Day 14 to Day 15 Lands End

Day 14 – Crockernwell to Belowda – Welcome to Cornwall (by Alex)

It was made clear from the previous days riding that to reach the finish, Stuart and I would need to use a-roads. Unfortunately, as far as Devon and Cornwall are concerned, that means the A30.

For those who do not know the A30, it is best described as a very busy two lane motorway, only without a hard shoulder. At the end of our ride yesterday, we got a glimpse as we rode over and saw huge volumes of traffic hurtling past in both directions. We'd known since day 12 that in all probability we would need to go some distance on this road, but it was only after getting a chance to see it first hand that I think Stuart realised we would need to implement the second, much less popular part of the plan.

We wanted the road to be as quiet as it could possibly be. Given that we would be riding in daylight, this meant one thing.

We would need to set off at the crack of dawn¹.

The crack of dawn eventually turned out to be six thirty. After a breakfast of beans of toast², we set out. It was a brilliantly clear morning – remaining so all day – so consequently at that time in the morning it was freezing. It was almost as cold as the ride from Ecclefechan!

Alex... standing by

Stuart... standing by

It's probably worth saying at this point that though I have said there is no hard shoulder on the A30, there was a three foot wide gutter by the side of the road. Though it was filled with rubble³, peppered with cats-eyes and the occasional drain covers, we agreed that riding in this would be less dangerous, despite puncture risk, than the dual carriageway proper. As expected, it was quiet at that time in the morning, but quiet does not mean deserted.

We started our ride at the north eastern part of Dartmoor. The A30 skirts around the north of the national park, gradually rising and, occasionally, falling as it goes. By the time we got to the end of the climbing, Stuart and I were roasting under our thermals. We decided to stop in the next lay-by and remove some of the most stifling items – well, we decided as I was trying to take off my thermal gloves and replace them with fingerless ones.

We crested the next rise and the descent began. It started off quite steeply – probably about 6% - but this gradually lessened off. I was still able to tap along at thirty mph plus, which was great for Stuart as, sitting in my slipstream, he hardly needed to pedal!

After about four miles of descending, giggling all the way, we came on a lay-by.

'Stuart, do you want to stop?'

'I'm happy to keep going for the moment.'

'Thought you would be.'

The descent petered out, much to our dismay, after about six and a half miles. We found a convenient lay-by and began to strip off. It was at this point that I told Stuart the truth – ever since the top of the ride, caught halfway between changing gloves, I'd been holding onto both the bars and the thermal glove in a death grip – they are borrowed and expensive, so I did not fancy a long hard slog the wrong way up the carriageway to retrieve them if I dropped one!

Our second, and, very fortunately, final puncture happened when some . . . person in a yellow Cupra decided to honk his horn as he passed us in what we assumed to be a purposeful attempt to startle us. We both looked over to see what was causing the noise⁴, then from behind came a bang and a hiss. Stuart had a puncture on his rear – it's the most fiddly, messy puncture to repair and consequently the most common tyre that gets a puncture⁵. The only thing that gave us some humour in this situation was my commenting 'I hope the driver dies shitting'. I mean seriously, other than the risk of prosecution, what do they get out of doing it?

We'd done about twenty five miles when the campervan caught us. They were startled at our pace (we would have got further without the puncture!) and we decided to meet up in another twenty miles for some elevenses.

Now three things occurred. Firstly, the level of traffic was beginning to increase appreciably, and continued to do so over the coming hours. Whilst I have said that we were riding in the gutter and therefore quite sheltered from the traffic – most vehicles would still kindly pull over to give us room – it's much less stressful when the traffic is not thundering past⁶.

Secondly, the area they met us was at probably the highest point in Bodmin Moor⁷, meaning Stuart and I had a fairly lengthy uphill slog, especially given our recent huge descent. The second twenty miles were nowhere near as fast as the first twenty.

Thirdly, about two hundred yards before we met them, the dual carriageway became single carriageway – at this point we lost our friendly (if grubby) gutter and became directly exposed to traffic.

Mum and Dad, who at the point we turned up were getting extremely anxious, were determined that, after lunch, we would be getting off the A30 as quickly as possible, riding through central Bodmin and on to the campsite by quieter roads.

We just had to get past two and a half miles of single carriageway first.

The long highway

We waited for what seemed like a decent gap before going. We set off and soon began the descent off the moor. One mile passed quickly since the descent was quite steep. Another half mile and the road began to climb for a short, yet interminably long section. Where was the traffic?

A single car passed us.

We crested the hill and began to descend again. The road flattened out and once more our speed began to drop, yet still no hint of any more cars behind us.

We rejoined the dual carriageway, relieved and confused. Within two hundred yards a tractor passed us, along with a slew of frustrated vehicles.

