

Guarding against all eventualities, I am wearing new pair of undershorts bought from the Polaris stall at York rally. They give you that 5-pounds thinner tummy tuck, and incorporate what resembles a large incontinence pad at the gusset.

At the top another placard! "Can you hear the curlews?" with a rather charming caricature of a curlew painted on. I recognise that style as Georgina’s. But she's in Lancaster. Suspect some collusion with Jonathan. Anyway, yes I can hear them today.

I'm back on "High Water Everywhere" by Bob Dylan in recognition of the road-river I'm cycling along. The Wind turbines have their noses to the north, except that there's always one non-conformist who's looking the other way, and refuses to turn. Who rattled your blades, guv’nor?

Great news: Georgina has graduated, with First Class Honours. I'm one proud dad!

"Die neue unterkekken sint wunderbar!" Very comfy and protective.

Time out 0:54 (get thee behind me, o windy gusts)

Leaving Dean Clough, poor old Garmin is struggling under a cloudy sky, and asks for another go at locating satellites. I give him a second chance, as we do have the steep North face of the clough on our right. He eventually gets his bearings, and places me slightly to the right of the A629 for a while, like yesterday.

Thought for the day:
"If the trams came back wouldn't that be smart."
"Yes, but if the trolleybuses came back that would be sesubyellort."

Return 0:57 (despite strong North West headwind into village)

Wednesday 27th June 2007

Struggled up the Big Hill with the rain just starting. Ice cold rain fell on me. Journey was a pain, lightened only by curlews at close quarters. Please lord, get me down off this hill, soonest.

Tune for today "Sport (the odd boy)" by the Bonzo Dog Band ("Give him an ice cold shower!"). Just when you thought you couldn't get any wetter, the rain intensified, and you just got wetter. Anyone for bog-snorkling? Pity any poor s*d doing the End to End this week.

Time out 1:00 (dead - or drown-ded)

At lunchtime, decided to investigate floor 8. The forbidden domain. I thought Rapunzel would be a bit reluctant to take me there, so decided to sneak surreptitiously up the stairs. At the top, I was confronted by a locked door (none shall pass!) leading onto the unused floor. Peering through a dusty pane in the door, I could dimly pick out the outline of the glazed roof, over a wide expanse of empty floor-space. Dust, peeling paintwork, cast-iron columns supporting the roof. These go right down to the vaults, getting progressively thicker on the lower floors, in view of the load they have to bear. In the dungeon where the bike is left, you can feel the oppressive weight of tons of masonry and metal trying to crush the lower columns.

Imagined this mill in years gone by, a hive of physical activity, churning out mile after mile of Axminsters. The yarn weavers, washers, carders, spinners, bleachers and dyers must have endured a harsh environment in the industrial West Riding (life’s a bleach and then you dye). All quiet now on floor 8.

Came away none the wiser, furtively descending the way I’d arrived, in case either of the Rapunzels should detect an intruder into their eyrie.

Return 1:00 (not bad considering another brisk headwind up Long Causeway)

Thursday 28th June 2007

Went for a training run this afternoon to Silsden and back. This was to shake down the Orbit as much as anything else. Approximately 16 miles covered in well under 2 hours, taking in some hilly terrain, and stopping on a couple of occasions to fine tune the set up of the bars and saddle, and pump the back tyre up till it hurt (in more ways than one). The Brooks titanium railed saddle was quite comfortable in a Spartan sort of way, once I’d positioned it correctly. The whole bike hung together OK, but the rear spokes are a bit loose, so will have to do something with a spoke key. I have yet to fit a cycle computer, so all figures are approximate.

I had been hoping to meet Jacky, who was walking the canal bank to prepare for a future school event, but missed her. Got wet on the return journey, as it started to rain.

Another week

2007-06-27T14:46:00.000-07:00

Sunday 17th March 2007

Fathers' Day. Georgina presents me with a nice Toblerone. Clearly symbolic of the Big Hill. If only hill-climbing could be made as enjoyable. We do a training run, on a new 9 mile course which Georgina has worked out earlier in the week. There is quite a lot of uphill work, and some fast A road. We take the GPS just because we can. It's a pleasant hour’s outing. I on the Moulton, Georgina on her Univega. The GPS is set up in km, which misleads us into thinking we’re travelling fast. Funny little grey trail on the GPS screen tells us where we’ve been. By sneaking round to the A629 by the back roads, we’ve confused the poor thing, as it thinks all our cycling has been off-road.

Spend the rest of the day tinkering with Lead Balloon. Clean and lubricate the chain, then decide to measure it. Oh, it’s worn and needs replacing. I replace it. And so to bed.

Monday 18th June 2007

Set off on the Lead Balloon and get no more than 200 yards into the journey to find that the new chain doesn’t actually mesh with the rear sprocket. It keep’s jumping under load. New sprocket required. A quick decision to take Jacky’s bike. A few hasty adjustments, including transferring the handle-bar mount for the Garmin to my new steed.

As I get to the top of the Big Hill, a strange sight greets me. Someone has painted a placard "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!" This makes me chuckle. So there is someone else out there who knows Rapunzel. What a coincidence. Of course, it could just be one of a handful of suspects.

Nice to have the Garmin eTrex Legend for company. Altitude of the highest point along the moor road is 434m. Little arrow on the screen like the ones at the start of Dad's Army apparently aimlessly wending across a wide open space. None of these roads are on its base map.

Recently Twoc'd and burnt out car on tops. They’ve left the doors wide open, how inconsiderate (a fast cyclist with his head down might come to grief on such an obstruction. Lucky I’m no fast cyclist).

Eventually reach Halifax, and park bike against the Dean Clough G Mill. Satellite reception is lost before I even get in the building. It's surrounded by an impenetrable aura of oldness, which modern technology cannot, er, penetrate.

Time out 0:56.

Coming back, Jacky's bike making a slight "grinkling" from rear derailleur, and it's obvious the shifting isn't as good as it should be. Looking down between my legs, I detect that the derailleur looks slightly out of line.
I put the GPS onto the map display, to take my mind off the duff gears. Watch the little arrow, which I suppose is me, proceed like a drunk finding his way home. What a hoot! This is the sort of thing which causes accidents - too busy fiddling with your in-car stereo / air conditioning / mobile phone, and don't notice the danger ahead.

return 0:58 (despite gear probs)

Tuesday 19th

Sorted Jacky's bike last night. Achieved this by taking the back wheel and derailleur off and tactfully persuading the errant hanger that it had better go straight, or else face a long stretch in the chokey. No wonder she had a bad time last year in Scotland with it. Clearly impossible to get a decent gear without that noise. Now it runs sweet as a nut. More importantly, changes are more positive.

This morning decided to adjust bar-ends before setting of for work and stripped the thread on one of ‘em. Dang! Hastily fitted a spare set I had to hand.

Finally set off. Decided to post an ink cartridge for recycling. Wouldn't fit in the post box. So went to Post Office to post it in the box there. Detour caused me to take short cut through fields, much lifting of bike over styles etc. By the time I got to the bottom of the Big Hill I was in a lather. Stopped to adjust new bar-ends, which I'd fitted at an uncomfortable angle.

Up the Big Hill, everything now running smoothly. Rapunzel placard, nay banner, nay hoarding gone. Did I just imagine it?

Much bird activity on the tops. Tootling along happily when suddenly gears go hay-wire, rear jumps out of gear, I change down at front and I get chain stuck, and grind to a halt. Huge yellow crane (not of the bird variety) coming along the road, presumably to do some lifting of wind turbine blades. I'm pre-occupied by what's gone wrong with bike. Well, twirl my turbines! The rear gear cable has slipped right through its clamping bolt. Not properly tightened at some stage in the past. Sack the mechanic!

Get out the allen keys and re-locate everything and we're on our way. Resolve to just take it easy for the rest of the journey and try to de-stress.

The Half Way House pub has a large "Sky Sports" banner - Quidditch must be very popular in these parts (have I cracked that one before?)

Free bacon sandwich as this is ‘Bike to Work Week’ (what about the other weeks since the end of January?).

The pear I brought to work for lunch looked like it had gone 15 rounds with Mike Tyson.

Time out 1:07

Coming back I switched the GPS on whilst still in the dungeon, this had the effect of making it rather difficult to acquire satellites. I then set off up the road with the unit desperately displaying “acquiring satellites, please wait”! To add insult to injury, I went up the lane on the east side of the Clough, parallel to the A629. This attempt at bamboozling it meant that when I finally got onto the A629, the unit took about a mile to synch me up to its base map. It kept making quick westward adjustments with its little arrow when it thought I wasn’t looking. As soon as I looked down, it would quickly turn the arrow northwards to give some semblance of knowing where we were going!

I imagine too much of this sort of thing will give it a deep inferiority complex. All those extra calculations must have given it a headache, and I should have offered it some paracetamol. On second thoughts, suspect paracetamol would have added to its woe, as it does not spell-check, so is probably an alien concept to the world of computers.

Return 0:56 (gears meshing smoothly, tail wind up Long Causeway)

Wednesday 20th

Car needs to go in for a service in Halifax, so no cycling.

Decide to go up the Big Hill and along the moor road to look see if the Rapunzel sign has indeed gone. Yes it has.

Start off listening to Wogan, then decide to switch him off, wind down the windows and listen for curlews. Don't here any, but what's this over to the right? Attention, Bird of prey alert! Owl!

Fabulous markings on its back and wings. I drop speed to a cycling pace to observe. Then as it wheels off a couple of hundred yards away, another one overtakes me, s/he's just in front and working the hilly banking at the road side. Swooping and hovering, using the wind, never more than a few feet off the ground. I follow at a about 10 mph for maybe half a mile. What luck!

Then I realise I've got a Range Rover up me bum, so have to break off and be on my way. Well that's something you don't see every day. Wish I was a bit more up on recognising which kind of owl they were. Will have to look it up when I get home.

Take car to garage, then, as I get near to work I realise I've left my card keys in the bum bag at home. Luckily a colleague lets me in to the building.

The latest

2007-06-17T03:47:00.000-07:00

Sunday 10th June 2007

Georgina has got wrist trouble, which flares up from time to time, and we're worried that it's going to spoil her chances of completing the challenge. In fact one of the doctors she's seen at University has advised against doing the ride.

The idea was floated of doing the ride on our tandem, which we've had for 5 years now. In that time it's done no more than 200 miles, ridden by myself and Jacky. It is significant to note that Georgina has always flatly refused to try the thing out. But she's finally come round to giving it a whirl, so after tea we wheeled it out and mounted up.

Being stoker on a tandem is probably not for the faint-hearted, or for control-freaks for that matter, as you have no control over the machine (except for a single brake lever in this instance).

Anyway, the tandem proceeds along Hebden Road as stately as a galleon (she's no Cutty Sark, this one). She can take on a gentle sway. There are intermittent shrieks coming from behind me. Perhaps it could be seagulls following in our wake. Georgina then complains of sea-sickness. We return home, striking that option off our list (although it wasn’t an absolute disaster).

Monday 11th June 2007

What's this piece of roadkill, with the motley brown skin? Oh it's a banana. Not very streetwise, your average banana.

Dog roses and elderflower are blooming in the hedgerows on the Big Hill. But the day is misty in the village, with full blown fog on tops. Can't see a thing, and the sweat does not evaporate when the humidity is so high. Have to ride slowly as my glasses have condensation inside and out, which refuses to be wiped away. Sensory deprivation.

Time out 1:00 (guide dog required)

Jacky rang me at work to say they've had the call today - Ofsted are coming on Thursday and Friday, so it's panic stations for her and colleagues. This means she cannot accompany Georgina to a doctor’s appointment at 4.20 p.m., so I’ll have to leave work early and go with G.

Journey back home is a bit of a rush to make the doctor’s appointment.

Time return 0:49 (possibly some sort of record – lucky with the wind direction)

Tuesday 12th June 2007

Lots of gastropods on the road today after overnight rain, 'fraid I squished a few.

Curlews on either side of the road up the hillockplex - playing call and response. One plainly visible on a mound. The other takes off and flies towards its mate, in a curlicue trajectory which makes me try to do that owl trick with my head. Don't try this at home. I suddenly get a strong urge to throw myself from the bike, and lie down on my back in the damp vegetation, listening to all this birdsong. This idea doesn’t last very long.

Further on, one biiiig bird, gotta be larger than a curlew, takes off - has a long curved down beak (now that's what I call a bill), and a light patch on its back.

A later check on t'Internet says it IS a curlew. Well I just don't get this perspective thing.

Time out 0:55 (wind has gone round to NW)

Return 1:03 (via Flappit pub: still NW)

Wednesday 13th June 2007

Looking at the weather forecast last night, I was convinced I was in for a soaking this morning. Not raining yet as I leave the house, but threatening to. This makes me try a bit harder at first, but then, what with the headwind up the Big Hill, I realise that is a futile gesture. Just take it steady.

Dead vole on the road today. I imagine that will soon get scavenged. Some bog cotton has come into bloom, and there's a solitary yellow gorse bush lighting the misty way along the tops. Quite a billowy blowy wind up here.

Song for this morning is "Elusive Butterfly": one that Georgina wouldn't like, as she has a phobia for lepidoptera.

When I get to work, I notice I've left the zip on my bum-bag open, on the compartment which holds my wallet, but fortunately it appears nothing is missing. Feels like it might be the start of one of those days.

Time out 1:00 (wind has gone round to SW)

Rapunzel 2 playfully took me to 7 when I wanted to go to 5. Could have sworn I pressed 5. When we reached 7 there was no-one there. Curious. Back down to 5 for shower. What about 8? There’s an 8 you know. She won't take me to 8. If you get in on 7, she just says "Going down", as though she doesn’t want you to go up there. What is up there on the top floor, and why does she not acknowledge there's anything higher than 7? I picture them both up there at the end of the day, swapping stories (you’ll never guess who I had in my cabin) and giggling girlishly.

