Neil & Pete - death by pedal.

Distance covered: 53 miles
Total distance covered: 1158 miles

Fraddon to Lands End

Being the final day of our ride we decided to give ourselves a little treat: a full English breakfast.

Lisa arrived last night, and will be driving down to Lands End to meet us.

I declined her offer of taking my panniers in the car in order to lighten the load - I’m determined to cross the finish line with everything I had at the start line.

It’s a fine line between Superhero and Superpillock……and I don’t think I’ve quite worked out where it is yet.

Pete on the other hand - not a Superpillock - emptied his panniers into the car. He kept the pannier bags plus covers on his bike so that the photos at the end would look good.

Personally, I thought his panniers today looked like someone you had had her implants removed.

(what…..???!!!!….it’s only us….no-one else is reading)

So, around 9:30 this morning we set off for the very last time.

Our first destination was Probus (I’m saying nothing….it would be too easy) then on to Truro. The roads were very palatable - nice and flat - we covered the first 7 miles in under half an hour.

From there we pressed on to Helston where we had lunch - sitting on concrete posts outside the local Spar shop.

After setting off again we saw our first signpost for Lands End: 20 miles to go.

That’s when the terrain decided to have another pop at us: up and down, up and down .

Arriving at Penzance we passed a couple of girls in a layby all panniered up (that is NOT a double-entendre) and havin a break. We gave the official “hello fellow cyclist” acknowledgement as we cycled past trying not to look too out of breath.

In Penzance we stopped for a “comfort break” courtesy of a Morrisons supermarket. When we set off again we soon pass the same two girls taking another break(!) by the side of the road. We again give the official acknowledgement as we pass, cross the roundabout, and…..still in sight….. begin to tackle the hill in front of us.

It was flashback time. We’ve been in this situation before, and having learnt from previous experience we knew that we cannot stop until we are out of sight.

ARGH!

Now clear of Penzance and with only 10 miles left to go the road decides to continually roll with the hills. Not exactly killers, but tourettes-worthy nonetheless.

I mean be fair - I’ve got soul but I’m not a soldier (google it).

The last 5 or 6 miles seemed to take forever. I couldn’t help thinking how ironic it would be to be hit by a car so close to the finish. Fortunately it didn’t happen, but you’ve got to admit it would have been quite funny.

At 3:48pm we arrive at Lands End, pass the queue of cars waiting to enter the car park and cross the finish line.

I had a bit of trouble seeing where I was going at this very last bit of road - someone nearby must have been peeling onions.

We had the obligatory photo at the signpost, then went to find the End-to-End book to write an entry.

We were both wearing MacMillan T-Shirts, and as we passed the hotel restaurant we were called over and asked about our ride. Special thanks must go to Jan, Keith and Nigel for their very kind donations - it was a very nice end to “the end”.

Entry made in the book, the bikes were loaded into the back of Lisas car - that’ll be the end then.

Many thanks to everyone for following the blog, more thanks to everyone who left a comment (it really did make a big difference), and biggest thanks to everyone who has made a donation.

To anyone who hasn’t yet donated: we’ve busted our space hoppers doing this ride, and I wouldn’t like to count up the number of hours sleep I could have had instead of writing this blog every evening to try and keep the blogettes entertained, so a couple of quid on your part to a worthy cause isn’t going to hurt now is it?

You know it makes sense.

So what have we learnt from all this?

Well…..Scotland is a big place ain’t it?! The Welsh are outrageously friendly and hospitable people, and I’m please to report that the nutter community is alive and kicking in England.

We came across only a handfull of pratts, but an enormous bucketload of friendly people.

Just because a Scot approaches you and asks about the GPS on your bike does not automatically mean he is going to stab you and nick it.

There is an abundance of people out there with so many interesting things to reveal if given half a chance: from WWII pilots to housewives who don’t know where Lands End is (honest!).

We’ve seen all sorts of things while travelling: you wouldn’t believe some of the things to be found laying by the roadside. One of the most bizarre sights had to be a flock of sheep sitting on a sandy beach (you’d have thought a woollen bikini would chafe wouldn’t you?!).

So there we have it blogettes - hope you enjoyed it.

Until next time…….

Distance covered: 37 miles
Total distance covered: 1105 miles

Egloskerry to Fraddon

I know a lot of you blogettes out there are interested in the finer details of our little adventure so……

I am typing this, sitting in a nice warm bath, eating what’s left of the sausage roll I bought for lunch and drinking Fanta. Twenty minutes ago I was cycling in the driving rain, on a very fast road getting sprayed by lorries and battered by the wind.

Funny old world ain’t it?

We got up this morning for a superb full English at Chez Mick & Jan. I’ve used this particular outlet on many occasions and cannot find fault with the service and hospitality.

