A little update on the Demon dentist story

You may remember I posted a blog about the demon dentist a few months back. Its actually one of the top ten posts on the right hand side of the screen at the moment (as of 21st June). Well you might want to read that before you continue reading this post. trust me it will be funnier.

Well the other day I was had to nip to the dentist to have a filling replaced. It had come out during my Lejog ride and was annoying me. I walked into the surgery and had the usual cordial chat with Neil, my dentist. He then proceeded to examine my tooth and decided he needed to drill some bits of the remaining filling in order to make ready for the new filling. Once he had the drill in my mouth he whizzed it round a couple of times as though he was revving an engine then calmly said.

"So Brian, this blog of yours? What do you mean I'm the demon dentist" AARRGGH!

BlairDrummond to Bunree

Luminous gloves had to come out. All my others were wet through

BlairDrummond Campsite is situated in the walled garden of BlairDrummond house, former home of Lord Kames from as far back as 1701. It is surrounded by beautiful gardens and Scotland's only Safari Park. Whilst walking Monty in the gardens we noticed some chimpanzees in a specially constructed enclosure. It was basically a big island in the middle of the boating lake. It was thickly wooded and the chimps looked very comfortable in their surroundings. A big male was sitting at the top of a huge oak tree surveying his kingdom. He had a big red protruding bottom, so I remarked to Rosemary that I knew how he felt. You could hear the Lions roaring during the night. I woke thinking it was Rosemary snoring. It certainly kept Monty awake (the Lions, not Rosemary's snoring - I am so dead for that)

BlairDrummond Gardens 

We woke to a cool, overcast but thankfully rain-free morning. The daily ritual of walking Monty was always as a bit of a zombified lurch around the camper looking for something suitable to wear. I was usually half asleep craving at least another hour of boboland. The walk with Moo was actually a really good way of getting myself awake and my aching joints in some form of order. I headed through the gardens to where I saw the chimps the evening before. Sure enough there was 'Big red bum' at the top of the tree. I know it wasn't, but by 'eck it looked sore. I thought about donating some cycling shorts and Cavillon cream for him.

It was going to be a long and hard ride. The route would take me through Glen Ogle to Crianlarich and Tyndrum over Rannoch moor and through Glen Coe before dropping down into Ballahulish towards Fort William. I have driven this route a number of times in a car and also on a motorbike. It is one of my favourite roads in Britain. The scenery is simply stunning and very imposing. On a bicycle is was going to be much tougher.

Road to Callender

My legs were tired as I set off heading for Doune. The air was fresh and the grey clouds seemed less threatening than on the previous day. I started really steadily, spinning a lowish gear trying to loosen my legs off. I took the back road that led through some beautiful undulating countryside towards Callender. It was mid May, snow was still picking out mountains looming in the distance. I was finally in the Highlands.

Callender was a small and prosperous looking town with Victorian hotels hewn from the local grey stone. It lies on the banks of the river Teith and is known as the gateway to the Highlands. Tourists were following Tartan clad guides up and down the high street as I cycled by. I liked Callender.

The A84 started to climb as I left Callender. It wasn't steep, just a slow grind into the hills. There was no real letting up and I found it tough. I passed Loch Lubnaig to my left with thick forests of pine on my right. It was quite beautiful. I don't know if its just me but I find trees very comforting. I get a real feeling of calm and serenity when cycling through trees.

I was heading for Lochearnhead where I would meet Rosemary for a stop and I was grateful to see the familiar site of our lovely old Hymer parked up overlooking the Loch. Rosemary had already taken Moo for a walk and had started preparing bacon butties. She was visibly more relaxed now we were in the Highlands. There was really only one road to follow and carefully planned routes to rendezvous were no longer necessary. We could simply work out the distance I wanted to ride to the next stop and Rosemary would just head off up the road and wait for me there.

I set off again and picked up the A85 which turned from due north and headed west. I noticed straight away that for the first time in nearly the entire ride that I had the wind behind me. I felt fantastic!  As I approached Glen Ogle I heard above a very distinctive call. Looking up I saw what looked like two eagles* circling overhead. They were magnificent birds, much bigger than buzzards. I felt very privileged.