Resolve to investigate 8 when I have the time. Higher baby, take me higher!

Ordered a handlebar mount for the Garmin GPS from e-Bay trader.

God's testing his celestial sprinkler system this afternoon. I don’t mind. It’s rain. Live with it. Yesterday I had a lovely cool shower after getting off the bike. Today, I’m combining the shower with the cycling.

Return 0:59 (very soggy)

Computer reset

DST 155 miles
TIME 15 hr 21 min
AVG 10.0 mph
MAX 41.5 mph
TTM 124 hr. 06 min
ODO 1167.6 miles

the latest

2007-06-11T11:20:00.000-07:00

Monday 4th June 2007

Walking round in a Monday morning daze, I clamber in the shower, before realising that I don't get showered until I get to work. Well, now I'm here I may as well freshen up.

Been raining heavily yesterday evening and overnight. I'm cycling through a steam bath / stream bed. Few dead frogs on the road. Can't see a thing around me for the frog, I mean fog.

Suddenly another cyclist looms out of the mist. "Mornin'" "awright" and he's gone in t'other direction.

Paranoid about Punctures

Now that I have enjoyed over 1000 puncture-free miles on the Lead Balloon, I'm beginning to think a puncture can't be far off. It's only a matter of time. In fact paranoia is starting to creep in. So much so that last night I dreamed I got a puncture.

At work another fire alarm, just after I finish my second shower of the morning.

This old building appears to be resisting attempts at modernisation / gentrification, like a patient’s body rejecting a transplant. Beneath a thin veneer of 21st century civilisation lurks a primordial force. It wouldn't surprise me if there were some low-level paranomal activity going on.

Chipboard tables in meeting rooms have been known to crack spontaneously.
New soap dispensers voiding their contents onto the floor. Air-conditioning units going faulty. Temperamental security card-swipes. Inexplicable areas of intense cold in certain areas of the room.

I suspect what we have here is ECTOPLASM! (Who ya gonna call?

Finally got my eyes tested last Friday;
hope a new pair of glasses will help with the identification of some of these birds. The lady optician looked deeply into my eyes and said "ooh, these are big floaters!" What a chat-up line.

I have now got a fetish for titanium. Have been buying various titanium bolts for the bikes on e-bay. No surprise then that I should opt for titanium frame for my glasses. Zapristi! You could buy a whole bike for the price of those frames!

Choon for today "Finchley Central" by the New Vaudeville Band. This mutated into "Jim'll Fix It" theme tune. Brain-dead or what?

Time out 0:58

In the evening, Dave and Karen called round with the GPS unit they said we could borrow for the trip. It's a Garmin Etrex Legend. Comes with basic A roads pre-loaded. Think we may need some more detail for parts of the route, unless we...
(a) are going for the record
(b) get an adrenalin rush from mixing it with the heavies
(c) can rapidly evolve to breathe Carbon Monoxide
(d) enjoy hospital food
(delete as applicable).

Return 0:56 (estimated - forgot to start watch and fit cycle computer until about a mile. Doh!)

Tuesday 5th June 2007

Aggregate lorries x 3 coming over the Big Hill, had to pull off the road to avoid becoming part of the road surface. With 3 more on top waiting to be filled and a big Tonka toy shovel doing the filling from some piles of aggregate that have been - er- aggregating up here over the past few weeks.

Yes the highways people also use this moor road as a dumping ground for their materials. At least they clear up when they're finished.

Further on, I get a clear sighting of some of those grazing birds. They ARE starlings. (Not small, just far away). Probably up here for the June Bugfest. "Two pints of Larvae and a packet of thrips, please!"

"Davy's on the Road Again" by Manfred Mann's Earth Band. Almost appropriate.

Time out 0:57

Office move today. The whole building is 2 inches further away from Rejkyavik.

Return 1:02 (clinkered fire-bars)

Wednesday 6th June 2007.

Steel grey sky, and Wind from the North-East (again). Quite cold on tops. But nice to cool off after the climb.

Startled a small pipit as I passed by. Nice dark tail markings as it flew away. Must look that one up.

The road resurfacers are busy putting a surface dressing on Pellon Lane (presumably from the aggregate mountain on the moor road). What's the point of that? It's still lumpy underneath.

Song this morning "The Witch of the Westmoreland" as sung by Gracenotes - you know the sort of finger in the ear stuff (to which I'm very partial) "and it's Course well, my brindled hound, and fetch me the jet black mare " etc. Sounds traditional, but it was written by Stan Rogers. Well it plays games with the hairs on the back of the neck, that one.

Why are there no folk-songs about bikes and cycling? I am going to compose one now. Watch this space. Check out http://bicycleuniverse.info/stuff/music.html for pop songs about bikes. There seems to be precious little in that genre as well.

Time out 0:56 (that's more like it)

Coming home, I fancied a change to my normal route, but thought I’d avoid Pellon Lane because the tarmac guys are surface dressing for the next three days. So I went round Straight Lane and Narrow Lane, and when I got to the top of the bank, was annoyed to find the tarmac guys were here. Cycling along on freshly laid stuff, the tyre soon picked up loads of chippings. It reminded my of one of the earliest stories I read as a child, where Noddy puts glue on the wheels of his little yellow car, and is able to drive up the vertical side of a building. Somehow, at the age of four, or whatever, I suspected that wasn’t possible, but what a cool idea. Left a lasting impression: I watched Tomorrow’s World avidly for 30 years waiting for technology to catch up with Enid Blyton.

Anyway, I can’t say this tar on the tyres helped with any hill-climbing.

As I'm descending towards the Dog and Gun, at 35 mph on the lead balloon, a car which I suspect is going to pull out from the Leeming Wells Hotel does just that, causing me to brake. I take a split second decision not to flash past him, which turns out to be a good call, as he immediately turns right into Trough Lane, which again causes a bit of annoyance on my part, but I'm glad he's out of the way. I feel he’s oblivious to all this drama that he has stirred up, like a butterfly up the Amazon.

return 0:58 (despite sticky tyres)

This week the winds ‘ave mostly bin from the Nor'East. Cool.

From Scotland with love!

2007-06-04T14:34:00.001-07:00

Monday 28th May 2007
Bank Holiday. All quiet on the training front.

Tuesday 29th May 2007
Early morning rain, abated before I set out. Watery domain up on tops, the perfect setting for the gurgling curlew calls. White van passes me in opposite direction. "Vestas" - they're the wind turbine people (Danish firm). Should have a word with the driver about the wind direction, ask if he can arrange for a tailwind on my way home. Perhaps he might throw the turbines into reverse this evening if I bung him 5 Kroner, get the air currents flowing south to north?
Must be quite an interesting job going from site to site maintaining wind turbines (if you happen to like cold wet windy outdoors environments). Wonder if they had itinerant windmill engineers in the olden days (listed in ye low pages, of course), or whether it was the local blacksmith and carpenter who sorted problems out? Or was Mr Dusty the Miller up to a little d-i-y bodging?
Flock of starlings "grazing" on the upper roughlands, near to Fly Flats reservoir. That's unusual. They're quite noisy.
Well I stayed dry on this journey, which was a pleasant surprise.
Rapunzel (3) - Rapunzel 2 (0) Am I back in favour with Rapunzel?
Blimey, someone's in the shower! Take my stuff upstairs and return 5 minutes later to find it's now vacant.
Time out 0:54 (tail wind)
Far from throwing the wind turbines into reverse, the Vestas man has pushed the turbo boost button, and put them on the fast spin cycle, fanning bitterly cold Northern wysiwyg whirligig windygusts in my general direction.
Return 1:00 dead (not quite literally)

Wednesday 30th May 2007
A brilliant morning, with high cirrus clouds, and a cold wind from the North West. Springwatch (not to be confused with watchspring) is on the telly at the moment (well not precisely this moment, but at 8 p.m. to be accurate).
I do like that program.
Don't seem to be seeing any Wheatears at the moment, how strange. That flock of birds on the moor tops are there again - they're not starlings at all, but something a bit smaller. Maybe they’re fieldfairs. Wish my eyesight was a bit more reliable. Booked in for an eyetest this Friday - new specs should make a difference.
Music for my ride is "Take me Out" by Franz Ferdinand. Good value as it's two tunes for the price of one (and two meanings for that matter).
Time out 0:58 (surprisingly, slower than yesterday)
Rapunzel (3) - Rapunzel 2 (0) Conclude I’m back in Rap’s good books.
As I take my new short cut past the dumpit site, a wren explodes into rapid-fire squeaky-singer-sewing-maching-gun bursts, piercing the air of the wooded Clough.
Return 0:58 (Mr. Vestas came good today)

A catch up!

2007-06-02T02:34:00.000-07:00

Sunday 20th May 2007

Back to drawing board on the Moulton – this means fitting conventional derailleur gears. I already had a 20” wheel built for another project, so this seemed like a good candidate for fitting to the Moulton. So I fitted it with a tyre and inner tube, and pumped it up to pressure. But then came the first problem; I couldn't get the tyre to seat properly on the rim. Spent ages trying.
Always getting a 'flat spot'.

At first, I thought it was a fault with the tyre carcass. Then maybe a duff inner tube? Eventually sussed it's the rim, which is oversize, meaning part of the tyre is forever stuck in the central well of the rim, and even when pumped up to high pressure, won't expand to fit on the bead of the rim.

I once had a tyre which was the opposite: so slack that when I pumped it up to pressure, it suddenly unseated itself, and the inner tube suffered an explosive prolapse.

But this 'ere rim is has too big a bead.

So I ordered some better quality Alex rims from those nice people at Inspired Cycle Engineering, and some new spokes from Allans BMX. With everything arriving by Saturday morning, I was itching to try a little wheel-building all day.

Wheel skip over the details of the wheel building (see Sheldon Brown again if you want instructions on how to lace the spokes and tension them up). Anyway, after several hours of careful truing I decided it was true enough for me. So I set about putting a tyre on. This time the tyre was tight just to get on to the rim. I was provoked to employ increasingly heavy handed persuasion, gentle thumb pressure, plastic tyre levers, metal tyre levers, torn inner tubes (merde!). Finally, threats of cattle prods and extraordinary rendition were used, and the tyre complied. Well we can just tear up the Geneva Convention now. Main thing is, it does sit on the bead correctly. What a palaver.

Monday 21st May 2007

Car has mysteriously developed an Engine Management system warning light which refuses to go out. So, had to take it to garage in Halifax. Hence no cycling. Shame, 'cos the weather is beautiful this morning. Used the stairs on the south side of the building, so no illicit lift liaisons with the sisters.

Tuesday 22nd May 2007

Grey skies, cool wind. Lambs and sheep making a lot of noise. At the moment, the lambs are still cuddly creatures, with high-pitched plaintive bleats.

Feel crap after a day off the bike, nevertheless the Big Hill takes a mere 29 minutes to overcome.

Turbines swishing a bit today, they're usually inaudible.

Time out: 0:56 (Westerly, with a bit of North in it)

Rap (1) - Rap 2 (2)

Return A629. Car after car after car after car after car after car after don't cut me up, misses (she's a too-near misses) after car after car. God, what a dredgy journey. Tomorrow it's the moor road for me, deffo.

Headwind, bright, dry, some sharp knee twinges in my right knee (oo-er!)

return 1:06 (via Flappit)

Evening, spend some time in garage fettling the Moulton. Start by fitting new twist-grip for derailleur gears, then routing the cable, and replacing the handlebar grip with a slightly longer one.

The rear derailleur mech (a snazzy new Sun TOur model) hangs worryingly low when it's on the biggest sprocket, so I decide to swap it for a differrent mech (Shimano Alivio). This seems just as low-slung, so now I've got to decide between the two. I think we're going to have to live with this as a consequence of having 20" wheels.

Wednesday 23rd May 2007

Feel no better than yesterday. Worried about knees. Lambs and sheep vociferous again. When do these lambs undergo transformation from cutesy to klutz? Is it overnight?

Saw some Bluebells, only these were white (albino?). Stereo larks.

Vintage motorcycle UTF 113 goes past. Sounds like it's got one cylinder, and that's firing twice a second. Powered by ork blacksmiths from the depths of Isengard by the sounds of it.

Seem to be not concentrating on the riding, have hit every pot-hole on route today, consequently very stiff around shoulders and neck when I arrive at work.

Rap (1) Rap 2 (2)

Time out: 1:00

Not much to say about the return journey, but it was slightly preferable to go the moor road, and avoid some of the traffic. Only problem is the long drag out of Halifax, and the exposure to the wind, although that was only a full on headwind some of the time.

Return 1:06 (via moor road)

Computer reset:
DST 140.26
TIME 13:59:16
AVG 10.0mph
MAX 41.2mph
ODO 1012.6

Yey, the magic 1,000 miles since I fitted this cycle computer, way back in January (I think). So, I’ve done the equivalent distance of Land’s End to John o’Groats in about 4 months. Impressive or what? (not!)

eurovision!

2007-05-17T04:44:00.000-07:00

Sunday 13th May 2007

Those of you who are not interested in the technical bits can skip straight to Monday.

A few more words about the Moulton. I mentioned that it was a bit non-standard. Originally, it came fitted with Shimano electronic Auto-D 4 speed gears. I wanted to keep the hub, as it is so smooth and quite. Unfortunately, Mr Shimano has inscrutably stopped making them, so some parts are hard to obtain.