Even though there is building work currently going on it does not affect the stay one iota (mainly because the builder tends to just sit in his van listening to his radio and reading the paper).

(sausage roll finished - moving on to KitKat now)

Today was going to be a relatively short ride as we want to arrive at Lands End during the middle of the afternoon, rather than when everyone has packed up and gone home.

It was very difficult to get going this morning due to the temptation to just stay put (after all, it’s practically Lands End anyway). But, wearing my JogLe 2009 tee-shirt with pride (limited edition of 2) we did finally get going around 9:45.

The weather forecast was pretty grim. Basically, half the ocean was hanging in the air and was due to be dumped on our heads starting sometime during the morning.

It didn’t let us down.

A nice B-road out of Egloskerry led us out to the main A-road to Camelford - but not before the heavens well and truly opened.

By the time we reached the A-road my waterproofs were performing to their usual useless standard. A few miles further on and it felt like I had both feet in a bucket of water.

But it didn’t matter.

There’s only one more day to go so the weather could do whatever it liked.

I fear I might even have been smiling, cycling into the wind, rain thrashing down, and water flying up from my wheels.

I could probably only have been more content slobbed out on a sofa, JD in hand, watching a DVD on a Sony Bravia

I daresay that contentedness was misinterpreted as mental hysteria by the drivers going in the other direction.

We reach Camelford and buy some drinks and food. I got a sausage roll. You’ve already been introduced.

It was in Camelford that we met the nutter.

Not just any old nutter.

A pristine condition 24 carot nutter still in its original packaging.

Whilst standing by our bikes eating a nutricious snack of a chocolate iced doughnut each (thanks Jan!) this woman comes up and says how everyone is smiling today.

(unusual opener but let’s roll with it)

She asks where we are going, we explain, she tells us she does a lot of rambling.

(okay………)

Then she tells us that whether or not we believe in that sort of thing, we have guardian angels looking over us.

(hmmmm…..thinking back to the A82 she may have a point)

She then announces that she used to be a nun, and when praying this morning God told her to go by her second name. So from today it’s a new start and isn’t it wonderful?

(oh dear…..start checking for an escape route)

Then she tells us how she was out in the caravan , had something on the stove, and left it to go for a ramble.

(I thought the stove was going to play an important part in the storyline but it didn’t feature again - a bit like one of those red herrings in a Whodunnit)

She come across a group of kids (6-7 year old) who only spoke French. It was beginning to get dark so she gave them all Mars bars and a Coke (I didn’t ask where she got them from).

Now it was pitch black, so they sat in a circle, held hands, and prayed real hard.

(you know when someone is taking too long to take a photo and your relaxed smile turns into a frozen look of terror?…..well that was us around this point)

So after all that praying what do you think happened?

The mountain rescue team arrived and they had a huge dashboard that all the kids could sit on.

Praise the Lord.

I didn’t ask how she managed to get a caravan up a mountain as she was beginning to walk away - so we cycled off.

In the other direction.

The wind and rain was relentless.

Pete - no idiot - let me lead all day. This gave him the opportunity to tuck in behind the wind-shield (me).

However, by doing this he missed out on two major benefits.

Every time a lorry sped past in the other direction: free facial.

Rolling downhill into the wind and driving rain: free acupuncture.

After all that pampering I’m positively radiant.

(bath needs topping up with more hot water)

(aahhhh……much better…..and to think I could be working instead…..)

En-route we saw a couple of end-to-enders on their way to John O’Groats (i.e. the easy way round) and shouted out “Good Luck”. What we got in return was a couple of waving hands, and some VERY naive smiles (the fools).

From Camelford we slogged on to Wadebridge. The rain didn’t let up (who cares?) but the road wasn’t too bad at all. People (round here) drive a lot slower in the rain so everyone’s a winner.

We get to our destination - Fraddon - mid-afternoon. But not before doing a mile (unintentionally) on the one road I really wanted to avoid: the A30.

That mile was more than enough for me thank you very much.

Still…….we lived to blog the tale.

Must be those guardian angels

Look at the state of my gloves

Aren’t I the seasoned cyclist?

Oh………oh dear………

Distance covered: 47 miles.
Total distance covered: 1068 miles

Barnstaple to Egloskerry

Today we are heading to Chez Mick & Jan, so a later start to the day was decided on as the distance to cover was slightly lower.

After a full English breakfast we were off (and not before time: an alarm that had been going when we arrived was STILL ringing this morning - fortunately our rooms were out of earshot).

We didn’t actually do much cycling today - it was more a case of rolling down hills and pushing the bikes up them.

Rather than take the Tarka Trail (a flat cycle path route that uses old railway lines) we took the option to go for a more direct route - hiking style.