This was the high point of my ride. It was as though ten men were pedalling for me.  My lungs were sucking in huge gulps of the cool mountain air as I mashed on the pedals. I was flying. I have never felt so good on a bike before. My speedo was reading thirty two miles an hour and I wasn't going down hill. I was grinning like a Cheshire cat as I sped along. What the hell had Rosemary put in my lunch?  Out of nowhere an RAF Typhoon thundered by on a low level run through the mountains.  I nearly jumped out of my skin. It skimmed the the tree line to my left then climbed away on full afterburners, diamonds dancing in its flaming engines. The torchered air on the wings formed huge vortices as it headed straight for the ceiling. I wasn't the only one having fun in Glen Ogle. It was a truly awesome site and I was loving the whole experience.

Rosemary finally found me at Tyndrum

I must have eaten up twenty five miles when my phone went. It was Rosemary. "Where on earth are you" "Just riding along" I replied. "Well I've been driving for ages and I haven't seen you". She'd set off after me and had expected to pass me after three or four miles. "I was worried you were in a ditch" "I went five, ten, fifteen, twenty miles and you weren't on the road". She had called Neil to check on 'Find my friends' to see where I was. It turned out I was still five miles ahead of her. I carried on through Crianlarich at full bore and in the end I met Rosemary as I approached Tyndrum, where we had arranged to meet.

It had been, by quite some distance the best riding I have ever experienced. I don't know what came over me.
* we spoke with my Friend Neil Tuckwell in Inverness who is a keen amateur ornithologist and he confirmed they would have been eagles

By 'eck it's getting hilly round here

Is that Lance Armstrong 

Nope, its just dopey old me

From Tyndrum I picked up the A82 and headed for Glen Coe. This was the Highlands proper as I climbed into Argyle and Bute. The mountains rose up on both sides and the moody sky looked ominous. I still felt great as I passed through Bridge of Orcy. I had arranged to meet Rosemary at the famous view point where the road climbs steeply onto Rannoch Moor. I could see the Hymer in the distance way above. The road does a horseshoe and rises sharply up the long climb. I decided to get out of the saddle and 'monster it' all the way to Rosemary. It was my Alp 'D'uez and I had Lance Armstrong in my pocket. Whatever I had been on that day I want some more.

Rannoch Moor

Glen Coe - You can just see the rain between the mountains in the middle of the shot

A hauntingly beautiful place

It started to rain! "that's all I need" I thought to myself. Rannoch moor is a pretty bleak place at the best of times. Its a vast treeless windswept plateau, strewn with small lochs and drainage courses. It looks 'otherworldly' for want of a better description. In the distance I could see the mountains of Glen Coe and my heart missed a beat. If you have ever driven through Glen Coe you will understand. The sheer majesty of the scenery stirs your soul. With ghosts of Clansmen peering down from the lonely crags, it is quite intimidating and quite beautiful at the same time. The rain started to come down like stair rods. Luckily Rosemary had seen the rain ahead and stopped just up the road. I jumped in the camper just as it went torrential. Wow! that was good timing. We sat it out for half an hour until it passed over. We had a quick hug then I hopped out and Rosemary drove off for the campsite near Ballahulish. I was at the top of the pass and I could see her wind her way down the steep road for miles.

I was glad I had changed my brake pads at Blair Drummond. It was very wet and the lorries and buses gave no quarter as they thundered by. The road spray got into my eyes and stung like hell, making the decent really quite hairy. But I loved it, I had ridden 700 miles, I was in Glen Coe riding my bicycle and I had a big smile on my face.

Bunree - overlooking Loch Linnhie 

Am I supposed to be impressed?

The next morning 

Not a bad view to wake up to?

I began to tire as I passed through Glen Coe village heading for the coast and Bunree. However it was all worth it when I saw the view we had from the campsite. We were right on the shore of Loch Linnhe. It was stunning and apparently was voted the Caravan Clubs best site. I had cycled almost 90 miles. It was my best days riding since starting at Lands End and it will stay in my memory for a long time to come.

Next up - Bunree to Inverness - From best to worst in more ways than one.