I love tractors.

The ride through Bodmin was memorable mostly for the steep (15%) descent into town. About half way down, riding in a fairly decent sized cycle lane (at least, we thought it was), I spied what looked like some fairly flat cobbles approaching quite quickly.

They turned out to be projecting about three or four inches from the road surface. There followed a screamed warning to Stuart and a hasty bunny-jump onto the unexpected obstacle. Stuart, marginally forewarned, dodged to the side with millimetres to spare.

We arrived at the campsite, several (mostly uphill) miles the other side of Bodmin. It took a lot of head scratching, some smart phone searching and local people asking to find⁸, but we turned up to find a tiny, quiet site well off the beaten track. The campervan turned up minutes after us. We set up, with the help of the elderly owners – who extremely kindly let us stay for free!

One of the many pleasures of the journey awaited us later that night. For Mum and Dad, that came in the shape of Karina and Harald⁹, Karina being a colleague from Dads time as a chocolate scientist. For Stuart and I, it was our friends Lynzi, Dan, Emma, Blane, Jan, Andrew, Jamie and Ruth¹⁰. There followed an extremely enjoyable evening at the pub, sampling the local ales¹¹, a pub meal and more importantly the company of friends!

Lynzi, Dan, Blane and Jan storm the play castle at the pub

We were all happy to see friends we have not seen in what felt like an age¹², and can only apologise if we were somewhat shattered that night. A dawn start, with another one coming tomorrow, does not always help when the clock goes past nine!

(I'd also like to say sorry at this point to Mike Howard who'd bravely agreed to ride over Dartmoor with us. The unfortunate and unforeseen injury to my brothers Achilles effectively put paid to this. I didn't want to subject you to a dawn start and a ride down the A30 which is, even at the best of times, pretty horrid.)

P.S. We are appreciative that Russell had looked up the routes for the final two days to asses the gradients, and even offered to come down and help ride with Stuart and I (despite the fact that he had ridden the hardest ride from Kirkby Stephen to Clitheroe with us previously).

1 Well, I wanted to ride at the crack of dawn. I've been getting used to waking up at 4 in the morning. Others were much less reluctant.

2 Which is surprisingly difficult to wolf down at quarter to six in the morning.

3 Including, but not limited to, big rocks, broken glass, very small stones (what else floats?), chunks of rusting vehicle, bolts, dead things (mostly birds, but the occasional deer or badger – thiiiiiis big!) and unidentified items that were routinely referred to as 'something' when trying to warn Stuart, tucked in just behind me and therefore unable to see much, to dodge. At some point I'll have to try and explain the various hand signals we use – most simple, but some overly complicated and liable to provoke gales of laughter.

4 Judging by the pathetic sound of the horn, I honestly thought we were being overtaken by a flock of ducks.

5 Murphys law is a pain in the bum.

6 It also makes it much more dangerous crossing junctions. This is the single most dangerous bit of riding on a dual carriageway, since for the period you spend crossing one lane exiting or entering the road you are completely exposed. There was a lot of looking over shoulders as Stuart and I made damn sure we were as safe from idiots as possible. Remember, the more traffic, the more idiots.

7 After thirteen and a half days, over nine hundred miles in the saddle, welcome to Cornwall!

8 The small farm track, off the narrow country lane, that we were supposed to turn up didn't have the tiniest mention of the campsite contained within.

9 And in the shape of the two home-made cakes that came with them. But that is another (tasty) story.

10 The later two had kindly dropped in to see us the previous night.

11 Well, naturally!

12 And look forward to seeing friends and family who could not make it out for various reasons.

Day 15 – Belowda to Lands End – THE END (by Stuart)

Finally it has come to that time in our epic adventure from the top to the bottom (west-ish) that we would eventually come to the finish. When it comes to this part of the journey you inevitably reflect on the journey behind us and it's start some 1000 miles of roads to the rear. Our (not so grand) departure from John O'Groats, only two weeks previously seems a much longer time ago that it actually is. (Incidentally I say not so grand departure as it was just the four of us, and John O'Groats really has little to offer).

We are all of the opinion that we have been extremely lucky in terms of the weather, after having four fabulous days in Scotland, only three genuinely wet days and what looks like a superb finish. Yesterday was clear blue skies, and the forecast for today was no different. In fact we have been so lucky that if we had done this journey the other way round, leaving Lands End two week ago and arriving at John O'Groats today we would probably have been rained on every single day. As it is on Day 15 it's torrential up there at the top!

We have been quite lucky too in other areas, only suffering one major mechanical (Alex needing a new chainset in Bridgwater), and barely a handful of minor ones, (two punctures, one yesterday (thank you Jamie), our cycle computers giving up the ghost, and an errant saddle pack that fell off my bike while we were in the midlands). We also only really got seriously lost once, but with the wonders of modern technology, my smart phone, we managed to find our way back on route with only a half a mile added on to our trip.