Never ones to jump at the easy option - we’re doing this ride the hard way round, on the wrong type of bikes, unassisted, with Wales thrown in for good measure - why should today be any different?!

To summarise the day: plod plod plod……wheeeeehhhh!!!!!….plod plod plod…..wheeeehhhh!!!!

Repeat.

Ad infinitum.

We made it to Great Torrington (about 10 miles from our starting point) in only 2 hours 15 minutes.

We were clearly not going to set any land speed records.

We crossed over the Traka Trail a couple of time en-route, but were not to be detered.

Eventually things did get (very slightly) easier.

One kind chap offered to make things easier for me by lightening my load. Basically, he tried to remove a couple of limbs as he overtook me at about 50mph with about 1 inch to spare.

Fortunately he missed: this blog would have taken ages to type out left-handed.

So we’re very nearly at the end now. We could reach Lands End tomorrow - it’s about 80 miles or so - but have decided to spread it over 2 days. This way, we can be fairly confident in the photographer being there to take the obligatory photo at the sign post (if the photographer isn’t there, then the post is just a post - with no signs on it).

My knee started moaning a bit towards the end of the day - I think it was just because it knew the day was nearly over (you know like when you’re heading home and need to go to the toilet, and then when you’re almost home you REALLY need to go, then when you have the key in the front door the situation is almost out of control? - well…….similar to that).

We arrived at Chez Mick & Jans to be greeted by two blog fans (Mick & Jan) holding a big “Welcome JogLers” sheet. We have been presented with an awesome tee-shirt each - I shall be wearing mine with pride tomorrow. It was unquestionably the best end to any days riding we have had.

Lisa is coming down to join us tomorrow evening (it’ll be pleasant to not have to look across at a sun-dried tomato face while I’m eating my dinner) and will be there to cheer enthusiastically without caring what anyone else thinks(!) when we cross the finishing line the following day (no pressure Lisa!).

So, one Chinese takeway, several Buds and too many Pringles (the staple diet for any true cyclist) later, it’s time to turn in for the last night before the last night.

Distance covered: 80 miles
Total distance covered: 1041 miles

Weston-Super-Mare to Barnstaple

Think of a time in your life that brought you a feeling of immense happiness. A birthday, a childhood memory, Spurs winning the Premiership (one day!), or whatever.

Now, try and hold that thought and recall how you actually felt at the time.

Got that feeling?

Good.

Well, today felt absolutely nothing like that.

After a full English brekkie we loaded up and was off to Boots to buy a knee support for yours truly.

After strapping up and then publishing the previous days blog entry (delayed for security reasons) we were off.

Now, if someone tells you that Somerset is flat, do not punch them in the face hard with no explanation.

Find yourself a nice piece of 2×4 and batter them around the head with it.

Repeatedly.

Parts of Somerset are flat - I’ll agree to that.

Unfortunately, those parts didn’t feature too heavily in todays ride.

Like any good England World Cup campaign it started off with so much promise: wonderfully flat.

The miles were passing at an impressive rate, then we took the A-road to Minehead.

To call it “a bit hairy” would be a gross understatement. We would have had a more relaxing time cycling up and down the centre of one of the runways at Heathrow.

The driving rain was a big help.

Not content with just telling you how many people had died on this stretch of road, they have taken things to the next level and tell you how many have been killed “on this bend”.

I would have taken a photo of one of these signs, but fear that if I’d tried to the very act of doing so would have made the photo out of date.

We decided to drop down off the main A-road and pickup a B-road that ran straight across Exmoor.

That decision is up there with Decca’s decision to turn down The Beatles.

For an allegedly flat county we did well t track down a climb to 1200ft, then another one, then 1350, then 1300. Particularly as we weren’t even looking for them.

It just went from bad to worse.

Heavy rain was on hand to make sure everything……and I mean EVERYTHING….got thoroughly drenched.

I don’t know why I bother with my waterproofs. I might just as well wrap myself in cellophane and leave a few gaps. The net result would be exactly the same: sweating profusely and soaked through.

It was during one of these sodden moments that we clocked up our 1000th mile. (do you get the title now?…..amazing how this stuff comes together as though it’s been thought through).

There were times when it felt like we’d never reach Barnstaple, but of course we did - and without seeing a single Jackson too.

Tomorrow is forecast to be a dry day - hopefully the panniers will get a chance to dry off if we find some downhill bits.

The achievement

The cost (£16.99)

Distance covered: 80 miles
Total distance covered: 941 miles

Llangattock to Weston-Super-Mare

After a full English breakfast we loaded up and set off.

I’d had a good nights sleep, but Pete had to drag his mattress into the bathroom after being placed in a room next to the second double bassoon player of the trip.

Our first destination was Chepstow, where we would cross over to England on the old Severn bridge (which has a cycle path).