LochMaben to Stirling

A Big Jessie

I've just been looking at some pictures of the morning I set off from Lochmaben. My eyes were sunken and I have a distant look on my face. I remember riding off with a nervous and unsettled feeling in my stomach. Until then I had been ready for each days ride and ready for the challenge, even though the mileage was always quite daunting. This morning however, I was mentally unsure of myself. I'd had a bad night alternating between bouts of shivering and sweating.
The morning was cold and the wind was straight in my face. All I could think of was the pain I was getting when sitting in the saddle. I just couldn't get comfortable. Then it started to rain. It was like the perfect storm of problems. The energy just seemed to be sucked out of me. I was done! Literally nothing left in the tank after ten miles. I started to get worried for the first time in nearly 600 miles. I could barely pedal without feeling physically sick. I thought to myself 'If there is a low point on this adventure - I think this is it'.

The B7076 just before the rain started. Actually looks ok on this shot

I was on the B7076  parallel to the M74 that runs all the way up to Glasgow. I suspect its a lonely place at the best of times but at this moment it was a desperate place. I talked to myself trying to get motivated. Come on Brian you can do this you big soft bu**er. I kept thinking of the mileage I had to cover that day, It was another 80 miles. It seemed like a huge wall in front of me.  I looked to the sky and thought of my Sisters and the pain I knew they had been in every day. "Come on Brian, Come on, don't give in now". When I looked back down again I noticed there driving up the road, the support vehicle for the Lejoggers I'd met the day before at Shap. It pulled up and one of the chaps (he did tell me his name) asked me if I was ok.  I must have looked a mess. I told him I was really struggling that morning. "Well we'll have to do something about that" and he promptly jumped out of the van and opened the side door. He said "jump in. We'll wait here until you feel better - get yourself warm for a bit" I was really grateful. I was shivering and felt completely wasted.
They gave me a brew and a banana and suggested I call Rosemary to come and meet me. They would wait. Soon after, the riders rolled up and wanted to know if I was ok. They were a great bunch of lads from Wakefield. They suggested i ride with them as they thought I was 'completely mad' riding Lejog on my own. One guy who was a chunky but athletic looking fellow said "why don't you ride behind me? I'm that fat it'll be like riding in a vacuum". They were prepared to wait for me until I felt well enough to get going again. I was taken aback at their kindness and willingness to help, but I knew I would hold them up. So I declined their offer but thanked them all for their help and concern. We wished each other the best of luck and they rode off just as Rosemary rolled up behind. I didn't see them again on the road. I hope they made it safe to JoG. Top fellows one and all.

I climbed into the campervan and slumped on the seats. Rosemary could see that I was shot and tried to pursued me to have a rest day. I wasn't having any of it and said I just needed an hour to get myself together. It was I think, just stupid bravado and a fear of failure that made me want to carry on. We agreed that I would try and make it to Abington (about 25miles away) and see how I was, then make a decision whether to carry on. There was a campsite at Abington so I could stop if necessary. So I set off again but the pain in my groin area was spreading and I felt very uncomfortable.  I had to stand for most of time and I was getting tired really easily. Rosemary was now following me closely all the way up the road and I must have stopped and climbed into the van every five miles. It was awful. I pretty much knew after the first five miles that Abington was going to be my limit for the day and that was now becoming a struggle. I finally got to the campsite, completely spent. I didn't even have a shower. I just climbed into bed. I had  done just 35 miles in total. It had seemed like 100 and I felt a complete failure.
I called my Doctor who is a very keen cyclist. I'd seen him just before we left for Lands End.  I had picked up a bad chest riding to Llangollen in pouring rain and he diagnosed bronchitis. So he knew I was riding Lejog and he called back within a few minutes. I told him my problem and he suspected, without seeing me that I had Prostatitis, which is quite common for long distance cyclists. He suggested I had at least 24 hours rest and if it was no better, to get to a doctors or NHS walk in for strong anti-biotics, as the condition would get worse and I would definitely not complete the ride if it did.