To say I had a few problems is a bit of an understatement...
Problem 1): how to retrofit manual changer in place of the Auto-D control unit, when Shimano have discontinued these products.
Solution: bought a 7-speed changer, and put an old 4-speed bezel on it from a combined changer and brake lever. (unfortunately the numbers don't line up - when it says "3" you're actually in 4th) See photo.

Problem 2): 4 speeds is not quite enough for the hills around here, twelve might be a better bet.
Solution: fit a front triple chain-set, front derailleur, and a chain tensioner.

Problem 2a): front triple chain-rings don't line up with the sprocket at the back.
Solution: fit a narrower Bottom Bracket axle. (but not too narrow, as there is a suspension pivot bolt close by)

Problem 2b): the 42-32-22 chain-set you thought might work is a no-no, because there is a frame brace on the Moulton right where you want to clamp the front changer.
Solution: fit a 48-38-24 chain-set, 24 being the fewest teeth available on a chain-set with 110/74 Bolt Circle Diameter.

Problem 2c): Seat tube too fat for conventional front changer clamp.
Solution: modify the clamp on a 34.9 mm diameter front changer to take it to 38.1 mm.

Problem 2d): No rear derailleur hanger to allow fitting of a chain tensioner.
Solution: Make one by salvaging a rear dropout from an old bike and bolting it onto the inside face of the dropout.

Problem 2e): "Mr Control" chain tensioner a bit lacking in the tension department.
Solution: graft an old derailleur cage onto the "Mr Control" mounting bracket, and throw the other bits into the spares bin.

Problem 3) the resultant 12 speeds is STILL not enough for the Big Hill.
Solution: fit two sprockets on the Nexus hub (thanks to Sheldon Brown for intimating that such a thing is possible). Do this by brazing a 30 tooth sprocket (from a cannibalised screw on block) onto the face of a standard Shimano 18 tooth sprocket.

Problem 3a): Chain catching base of front derailleur cage.
Solution: make cage deeper by brazing a new section 5mm deep to the base.

Problem 3b): how do you select between ratios on the new "Club 18-30" rear sprocket cluster?
Solution: Fit old Sun Tour rear derailleur and friction shifter from spares bin.

Voila, 24 gears! And it goes up the Big Hill! OK a few niggles, like some "grinkling" in certain gears, but it works.

The observant among you will have realised that this bike now has no less than 3 GEAR SHIFTERS! And you would be right! (Y'see, the volume on this Moulton goes up to 11!). See photo – two twist grips and a friction shifter, beat that!

Testing Moulton on the Big Hill.
Time to summit (or somewhat near the summit) 25:40 (with one stop to put the chain back on, after it fell off of the “Club 18-30” rear sprocket).
Max speed down the Big Hill 39.9 mph. Relief at stopping OK at the bottom. Bremsstrahlung!!! (Check that one out, Microsoft spell checker! Hah! Got you! No suggestions!)

Problem 4): how to fit a rear rack
Solution: too mean to buy the authentic Moulton rack, buy one that's designed for a standard suspension mountain bike and spend hours making some steel mounting brackets.

Problem 5): Do you really think this Heath-Robinsonish contraption is going to last the distance from Lands End to John o'Groats?
Solution: back to the drawing board.

Monday 14th May 2007

Been very rainy over the last 24 hours (started yesterday lunchtime). The forecast suggested it might have cleared by this morning, but I very much caught the tail end on my way in. Managed to get the Lead Balloon up the Big Hill and Hillockplex in 27:50, which is probably a best on that bike. Of course, this was all down to some wind assistance, as the wind has gone round to the North East and is blowing all those ragged rain-clouds back down the country from whence they came (should that be "to whence", or just plain "whence"?)

The tyre dumpers have been out again - this time distributing them every 50 yards along the side of the road.

Becks are swollen, and water roaring through culverts. The wind is cold: my left nasal passage gets that feeling when you've just scoffed an ice cream too fast.

As I skootch through rivulets of rainfall running off the moors, I find myself reflecting on our very poor showing in the Eurovision. Obviously much of Europe just didn't get the innuendo of some of the lyrics, which were in the tradition of Julian and Sandy on Round the Horn. I suppose having to follow the high camp effort of the Ukraine entry, made our entry seem a tad too subtle. Not sure why Andorra (population 73.5) gets the same voting power as say Germany or Poland. I say it's time to lump all the telephone votes from every country into the same bucket, and just make the winner the entry who got the most telephone votes. This would cut out all those tedious congratulations when the scores come in from each country.

Any-road-up, so I'm "Flying the Flag" as I go down Pellon Lane into town, which lifts my soggy spirits.

After tethering my steed, I come to the lifts, and they're both there. Rapunzel 2 already has three people, so I lurch in Rapunzel's direction. I guess I've taken her by surprise, but she still tries to close her doors on me as I stride inside. What more proof do you need?

Today’s vital statistics:
Rapunzel (1)* - Rapunzel 2 (2)

* not summoned, so shouldn't count.

Time out: 0:54 (another sub-hour showing - must be improving)

Ah, relief, dry and sunny, but a bit of a Nor’-Wester’ now, threatening heavy showers, which fall elsewhere. Even employing my best aerodynamic tuck, can only reach 30 mph coming down into the village, such is the head-whinge.

Time return: 0:57 mins (pretty creditable)

Tuesday 15th May 2007

30 minutes up the The Big Hill. Today I feel out of tune with my bike. This is probably down to the wind which has gone round again.

Lambs still curious, they look at you as you pass while their mothers munch impassively, making milk.

Tyres in a watercourse and someone has dumped a bit of rusty motorcar further on. Do these people not realise they can dispose of stuff like that at the dumpit site? I recognise the scrap metal as a Sierra rear subframe with differential and prop-shaft. I used to have one of these (not the car, just the sub-frame) when I was building a kit car. This was in the days before I realised that cars are not the way forward.

A grouse diddles across my path a few yards ahead. He stands at the edge of the road playing I-spy with my little eye. In a little under three months he won't be hanging around on street corners; he'll be just another gun-crime statistic.

At this point let me point out that I am not a practising vegetarian, but I do get veggie tendencies at times. I pay to have animals killed for me by someone else, and suffer pangs of guilt when I eat them, as did the Walrus for the oysters in Alice:

"I weep for you," the Walrus said:
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

"O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again? "
But answer came there none--
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.

Scores on the (lift) doors:
Rap (1) - Rap 2 (2)

Time out: 1:00 (we were never going to break any records today).

Way back: sunny, but not too hot, favourable wind, overflown by 2 oystercatchers, 41.2 mph into village, what could possibly spoil this idyllic, er, idyll? Answer: swallowing a fly at 41.2 mph!

Time return 0:55 (What do you run on, Rockette Morton?)

Wednesday 16th May 2007

Last night I tinkered with one of my ever-increasing collection of mirrors – the “Avenir Bar End Mini Mirror” (“Note convex mirror gives larger viewing area but can make images look smaller”). It has a bendy arm, so you can set it to any angle which turns you on. “Will it bounce a bit with that flexible arm?” I had asked the bike shop proprietor before I purchased it. “No”, he lied. So I handed over the dosh (£11.99 for a pair).

The convex mirror makes cars look so far away that one moment they’re a very small pussy-cat, the next they’re upon you like a lion on a wilderbeest. Anyway, I was sure I could improve on this mirror, simply by shortening the bendy part by about an inch. What I should have predicted was that shortening it would change the resonant frequency. Where previously it used to dance, duck and dive like Mohammed Ali in his heyday, now it dithers like Lee Evans on speed.

Before setting off this morning, I decided to jack up the saddle a whopping 2mm. Felt slightly more 'comfortable' (not sure if that's the right word) on the Big Hill. Still took 30 minutes to top, disappointingly.

Plenty of larks and pipits sounding off overhead.

Overcast and cool, just the wrong side of pleasantly.

When does a "cycle lane" become a "cycle route"? The criteria could perhaps be, length, width, location? The implication is that some planning has taken place, and that by using it, you will arrive at some sort of desirable destination. The cycle routes along the 200 mile length of France's Cote d'Argent spring to mind (which the four of us cycled in 1999). So it's a little disappointing when this one stops after 0.3 miles, just short of the Newsagents. I'm talking about the pitiful effort from Mount Tabor in the direction of Halifax which is terminated by a sign proclaiming "End of Cycle Route". Pity the Trades Descriptions Act doesn't apply.

Is it me or is everyone in a hurry today? Cars seem to be roaring around, especially the turbo-diesel 4x4 jobbies. One puny person going from A to B, lugging two tons of steel, glass and rubber, seems a bit excessive to me.

Rap (1) - Rap 2 (2) (We are definitely out of favour with Rapunzel I will say no more on the subject).

Time out: 0:58 (verdict: an easy downhill second half to the run)

Just got home before the rain set in for the evening. Yey!

Succumb to “Stayin' Alive” by the Bee Gees (I sing it to ward off evil road-spirits).

1:03 return (via Flappit)

Next blog

2007-05-14T10:56:00.001-07:00

Sunday 6th May 2007

A bit more bike building today. Trying to fabricate a support strut for the rear rack which I bought some time ago for bike 2, which is a Moulton APB. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Moultons, this bike is a small-wheeled job with suspension front and rear, which I was rather hoping would be comfortable to ride over long distances. I really like this bike. Unfortunately, it's got a number of non-standard features which have made modifying it to my requirements rather difficult.

For one, this model has no rear gear hanger, as it came fitted with Nexus 4-speed hub gears (actually the automatic version).
Secondly, the seat tube is larger diameter than standard and has one or two struts which make fitting and positioning front changer a nightmare.
Thirdly, the mounting points for racks are completely non-standard, so you are more or less tied to buying Moulton-specific racks.

I'll spare you the pain of reading about all the problems I've had till a later date (collective sigh of relief).

Tuesday 8th May 2007

Snubbed by the Rapunzels.

Yesterday was Bank Holiday, consequently no work, and no training over the long weekend. Today the weather is well and truly broken. Wet, wild and windy. Tries to blow me off the moorland road on the way to work. Icy rain driving straight into my right hearing-hole on the tops. I try to tell myself that it's only April showers come a little late, but that's no consolation. Not much birdsong under the rattle of rain on my helmet's plastic carapace. But then there's that crazy lark. How can he maintain station in such a buffeting?

Have bought a base layer vest, and used it today for the first time. I'm glad I had it on, as I needed to keep the cold wind and rain out. I still got sweaty, but it helped prevent me from chilling off in the wind on the downhill bits.

Rapunzel 2 takes pity on me as I drag myself in from the storm like a drowned rat (forgive me if I exaggerate for effect). But after my shower, it's a different story: I press the button to go up, and they both pass me by empty in quick succession on their way groundwards. Perhaps they've remembered the scene last Wednesday. After all they do overlook the courtyard where the taxi firm is based, and they must have jealously looked on as I acted the white knight with the car-crash damsel. I take the stairs.

Time out 1:01

On the return, something triggers "Forget myself" by Elbow, but I'm stuck on one catchy phrase which repeats over and over in my mind, for the entire journey.

Ragged dark clouds, running parallel to my course, and, thankfully, in t'other direction.

Time return 1:01 (no intentions of busting a gut today)

Wednesday 9th May 2007

Today oi 'ave mostly bin spotting Crows, Pheasants, Curlews, Larks and an 'Ouse Martin (in that order). Yes, the swallows, swifts and Martins have sneaked
past immigration control and are back here, helping themselves to our insect population from under the beaks of our native species, and burdening our already stressed eco-systems, bloody johnny-foreigner-types.

Seems like Rapunzel 2 has decided to bury the hatchet. But her sister is nowhere to be seen this morning. Perhaps Rapunzel 2 has had her taste of freedom (weekend work at Primark), decided it's not for her, what with all the chavs, screaming babies, old giffers etc, and decided the grass is not greener. Whereas Rapunzel has never seen the outside world, beyond that view into the courtyard, and very much continues to harbour a grudge. Time is a great healer, and I feel she will come down from her high tower eventually.

For those doubters amongst you, I've decided to keep a tally of which of the two Rapunzels arrives when summoned. Then you will perhaps agree that I am not just imagining it.

Time out 0:55 (surely shome mishtake)

Busy at work, so didn't get away till late. Not much to report on the return journey, except WET. Not a vicious soaking, more a “can't avoid it, let's just plug” on sort of rain. (The bike now standing at Halifax North Bridge is the 19:00 to King’s Drenching, calling at Cloudesley, Rainhill, and Wetwang. Passengers for Oxenhope change at Sodden-Under-Wear).

Time return 0:54 (at this rate, I’ll be arriving before I set off!)

Today’s tally:
Rapunzel (0) - Rapunzel 2 (3)

Thursday 10th May 2007

Today is the first day of Georgina’s finals. I send a “good luck” text. She will be finished on the 31st. This concentrates my mind on the fact that we’re less than 2½ months from start of the expedition, and still neither bike is prepped and LEJoG-ready. I’m starting to get a bit panicky.

Also I take a look at the Lead Balloon, and decide some maintenance is long overdue.

First the chain gets a thorough degrease, wash, WD-40 and lube with Teflon oil. The rest of the bike is washed, and I notice some of the paint coming away from the front fork brake mount, and rust showing through. (I did the Taiwanese a disservice last blog – this bike is actually Vietnamese.) Actually the welding in this area is beautifully done, but it’s the finishing that’s lacking. I put some rust-proofer on and wire brush vigorously. Will touch up with paint later. The winter salt has also caused the rear brake cable to look a bit rusty. I spray grease on it, and make a note to replace at a future date.