We could have taken a B-road which ran in a pretty direct line to Chepstow, but decided on a longer route via Monmouth using A-roads.

We weren’t yet clear of all the hills and valleys and felt the longer route was our best hope for avoiding nasties.

It turned out to be a good choice - the 20-odd miles to Monmouth was almost entirely flat and almost completely straight.

To pinch a headline from the Super Soaraway Sun:

FREDDIE STARR ATE……..

…..hang on…..I’ve already done that one.

Like the rest of the country, it was flipping sweltering today.

Fortunately the route from Monmouth to Chepstow had a lot of tree cover, so it could have been a lot worse.

At one drink stop we discussed how problem-free the ride had been. Only a couple of minor things with the bikes and Petes one day with his thigh.

I mentioned that I’d had no problems at all except for a very slight twinge behind my left knee a few days back.

Why did I have to open my big fat gob?

We set off again and are now closing in on Chepstow.

Four miles out: funny……that twinge has come back……ow…..ow!…..ouch……OUCH!……ARGH!!!

A muscle/ligament behind my left knee was really pulling tight - it felt like it could snap like an elastic band.

We stop and I walk about for a bit. I felt confident that if we got across the bridge it wouldn’t be so bad because things become very flat.

We set off again and Petes knees start having serious discussions with him whenever we went up any kind of hill.

Being brave little soldiers we carried on, knowing we have an audience that demands to be entertained.

What troopers we are.

Anyway, we make it across the Severn and take a break at the service station on the other side to celebrate being back in England.

The break seemed to make quite a difference, and combined with the flatter terrain the pain dropped from OUCH! to hmmm….ow.

On to Avonmouth and over the Avonmouth bridge. It’s the M5 - it has a bridleway alongside the road for pedestrians and cyclists (no Gibbs - we weren’t lost!).

From there it was a cycle path for a few miles to Portishead. I wanted to see Portishead…….but I’m no dummy (do your research!).

We picked our way through a few more towns/villages, including Clevedon: site of Buddy Holly’s final concert. Oh hang on……..no……that was actually Cleveland. Easy mistake.

We arrived at our pitstop for the night - Weston-Super-Mare - just after 7:00.

After a shower and with a tightening leg we set off into Weston-Super-Mare for something to eat.

Oh dear.

Weston-Super-Mare: it’s basically Romford by the sea.

I mean, I don’t want to be rude about it but if I was to vomit into a test tube and give it to a lab to cultivate, in a few short years you’d have Weston-Super-Mare.

To anyone thinking of coming here for a short break: may I suggest a colonoscopy?

The experience would be far more pleasurable.

However, if you’re into chavs,1984 Vauxhall Novas blinged up with the worse that Halfords has to offer, depressed buildings, countless tacky shops, bars/pubs with a slapper or a pratt with attitude outside every one (upgrading to a drunk/vomiter as the evening wears on)……..then this is the place for you.

Coming here is exactly like having your appendix removed: not something you’d do twice.

Tomorrow I’m off to get a leg strapping, then hopefully it’s a day of luverly flat cycling.

Come to WSM: Crane at sunset

Distance covered: 75 miles
Total distance covered: 861 miles

Aberystwyth to Llangattock

To pinch a headline from the Super Soaraway Sun:

FREDDIE STARR ATE MY HAMSTER

No……not that one….

PHEW! WOT A SCORCHER!

Yep……that’s the one.

So we go down for our……cooked breakast this morning and discover it’s a self serve affair (oh dear!).

Now, the punters at the hotel were all pretty old - zimmer frames aplenty - and like any good care home the temperature in the restaurant was absolutely sweltering.

I would have gone back to my room to go for the wrap-around bath towel option were it not for the fear that it may encourage others.

Anyways, breakfast eaten we were loaded and off just before 9:00, however, not before a very interesting conversation with a man who flew the Kings messages all around the world at the end of WWII.

He went to Australia 7 times (could only do 200mph and had enough fuel for 2000 miles at a time). Oh, did I mention he was 19 years old when he did this?!

There was more than a passing similarity to the Major from Fawlty Towers. Political correctness prevents me from relaying some of the more detailed points of our conversation.

Anyway, we told him what we where up to and when he relayed this to his wife we were revered to as “these chaps”.

Chocs away! Some me a kipper I’ll be home before breakfast.

I digress.

When we chatted with Rob yesterday he did warn us that it would be a fair old climb to Ryan Air (well…..round here they call it Rhayader but we know what they mean) and boyo he wasn’t wrong.

As Pete says, the problem with Aberystwyth is leaving it. The town is at the bottom of a bowl and every way out leads up.

A climb of 1350ft in brilliant sunshine does not make for the most cushiest of mornings. The climb was relentless……truly BB (Beyond Brutal).