Typical! my rest day was glorious weather

Neil Coverley's idea of a joke :-)

I must have slept for 14 hours solid. The next morning I was still very tired so we made the decision to stay and try and rest up until the following morning. We took Monty for some short walks around the site near a forested area. It was very pleasant but I found walking uncomfortable. Everything 'downstairs' felt swollen and sore. I was worried that I had come so far and I was going to fail. It was like being in a limbo land. I received a huge amount of encouragement from friends on Facebook and email. Nick Craig gave me some good advice, as he said it was common amongst cyclists. I got a bit of friendly ribbing too, which actually cheered me up. Finally the next day I woke up and felt a bit better. The sore feeling was still there but the pain and swollen feeling seemed to have gone down a bit. I decided that it was time to get my sorry **** up the road (as one friend had suggested)
I set off into the rain, not knowing how things were going to progress. I was very apprehensive. Rosemary and I had talked about my schedule and it was apparent that up until Lockerbie I had been trying to ride too far and too fast. I was riding at Neil Coverley's pace from his Lejog the year before. I'd been on course for a ten day ride and it was just too much. I was never going match Neil. He is a far stronger and more experienced rider than me and I was just kidding myself. So the ten day ride changed to a twelve day ride. It still meant at least four more 80 plus mile days and a short hop up to JoG but mentally it gave me a boost. It wasn't a race but why had I tried to match Neil? I think looking back it was that he had encouraged me so much, I felt it was possible. That and being a competitive idiot.
I slowly rode myself in as I headed away from the B7076 onto the A702 for Forth and the central belt between Glasgow and Edinburgh. The rain abated a little and I started to feel ok. I stood out of the saddle as much as I could to rest my bum and prostate. The roads were gently undulating and wound through a thickly forested area. The heady smell of pine sap combined with the cool air, made the stretch up to the town of Forth feel fresh and invigorating. It gave me a real lift. I met Rosemary at Forth, where it started to rain heavily whilst I scoffed a lunch of Scotch pie and fresh bread from the local butchers. One thing that was a theme of the ride through both England and Scotland was how helpful and friendly people had been to us. Rosemary in particular thought the Scots were lovely. She had made a conscious effort to buy fresh produce from local shops where possible. It made each of our meetings a real treat, as I would wonder what Rosemary had managed to find for me to eat. I remember the piping hot Cornish pastie back in Bampton or the pork pie and cheeses in Bewdley. The steak and ale pie at Shap (from the amazing farm shop at Tebay services) and the hot Scotch pie at Forth. Awesome. Tesco Shmeshco.

I didn't see much that day

It was hard getting out of the camper and into the rain but I had to get going again. The next stage of the journey would lead into Falkirk and I wasn't particularly looking forward to it, especially with the grim weather. I rode through the town of Whitburn, then took the national cycle route heading for California. Yep you did read that correctly! California, near Falkirk proudly announces itself as 'the sunshine village' on the sign outside the village hall (that had ten foot security railings around it) Apparently there is a toxic waste dump at California, so I can understand the locals clinging to anything to make their lives and the place sound cool.
I had arranged to meet Rosemary at California as it might be difficult to find somewhere to meet up in Falkirk and beyond. It turned out to be a good decision. I had just said goodbye and set off down a steep hill that overlooked the Firth of Forth. Edinburgh and the docks at Leith loomed in the distance to east with Falkirk directly ahead. It looked like a Lowry painting of industrial gloom in the rain. I have never been comfortable in cities. I am a country bumpkin. I like hills and fields and rivers and fresh air. I feel claustrophobic and slightly intimidated in cities, so I had a sense of forboding as I freewheeled downhill.
Something snapped behind me! The back wheel just locked up. The bike snaked and jumped like a bucking bronco. I was ready for coming off and clenched my teeth waiting for the bike to go down, but it didn't. I've no idea how I managed to keep it upright and came to a halt. I quickly inspected the damage. The rim on the rear wheel had disintegrated and spokes had popped straight out. The wheel had gone from straight to looking like an S bend in a split second and locked in the brake calipers. I was very lucky it was the rear wheel. Had it been the front I'd have been toast. I called Rosemary and asked quickly how far she had got, heading for the motorway. Luckily she was still just round the corner Phew! So she turned round and found me examining the damage a few minutes later. The luckiest thing was that we had a spare wheel in the van. Neil had brought one from the Bike Factory as a back up when I was in Cheshire. The slight buckle I had noticed in the midlands had just bitten me on the backside. I'd not swapped it, as the replacement was £300 and I could take it back if I didn't use it. It was sitting in the back of the van looking very smart but very expensive. Its funny how priorities change with necessity. It fitted beautifully and I was so grateful that Neil had picked it up for me. It was teaming down and I had no choice.