I have been thinking this bike is coming up on 1000 miles of commuting, and still no punctures (this thought process usually brings on a puncture). I don’t fancy having to repair a puncture en route on this bike, as it’s got some complicated linkages for the brakes and gears. So I inspect the tyres. Sure enough there are five or six tiny shards of glass embedded in the rear tread, and many tiny cuts where “low-level street crime” has been taking place. It’s impressive what a Kevlar belt in the tyre has managed to repel. In pre-Kevlar days, all that glass would have been terminal.

Memo to self: on LEJoG, need daily post-ride maintenance routine, to fettle bikes for next stage. Check brakes (pads and cables) & adjust if necessary, clean & lube chain and gears (check chain for excessive wear), inspect tyre treads, pressures, check steering for play in headset and wheels for play in bearings.

Fine tune Orbit front changer, and manage to get rid of some of the rubbing, but notice the chain is catching on some lobes on the middle chainring when the chain is on the granny ring. Thing I need to fit a different chainset. Let’s get this sorted, before once more turning attentions to the Moulton.

Also found out why the handlebars squeaked. Mountain-bike handlebars in a road bike stem are not quite compatible. Swapped the stem for a mountain bike type.

Oh well, at least I’ve contacted all the sites we intend to stay at, and either booked them, or been told “just turn up”. Just need to book the hotel we plan to stay at in Lancaster (for a little luxury at the half-way mark).

Friday 11th May 2007

Hotel duly booked. So that’s all the stops sorted. (I hope).

Dad the hero!

2007-05-05T13:36:00.000-07:00

Sunday 29th April 2007

First proper test drive of the Orbit Expedition frame in Reynolds 520 tubing which I have been building up. It has 26" (i.e. mountain bike size) wheels shod with Panaracer Pasela 26x1.25 tyres, 11-32 tooth 8 speed block at the rear and 48-38-24 tooth triple chainset at the front. Crank length is 170mm, and, as already mentioned, the Brooks saddle. It was my intention to go up the Big Hill on it and get a comparison with my typical commuting times on the Carrera Subway 8.

The Orbit is 2kg lighter, and of course I wasn't carrying my usual commuting load of clothes, towel, fruit, tools, spare inner tube, full water bottle, so this was not a very fair trial. Also this morning the wind was from the East, so
I got some assistance on the ascent.

The only negative was that I didn't have any sort of toe clips (I was both clipless, and clipless-less). Also I was trying very hard not to try very hard, if you catch my drift.

Anyway to cut a long and very boring story short, I got up to my usual check-point in 24min 30 sec. I usually struggle to do this in 30 mins, so RESULT! (No wonder a bewildering array of other cyclists have passed me over the last 3 months).

On the way up, saw the same bird on the same fence post, and he flew away displaying the same white rump. That is a wheatear, says the book. And he only looks bigger than a pipit. He’s actually a similar size.

Verdict on the saddle. Firm yet comfortable (Sofa so good).

A few mechanical problems with the bike:
(1) chain rubs on the front changer when in the extreme rear gears (doubt if Bonjela will sort this teething trouble out: may be able to tune this out with careful adjustment, but may have to live with some rubbing),
(2) handlebars let out an alarming squeal and slipped round in their clamp when I hit a large bump on the way on the down the hill. A slight tweak with allen key sorted this out when I got back to base,
(3) the spokes need tensioning in the rear wheel. There was a bit of a pinging ringing thing going on back there.

Main thing is that the brakes worked well on the descent of the Big Hill.

Monday 30th April 2007

Last day of April. Yesterday was like summer, this morning there's a raw easterly and it's dull. Try hard to try hard on the Big Hill. Do it in 29 and a half mins, so nowhere near yesterday's excellent figure on the Orbit. Feels like the Taiwanese alchemists who crafted this bike's frame from finest Aluminium alloy have lost their touch, and that it has transmuted back to base metal.

380 pedal strokes. Will count the right pedal tomorrow and see if we can average this lot out.

Not many birds to speak about, yet here are a couple of wheatears. Were they there before and I've just started noticing them, or have they just arrived? You know how it is when you buy a car, and suddenly every other car you see is the same model? Well that is the Wheatear effect.

It's cold up here on the tops. My left ear is not a happy bunny, nor are my finger-tips.

After showering, fire alarm goes off (trigger-happy sensors, will probably be classed as "Friendly Fire"). Glad it wasn't during my shower as once happened to me at another place of work. Back then, I reasoned "If the building is burning down, a wet place is probably a good place to be" and finished my shower.

I start back by taking it steady, to conserve energy. I tell myself that "like a good pint of Guinness, this bike cannot be rushed". Still have to stop for a quick energy bar. Damn - should have taken some malt loaf to work!

A blackbird whistles the first six notes of "La Donna e mobile" from Verdi's Rigoletto. Wow they'll be typing Shakespeare next.

Brisk tailwind coming down into the village - Clocked 45+mph (pedalling neither desirable nor required) I think I may nick-name this bike "The Lead Balloon"

Time out 0:58 (some wind assistance in evidence)
Return 0:58

Tuesday 1st May 2007

Crystal clear morning, as befits the first day of May. The lattice work of the mast at the top of the Big Hill is picked out in perfect detail today, whereas yesterday it wasn't even there. A bead of sweat trickles down my breastbone as I tackle the hill. Counting the right pedal strokes today, and starting from the 'horses' sign at the bottom, finishing at the bridlepath sign at the top. The right answer then is 380. Same as yesterday. Let that be an end to it.

Bird population on the tops a cocktail of Lapwing, Curlew, with a strong Wheatear chaser. They're all just shooting the breeze today. I nearly fell off watching a Curlew go overhead. Did I mention the blond in the Audi before? She usually drifts past about here. What's that one with the strangely shaped beak? I'll have to look that one up - maybe it's listed under "Bill Oddities"? (just joshing)

That strong cool easterly is still making its presence felt, but today the sun takes the edge off it.

The sheer volume of cars gets me down on the return journey. I'm contemplating going back over the back road tomorrow, as it's quieter, yet slightly more gruelling.

Time out 0:57 (Is it the global warming, or am I improving by degrees?)
Return 0:53 (conditions similar to yesterday, except fuelled by large fruity flapjack)

Wednesday 2nd May

Passed that fallen tree this morning. It seems to have finally cottoned on to the fact that it is a basket case. The fresh green leaves are beginning to wither (a thousand tiny voices shouting "I can't feel me feet!") Is this what it's like to have MS? First it gets a foot in the door, then like a confidence trickster, insidiously steals closer to the inner sanctum (the shear nerve of it!)

Didn't bother to count up the Big Hill, as we have the right answer now, but the sign at the bottom has the picture of the horse and rider, with a "rider" saying "for 1 mile". In all the time I've been coming up here, I can't for the life of me recall seeing this horse and rider. Who is he? What a waste of signage.

After the Big Hill, but before the Big Hillock, I'm aware of a rather loud vehicle behind me. What's this? An artic! I pull over onto the grass verge to let him pass, not happy that he's invaded this domain, but don’t feel like insisting on sail before steam. Blimey, he really makes the Big Hillock look pretty damn steep as he hauls up and disappears into the mist.
I have a theory that this back road is on occasions used for underhand dealings such as smuggling trans-shipments, drug dealing and general nefarious activities. Only the birds know, and they're not telling.

As I have mentioned before, "honking" up hills has been rehabilitated in my lexicon of cycling techniques, as it helps me stay in the "golden gear" (5th), exercises my arms (by pulling on the handlebars) and last but not least gives my bum some respite from the saddle. A couple of geese go overhead, also honking.

This damn easterly wind is still with us on the tops. Cold. The winds in this part of the world are predictable in their unpredictability.

Coming down off the tops, I can hear a lark, and he seems fairly close. I look up, and he's just ascending. And which piece of music springs into my head? Perhaps you might think "Lark Ascending" by Vaughan-Williams? No, it's the bloody theme from "Are You Being Served" again (Going up!)

Down Pellon Lane, a White Van man was determined to get past me. He accelerated in his desperate rush, even though the lights a few yards ahead were red. So he had to anchor on, and I sneaked past him on the inside to get to the front of the queue. Minutes later, I had wound the "Lead Balloon" up to 28mph, and he was still determined to roar past, even though the next set of lights was also at red. Naturally, I repeated the undertaking exercise. Tired of playing leap-frog, I was glad when my left turn came up soon after.

Time out: 0:56

A strange thing happened to me on the way home. As I mentioned yesterday, I'd decided to go the scenic route, but I didn't get that far. After travelling less than 1/4 mile, I was approached by a youngish lady, in a rather revealing yellow dress (and cowboy boots), who wanted to know where she could find a phone box. She wanted to phone her boyfriend, but had no credit on her mobile phone. She needed to explain to him she'd crashed the car, having been run off the road on a country lane by a lorry. It was then that I noticed she had a few cuts and bruises.

She explained that she had just come out of the Police Station, where they had been dealing with the aftermath. She didn’t even know where she was. I told her she was in Halifax.

Apparently she'd been trapped in the BMW car. Crikes! What could I do, but lend her my mobile so she could call the boyfriend? I asked her where she lived. "Manchester" How she was going to get back there was not at all clear. She was definitely not in any condition to think straight. Her house keys and some money were still in the car, which had been taken to a garage in Sowerby Bridge.

When you're on a bike, you're a bit powerless to assist, but we hit on the plan that she'd get a taxi to the place where they’d taken her car, retrieve her keys and money and Hey, Presto! a miracle would occur. So we rang the place that had the car, to check they'd still be open. I took her to the local taxi firm, and entrusted her to them, after giving her some money for the fare.

She thanked me profusely, and I waved her on her way.

It was after that that I realised I should have got her to a hospital, as she was actually in shock. Anyway, whether I'd done the right thing occupied my mind on the ride home, then it dawned that I should phone the car place to check she'd got there safely. The lady there put my mind at rest, by saying they'd probably drive her back to Manchester.

She (the car place lady) also said that she (the car crash lady) had refused hospital treatment. I went on my way somewhat relieved (notwithstanding the fact that some fallout was to be expected with the boyfriend apropos the destruction of the BMW). Just don't tell the Rapunzels about this incident.

Time return: 1hr 30mins (extra time allowance for damsel-rescuing).

Thursday 3rd May 2007

Day off. Heard a cuckoo somewhere in the village.

Computer reset.
DST 192.34 miles
TIME 19:15:58
AVG 9.9 mph
MAX 45.3 mph

more birds and bikes!

2007-04-30T13:24:00.000-07:00

Saturday 21st April 2007

I know this is not strictly relevant to the training log, but there have been Rapunzel developments which I must relate. Rapunzel 2 has broken free. She has slipped the clutch of the imprisoning ogre (someone should report that slipping clutch to maintenance) She is now working in the White Rose Centre, in Primark no less. I know this because I heard her today with my own ears. That unmistakable voice with her "Pleathe thelect your floor", "Doorth clothing", "Going Down" I'm almost certain it was her. I was not alone in the lift, so I didn't dare speak, for fear of ridicule.

Wonder how she regained her freedom. Stole away when the ogre was asleep? (at dead of knight, of course). Doubtless, like all young things, she'll have aspirations to put herself through college and go up in the world. Ah well, it could be worse, she could have ended up as one of those pole-dancing types.

Anyways up, it's good to see she's carving a niche for herself. The pay may not be much, but she has her independence.

Sunday 22nd April 2007

The tale of the Brooks saddle.

As you know, I've been building some bikes up which hopefully will be up to the task of carrying Georgina and me the 1000 or so miles reliably and in relative comfort.

On the comfort front, one of the main considerations has been choice of saddle. To this end, I invested in a Brooks saddle with Titanium rails, (which cost a pretty penny), way back in January. This has been fitted to an Orbit Expedition frame, which is now nearing completion.

I had entertained the idea that this bike would be suitable for Georgina, but it looks like the frame may be too much of a stretch for her to ride comfortably.

Anyway, I went for my first test ride of this bike last week.

"Did the saddle impress you?", I hear you ask eagerly.
"Yes, I was deeply impressed by the saddle." I respond with a wry smile (or is that a grimace). That saddle felt like a smooth stone; a piece of sedimentary rock, sea-washed for centuries, until all the sharp corners had been smoothed out. Honestly, that is exactly how it felt. Perhaps this is what inspired Sheldon Brown in the following piece of whimsy:

http://www.sheldonbrown.com/real-man.html

Then I came home. Further verdict on the Brooks saddle in due course.

Monday 23rd April 2007
St.George's day. Usually associated with bright spring-like weather. Grey, breeze from SW. Lots of birdsong in village, disappearing as I head into the low cloud which wreathes the Big Hill.

Where are the Curlews and Lapwings this morning? Several larks are heard twittering overhead on my journey. Perhaps they are in blue sky, while I am in grey down below, feeling very Monday morning blue-ish. Put my front light on. That song from Lindisfarne has mutated into "Do you believe the Blue-ish LED light is going to guide us on?"

Twittering bird regular peep peep always starts about this point of the journey, but only on damp mornings. It’s only the inside edge of my trainers rubbing the face of the crank. Try shifting feet slightly outwards on the pedal and the bird has flown. I may talk about my brief flirtation with clipless pedals at a later date, when the painful memories have faded a little more.

Can't stop thinking of Rapunzel 2, and how I am going to break the news to her sister when I get to work.

Sure enough, when I finish stabling my steed, I am confronted by Rapunzel waiting for me on floor 0, and an empty space where you might expect to see Rapunzel 2. (So she HAS made her escape...) Will Rapunzel succumb to the loneliness? Should I tell her, or will it make the situation worse? Might the ogre hear and exact terrible retribution? I remain silent, paralysed by indecision.