Progress was pretty slow, and you begin to wonder if it’s just really hard going or if you are actually completely spent and in need of a recovery day.

I’m convinced the roads were covered in glue.

(tappity tap tap tappity tap…….it’d be so much easier)

Anyway, the route begins to get a little less brutal so we celebrate with a Magum ice cream each. We eventually reach Ryan Air where we have lunch. A further 13 miles gets us to Builth Wells where we stop to decide what to do.

The intended target was Abergavenny - some 30 miles further down the road. We decide to stick to this agenda as the route had gotten a bit easier since Ryan Air - Rob had been right so far.

We took a break and used the time to sort out accomodation: Abergavenny was booked out solid so we went for a smaller town just outside (but on the route).

So now it was just a matter of banging out another 30 miles under the unclouded sun.

Note for Clare: don’t holiday in Wales: it might rain so the place won’t look quite as fantastic; the people are very friendly which can be irritating, the coastal views are staggering…..being staggered so often can get quite tiring (how am I doing Gibbs?).

Do you think sheep have Internet access? At the very least they must get email (broadBAAnd?……..sorry!),

I began to ponder the thought this afternoon - there are LOADS of sheep around these parts and as we cycle past they will quite often look up at us and (as far as I’m concerned) there will often be a look of recognition in their eyes.

“Hey…..sheepo, aren’t they those two wallies who’ve got that blog?”

“Dunno, haven’t read the blog but I got an email the other day from a cousin up North about two sunburnt plonkers who passed him whilst shouting at hills.”

Then again, maybe I’ve just been out in the sun too long today.

15 miles from our destination…….oh dear……it was multiple synchronized tourettes time. A 1000ft climb……don’t these roads realise we’d already covered 60 miles of not-too-easy cycling?

Slowly we plodded up and up, taking plenty of drink stops (incidently: 8 pints drunk today and one “comfort break”…..where does it all go?).

Our reward for this horrible injury time kick to the space hoppers was a 7 mile cruise down the other side.

Shortly after, we were checked in, showered, and eating dinner.

Things didn’t seem so bad after all - cancel that call to The Samaritans.

Tomorrow we leave Wales and start the (roughly) 300 mile home stretch.

Distance covered: 50 miles
Total distance covered: 786 miles

Barmouth to Aberystwyth

Only 50 miles today - but a very knackering 50 miles.

We were down at 8:30 this morning for a (the importance of this has been stressed to me in some detail) full WELSH breakfast. Not a full English, no no no no no……….. A full Welsh.

This consists of bacon, eggs, sausages, beans, tomatoes, (and for Pete) mushrooms and black pudding. Hmmmm………now that dish sounds quite familiar.

Over breakfast we confidently discuss the distance we will be able to cover, using all our ignorance and complete lack of knowledge.

Our bikes had already been bought out the garage for us, so we loaded them up and were soon on our way.

Special mention of thanks at this point to Mr & Mrs Mytton and to Liz for their very kind donations to our chosen charity: MacMillans.

Now, I’ve already mentioned the value of local knowledge - this one is a belter.

Barmouth sits at the beginning of a fairly large water inlet (the clue is in the name). To reach the other side - which can be seen quite clearly - involves a 12 mile ride along the main road inland , which eventually crosses the water and comes back to about a mile from Barmouth, but on the other side.

However………

There is a single track railway bridge that crosses straight over from Barmouth.

This bridge also has a (rarely used) 3ft wide walkway next to the train track. Pay a toll charge of a quid and you can cycle across.

The satisfaction in crossing the bridge and looking at 12 miles of coastline you don’t have to cycle cannot be described.

Whilst the hills we had to get over were not outrageously steep, they were very energy sapping. I was constantly having to select a lower gear than I thought I’d need. Sometimes it felt like we were cycling in glue.

Needless to say progress was slower than normal. So much so that we were going to have to pick a closer destination.

Some people might refer to this kind of situation as a reality check.

So, whilst eating sandwiches on a bench, in front of a fence “protecting” us from the oldest Labrador in the world defending his patch (the best way to describe his bark is: think of Orson Wells delivery of his dying word in Citizen Kane: “rosebud” - the bark was delivered with the exact same amount of gusto: “woooooof……….”.

I digress.

At the bench we re-evaluated the situation and settled on Aberystwyth as our new target.

More cycle slogging followed, including a delightful moment when a huge lorry being driven by Johnny Foreigner decided to just pull out in front of me.

I didn’t stop, thinking there were plenty of witnesses so I would have the last laugh (it seemed to make sense at the time) I got in front of his cab looked waaaaaay up to where he was sitting and for the second time on this ride dished out my hardest Paddington Bear stare.

This time the recipient felt the full force of the stare as I wasn’t wearing sunglasses.

I suspect by now he is on a ferry heading home and considering a new off-road career.