I would like to say that we have been lucky physically too, although personally I can't vouch much luck for myself in this area. After suffering suspect rubbing since Fort William to Luss, which actually turned out to be tendonitis in my Achilles on my left ankle, effectively meant that I had to ride from Delamere Forest almost one-legged. Alex on the other hand will be binning his saddle when he gets home in favour of a newer more comfy one, whereas I will be seeing a physio.

And of course I reflect back on the enormous support that we have received throughout this adventure, in the run up to and throughout. Some people managed to make it out to see us (and even a few who rode with us), and of course those friends that were there to see us finish, but there are so many more who have really made this ride special, you all deserve our eternal gratitude.

So to the ride then, how was the final day?

As before we had to minimise the damage on my ankle so we would carry on where we left yesterday and ride down the A30, meaning another early start. We were up before the sun had even had a chance to shine it's first rays down onto the campsite (currently obscured by the hills to the west). The view was another pleasant surprise, as not a cloud could be seen in the sky, and any wind at this stage seemed mercifully non-existent.

After a breakfast of simple toast, not the same hearty breakfast like yesterday, it was time to go. Alex left with the same amount of gear as yesterday owing to the early morning cold, but I decided to dispense with some of the warmer clothing. It was a bit raw for the first few miles, but I knew as soon as I was on the A30 we would heat up quickly like we did yesterday. Brave you might say but a good call I think. As soon as the sun was on our backs, the temperature began to skyrocket.

The final depart

The A30 was also thankfully a lot quieter than yesterday, owing to the fact we were much further down in Cornwall now, and it being the quiet of a Sunday morning. After a steep climb up the slip-road, we adopted the same position as yesterday riding down the gutter to the side, with me paying close attention to the warnings from Alex in front. I would like to point out that those v-shaped concrete drainage gutters you sometimes get at the side of the road are somewhat fun to ride up and down the sides of!

After ascending and descending the mercifully gentle gradients of the A30 for the first twenty miles we came across something we did not expect. On the portion of dual carriageway that runs to the north of Redruth, we encountered some of the flattest riding we have had the pleasure to ride on in England (yes in hilly Cornwall). For some reason this part of the carriageway seemed to have cut straight through the hills rather than going over them, and remained perfectly flat for the best part of three miles. Even the Somerset Levels had some bridges to climb over!

We eventually descended to a lay-by to meet the van just short of Hayle on the north coast for our first planned stop for hot chocolate and, well... more chocolate. The time was 10am. Good progress you could say. Our friends back in Bodmin had probably only just finished their breakfast! From this point on Mum and Dad kept in touch with with everyone back on Bodmin as they would have to hit the A30 pronto, otherwise Alex and I could beat them to Lands End.

10 miles to go...

We were so far ahead that we agreed to stop again only 8 miles down the road in the Tesco at Penzance to allow people to catch us up. After a break of coke and scotch eggs, the first cars caught us up meaning that Alex and I could hit the last 10 miles of our adventure. They wouldn't be that fun mind, as the A30 veers off around Penzance and remains hilly for the last 7 miles where it eventually gently drops downhill to its terminus at the top of a cliff (and a somewhat bizarre collection of café's and amusements).

The outlook here is so much different to the north coast of Scotland. Here there are trees and hedges and lots of houses, whereas the top is remote open moreland. As the sun beat down on us, Alex and I attacked the final ten miles buoyed with the optimism of our destination being so close. I managed to push heavily through my right leg and Alex and I were riding on average about 15mph for the last 10 miles. As a result of this we managed to take our welcoming party a bit by surprise.

Within the last 3 miles the hills gradually descend down, and all Alex and I can see ahead of us is a deep blue sea before us signalling the end of our journey. As we ride through Sennan we can see the road heading straight for the tourist buildings at Lands End. As we ride through the gates we are ordered to stop by Mum, so we can wait for her to run to the finish line where our welcoming crew await. It's barely fifty yards away and we can see the finish line.

Our wonderful support crew

There here... quick... run!!

Somewhat unexpectedly we can also see a ribbon held across it, and everyone is holding cameras, party blowers and poppers at the ready. A heroes welcome (sorry Lynzi I should have known). We cross the line in style, well one of us anyway, Alex took the ribbon full in the face much to the mirth of everyone who turned up to welcome us.

At the finish

And so we were here, and much to the bemusement of all the tourists we held an awards ceremony in front of the building at Lands End where Alex, Mum, Dad and I are awarded with medals and trophies, and Alex and I also received a certificate put together by Emma. We brought bottles of bubbly, which Alex and I opened letting the corks fly (although we didn't shower it around, it was our full intention to drink it).