After my shower, I head for the lift again, and summon Rapunzel. Imagine my suprise when, entirely unannounced, her twin arrives. My mind reeling, I consider the possibilities: the Rapunzel 3 theory (long lost triplet, snatched away at birth by some evil witch). The weekend release scheme whereby the ogre grants temporary absolution from the spell for good behaviour? (- stranger things have been known in H.M. Prison Service). It’s a mystery.

Time out 1:00

I have, over the duration of my training, been sampling various energy-snack-bar-type confections, to establish their suitability for the ride. The ideal I seek would be slightly crunchy, slightly moist, slightly fruity, perhaps a hint of salty-bitterness, obviously packed with 'goodness'(whatever that is), relatively low in fat, some sugars, but mainly slow-burn carbs for endurance. My personal ideal would of course be a solid version of Timothy Taylor's Landlord (regrettably sans alcohol). Perhaps an idea for their products division? By the way, I'm not just mentioning Taylors because they have sponsored us. Landlord is up there with the greatest beers of all time.

My quest for such a fuel (Landlord in a Bar) has so far met without success. Instead I have experienced a range of textures from breeze block through chipboard to MDF, seemingly made from budgy seed, granite chippings, or wind-blown chaff. We will draw a discreet veil over the effects of the pre-biotic ones, though not before making a cheap joke on jet propulsion.

Anyway, I tried malt loaf tonight. You cannot eat it in a hurry, but it seemed to give me a pretty good boost.

The spring lambs are beginning to look too heavy to levitate. However the government's recent relaxation of the gambolling laws may give them some outlet for their remaining energy.

Time return 0:56 (a bit rainy, slight wind assistance in places)

Tuesday 24th April 2007

Damp after early morning rain. Small noise in hedgerow on big hill, heard it yesterday in roughly the same place. Like an electric fence short-circuiting in the rain, except it's no longer raining. Mammal? Insect? Previously undiscovered species of tiny flightless humming-bird indigenous to South Pennines? Can't really stop to investigate.

Count the pedal strokes up the Big Hill - 365. Significant number? Days in year. Height (in feet) of St.Paul's cathedral. (N.B. only counted the left leg. Presumably the right leg did a similar number).

At the top, a dead frog, squashed flat. 100 yards further on another one, similarly mutilated. How can they meet such a cruel fate on such a remote country lane?

The curlews are vociferous today. Where were they all yesterday? Still in bed? What's that all about?

Oh god, another one (dead frog). (You go all year without seeing one, then three come along at once). Call homicide (amphibicide?)

A curlew gives a fine display of landing technique, wings quivering, facing downwind. (I thought you had to land into the wind – not this cocky devil).

Then a huge pile of discarded tyres dumped in the ditch. Depressing. Calderdale Services have only just cleaned their end up last week ago. Now some antisocial s*d has done this. One day all the squashed frogs will rise up and exact their revenge on you, whoever you are.

Love Shack by the B52's this morning. It's a song about being young, American and care-free (regrettably not car-free).

Time out 0:59

Time return 0:59 (via Flappit - humid, tailwind. Malt loaf slices = 1)

Wednesday 25th April 2007

Fallen tree on Hebden Bridge Road. Been lying on the ground measuring its length (60 foot or so) these last four months. This morning it’s covered in buds and leaves! Nobody told it it was dead. I’ll warrant a good tree surgeon could have it back on its feet in no time.

Pedal strokes on the Big Hill came to 400 this morning - started counting slightly early, also more wiggling? I demand a recount.

The terminally banal theme from "Are You being served" invades my head, and refuses to be displaced ("Going Up"). Whoever wrote that was an evil genius, bent on world domination. The only other piece of music to feature a cash register that I can think of is "Money" by Pink Floyd. I'm not to keen on that one either. The cash register in popular music - discuss.

Pipits a-plenty this morning. Small bird seen on fence post, going "chuck-chuck-chuck". Looks larger than a pipit. Flies away, displaying white rump. Curlew lands on the tarmac 50 yards ahead, but moves on before I get close.

Time out 1:02 (Stiff SW)

More malt loaf coming home. (Can’t waste it - bought two on special offer).
Wind seems to have come round more to the North, consequently hard going at times.

Time return 1:07 (Today, oy ‘ave ‘ad bad wind at both ends, so to speak).

one for the fans!

2007-04-19T03:34:00.000-07:00

Saturday 14th April 2007
No training done, but a bit of bike building. Progress on this will appear in later blogs.

Last week while, climbing Ben More, I had to resort to a knotted handkerchief to protect my baaldyheed from the sun’s rays. Feeling vaguely ludicrous, I swiftly removed it on encountering the seasoned climber at the summit of A’Choich. Next day went into Tobermory for some more appropriate headgear. Came away with an authentic Stetson. First time I’ve worn one of those since my infatuation with the Wild West ‘Wayned’ back in ’62.

Off to see Bob Dylan at Sheffield Arena, where that Stetson would not have looked out of place. Never thought to take it. We did take a pair of binoculars. They were useful. We could actually see the man. Very dapper. He and his band were on for 2 hours and did 18 songs. A lot from his last 2 albums, ‘Love and Theft’ and ‘Modern Times’, and a few new arrangements of stuff from the sixties. I never really ‘got’ Dylan until recently. My mate Dennis Quinn at school used to rave about him. I was just a nerdy kid, who didn’t even have a record player. I can just picture him (the mighty Quinn) in the classroom with a copy of the gatefold sleeve Blond on Blond tucked under his arm. Ah, but I was so much younger then, I’m older than that now. (You still don’t get it do you, Kingy?). Verdict on his Bubness: music was excellent, just wish you had spoken to us between songs, Mr. Enigmatic.

Sunday 15th April 2007

Computer Reset:
DST 62.29 miles
TIME 6:21:51
AVG 9.7 mph
MAX 35.7

Hot. Went on Georgina's training circuit to remind ourselves what cycling in summer might be like. We managed an average speed of 7.6 mph for one hour. This is not very impressive, and would mean we are in the saddle for 10 hours some days. Terrain is a bit hilly round here, but who's to say how it compares with Cornwall or Scotland?

At one point decided to stop for a drink, and, thinking I was just turning into a lane, managed to mount a low curb head on. Oo that hurt! To quote Rambling Sid Rumpo "Two's for me wurrdled nadgers-oh".

Counsel for Shanks' Pony (cross-examining) "Your honour, I wish to call an expert medical witness who will testify that the intense posterior pain caused by a cycle saddle cancels out any of the aforementioned Velocipedal benefits, thereby demolishing my wurdled colleague's case"

(Half-time score Velo Athletico - 1 Shanks Wanderers - 1)

Weight and diet progress...
It's over 3 months since we made the decision to undertake this, er .. undertaking, and a little over 3 months to the actual start date. I was kinda hoping that all the extra exercise would have led to more of a weight loss than the measly 2 pounds since Christmas. Jacky says it’s all that fat turning to muscle. I don’t buy that. I still have a noticeable subcutaneous fatty layer, and not a six-pack in sight.

I’ve made a decision to reduce calorie intake while at work, by drinking more water. And certainly no choccie bars. (Will I be able to adhere to this stricter regimen, I wonder? See below for answer...)

Monday 16th April 2007

A really pleasant run in to work this morning. everywhere slightly moist after an early shower (not me, the countryside!). No wind to speak of. Even the big hill tackled with gusto. Could have been Joanne's dad who passed me in the YEDL white van - I couldn't tell as my specs were all steamed up (besides I've only met him a couple of times, so probably wouldn't recognise him, anyway.

Joanne, if you're reading this, good luck with the plan to become a physics teacher. (even better, have a nice year out next year). While we're in name-checking mode "Yo, Jean!","Yo, Celia!" (my die-hard esteemed readership).

Managed to roll right up to a pipit on a fence-post without scaring him away. Then same again further on (different pipit, obviously). More or less continuous Curlew burbling on the tops.

Must have been some sort of charity cycle ride over the weekend. Think I saw them near Crossroads on Sunday. Somewhat tautological sign still up on lamp-post this morning "Caution Cyclists on Road". Where else should you expect to find them? On the reservoir? On your 4x4's bull-bars more likely.

In a similar vein, in Halifax "The Carpet Centre. Open for carpets". What else would it be open for - All-day breakfasts?).

And another thing - Why are there never any instructions on a box of tissues?
Perhaps a tasteful picture of a lady dabbing her eyes on the box, labelled "Serving suggestion"

I think we could use the Comic Relief single "I would roll 500 miles" as our theme tune for the ride, since the distance will be near enough 1000 miles.

Time out 0:54

Nutrition seriously cocked up on way home. Got a severe case of jelly-legs. Felt like my heart had given up pumping and all the blood had sunk to my boots. Got home, devoured a bar, sat on wall in sunshine in a state of collapse. How can this happen after just 10 miles?

Only good thing about the journey was being overflown by three noisy oystercatchers pretending to be bleeping UFOs.

You know, if it wasn't for all these motor cars, this could be a very nice island / planet (delete as applicable).

Anyway, I think we'll just forget the fat-burning thing for the time being and make sure we have enough starchy fuel, avoiding too much sugar, which burns too quickly. I wonder if Mr. Apollo is still in business, as advertised by the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band?
"5 years ago I was a 4-stone apology; today I am two separate gorillas!"
"No tiresome exercises. No tricks. No unpleasant bending.”
“Wrestle poodles and win!”
“Play beach-ball! Shave your legs! Look over walls!”
“Tease people. Brush them aside as though they were matchsticks"
“Impress your friends!”

Time return 1:01

Tuesday 17th April 2007

Bright and cool this morning. After yesterday's depressing run home, I need a quick win on the hill.

The Curlews are under curfew, the Lapwings are doing a lap of honour. And you can forget that refereeing lark. Then suddenly as I hit the first summit, the curlews bowl a curved ball in counter-attack. "You ain't heard the last of us!"

I breast the final summit in a fine time (28 mins), see the wind-turbines and realise it's the tail-wind which is making life so easy. Well, enjoy the moment, and don't think about homeward journeys until the time.

On the descent from Mount Tabor, I look down into the valley, to see the old Webster's Fountain Head Brewery building, looking for all the world like Gormenghast, amid the new build housing which has sprung up in place of the acres of demolished outbuildings. 'Tis a pity the beer was so bland and uninteresting, no wonder Scottish & Newcastle closed it down. They missed a trick there; if they'd sweetened it up a bit they could have re-packaged it as alco-pop and targeted the younger market. Yech!

When the atmosphere is this cold, you know when you're doing more than 30mph, as the wind whips round the top of your specs and tears tears from the eyes.

Nice to get to work, where I shower, using the Chris Evans water-conserving method. (switch on, quick wet, switch off, lather, switch on, go "ooh-ah-ooh" as the water temperature flucutates wildly, rinse off, switch off)

Time out: 0:52

My next door neighbour Tony passes me on the outskirts of Halifax. Oh, he's stopping. He's getting out of the car. He's asking me if I want a lift home. Had this happened yesterday, I probably would have accepted. I graciously decline. Not sure how to explain that accepting a lift home would seriously mess with my training schedule.

No repeat of yesterdays's debacle. I fuelled up with bars and juice and went for it!

Time return 1:11 (blustery side / head wind) altered course to tack via Denholme and the Flappit.

Wednesday 18th April 2007

Knee twinge before I even get to the big hill. If anything is likely to go wrong physically on the ride, it will be my knees. I know this from bitter experience. Also a bit phlegmatic this morning, in the literal / visceral sense. I am not going to go into details here. Luckily twinge disappears on the hill, but not the phlegm.

Lapwings have lapsed, curlews clamour to assert their ancient ancestral moorland rights. Occasional croaking pheasant.

Great visibility all the way to Emley Moor (at least 30 miles away).

Time out: 0:55

No repeat of Monday's lethargy. Huzzah!
Time Return 0:57 (not bad considering headwind still blowing on last leg)

2 blog weeks for the price of one

2007-04-13T08:23:00.000-07:00

Monday 9th April 2007 (Easter Monday)

Last week, Jacky and I were on holiday on the Isle of Mull. Hence no training blog. However, some serious hill climbing was done in an attempt to keep in trim. Unfortunately this seemed to use completely different sets of muscles to the usual cyclists’ cuisses de grenouilles. I found myself hobbling down the stairs of our accommodation on more than one occasion. Not only that, but weight was gained. Back to where I was around Christmas. Damn!

Found myself ruminating on the bad old days when 5 derailleur gears was a whole LOTTA gears, and the holy grail of 10 could be obtained by fitting a double chainset. With no indexing and changers on the down tube, you used to think seriously before attempting a gear change. If you got it wrong big time, you could end up in an entirely unwanted gear. If you got it ever-so-slightly wrong, you could be nominally in the gear you wanted, but your cycling experience would be accompanied by a persistent “Grinkling” noise. Grinkling was an indication that some of your precious pedalling effort was being wasted on friction and not being used for propulsion. Many frustrating moments could be spent fiddling with the gear shift lever to try to eliminate the grinkle. Hence gear changes were a thing to be avoided, and there was a lot more “honking” (i.e. out of the saddle and standing on the pedals) in my riding style in those days. This was a mixed blessing, it meant you changed position on the bike a lot more, and therefore didn’t get so sore, particularly on the bum, arms and neck, from being stuck in the same position for hours on end. But “honking” was also a somewhat inelegant, some might say brutish, way of riding.

When I got my first 10-geared bike, I found the double chain wheel at the front was a little more reliable to get the right gear. No grinkling there, just maybe a bit of rub on the front derailleur, which was usually easier to adjust out. Hence my preference to this day for front shifting, even if it means I end up in a slightly higher / lower gear than I really want.

