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... |