Receiving our medals

Lands End welcoming committee

Certificates at the finish

All together again... and such a fantastic day

We had the charity pots at the ready, and Lynzi and Emma wasted no time in persuading plenty of tourists to cough up their loose change for our cause. As the cameras flashed Alex and I felt like we were pros that had won a big race. All good things come to an end mind you, and we had to bid farewell to our welcoming party as they had to head home that afternoon, leaving us to get settled down in the campsite a mile down the road where we would be staying tonight.

In the quiet of the afternoon we eventually heard from The Violet Beast (aka Jess, Cath and Sedge the bear). Alas it seems that bad-luck (mostly in the form of a decidedly miserable station master whom they referred to as Mr Arse), had be-fallen them in the last few days of their adventure. Violet was on its last legs, and they only had one operable gear. After suffering a shredded tyre they limped to the railway station at Lostwithiel  in the hope that they could catch a train to Penzance and possibly ride (or walk even) the last 10 miles. The station master put the final nail in the coffin forbidding them taking Violet on the train despite First Great Westerns policy of allowing bikes on their trains. They abandoned Violet in the trust of some locals, and carried on with a ceremonious wheel and saddle.

The campervan came to the rescue again, picking them up from Penzance station. Upon arrival at Lands End, Alex and I rode alongside as Jess and Cath who ran to the finish line holding the wheel and saddle, and we had a chance to re-enact the same finish Alex and I experienced earlier, although admittedly with much less fanfare (although I'm pleased to say more bubbly was involved).

Running for the finish (and partly running from the bus)

Alex, Jess, Cath and Stuart...

...and not forgetting Sedge the bear

We had a chance to catch up on the tales from both our adventures, but Mum and Dad had to take them back to Penzance where they were booked on a 5.30 train out, thus leaving Alex and I to ride back to the campsite (yes you heard me, crossing the finish line was not the end of this trips cycling).

After enjoying a pub meal and some local beers (yes I know, more beer, get over it), and the company of Andrew (who has booked some extended holiday down in Cornwall), the final day had finally come to an end. We awoke Monday morning to the sound of rain hammering down onto our tent, a stark contrast to the brilliantly sunny weather on Sunday.

With Andrew at The First and Last Inn

And our own celebrations back at the van

As I write this we are just passing Bristol on the A30 on the way home. The ride might be over but we are not quite finished yet. There is still the promise of more donations, and we have to arrange sending all the money we have received on the road to Parkinson's UK, so our figure will rise yet. So in closing I would just like to say a huge thank you to everyone who has got involved with this, and making this an unforgettable adventure.

Cheers

Stuart

Additional thanks/comments from Alison and Geoff (by Alison)

What has come out of this fund raising adventure is re-kindling the friendships of people and relations who we seem to have lost contact with over the last few years. Since hearing about the boys epic ride we have met or put dates in the diary to meet up with past friends. We are so pleased to now be in contact with you again.

Initially we had intended thanking personally all those who donated towards the boys epic ride. The scale of donations has taken us all by surprise, thus making it impossible to do this. To summarise, however our appreciation to the following:

My sister for being so proactive and to all her family and friends – some who know us and others who do not.

Both Geoff and my family members scattered in the UK, Ireland and down under including my Aunt Vera and my parents.

Geoff's friends and ex/current work colleagues.

My friends and ex/current work colleagues and the generous donation from Blazer Mills Solicitors.

Alex's friends and work colleagues, and the generous donation pledged by Johnson Matthey. Thanks also go to Lynzi for being so proactive and the awesome amount that Alex's friends/work colleagues contributed.

Stuart's friends and work colleagues, particularly Majestic Inverness, Giffnock and Taunton. Also thanks to Emma's contribution and her family.

To those people who we met on the way down and those that donated in the charity pots on the boys arrival at Lands End. Also thanks to the Crask Inn, The Springvale Hotel, Cressfield Caravan Park Ecclefechan, Green Caravan Park Wentnor and Higher Trenoweth Camping Site Belowda.

To those that donated anonymously.

To Ruth, Russell (who rode with the boys) and their son Alasdair and Edmund (who also rode with the boys on a very wet day) and to John and Viv for coming across to visit us.

To Karina and Harald, Lynzi and Dan, Jamie and Ruth, Andrew, Jan, Blane, and Emma who took the time to journey down to visit us and form the Lands End welcoming committee and who gave us the most amazing end to the trip.

Oh and thank you Liz and Geoff, for looking after the house and for the cake you left us on our return!

And lastly how can we even begin to try and thank our two sons who have spent the best part of the year training for the ride and then undertaking 15 days of continual riding in conditions that at times were not very pleasant. We are blessed to have you as sons.

The end...