Of course, you could get indexed gears in those days in the form of the Sturmey Archer 3-speed hub gear. But, try honking on a bike so equipped, and you literally could knacker yourself on the crossbar if/when the gears slipped into neutral, as they were prone to doing. Modern hub gears don’t do this, but they do emit noises. I get a gentle “tickety-tickety-tickety” coming from my Nexus 8 speed in most of the lower gears, and a “ytekcit-ytekcit-ytekcit” in the higher gears. Gear 5, being direct drive, is silent. It does disturb me that these noises are indicative of energy losses, like the grinkle of the out of adjustment derailleur. We’ve come full circle, as I’ve taken to honking again to try and stay in 5th gear!

Tuesday 10th April 2007

Back to work. Big Hill shock to the system.

Used new “Creek2Peak” rack rack-top-bag this morning. This is quite capacious. Unfortunately it blocks my rear light, and bamboozles Zefal, who will have to be re-located or pensioned off. What it does do is give better balance than a single right hand pannier which I have been using up to now. It is also slightly more aerodynamic, giving perhaps a couple of mph on the top speed coming down into Halifax. The advantage of the right hand pannier, which I have new forfeit, is that it helps fend off close passing vehicles.

Steed stabled, I remove my helmet and seek Rapunzel (perhaps our relationship has improved in my absence?):

“I have returned from the land of Red Dear and Eagles lair,
to see you oh maiden fair.
Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your hair.”

This doesn’t seem to impress Rapunzel, who announces in a rather haughty tone “Please select your floor”. (perhaps she’s miffed that I am free to roam, while she continues to be confined to her cell). Oh well, I must confess it’s Rapunzel 2 I have a thing for. The slight lisp lends an air of vulnerability. Imperfection often enhances beauty in my eyes.

Time out 0:58
Time return 1.01 (v. stiff headwind into village)

Wednesday 11th April 2007

Zen-like state up the big hill. Constant 2.6 mph. Look down and waver all over the road. Look up and see a shimmering ahead. It's only my optic nerve starved of oxygenated blood. Wouldn't it be awful if you woke up one morning and found you couldn't balance? Avoid dwelling on the individuals who have to come to terms with MS and other similar debilitating conditions. Song for the occasion "Clear White Light" by Lindisfarne.

Much birdsong in evidence. The Curlews vs the Lapwings. The curlews are winning. But a lark is up there refereeing. A curlew comes into land hanging in the sky. From here he resembles a thorn torn from a rosebush (the sort you might pick up in your tyre.)

Sheep seem especially curious. Can't resist saying "Hello ewe" to one of them.

The case of Velocipede vs. Shanks' Pony.

Mr. A. Walker, counsel for Shanks’ Pony: “My learned friend has been observed grinding up the big hill at 2.5 mph. I put it to you Mr. King that you have also blatantly broken the law of the land by cycling on footpaths and exceeding the speed limit on a number of occasions. To return to the case for walking, I should like to add that walkers do not suffer the bane of the cyclists existence, namely punctures.”

Mr. King, counsel for the Velocipede: “Members of the jury, I draw your attention to Exhibit A. A pair of boots, recently descended from Ben More, Isle of Mull. Observe the lacerations around the welt. This clearly demonstrates that walkers do indeed suffer punctures.”

King: “The wheel is a thing of exquisite symmetry. Especially the wheel which boasts alloy rims and double butted stainless steel spokes. An artefact of shimmering beauty, shining like a CD! By contrast, I ask you how many times the shoe has appeared in the top ten inventions in the history of the world?”

“And walking is so SLOW, to boot!”

“Moreover, bicyles, with the advent of the mountain bike, can now go anywhere a walker can. Please examine Exhibit B, also from the Isle of Mull. It is my contention that a bike that can find its own way up Speinne Mor is indeed a miraculous contraption!”

“Cycling is exhilarating. All that is needed is a hill (preferably sloping downwards), optionally a road, and one or two irregularities such as sheer drops, stone walls, ditches etc. Throw in a few errant sheep for good measure and you have all the ingredients for a huge adrenalin rush.”

“I may even go so far as to assert that such sports as bungee jumping and extreme ironing are practised by individuals who have not yet evolved the superior intellect and precision of balance that is required to ride a bike.”

“By contrast walking is so, is so...PEDESTRIAN! I rest my case”

Then it's down into town, a skip lorry passes. He must be burning recycled fat for fuel - smells like an old burger. Wish I could burn off my fat as easily.

Time out 0:55

Going home, fine weather has brought out the Chavs (see wikipedia for definition) and numerous hysterical youths. Despite this a nice, if breezy, run home.

Time return 1:06 (via Flappit)

Georgina's training begins!

2007-04-09T13:39:00.000-07:00

Well I told myself that I would go for a bike ride every day of my Easter holidays and 2 weeks in I went for my first ride! Oh well at least the thought was there! Anyway Mum and Dad were away in Scotland so I went out by myself. Didn't have any plans just made it up as I went along and in total did about 8 miles in just over an hour. (Including Tim Lane! which for those who don't know is quite a big deal and made me proud!) Yesterday I took Dad on the same route and today did it again by myself, so all in all probably the most exercise I've done in a long time! I was going to get up and cycle to work with Dad in the morning but who am I trying to kid he sets off before 7!!! I guess I'l just stick to my route, I get to take a break from the awful hill and look at lambs and my legs feel firmer already!

Thought I'd pop in a photo from the route, for those who think Lancaster is hilly!

Back to the bike!

2007-03-29T06:49:00.000-07:00

Monday 26th March 2007

Clocks went forward at the weekend. This is a two-edged sword - nice to know we're on the way to warmer, lighter days. Not nice to have to get up an hour earlier.

Pimped mah tires for a bone-shaking ride - rattling like a size zero model in this year's modish metallics.

On the big hill can't see the mast for the mist until I'm almost upon it. Then there's the "Big-Hillock" which I am determined to go up in 2nd for a change.

Then the mist makes things a little boring (apart from invisible curlew burbling).

Word for today: mesmeric(mesmeric(mesmeric(mesmeric(mesmeric)))).

Leaving my bike in the usual place, I summon Rapunzel, but I'm kept waiting for longer than usual. Finally, it's Rapunzel 2 who appears. She seems a little hesitant, more breathless than usual. I notice a lingering miasma of man-sweat, and my suspicions are aroused. I decide to let discretion be the better part of valour, and step out on floor 5 to cleanse my body and thoughts.

Time out 0:57 mins
Time return 0:57 mins (slight tailwind into the village)

40mph down the hill into the village, caught this 4x4 up that had passed me earlier. Slowing to 30 on the outskirts - keeping what I supposed to be a safe distance between me and the 4x4 - until it anchored on to give way to oncoming traffic. One slightly panicky braking, rubber-burning moment later I’m safely undertaking it and slipping down the inside of the traffic calming (it didn’t calm me), to be on my way, laughing maniacally.

Tuesday 27th March 2007

Weather same as yesterday; perhaps a bit more misty. Pipits doing descending parachuting flights unseen, but heard. Can they see the sun up there?

Seem to make it up the Big-Hill, but can't be bothered with 2nd on the Big-Hillock. The Big Hillock is the hill on back of the Big-Hill: just when you think you've conquered the Big-Hill you have a half a mile of gentle rolling then you're confronted with the "Big-Hillock". Hmm, Hillock raised to the power of Hill = Hillockplex, perhaps.

After the Big-Hillock the following orders are given:
"Raise port and starboard bipedal thrusters"
"Thrusters raised, sir"
"Decompress gonadal clusters"
"Clusters decompressed, sir"

This task accomplished, we can settle gingerly back in the saddle and continue on our way. (I run a tight ship).

Time out 0:59 mins
Time return 0:57 mins

Wednesday 28th March 2007

Fog again. Eyes down as we go up the slope, but before we hit the big hill, look up and it's clear! Sun is a ball just breasting the horizon. Frost on the fields. Mega curlew action gives me some fascinating sights as I twiddle upwards. The hills are alive with the sound of curlews. "Movin' on up" by Primal Scream seems appropriate.
There's one landing gracefully on a wall. Stands in silhouette as I approach. I could dawdle here. A pair of binoculars would be useful. Ah well, press on.

All the curlews seem to be on the Oxenhope side of the moor, not much on the Halifax side.

Fine view of cotton wool lying in the valleys, sun do your stuff! Burn, Baby, Burn (misto inferno).

Dropping down into town, I'm cycling along a road which is clear, but just over the wall on my left is just a sea of nothingness.

End of Cycle lane - what a joke. Why do they bother? The cycle lane provision in this country is absolutely lamentable, and Halifax one of the direst. There only seem to be cycle lanes on roads which would be quite safe without them. Whereas, at danger spots, where separate cycle provision would be useful, you're squeezed in with all the other traffic. What cycle lanes that do exist are usually obstructed by parked cars anyway, so you're for ever having to pull out into the carriageway to avoid them.

If you want to see proper cycle provision, just go to Holland. This should be required of all our road planners. No cyclist wears a helmet in Holland, why? Because they're far less likley to get hit by cars. Where they do share the roads, car drivers give way to cyclists. Where cycle paths cross roads, cyclists have there own push buttons for the traffic lights.

My thoughts on helmets. A couple of decades ago, I used to mix it with the traffic on a commute from Bradford to Bingley. In those days I had several incidents, a few of which led to close encounters of the third kind. Luckily no damage to me. The odd bent wheel, a nice scrape on the bonnet of a Triummph stag. These were invariably caused by "blind" motorists. Eventually I was so paranoid, I lost my nerve and stopped using the bike. Then along came helmets, and these gave me, "cycle-logically", the confidence I needed to venture out onto the road again. I don't care about the arguments as to whether they're effective or not, it's my belief they do offer protection, and make you more conspicuous. The latter point is very important where the blind motorist is concerned. Who cares if they make you look like a d**khead. Better a live d**khead than a dead pinhead. So wearing a helmet is for me, as they say "A no-brainer"

Then into the cool steam bath. Slow down, not much visibility. Watch out for cars pulling out from side-streets.

Coming back, I was overtaken by a runner. Took me several miles of uphill struggle before I caught up with him. Asked him if he was going far. "16" was his reply. "Just going up to the Withens, then I'm heading back home."
(So he's just done the last 8 miles at this blistering pace - I nearly threw the bike in the hedge in disgust). "That's a relief, see you later." I quipped as I struggled past him. Knowing there were only a few hundred yards before his turning point, I felt there was a chance I might not see him later. Blimey what a fit guy. I asked Zefal to keep an eye on him in case he caught me up again, in my futile battle against gravity. Thankfully, I made it up to the Withens before him, (or maybe he just took pity on me).

Time out 0:58 mins
Time return 1:06 mins

Dad's bike free week (but still the stories flow)!

2007-03-29T06:48:00.000-07:00

Monday 19th – Friday 23rd March

No bike this week, for 3 reasons
Busy at work so can’t afford the extra time it takes to cycle to and from work, get showered etc.
Snow on Monday, so wintry weather not very enticing.
Matthew, who usually has the car for school, and consequently gives a lift to 2 other lads from the village the 6 miles to North Halifax, is on a Geography field trip Tuesday to Thursday. So I use the car to do the school run, continuing in to work.

Further shock news, regarding Sheldon Brown, whom, apropos of nothing, I decided to name-check in last week’s blog. The man has begun to develop symptoms which are very akin to MS (although he has three neurologists baffled). This is all very ironic, as we are doing our charity cycle ride in aid of the MS Society.

Reading his journal (www.sheldonbrown.org/journal/health) I was immediately struck by the similarity between what he is having to endure, and the sort of problems which afflicted my father as he slowly succumbed to this debilitating disease.

In more optimistic times, my father had bought a 1956 model Raleigh gentleman’s roadster, with the 3-speed Sturmey Archer, Brooks saddle, rod brakes, full chainguard and chrome plated all over. I particularly remember the chrome ‘bullet’ on the crest of the front mudguard. “Raleigh – the all steel bicycle” was the strapline in those days. I used to wonder how this could be true, since such things as the tyres were obviously made of rubber. I suppose the Trades Descriptions Act put paid to that. Anyway, nowadays they wouldn’t wish to make such a claim, because the “All Alloy bicycle” or the “All Titanium bicycle” or the “All Carbon fibre bicycle” might be more appealing.

Back to my dad. We lived on a post war council estate in Longbenton, and he had a job at the Ministry of National Insurance just up the road. Every day he would return from work on the bike, and I would run up the road to meet him. He would be wearing his working clothes of sports jacket and cavalry twill trousers (or maybe a two piece suit – not sure of the details). It was only a short commute, and the chainguard ensured clothes remained clean, although bicycle clips were also de rigeur - cotter pins could do a bit of damage to trouser legs. Of course it never rained in those days, but if it did, a cycle cape could be worn, and by keeping the speed down, everything under the cape stayed dry. A trilby would have probably kept the hair dry. This is me at the age of 4. He would pick me up, and plonk me on the crossbar, clinging anxiously to the centre section of the handlebars (me, not dad). Then we would set off the couple of hundred yards to the block on which we lived. My first taste of the exhilaration of cycling (not to mention the pain of sitting on something hard).

That bike, and Dad, are long gone. But I still have the handbook with the date, and the stamp of Halfords in Newcastle, where he bought it. Which brings us back to the modern day equivalent, which I’m now using for my all-weather commute. This is the Carrera Subway 8, with the Shimano Nexus 8-speed hub gear. Similar colour (dark grey), aluminium frame, hub brakes, and not a piece of chrome in sight. And bought from Halfords, too. Nearly 50 years separate them. Like me and my Dad, bearing a family resemblance, but different in so many ways.

