Pete Maxted and myself have been good friends and
occasional cycling companions for more than forty years. I had long harboured
an ambition to ride the end-to-end but parenthood and work commitments had made
finding the time difficult. I had promised myself I would do it before I was
forty, then before I was fifty, then before I was sixty. All promises un-met.
Leaning on the bar at the 2013 Womad festival, having got the right side of several excellent pints of Bath Ales summer hare, I said to Pete: “do you fancy doing the end-to-end”. He said yes immediately, almost certainly not knowing what he was getting himself into, and so we were pretty much committed.
The end-to-end is an iconic cycle ride. Lands End and John o'Groats are the two inhabited places which are furthest apart on this island. They are not, I was disappointed to discover when I got right to the top of Scotland, the most southerly and the most northerly bits – that would be Lizard Point and Dunnet Head. That's one to think about for the future.
People have been cycling the end-to-end from almost the day the bicycle was invented. Hundreds of people do it every year now – some of them rather quickly. The official record for a conventional bicycle is 44 hours, 4 minutes and 20 seconds, set by Gethin Butler in 2001. A recumbant is even faster – Andy Wilkinson did it in 41 hours, 4 minutes and 22 seconds. Some mad man even did it on a unicycle in 6 days, 8 hours and 43 minutes.
Phew! We anticipated taking at least two weeks.
I have a bit of form for making rash decisions about cycling under the influence of bitter beer. My friend Nigel and I drink regularly in the excellent Compton Arms in Islington. One night after several pints of Green King IPA, probably followed by a couple of whiskys, and full of the joys of having just watched the Tour De France race up Mount Ventoux in Provence, Nigel said: "We should do that". "Fantashtic", I slurred. "You arrange it".
Next thing I knew it was booked and we were committed to hauling our frames up 1,912 m of the hardest climb professional cyclists ever face. We did it, and we loved it and it gave me confidence that the end-to-end was possible.
So having persuaded a rather pie-eyed Pete that Lands End to John o'Groats would be a great boys' own adventure, the next decision was what time of year? For both of us early Summer was a busy work time and for me high Summer involved family holidays and, of course, the regular visit to Womad. So we plumped for September, hoping that we would hit one of those late Summer/early Autumn periods of dry and warm weather.
The next challenge was getting the time off work. We calculated that we should allow three weeks – working on the basis of fourteen days cycling plus a couple of rest days. Add in my time to travel down to Falmouth where Pete lives and a couple of days for the very long trip back, especially for Pete who needed more than 24 hours to get from the north of Scotland to Cornwall. That is a lot of time out of my meagre 29 days annual leave from my job at actros' union Equity, but my boss was really supportive. She liked the idea of me slogging up the length of the country and was willing for me to stretch my leave by a little bit to make it possible.
Pete's two employers, the Cornwall Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty and Falmouth Age Concern, were equally supportive – the second might have been swayed by Pete choosing them as one of the charities he would collect for.
Once the time off work was booked we were left with little choice – we had to do it or lose face with colleagues and friends alike. Added to that, I had already started collecting sponsorship for my favourite charity Practical Action.
I have been a supporter, on and off, for nearly 30 years – from the days when they had the more impressive but perhaps less snappy name of the Intermediate Technology Development Group. They operate on the wonderful philosophy that international support must be based on decisions made by the people you are supporting, not by someone sitting in an office in London, or Paris, or New York. In addition they develop technology that can be controlled by the people who use it. What use is a donated tractor if when it breaks down there is no way of fixing it?
This is where bikes come in. They are the product of heavy industry and high technology, but can be kept road worthy with simple tools and minimum spares.
And bikes have played a big part in ITDG fund-raising. Back in the mid-eighties Nicholas Crane, now well-known as a presenter of the BBC's Coast programme, and his cousin Richard Crane raised money for ITDG by cycling to the centre of the earth - not the Jules Verne way but to the place on dry land which is furthest from any coast. They calculated that to be in a desert in the North West of China and they got there by cycling over the Himalayas and through Tibet carrying no food with them but relying entirely on local hospitality.
The end-to-end pales besides such a super-human feat, but I was still nervous about whether I was fit enough to make it the length of the Britsh Isles.