It had been overcast for most of the day, and around mid afternoon we had to break out the waterproof jackets: Pete in his nice breathable jacket, and me in my suffocating sweatbox/sauna. I might just as well get in a full body bag and gaffer tape up all the seams - it wouldn’t make things any hotter than my bin liner of a jacket.

To call it rain would be too flattering. More like 20 minutes of light drizzle. Plenty of time though for the inside arms of the jacket to become nicely wet - just like heavy condensation on a window.

On we went getting slowly nearer our destination. A car coming in the other direction slows and the driver calls out “I thought you two would have finished by now!”.

Incredibly, it was Rob (see day 10) returning from a photo job. He pulled over and we chatted for 10 minutes or so - amongst other things: routes from Aberystwyth.

He is going to contact some local papers about our ride and the MacMillans connection. He has a photo or two already and will send us any clippings if it works out.

What a TOP BLOKE.

So a pretty tough day today, but made a lot brighter by bumping into a familiar face (and I never thought i’d be saying that on the west coast of Wales)

Apparently, this is where a lot of bankers live.

Distance covered: 58 miles
Total distance covered: 736 miles

Bangor to Barmouth

While eating a full English breakfast cooked by a French woman and served by a Pole (could have been a bit more generous: 1 sausage, 1 rasher, 1 half tomato………and we’re sure the beans were counted out) we discussed our options for the day ahead.

We really felt we were heading into unchartered territory today as neither of us had a clue what it would be like. I couldn’t find anything online about people who had cycled this way (just a hunch but maybe the mountains have something to do with it).

We eventually agree that Barmouth - some 60 miles away - is definately achievable based on absolutely no knowledge of the terrain between us and it.

So confident are we in reaching the destination that rooms are booked (thanks Lisa) before we are out of Bangor.

So we definately have a bed arranged for tonight - we either make it to Barmouth or try so hard getting there we get rewarded with a ride in an ambulance to a hospital bed.

No sooner are we out of Bangor we spot a cycle path - mainly an old railway line - and enjoy 10 miles of near perfect flatness to Caernarfon.

We take a few snaps of the impressive castle there and take a ride all the way round the outer walls (it was a difficult town to get out of).

Now, we had a theory that if we took the main A-roads today rather than minor back roads then we stood a better chance of riding a route either around or through the biggest obstacles, rather than over them.

Basically, everything hung on this one assumption.

We picked our designated A-road and set off into Snowdonia National Park.

It actually wasn’t too bad. There were hills to climb, but they were very long rather than very steep. So tiring, but manageable.

It was a very hot day today - all sun and blue skies. perfect conditions for having sweat pour from your head into your eye, have the salt sting it so it waters, drawing more salt in so you can no longer keep it open, whilst not wanting to waste the nice bit of momentum you’ve built up on that flat stretch.

There were times today when I looked like a very naff pirate.

On passing through some of the small towns it was as if the circus had arrived - and we were it.

“look - strangers sitting on weird contraptions have arrived looking like they are in pain…..fetch the elders”

The elders would come out of their huts and reassure the natives: whilst very rare to see in these parts, the contraptions were just machines that people from the flatlands used and were nothing to fear.

OK…….I elaborate a little.

They didn’t live in huts.

There where very few cyclists to be seen though. I think we only saw one each: I saw Pete, and he saw me.

On we trekked and the bigger the rolling landscape got.

And boyo is it green.

The grass isn’t just green, it truly is GREEN GREEN.

Speaking of which, I had a very odd spine-tingling experience today.

As we are cycling along this very green landscape, with mountains all around us, I have my iPod playing in shuffle mode (one ear so do not fear).

A David Bowie instrumental comes on (from the Low album if anyones interested) and - as often happens when I’m driving at speed on the motorway - my mind drifts off on a train of thought and I tune out from what is happening.

All the green-ness and Welsh-ness of things gets me thinking that despite there being a fair few singers and bands from Wales, there is really only one singer who owns the Welsh label - a bit like Vegas and Elvis.

My meandering thoughts then continue on to his songs, and that even amongst all his Welshness and huge back catalogue of recordings, there is one song he sings that towers above all others and screams WALES.

The tune on the iPod begins to fade and I return from my daydream state (still pedalling mind).

Now, some might call what happened next fate, or guidance from above, or some other spiritual term, but at that precise moment - when I’m returning to a conscious state of mind, when the instrumental track fades, what song does the shuffle mode then pick?

I didn’t even know it was on the iPod - but out of the several thousand tracks to choose, on it came.

I instantly had goosebumps all over.

So even though it’s a 60’s tune, and a lot of people think it’s a bit of a cliche or corny, it’s going on the soundtrack.

Track 7:

I Left My Heart in San Francisco by Tony Bennett.