The Falkirk wheel - British Engineering at its best

I said bye to Rosemary again and gingerly headed off for Falkirk. It's a big sprawling town sitting between Glasgow and Edinburgh and was an iron and steel town during the industrial revolution. It sits on the Forth-Clyde and Union canals and is now famous for the Falkirk wheel, an amazing feat of engineering that lifts boats from one canal to the other. Neil had suggested I go and have a look if I get chance. So when I saw a sign for the wheel as I headed through the rain, I thought 'stuff it - lets go have a look'. I was soaking wet but not cold. I got to the visitors centre and was admiring the wheel when I heard a big pop. The rear tyre had burst off the rim. I just shook my head and laughing, looked in the air and shouted "Is there anything else you want to throw at me" I had a good giggle as I thrutched around trying to get the bl**dy tyre back on the rim. I must have been feeling better.
I'd not checked that the tyre was seated properly. I assumed it was ok and just pumped some air in it when I changed the wheel. Eventually I got it seated and set off. With all the messing around, time had marched on and I was in the thick of rush hour. The roads were mad busy and the spray made it really difficult to see where I was going. I decided to forget my maps and just follow the road signs. It really is no fun riding through a big town in the rain, especially in rush hour. Drivers are very impatient with you. For some reason in Scotland, bus and coach drivers seem to have a death wish for cyclists. They give you zero room and do not slow down for you. I wondered had someone slapped a big sign on my back saying "Hey you Jocko, I'm a Sassenach and I hate bus drivers" Mind you I was cycling past Bannockburn and close to the Wallace monument. As I wiped the sweat mixed rain out of my eyes I practiced my best Mel Gibson Scottish accent.  I've no idea why either!

Blair Drummond Campsite - Very nice, even when it's raining

I was getting tired by this time. I crossed over the M9 at Stirling and headed for the campsite at BairDrummond. It was another six or so miles to the west. The rain was relentless and I was completely soaked. Its actually not too uncomfortable riding wet, as long as you are warm. Get cold and things can get nasty for you very quickly. However the road was pretty flat and I found a pleasant B road through a forested area. I began to smile to myself. I had managed to get through the day ok and I felt a million times better than I had a couple of day back. I turned on to the A84 and saw the sign for the campsite. It's a really nice feeling when you know that very soon you will be warm and dry and having something to eat. I looked over my shoulder ready to turn right when I heard "POP" the rear tyre went flat. "Nooooooooooooo not now please"I bellowed (laced with some full bodied Anglo Saxon) luckily there was an old fashioned bus shelter on the corner so I could sit and change the tyre in the dry whilst I muttered to myself.
The day had certainly had been a test. I think I got everything thrown at me that day but as I coasted into the campsite I couldn't help smile to myself. I'd made it and I felt ok. I must have looked like a drowned rat when Rosemary saw me. She looked horrified but I was smiling away to myself so she soon relaxed. The showers were hot and the site was beautiful. The best we had been to by far. Over dinner I said to Rosemary I was going to finish this ride. Nothing was going to stop me now. Not a broken wheel, not a puncture and not a swollen prostate either.

I just had the small matter of another 300 miles into the Highlands and beyond to do now. But that's another story.

Next up - Into the Highlands -with Eagles and Typhoons 

Milnthorpe to LochMaben

A nice welcome after nearly 100 miles 

Fell End caravan park near Milnthorpe had some wonderful facilities. There was a huge pool and a big visitor lounge with a very tempting bar. I was just too tired though and after taking Monty for a quick walk (it was raining quite heavily by this time) I was done and wanted to hit the sack. I'd cycled a hundred miles that day and my legs knew it. Rosemary commented on me looking tired whilst making dinner. I dragged myself for my shower and on the way back noticed that the front bumper on the camper was damaged. "What's happened to the bumper" I mentioned in a kind of 'are you ok' curious tone. "Oh! you've noticed then" said Rosemary in a "damn he's finally seen it kind of way". "I'll tell you after dinner". That sounded ominous. I was so weary I soon forgot about the bump as I tucked into steak and rice with fresh bread and lots of salad. Rosemary is truly awesome at cooking. I am a very lucky man. She knew just what to make to recharge me for the next day. When you are so hungry and you are presented with a huge plate of really good food its almost a religious experience.