Another week

2007-03-19T12:43:00.003-07:00

Monday 12th March

Birds: not many in evidence, unless you count a couple of pigeons on the parapet while I have my shower at work. Coo, Coo.

Another discarded household object has materialised in the dead of night through a hole in the fabric of space-time.

Today it's a bath, complete with chrome taps, which presumably was innocently minding it's own bathly business before being abducted by aliens and subjected to probing examination. Finally being beamed down here in a bewildered state,
with nothing but a diffuse memory of the intrusive probes and rays which were used to inspect it's molecular structure and intricate plumbing work.

There is no other feasible explanation for its arrival at this desolate spot.

Getting closer to town, plenty of 4x4's all around guzzling gas, while I speed by on my 2x1, oozing smug self righteousness. All together now:

"Two wheels on my wagon, but I'm still rollin' along.
Those Cherokees are after me,
grindin' gears burn my ears,
but I'm singin' a happy song.
I'm a-singin' higgety haggety hoggety high
Pioneers they never say die....(bear with me on this one, it'll be worth it in the end)...
....about a mile down the road there's a hidden cave, and we can watch those Jeep Cherokees gas guzzlin' by."

South-Wester this morning with just a smattering of rain in it. Strong, but not too gusty, and it didn't seem to bother me too much after the success of yesterday's practice run with Georgina. 22 miles of mixed terrain, not bad, we just have to do slightly over 3 times that amount per day, and we're winning.
CORNWALL, BRING IT ON!

Time out: 1.04

Sad news. One of our support team will not be making the journey this summer.
I refer to Bonnie, our lovely 15-year-old Cairn Terrier who is no longer with us. She had not been well since Friday, had a bad day today. Son Matthew gave me a lift back home after work (put bike in back of car) so that I could make it to the vets in time to meet Jacky and Georgina. We reluctantly took the decision to "put her to sleep" as the euphemism goes. She had lost that spark, and it was a very emotional moment. Everyone most upset. We laid her to rest in the garden in the shade of a Hawthorn bush.

Curlewsday 13th March

Sunny as I left the village. It looked almost Mediterranean, but appearances were very deceptive. Patches of frost here and there in the grass bankings. Happy-sad memories of Bonnie whirling round my mind.

Curlews in abundance. A couple of lapwings with voices like Mister Punch (That's the way to) "Doowit" says one, "Doowit" replies t'other. Then the mist descends - well actually I ascend into it, like a Saint going to meet his maker in days of yore. The sun and the mist are playing hide-and-seek. Now you see it now you don't. Glow/no-Glow. Radiate, obfuscate, radiate, obfuscate.

That bath's still there. Except it's been robbed of its taps (probably with the aid of a hammer, as the fibre-glass is all smashed). Not very humane treatment.
A trail of detritus despoils this moorland paradise. PET bottles (a pet bottle is not just for Christmas!). Lager cans. Old computers. The worst offenders are the tyre-dumpers. The punishment I would advocate for them has unfortunately been unavailable to the judiciary since medieval times.

Descending to Halifax, the sun wins the game, and all's well with the world again, despite the strong breeze.

Don't ask me whence came “Theme from the Big Country” going home, and why it metamorphosed into "Celebrate the Bullet" by Selector half way home.

A kid shouted at me "Mr. you've dropped a piece of paper from your bag". Clearly a little joke designed to make me stop and fumble. I cycled on thinking I might stop and fumble round the next bend, where they couldn't see me and snigger. Then, seeing some other urchins further on made me postpone the stopping and fumbling until I'd well and truly forgotten the purpose of said stopping and fumbling exercise. Keep on keeping on!

Time out: 1.02
Time return: 1.10 (via Flappit)

Wednesday 14th March

Similar weather to yesterday, but the sun lost the game today. Should have put Polaris head warmer on, but didn't.

Going up "Mr Big", I saw a bird of prey which looked slightly larger than a Kestrel. Not buzzard size, mind you, nor hovering like a kestrel. It alighted on a pole half-way up the hill, and waited for me to approach. Then just as I thought I might get a good look, it was off, veering in a big circle off to my right, and behind me. Naturally I had to stop to watch it go. Bit of a struggle getting started on the steep bit again.

I have decided rightly or wrongly that it was a Peregrine Falcon.
Not to be confused with Mr. Spock's ears, which are Neoprene Vulcan.
Or maybe it was a vulture waiting for me to provide its luncheon.

(I need one more contrived rhyme to make this into a McGonagall poem, or rap as they're called nowadays).

Maybe I'm imagining it, but these past few mornings it always seems to be Rapunzel 2 who turns up when I go to shower. Perhaps I've offended Rapunzel somehow? Something I said? Some lack of politeness? Rapunzel 2 seems a little curt in her pronouncements too. "Pleathe thelect your floor." indeed. Maybe the one-dimensional existence is getting to the two of 'em?.

Tune for today: Babooshka by Kate Bush.

Time out: 1.01

Left work a little later than usual and tried to make up time by putting some extra effort in. Was passed by a faster fitter cyclist. Tried to catch him. Bad move! I completely blew, with a bad case of the 'Bonk'. Beware the Bonk, for 'tis a 3-'eaded beast: Dizzy in the head, legs like lead, feel half-dead.
Had a stop for an energy bar and drink, and made a cautious re-start. Not sure if the theme tune from Dallas helped, but that's what was rolling round my head.

Time Return: Do I look bovvered? You're not bovvered, I'm not bovvered. We're NOT BOVVERED!

Dad's next week

2007-03-19T12:39:00.000-07:00

Monday 5th March

Looking for Cur-loos

Yesterday went up to see daughter Georgina in Lancaster as part of Jacky's birthday celebrations. As we left Oxenhope, a curlew flew overhead. First one we've seen this year.

Weather foul, but we took the opportunity to drive up to Arnside for pub lunch, then sussed out possible LEJoG routes in the Windermere direction. The book I bought (Land’s End to John O’Groats the Great British Bike Adventure - Phil Horsley) suggests getting the ferry across from Bowness-on-Windermere to Far Sawrey. Well, the A5074 looks rather uppy-downy, so I wonder if there's an easier way. Since nothing is booked yet, I think I need to take a closer look at the route in detail. There are loads of blue signs for cycleways, but maybe they're just good for country-lane-pootling?

Going to work, icy Blast as I leave the house, but many birds singing.

While on the "Big Hill" it becomes apparent yesterday's sighting was no flash in the pan; the curlews are definitely back. Yippee! But a shower of cold rain starts up, gradually turning to sleet and snow as more contours are crossed.
It's the icy-needle acupuncture treatment on my cheekbones. Pass me my Sou'wester and a Fisherman's Friend, dear boy. It's absolutely perishing on the tops, and to add insult to injury, as I have set off a little late this morning,
there are more cars passing. (Up to maybe 20 of ‘em. Too much, man!)

On top of all that, I don't feel 100%, so a most unpleasant journey.

Coming back, it was obvious that this morning's headwind had become a tailwind - nice. Still, plugging away at 7 mph up the last hill on the A629, it's a bit ignominious to be overtaken by an empty crisp packet doing at least 10mph more than me.

Time out. 1:11 (not bad, considering)
Return. 0:56

(N.B. Bike computer re-set today)

Tuesday 6th March

Ooh, that Smarts!

Like yesterday, I get buffeted as I leave the village, and like yesterday, I get rained on as I go up "T'Big Hill". But there's a silver lining, because yesterday's clip on the cheekbone with a frozen brillo pad has become today's
slap round the ribs with a damp towel. The wind has come around a bit and it's a strong side-sometimes-tail one.

Coming down off the moors at speed, I ponder who would come off worse if that Smart car on the left decided to pull out on me. In the blue corner, Carrera Subway 8 and rider weighing in at 12 stone 40 lbs, and in the red corner Smart car and driver, weighing slghtly less.

That reminds me of the time I did a somersault coming off the bike after hitting a child who stepped off the pavement without looking. By some miracle I landed on my feet, and the little girl was not too badly hurt. (She'd have been killed if I'd been driving a car.) That was a long time ago, and I wouldn't want to repeat the exercise.

Where are Smart Cars in the highways food chain? Just above the Sinclair C5, I should say. Wait a minute – why am I bitching about Smart Cars? They’re the good guys – small is beautiful! And in a parallel universe, everybody might be driving round in Sinclair C5s. Wow, Sci-Fi!

Current iPod playlist (stuck on repeat) "Read My Mind" by the Killers.

Time out. 1:01
Return. 1:07 (slight detour)

In the evening, continued to re-plan the Lancaster northward leg of the LEJoG. Think we may go up to Tebay, and then Orton, and then over the hill into the Eden Valley skirting Appleby-in-Westmorland (how's that for a beautiful placename?) towards a campsite slightly further North.

Wednesday 7th March

Sheldon Brown, texture like sun.

Weather better than yesterday. Cool, breeze, slightly behind me. Do penance up the big-a-misty hill (She's a hard mistress) at a steady 2.6 mph.

Sheldon Brown - heroic figure - comes to mind out of nowhere. Passionate about bikes, and proud to be different. Just think; in the days before the internet, we might never even have heard of him! Just wish he would spell derailleur correctly - but he's on a somewhat humorous campaign to anglicise (well Americanise actually) the spelling to derailer. (The cheeky scamp). Check out www.sheldonbrown.com - he's the guru.

Now for the (heard) bird scores
Woodpeckers 1 - Curlews 22.
Pipits 2 - Wagtails 2
Geese A GAGGLE - Ducks NIL (quack, quaaack!)

Time out. 0:57
Return. 1:10 (via Flappit pub, but sadly only the exterior)
Average speed over last 2 days 10.1 mph.
Fuel economy 7 miles per energy bar. (Actually I made that bit up).

Sunday 11th March 2007 - Our first training ride!

2007-03-11T09:17:00.000-07:00

Well it wasn't so much as a training ride, more just me (Georgina) getting back on a real bike for the first time in far too long! However it was definitely not a case of starting easy and working up! It was far too much up in general! Anyway we managed to cycle 22 miles in just over two hours which is pretty good going and at one point (yes downhill!) we managed to get up to 28mph! So over all not bad! The weather was great, dry and quite sunny however there was a sting in the tail in the form of a very strong wind!

For some silly reason we managed to pick pretty much the hilliest route possible (which isn't hard living where we do)! This consisted of going form Oxenhope to Keighley and then out to Cowling before heading up to the "salt and pepper pots". After quite a hard uphill I asked Dad where the road came out in the end and from his response I could tell he hadn't quite thought this through as it comes out in a very hilly place! (Down to the Turkey pub, back up to Oakworth then down Providence and up Mytholmes and Sun Street for you locals!)

I won't bore you with all the details but overall it was a good trip apart from the head winds and very achy bum! (I have ruled that saddle off the list!)

I'm sure you will get to hear Dad's version of events before too long!

another weeks report!

2007-03-05T14:06:00.000-08:00

Wed 28th February

Used the car today, which was a good move, since the weather was atrocious in the afternoon

Monthly Retrospective
Best Time
out 0:50 mins. back 0:54 mins. "Ahh, but surely it's best round trip time that counts?" I hear you say.

Cumulative average speed
8.7 mph (that's depressing)

Max Speed
40.1 mph (blimey!)

Favourite Energy bar (so far).
The Kelloggs Optivita was quite nice. In-depth review notes may follow, depending on how nerdy I feel.

Worst incident
White Van man started to come out from junction on left then anchored on when he saw me, literally 3-4 yards away.
No impact, but could have been a Pete-shaped dent in the side of his van. A bit unsettling.
I gave him a look that was intended to be "withering", but was probably more like "man sucking a pickled onion"

Weight lost since New Year's Day: a mere 2 lbs

Do I feel fitter? Nope.

Tuesday 27th Feb.
Despite bad weather forecast, determined to stick to training regime.

When I leave the house, it's raining, but where's the wind that was forecast? Neighbour offers me a lift to work. Very kind, but that would hardly help with getting fit.

I find out where the wind is when I get up the big hill. It's on the tops and "in yer face".

Rain gets steadily worse. My "Mind's-iPod" auto-selects "Wuthering Heights" by Kate Bush (out on the wild and windy moors...) Battle on through the rain, and it gets even worse. "Wrath of the Rain" by Horslips is now playing.

Not only is it in yer face, it's cold rain. Nothing like an Ice Cold Shower in the morning to wake you up? Well this is shutting me down.

It gets worse. Soon I'll be singing "High Water Blues" by Bob Dylan (or Charley Patton, if I knew how his version went)

No birdsong in evidence, nothing but the rain and the wind.

Then coming down off the tops into the needle-stinging wet stuff, a little lamb sheltering against a stone gate-post bleats at me as I go past. Keep going - if you stop you could die out here. But, if you don't stop the lamb might die. How are you going to live with yourself at work today - or for the rest of your life, if you don't do something about this "pure wee mite"?

After a quarter of a mile of soul searching, turn round, cycle back up the hill,
and sure enough it's still there, bleating at me. I pick it up and cradle it against my yellow Altura jacket. It's warm, it's breathing and so am I.

Look over wall: here's a ewe looking back at the two of us, making motherly noises. Trouble is she's already got one (maybe she’s had twins). Nevertheless, I figure the lamb will be better off that side of the wall than this, and gently lower it over the gate.

Occupants of field seem slightly happier (cold and rain notwithstanding),
so I get on my cycle and continue my journey. Lamb can't have been more than one week old. Yes, (Scottish pun alert!!), one "wee-cold" lamb.

It gets colder and rainier - but there's a little warm glow inside (Poetic licence). Actually I'm just happy to get to work with all my extremities intact, though when the feeling starts to come back to the thumbs, they sting like mad.