(suckers!)

The (quite manageable) road eventually takes us to Porthmadog. On leaving the town we see a sign telling us we are only half a mile from Portmerion (”The Village” from The Prisoner TV show). We both agree that it would be rude not to take a detour.

We arrive and I go to find out if we can walk round with our bikes.

Out from a little hut comes Captain Blazer to tell us immediately that we can’t.

There is a look on his face that tells me he fears he is about to be cut up “East End Style”.

We show some dismay and he tells us that we can lock the bikes up here.

I explain about the panniers.

Realizing we are not about to play Connect-4 on his face with razor blades he assures us that they will be safe and he will keep an eye on them.

Pete - clearly in possession of a copy of the book of the bleeding obvious points out that we could carry our rack bags (the ones with valuable stuff in) around with us.

Thinking he has now made friends with two serious villains, and to show he likes to stick it to “The Man”, Captain Blazer informs us that we can buy entrance tickets as students (STUDENTS!).

So we do, we walk around the village, it’s awesome. Photos will be posted.

On returning to our bikes we are spotted by Captain Blazer.

His recent near-death experience has clearly given him a new outlook on life: seize the day, make the most of every minute and enjoy every sandwich.

He is surprised to see us returning so soon (clearly he isn’t following the blog……but I let it pass). He offers to let us in for free next time.

So we saddle up and ride out of Dodge as Captain Blazer bids us farewell:

“Goodbye……..gentlemen”.

GENTLEMEN!!!!!!

We pickup our route again and before too long are on the coast road to Barmouth: very palatable.

This road produces a new variant of cycling tourettes in Pete.

Previously only brought about by the sight of a hill up ahead, we now discover the same effect can be achieved with the revealing of a spectacular coastal view, or a bay, or a huge sweeping golden sand beach.

The one difference here is in the delivery of the outburst: it is not spat out with venom.

The sky was cloudless, the sea was a very deep blue and mirror-like. The views were quite simply staggering.

At 5:00 we arrive at Barmouth. Not by ambulance but by pedal power.

The distance was perfect - allowing us time to visit Portmerion - the weather was awesome, and the terrain was never a problem.

We were never in any doubt.

More coastal riding tomorrow before cutting back across Wales.

Has today been the calm before the storm?

Distance covered: 44 miles
Total distance covered: 678 miles

Prestatyn to Bangor

We decided to do a much shorter ride today and take things nice and easy to give Petes thigh a chance to sort itself out.

It was just as well that we didn’t want to make an early start as we were soon to discover.

Imagine if you will (a night like this……) what it would be like if someone were to get straight out of a tepid bath, lie in your bed for a minute or two, get out, and you then lie on it.

That my friends, is the very sensation I woke up to this morning.

Not, I hasten to add, a bladder related issue.

Sweat.

It is what I like to refer to as “The Dansak Effect”.

Anyway, when we checked in yesterday we took our bikes round the back where they were locked in a shed.

When we came down this morning for our full English breakfast it was explained to us that they couldn’t get our bikes out as matey boy had gone home with the key in his pocket.

It was during this explanation that we was to hear a Welsh term that was new to us both.

I expect everyone is familiar with the term boyo. Well, this is a variation on that.

Stupido.

As in: “old stupido has gone and taken the key home with him”.

No big deal, we just got to drink more coffee as we pored over the notebook working out what to make our destination while we waited for stupido to arrive.

No doubt this wouldn’t have been funny if we wanted to make an early start.

But we didn’t, so it was.

We started loading the bikes up in the spitting rain around 10:45 this morning.

Wife of stupido was talking to me and explained that it always rains in Prestatyn on a Wednesday because that’s the day the window cleaner comes.

Local knowledge: can’t beat it.

So we headed off in the rain towards the beach to begin a 22 mile cycle path ride along the sea front.

Marvellous stuff - flat, quiet, great views……but a bit wet.

The rain started to get a bit more of an irritant so we decided to stop for a coffee.

Sitting around a table at this pit stop was a group of sixty somethings out on a days bike ride.

We are an instant curiosity as we pull up with our panniers.

Like any good rockstars we pretend not to notice, and sit a few tables away with our drinks.

The meerkats wouldn’t be able to hold out for too long - it was only a matter of time.

Eventually one saunters over (allegedly on his way to the gents): “you boys heading to Ireland?”

“No, we’ve come from John O’Groats, are going round the Welsh coastline then heading to Lands End”.

“Are you?!”.

“THEY’RE DOING AN END TO END PLUS WALES”.

Instant celebrities.

More come over and we are questioned on routes. One chap with a strong Welsh accent asks if we are going through certain towns.

I can’t say which towns - it sounded like he was trying to cough up a furball a lot of the time but I thought it safe to assume they were town names.