The commonest question I was asked in advance of the trip was: “Are you training?”. Sort of, was the only appropriate answer. I cycle every day from Stoke Newington to Covent Garden and back – a round trip of only 12 miles but enough to stay reasonable bicycle fit. Pete cycled less often, but when he did it was over the Cornish hills.
I did fairly regular Sunday morning runs of 40 to 50 miles, perhaps half-a-dozen over the Spring and Summer, and Pete and I met up in Somerset for a lovely 80 mile circuit of the levels – over the Quantocks from Stogursey to Taunton, across to Martock and then up to Glastonbury. Back along National Cycle Route 3 to Bridgwater and home. It was a fairly easy ride, but good to get the equivalent of a full day’s end-to-end riding under our wheels before setting off.
For about six months we had seemingly endless exchanges about equipment. What to wear? How many changes of clothes? Only cycling gear or some ordinary clothes for the evening? What spares? Brakes and gear cables and new inner tubes of course, but what about spare spokes? Could I change a spoke on the road if one broke?
This is what I took. Pete had pretty much the same. We were carrying about 7K each on the bikes.
Leaning on the bar at the 2013 Womad festival, having got the right side of several excellent pints of Bath Ales summer hare, I said to Pete: “do you fancy doing the end-to-end”. He said yes immediately, almost certainly not knowing what he was getting himself into, and so we were pretty much committed.
The end-to-end is an iconic cycle ride. Lands End and John o'Groats are the two inhabited places which are furthest apart on this island. They are not, I was disappointed to discover when I got right to the top of Scotland, the most southerly and the most northerly bits – that would be Lizard Point and Dunnet Head. That's one to think about for the future.
People have been cycling the end-to-end from almost the day the bicycle was invented. Hundreds of people do it every year now – some of them rather quickly. The official record for a conventional bicycle is 44 hours, 4 minutes and 20 seconds, set by Gethin Butler in 2001. A recumbant is even faster – Andy Wilkinson did it in 41 hours, 4 minutes and 22 seconds. Some mad man even did it on a unicycle in 6 days, 8 hours and 43 minutes.
Phew! We anticipated taking at least two weeks.
I have a bit of form for making rash decisions about cycling under the influence of bitter beer. My friend Nigel and I drink regularly in the excellent Compton Arms in Islington. One night after several pints of Green King IPA, probably followed by a couple of whiskys, and full of the joys of having just watched the Tour De France race up Mount Ventoux in Provence, Nigel said: "We should do that". "Fantashtic", I slurred. "You arrange it".
Next thing I knew it was booked and we were committed to hauling our frames up 1,912 m of the hardest climb professional cyclists ever face. We did it, and we loved it and it gave me confidence that the end-to-end was possible.
So having persuaded a rather pie-eyed Pete that Lands End to John o'Groats would be a great boys' own adventure, the next decision was what time of year? For both of us early Summer was a busy work time and for me high Summer involved family holidays and, of course, the regular visit to Womad. So we plumped for September, hoping that we would hit one of those late Summer/early Autumn periods of dry and warm weather.
The next challenge was getting the time off work. We calculated that we should allow three weeks – working on the basis of fourteen days cycling plus a couple of rest days. Add in my time to travel down to Falmouth where Pete lives and a couple of days for the very long trip back, especially for Pete who needed more than 24 hours to get from the north of Scotland to Cornwall. That is a lot of time out of my meagre 29 days annual leave from my job at actros' union Equity, but my boss was really supportive. She liked the idea of me slogging up the length of the country and was willing for me to stretch my leave by a little bit to make it possible.
Pete's two employers, the Cornwall Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty and Falmouth Age Concern, were equally supportive – the second might have been swayed by Pete choosing them as one of the charities he would collect for.
Once the time off work was booked we were left with little choice – we had to do it or lose face with colleagues and friends alike. Added to that, I had already started collecting sponsorship for my favourite charity Practical Action.
I have been a supporter, on and off, for nearly 30 years – from the days when they had the more impressive but perhaps less snappy name of the Intermediate Technology Development Group. They operate on the wonderful philosophy that international support must be based on decisions made by the people you are supporting, not by someone sitting in an office in London, or Paris, or New York. In addition they develop technology that can be controlled by the people who use it. What use is a donated tractor if when it breaks down there is no way of fixing it?