Steak and rice with lots more in the pan. Just what you need

Rosemary and Moo in the late evening sun

"So what happened then" I said in that 'careful' manner that all bloke learn once married. So she told me. The incident had actually happened three days earlier but I hadn't noticed. I was too wrapped up in my riding and too tired at the end of each day to notice. When I had set off from Weston Super Mare, Rosemary had stayed on to launder all the wet and used cycling gear. However just after putting the clothes in the drier, the site had had a power cut and all the machine doors were electronically locked so she couldn't get the clothes out for over an hour. This meant she was running very late to meet me at the other side of the Severn Bridge in Chepstow. Eventually the power came back on and she dashed off for the motorway hoping to make time up on me. Just as she entered a roundabout at Weston, some impatience idiot attempted to overtake onto the roundabout, then cut in front of her at the next exit on the roundabout. He got it all wrong and bashed the side of his car into the front bumper of the camper. Rosemary slammed the anchors on and stopped. The guy just put his foot down and sped off. He knew it was his fault. He was either in a stolen car or he had no insurance. Either way Rosemary was just in shock at him hitting the van and disappearing and had not got his reg. She drove to a safe spot and inspected the damage. There was a hole and the impact had unseated the left hand side of the bumper off its mounts. However it had not touched any of the main bodywork, the bumper had absorbed the impact really well and crucially she was ok to drive on. Rosemary reckoned it must have made a mess of the blue hatchbacks front wing (which made me feel much better) The main thing was that Rosemary was ok. She was expecting me to be cross, but how could I be cross with her. 1) She was ok. 2) The van was ok and perfectly drivable. 3) She was working so hard for this whole damn challenge and what did a bumper matter. Then it dawned on me. Oh my god! I'd been really grumpy with her the evening of the bump three days ago and she had taken it and not reacted. What a complete jerk I had been. I felt terrible. I was too wrapped up in my own little world. From the start of the challenge I knew what a tough job Rosemary had but this had made me see just how demanding things were for her. I saw things differently from that point on.

Moo n me walking on the trail at Fell End near Milnthorpe

In the lovely morning sunshine

The next morning I crawled out of bed, which by the way is surprisingly comfortable for an old camper van (and a 6'5" lanky herbert like me). I looked outside and the sun was shining. The rain had passed over in the night and things were looking up. I got dressed and went for a really nice walk with Moo, down a forest track that I'd spied when cycling in the evening before. I must have been waking for some time as Rosemary was well up and had breakfast ready. Breakfast generally consisted of a steaming mug of hot chocolate, toast and a big bowl ready for my daily pig fest of Cheerios and blueberries. Then a big mug of tea and some toasted fruit loaf. I can't imagine how many calories I must have eaten my way through on the ride. Then again I can't imagine how many calories I burnt either. I suppose I could work it out. It's got to be around 6 to 7000 calories a day?


After breakfast came the daily ritual of map checking. I must have mentioned a few times over the months that Neil Coverley had very kindly printed out two sets of high detail Ordnance survey maps on A4 sheets once I had determined my route. Each map represented around 12-14miles of riding and we had 75 pages each. They were invaluable and it allowed me to highlight the route I was to take each day (usually 7 to 8 sheets) It also allowed Rosemary to have a set so she knew where I was going to be and also so that we could rendezvous by numbering each sheet. "I'll meet you at ---/--- co-ordinate on sheet 42" for example. It was really simple and straight forward and a brilliant idea by Neil. I also had a Garmin GPS unit that Mark Brogden had very kindly lent me. I used it for distance covered, speed and average speed information as well as compass direction. It also got me through some towns where the maps weren't quite detailed enough. It was fantastic. Once the maps were sorted, I got my drinks ready. I had a water bottle that I put a electrolyte tablet in to keep my salt levels up and a camelback bladder in my rucksack with just water in. I found that drinking electrolyte gives me a bit of an upset stomach so the water in the bladder helped to keep that more diluted. It was also much easier to sip from the tube as I rode along. Into the rucksack every day went a big piece or two of honey cake that Sheryl Howe from work had very kindly made me. Its a real favourite of mine and is great for energy. That and a flapjack, either made by Jane Smith from work or Fiona Brogden who lives opposite me. How lucky am I to have these lovely ladies making me cakes.