Wring everything out, have a long shower to warm up, during which I suppress the thought that the lamb will end up on someone's plate anyway, and go desk.

Time in (sorry, I refuse to divulge 'cos it's too depressing).

Polaris-fleecy-ear-warmer-thingy has been re-instated this week (folly to even think of doffing it).

Mon 26th Feb

Monday morning and I couldn't face the "Big Hill". Oxenhope is at the head of the valley, so only one way out of the village doesn't involve a climb.
That way leads to Keighley, and we don't want to go there. Not today, anyway.

So the alternative to the "Big Hill" is the "Big Hillock". This goes past the Dog and Gun, which cyclesport afficiandos will recognise as a severe climb in days gone by on the Milk Race.

So it's not that easy (but then again, I haven't just cycled 90 miles as the professionals would probably have done when they tackled it).

Apart from the fact that it's not that much less hilly than my usual route, there are two other reasons for not going this way every day.
1) the embarrassment factor of being passed by my son Matthew and his mates in the car on his way to school (since I don't need the car, he has use of it).
2) the traffic. It takes the sense of fun and freedom away being passed by all those vehicles.
Of course I can play "I eye with my Zefal Spy, something beginning with J". "Juggernaut!" "Correct!"

Yes, it's a good test for the rear view mirror. Since he arrived, my little Spy has had a brief period of undercover work hanging from my handlebar grip. (I wasn't prepared to let him stick his neck out on the bar ends). Unfortunately his transmissions were regularly being intercepted by codename "Glove" who has since been exposed as a double agent.

His cover blown, Zefal has since been recalled to the safety of the English village of Middleton Crossbar. From there, he enjoys an almost uninterrupted view. All I need now is for someone to invent the perspex seat pillar and for glass thighs to become available on the NHS and "Johhny Nash is your uncle" so to speak.

This morning's head-music "This boy has broke down" by the Corrs (or possibly Phil Lynott).

Time in (not normal route, plus following wind) 0:50mins. Can't be bad.

Time back 1:01 not bad either.

An update!

2007-03-02T02:58:00.000-08:00

We have now been offered a grant of £500 by Yorkshire Forward which we will receive when the trip is complete! I have also been sponsored £100 by the Greaves Hotel in Lancaster so we are now over halfway there! Yipee!

here we go again!

2007-02-27T14:18:00.000-08:00

Wednesday 21st Feb

Wind speed and direction similar to yesterday's.
Gold in the sky as the clouds parted.
This brought on "Floppy Boot Stomp" by Captain Beefheart (...and the sky turned white in the middle of the night...)

I have discarded my Polaris-fleecy-wrap-around-ear-warmer thingy this week. Kept it in my pocket just in case, but didn’t need it. Wonder if I’m being a bit premature.

Time out: 1:02.
No return time recorded. Obviously the novelty is wearing off.

Birds what I have heard this week:

Blackbird (twittering).
Woodpecker (drilling).
Crows (cawing).
A brace of startled grouse (clucking).
Some sort of mellifluous moorland larky pipitty thing (chirupping).

...the countryside is waking up.

Progress report on saddle comfort: think my nether regions are just building up some sort of scar tissue. Either that or too numb to feel any pain.

Tuesday 20th Feb

Wind has come round more to the west, so some "head" some "side".
Cloud on tops is not so thick. Turbines visible again.
Quite a few vehicles passed me this morning.

Thought a good measure of fitness would be to monitor my minimum speed up the "big hill".
Started to get despondent at 3.0 mph half way up, then demoralised at 2.5 mph,
then the thing plummetted to 0.0! Well, I nearly fell off.
Surely some mistake (I was actually still moving)
Ah well, maybe not such a good idea after all.

Near work, on the pedestrian approach to the underpass,
I wheeled up behind a lady enquire if it was her that I startled at this spot yesterday.
It turned out it was a different lady yesterday. Today's lady was not for startling.
However, she asked me if it was me she'd passed up on the moors. I said that was probably the case.
She's a cyclist who lives in Haworth, and appreciates the challenge of the "big hill",
having cycled it herself occasionally in summer.
Has 2 bikes, hybrid and mountain, so must be an enthusiast. I told her I was getting in training for LeJOG, which seemed to impress.

Need new batteries in my tail light. They've lasted quite well. LEDs rule OK!

I work in what was once a dark satanic carpet-weaving mill, which has now been converted into office space.

When I get to work I leave my bike in what I fondly term “the dungeon”. It’s the basement of said old mill. It’s dry, but it’s grotty, dimly lit, and probably harbours dead creatures in every cranny.

After removing the lights, pump, computer, drinks bottle so that the bogey man doesn’t get them, I make my way to the lift. It’s a brand spanking new lift, well actually a pair of lifts, which cling to the outside of the mill in a glass tube. I press the button and incant (sotto voce) “Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your hair.” The lift duly arrives. Rapunzel (for ‘tis she) says “Doors opening” closely followed by “Please select your floor”. “I wouldst inspect thy mezzanine” I quip. “Failing that, take me to floor 5 and your garderobe, fair maiden.”

Sometimes it is Rapunzel 2 who arrives, for she has a twin sister. Rapunzel 2 has a slight lisp, so that it’s not always clear whether she has taken me to the “Fifth Floor” or the “Sixth Floor” or indeed the “Thithth floor”. After searching in vain for the source of the disembodied voice, I exit forlornly to the strain of “Doorth clothing”

I go to the shower room and enjoy a relaxing shower, before once more taking Rapunzel 2 to the Theventh Floor, whereat my desk is situated.

Fancied a change going home, so headed into the valley of the Hebble Brook, past the old Websters Fountain Head Brewery, and then had to push the bike for quarter of a mile up the steeply cobbled Ovenden Wood Road. Started up all the guard dogs in the vicinity. Remind me not to go that way again, please.

Going home along the moor road, there was a blinding light coming towards me. I wondered what the heck it could be. Turned out to be a mountain biker. I thought about asking if he had a dipped beam on that thing. Man, it was bright.

Time out 1:05.
Time return: 1:11

Monday 19th Feb

Birds were singing when I left the village. But quite a stiff headwind once out of the shelter of the village. Up in the clouds on the tops - pretty grim, cold, damp and silent apart from the odd 4x4 coming up behind. Generally speaking the motorists on this road come past quite courteously; it's narrow and they can see me wobbling as I struggle manfully to make forward progress.

A nice warm shower restored the feeling to my extremities once I got to work.

Time out 1:06 (‘cloudy’ i.e. foggy on tops, headwind)
Time return 0:56 surely some sort of record (a spot of rain towards home, setting in later in the evening, but who cares I’m home and dry).

Dad's next installment

2007-02-20T10:38:00.000-08:00

Wednesday 7th February
Decided to go in again on the bike - third day running this week.

Yesterday was very cold in both directions - probably about -5C.

This had three effects worth mentioning:
1) reduced the air pressure in my tyres (Charles' Law)
2) made the grease in my hub gears more viscous (I forget whose law that is)
3) almost made my big toes drop off (Le Singe de Bronze principle)
Overall, cost me about 10 minutes on my journey time each way.

After the ride decided to pump up tyres and lube the chain.

This morning still very cold (maybe -3C), but I arrived in a very respectable (for me) 1hr. 01min. Well at least we can expect it to be a little warmer when we do the actual ride.

After several hundred miles, my Nexus hub must be just about run-in. Wish the same could be said of my knee-joints.

Monday 12th February
Feeling pretty good this morning (at first). Normally I just engage the small “Granny-what-sharp-24-tooth-dentures-you-have” front chainring before I hit the big hill. Today I was up for tackling the steep bit in the middle ring (and 1st gear at the back of course). Well, that foolhardy effort backfired when I bottled out, went for granny, and the front changer, miffed that I’d ignored it all morning, petulantly threw the chain onto the bottom bracket, and flounced off in a huff. After some kind words of encouragement (gnarg!), it decided to co-operate again, so I was back on my way, with nowt but an oily finger and thumb.

Coming home seemed a bit harder in parts, as the wind had freshened, and was definitely against me on the last couple of mile stretch. However, managed to miss the heavy showers in both directions, so was pretty chuffed.

No personal best times yet, but the return journey was done non-stop for a change. Usually I have to have a stoke-up with an energy bar about half-way to avoid the bonk (it’s all just cycle-logical you know).

Wednesday 14th February
So, another 3 days of commuting done. And only got slightly wet, not bad for Feb.

There is still a little bit of snow on the tops - which arrived last Thursday and Friday (my non-cycling days). There's more on the Halifax side of the moor than the Oxenhope side. There are more birds singing in the morning and it's getting steadily lighter. Still keep my lights on all the way, though.

Tune rolling round my head this morning "Broken Household Appliance, National Forest" by Grandaddy (who needs iPods?) This usually comes on when I pass the dumped TV up on the moors.

This morning's time was just under 1 hour. Somehow 59 mins seems so much better (we'll quietly ignore the 52 seconds). Broke the speed limit down Pellon Lane (34mph). Coming back it was bright with a strong headwind on the last leg, so 1 hour 8 mins was all I could manage.

Got a new mirror for the bike - it's a Zefal Spy. Fitted it in haste last night in a dark garage. So on the way in I realised the view rearward was blocked by my pannier. Have now mounted it on the crossbar - hope that my bandy legs will not get in the way. I did have a helmet mounted mirror a few years ago, but I didn't take to it. More reflections on mirrors later (hah!).

Dad's first blog!

2007-02-05T13:30:00.000-08:00

Monday 5th February

I don't think a detailed training log would be particularly interesting, but here are a few random thoughts which passed across my mind during the 9-mile commute to Halifax this morning (which is part of my new training regime).

As I set off from the house at 7:10 am "It's noticeably lighter this morning -
I can actually see the little indicators on each twist grip which tell me which gears I'm in.”

“Careful - might be a little bit of frost and ice around on the tops this morning.

“Oh, the wonders of the Nexus 8-speed hub - all those little cogs whirring round inside doing their inscrutable Japanese impersonation of a 11-34T cassette!”

“And my home-made chain tensioner which allows me to run a Stronglight triple 48/38/24 at the front, giving me the ability to get up this big nasty hill out of Oxenhope. Good technology! I am smug about that!“

“Wonder if the Rohloff Speedhub is the next step? Can I justify that expense?
You could buy 2 half-decent bikes for just the cost of the hub.”

“I'm at the top of that dreaded climb (800 feet in 2 miles). Blimey I've done it in 32 mins is that a personal best? Can't remember. Memo to self - keep a proper training log!”

“Now we're on the top of the moor. No sign of the curlews yet - must be still down at the coast or wherever they get over winter.”

“Only one car has passed me this morning – usually get 4 or 5 - (this is the old packhorse trail out of Oxenhope which is not sure if it's a road or not). Maybe it’s because this is Monday, and my usual day for the journey is Tuesday.”

“Look at the wind turbines to see which way the wind's blowing - looks to be coming from the North (just a breeze though), so I'll probably have a slight Hedwig going home.”

“Now we can start enjoying the ride. The next 7 miles are downhill (although the last couple have quite a bit of commuter traffic).”

“Mind flowing free now - Cycling is My Salvation! Shout it from the hilltops! Messrs. Shimano and Campagnolo versus Mr. Clarkson we have right on our side,
speaking of which, watch out for that 4x4 on the right hand side.”

“When the oil runs out we, the cyclists of the nation, shall lay claim to the motorways. An imagined conversation between two cyclists of the future: ‘I fancy cycling the scenic route today’ ‘Oh, you mean the old M1?’ ‘Yeah, why not?’"

So far so good!

2007-01-25T14:54:00.000-08:00

So far we have been sponsored £100 by Timothy Taylor's brewery and have received £50 vouchers from GlaxoSmithKline to spend on Lucozade! Ann Cryer my local MP has also donated £15. So thank you to them and everyone else who has donated online.

Dad and I appeared in the Keighley News today (see link below) and hopefully I will be in the Lancaster Citizen within the next few weeks!

The training is underway, I've finally had a gym induction!

That's about all for now.

http://www.keighleynews.co.uk/search/display.var.1145120.0.gruelling_bike_ride_is_birthday_gift.php

The planning begins!

2007-01-11T02:59:00.000-08:00

For some crazy reason, over Christmas Dad and I decided to cycle from Land's End to John O'Groats to raise money for the Multiple Sclerosis (MS) Society!

Planning for the big adventure is now underway and we have got the first version of our route sorted. It looks like we are cycling between 52 and 78 miles a day! ARGH!

So, the next stage...get fit!

You can find more details of our challenge at www.justgiving.com/georginaking

Big Birthday Bike Ride

Aftershock!

14/08/07

13/08/07

12/08/07

11/08/07

10/08/07

Day 13 09/08/07

Day 12 08/08/07

Day 11 07/08/07

Day 10 06/08/07

Day 9 05/08/07

Day 8 04/08/07

Day 7 03/08/07

Day 5 02/08/07

Day 4 01/08/07

Day 3 31/07/07

Day 2 30/07/07

Day 1 28/07/07

The write up!

Quick catch up (and back track) before the BIG one!

WE DID IT!!!

last one before we go!

take a look

almost time to go

new blog

*WARNING* Long blog!

Another week

The latest

the latest

From Scotland with love!

A catch up!

eurovision!

Next blog

Dad the hero!

more birds and bikes!

one for the fans!

2 blog weeks for the price of one

Georgina's training begins!

Back to the bike!

Dad's bike free week (but still the stories flow)!

Another week

Dad's next week

Sunday 11th March 2007 - Our first training ride!

another weeks report!

An update!

here we go again!

Dad's next installment

Dad's first blog!

So far so good!

The planning begins!

WARNING Long blog!