After being wished good luck several times we continued on our way in the (now heavier) rain towards Llandudno.

As we approach Colwyn Bay the sun starts to break through a little and the rain stops.

Shortly after at Rhos on Sea we come across a cafe with outside seating…..and they do burger & chips. No brainer.

We order our lunch and take up position at a table outside (we are the only ones - everyone else is inside). Out comes a chap to wipe down (i.e. dry) the table and chairs. Enter yet another of the top drawer diamond people we have met: Rob.

We talk a little about our ride, and the food arrives.

Rob disappears, only to return with some complimentary garlic bread (”it’s the future”). We talk more about the ride, and the fact we are raising money for MacMillans - it turns out that his brother does work for MacMillans

Rob then reveals that he is a freelance photo journalist (www.fpnw.co.uk), he has his camera, and would we like to have some pictures taken?

We didnt need to phone a friend or ask the audience.

Once they arrive (by email) they will be posted up.

On we cycled to Llandudno, going along the super-wide promenade for some distance towards the pier.

From Llandudno we headed to Bangor, via main A-roads, but mostly along cycle paths that ran alongside the roads (and had better views of the coastline).

We got to Bangor at around 6:00 (very leisurely cycling today) - and the good news is that Petes leg was fine all day.

On cycling into Bangor itself we witness what can only be described as “an incident” a few hundred yards up ahead.

Two lads are giving a demonstration of their extensive knowledge of hand jestures to the cars driving past.

One driver takes issue with this and stops.

Think of the type of bloke you definately wouldn’t want to see get out the car if you were the one giving the “hand greetings”.

Well two of that very type got out the car.

Brandishing - of all things - an NHS metal crutch each.

I now have to get round one of these tree trunks, standing in the middle of the road swinging the crutch around his head and shouting “COME ON THEN!” as nonchalently as possible as though I had to do it every day.

It was a moment.

One pasta dinner and a 6-0 England victory later, and its time to think about where we need to head for tomorrow.

Distance covered: 78 miles
Total distance covered: 634 miles

Bolton to Prestatyn

After a full English breakfast (not had one of them in a while) we collected our clean laundry, loaded up, and were off.

A sluggish start to the day (9:50), and I was feeling particularly frail and delicate.

Spicy chicken wings: just say no kids.

Another dry day and a superb flat/downhill route out of Bolton.

However, before too long we had descended into GPS hell.

The stupid thing had once again recalculated the route and sent us off on a different track (admittedly Garmin is one of the biggest GPS players in the world so this is less a case of manky kit and more a case of plonker user).

By the time the penny had dropped we were way off course.

We decided to plot a new route to one of the towns further along the route.

Pete did this and off we set.

ARGH!

His unit was taking us to the motorway (more frustration).

I try plotting a route on mine and have a bit more luck as no motorway shows up when checking the route through.

We set off again.

Then we got split up.

Pete didn’t see me take a turning and went straight on.

Confusion reigned supreme.

Wind the clock forward to 2.15 and we have teamed up again, but have lost a considerable amount of time.

We decide to just ride and see how far we get.

Fortunately the route today is almost entirely flat. By late afternoon we have made it into Wales.

Yesterday Pete had a bit of a problem with a thigh muscle - today it returns with a bit more vengence.

We decide to head to Prestatyn then call it a day. Pete was starting to struggle and it would be stupid to push on further and possibly do major damage and put the ride in jeopardy.

We check into a “hotel”, shower, then head over for an ruby.

I’m keen to play it super safe following the spicy wings episode this morning. I enquire about the sweet and sour chicken dansak.

I’m reliably informed that it is not at all hot.

LIAR.

LIAR LIAR PANTS AN ABSOLUTE INFERNO.

The chicken had clearly been pickled in battery acid then marinated in paint stripper.

I dread to think what the morning will bring.

Pray for me people.

After drinking 3 PINTS of Coke some degree of sensation returns to my tongue and I begin to relax.

At this point I experience a cramp in a place I’ve never had it before (no….not an Indian restaurant) to a degree of pain I’ve never enjoyed before.

From my (not so numb) bum to the back of my knee was an immediate intense pain that came with no warning.

I shot up out of my seat. Pete is convinced it’s a cardiac arrest at the very least. I’m looking around for one of those bladed-up schoolkids from yesterday as it felt like my leg had been stabbed.

Then as soon as it came, the cramp ended.

Fortunately there wasn’t too many people there to witness my Slim Shady impression.

“So will the real Slim Shady please stand up….please stand up” (come on…..try and keep up!)

In light of Petes thigh problem we have decided to do a much shorter ride tomorrow to give it a chance to recover.

We’ve been told there is a 22 mile cycle path from Prestatyn that follows the sea front all the way.

Sounds nice.

Cue the hail and Force 9 gales.