Top for Bottoms

I got into my cycling gear, after applying a liberal coating of barrier cream to my nether regions to stop chaffing and sores. It really is essential on long rides and saved me a lot of discomfort (or so I thought) I gave Rosemary a big hug and set off. It was going to be another huge day. I had the famous climb of Shap to deal with before Penrith and Carlisle, then the border with Scotland at Gretna before heading for Lockerbie around 98 miles away.  From Milnthorpe I headed off through the back lanes to Sedgewick, where I spotted a lovely campsite in the woods. I made a mental note for the future then picked the A6 up just before Kendal where I followed the signs for Shap. The A6 had been reasonably gentle all the way from Preston but now I had the unsettling knowledge that things were going to get more difficult. Shap is a small town just the other side (from the south) of a sixteen mile climb that it gives its name to. The summit of which marks edge of the Eastern Fells and the Western Pennines. It used to be the only way into Scotland from the west and is famous for its bleak and punishing weather as well as its altitude. I had noted Shap summit as one of the places I was not looking forward to. I drew a deep breath as I exited Kendal and saw the '16 miles to Shap' sign. Pedalling soon became more and more difficult as I hit the climb proper. My legs were still tight from the previous days riding so I dropped into the smaller front chainring to give them a break. Fred Salmon the ex pro tour rider who owns the Bike Factory in Whaley, recommended I do that often as it helps massage the muscles and give them chance to recover.

Get down 

It was then I remembered that I had my iPod headphones in my rucksack. I find that sometimes when I'm hurting I need to take my mind off it by listening to music. The road wasn't busy so I thought 'stuff it' I'm gonna stick my Lejog playlist on. It might take my mind off the grind to the top. I selected random shuffle and hit play. What followed, I can only describe as a revelation. I had no control of what played next (other than having selected the 250 song playlist a month before) The sky had been threatening rain and the clouds were getting blacker as the hills approached, but as I set off again the sun broke through the clouds and bathed the road in a bright light. Coldplay's 'Speed of Sound' was playing and I was transported into another world. I forgot the pain and just pedalled away. I started smiling and even started to enjoy the climb. I felt like I could conquer anything. It was as if I had taken a drug to boost my performance.  I had to calm myself down at one point as it was still a long way to the top. I had never really been that into Coldplay previously. I'd selected some of their tracks as they were catchy but that was about it. The next track changed everything for me. iTunes was on random shuffle but another Coldplay track came on. 'Thats weird I thought' as 'Fix you' started with its melancholically simple Hammond organ and Chris Martin's rough but haunting vocals. The lyrics just pulled at my heartstrings as memories of my sisters flooded into my head. Then the searing rhythm guitar fired up and that was it. I was in the top ring and driving the pedals hard. I was out of the saddle and attacking the monster that was Lands End to John o'Groats. Nothing was going to stop me. The drum beat and guitars were pushing me on but the lyrics had me held completely and utterly. "Tears stream down your face when you lose someone you can't replace. Lights will guide home and I will fix you". The tears really were streaming down my face and I was in another place.

I started to tire a little as I hit the steepest section. It was a real tester of a hill but the climb up Shap will forever be a fond memory for me. It was Shap where I realised that Lejog is as much a mental challenge as it is a physical one and where Coldplay became my favourite band. As I started to descend towards the village of Shap I saw a white speck in the distance. It was Rosemary in the camper coming down the road from the motorway to meet me there. I cannot describe how good that made me feel.

Find my friends app. Amazing stuff.

Before I set off for Lands End I had agreed to switch on the 'Find my Fiends' app on my iPhone. This allowed my friends to know exactly where I was. It is incredibly accurate and can pinpoint where I am using GPS and phone mast triangulation. You could literally track me real time down to a few feet of my exact location throughout the day. Whilst I was having a rest at a lay-by just outside Shap I got a text from  Neil Coverley. It said, you wouldn't happen to be parked here would you? and it was accompanied by a picture he had taken when he rode Lejog a year before. It was the same lay-by. It was spooky but funny too. In fact Mum and Dad were watching my progress throughout the day, as were quite a few others too. Looking back I think although it was a brilliant feature that helped make people feel involved, it subconsciously was putting pressure on me to go as far and as fast as I could. I was doing that myself too as I can be stupid and competitive. None of this was apparent as I set off for Penrith, Carlisle and the border. I felt refreshed and the Shap experience had given me a real boost. I was over a major obstacle and heading for Scotland. Surely I had this ride in my grasp now.

As I set off from Shap I met a group of riders stopping for a break. They were doing Lejog for 'Help the Hero's' There were eight riders with a really good back up team. It all looked very professional. They thought I was bonkers for riding it on my own. I had a good chat with them and wished them all well and hoped to meet them again on the road. It really did feel as though you are part of some special club doing Lejog.

 Carlisle at Carlisle

Its a long drag up to Carlisle. The A6 becomes a straight Roman road that rolls up and down the northern foothills of the Lake district. Its mainly dairy cattle in this part of the world and the fields are separated with dry stone walls similar to Derbyshire. Just outside Carlisle it started to drizzle. It was there that I met two chaps that were riding to Lands end from John o'Groats. They were in there sixties and were wild camping there way to LE. I had stopped as one of them seemed to be having trouble with his panniers. A bolt had come out of the bracket holding it to the frame. Luckily I had the bolts from my spare drinks cage sockets. Job done. The guys were taking a month to ride the thousand miles and were jumping over a hedge when they were tired and putting up a tent. I just shook my head and said they were harder men than me. I wished them well and headed off. That meeting put things in perspective for me.

 Those clouds didn't seem too welcoming

Or those

Carlisle was a bigger city than I expected and I went out of my way a little trying avoid the busy centre. I managed to pick up a national cycle route that would take me to Gretna where I was meeting Rosemary. However it did add a few miles on to my journey and I was already behind having met the two guys earlier. I pressed on and picked up the B road that heads parallel with the A6 into Gretna. As I arrived at the border the clouds were an inky black ahead. There was a forboding feeling of things to come as I took pictures of the 'welcome to Scotland' sign and the first and last house in Scotland. I spotted Rosemary in a large car park at Gretna Green just up the road. I climbed into the camper just as the heavens opened. It really looked as though the rain was in for the duration as I got changed into a fresh base layer. Its such a nice feeling changing a soggy wet shirt and socks. I gives you warm comfy feeling all over. However the weather was not looking good. I had another twenty plus miles to get to Lockerbie and then a few more on to the campsite at Lochmaben.

It was hard climbing out of the van into the rain. It really seemed to affect me. My earlier resolve seemed to have left me and I was struggling with the undulating highway in front. The B road hugged the M74 that cuts northwest through the borders heading for Glasgow. The wind was now in my face and the rain was getting into my shoes and down my neck. I started to really struggle. I think the emotions of earlier were starting take their toll. I felt down. It was a sobering thought that I had ridden the entire length of England in six and a half days but I was only just over half way. That last few miles up to Lockerbie was really tough. Not only that but I had started to get a nasty pain in my groin. I was regularly having to stand with the pain you get from long stints in the saddle but this was different. It was noticeably more painful and I felt very uncomfortable when I sat down. I managed to grovel my way into Lochmaben to the west of Lockerbie at around 8pm. It was late and I was exhausted. Things didn't feel right downstairs but I just put it down to saddle fatigue and hoped a good nights sleep would sort things out. It had been a long hard day full of ups and downs physically and mentally. I was in Scotland now. As I fell asleep that evening I had an uneasy feeling and that feeling proved to be right the next day.

Next up Lochmaben to Stirling - Please stay tuned for the next installment coming soon.

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