This is where bikes come in. They are the product of heavy industry and high technology, but can be kept road worthy with simple tools and minimum spares.
And bikes have played a big part in ITDG fund-raising. Back in the mid-eighties Nicholas Crane, now well-known as a presenter of the BBC's Coast programme, and his cousin Richard Crane raised money for ITDG by cycling to the centre of the earth - not the Jules Verne way but to the place on dry land which is furthest from any coast. They calculated that to be in a desert in the North West of China and they got there by cycling over the Himalayas and through Tibet carrying no food with them but relying entirely on local hospitality.
The end-to-end pales besides such a super-human feat, but I was still nervous about whether I was fit enough to make it the length of the Britsh Isles.
The commonest question I was asked in advance of the trip was: “Are you training?”. Sort of, was the only appropriate answer. I cycle every day from Stoke Newington to Covent Garden and back – a round trip of only 12 miles but enough to stay reasonable bicycle fit. Pete cycled less often, but when he did it was over the Cornish hills.
I did fairly regular Sunday morning runs of 40 to 50 miles, perhaps half-a-dozen over the Spring and Summer, and Pete and I met up in Somerset for a lovely 80 mile circuit of the levels – over the Quantocks from Stogursey to Taunton, across to Martock and then up to Glastonbury. Back along National Cycle Route 3 to Bridgwater and home. It was a fairly easy ride, but good to get the equivalent of a full day’s end-to-end riding under our wheels before setting off.
For about six months we had seemingly endless exchanges about equipment. What to wear? How many changes of clothes? Only cycling gear or some ordinary clothes for the evening? What spares? Brakes and gear cables and new inner tubes of course, but what about spare spokes? Could I change a spoke on the road if one broke?
This is what I took. Pete had pretty much the same. We were carrying about 7K each on the bikes.
clothing
|
equipment
|
personal
|
additional
|
helmet
|
multi tool
|
chamois cream
|
maps
|
cycling shirts x 2
|
tyre leavers
|
asthma inhaler
|
Cicerone guide
|
cycling shorts x 2
|
puncture repair kit
|
paracetamol
|
notebook
|
long-sleeved top
|
adjustable spanner
|
kamilisan ointment
|
pen
|
waterproof jacket
|
inner tube
|
tooth brush
|
phone
|
quick drying socks x 4
|
brake cable
|
tooth paste
|
phone charger
|
underwear x 2
|
gear cable
|
razor
|
radio
|
fingerless gloves
|
spare spokes x 4
|
comb
|
headphones
|
full gloves
|
lights
|
towel
|
|
trousers
|
bottles x 2
|
plasters
|
|
polo-neck
|
lock
|
knee bandage
|
|
flip-flops
|
pump
|
Canestan spray
|
|
cycling shoes
|
speedo
|
shampoo
|
|
leg warmers
|
compass
|
cable ties
|
|
clothes pegs
|
electrolyte tablets
|
||
energy gel
|
|||
midge net
|
|||
lip salve
|
|||
wet wipes
|
|||
nail clippers
|
|||
handkerchiefs
|
|||
deodorant
|
|||
sewing kit
|
Pete agreed to take care of booking accomodation –
mostly youth hostels, which to my surprise are willing to take in pensioners
like us – and I took on booking ourselves and our bikes on onto the train back
to London.
I had a look at thetrainline.com and I discovered three interesting things: firstly that it takes thirteen hours to get from the north coast of Scotland to London by train, secondly that it costs £171 each and thirdly that thetrainline.com has no way of booking a bike ticket. I decided to call ScotRail, the company responsible for the first two trains of the journey -Thurso to Inverness and then Inverness to Edinburgh - and spoke to a delightful man who was clearly rather engaged with the idea of two blokes in their 60s, having cycled the length of the country, needing tickets home. He hummed and hawed a bit, asked me if I minded what trains we got on and eventually announced, with some pride: "I can do it for £56.40 - that's for the two of you and your bikes." Goodness knows how he did it.
Both bikes were serviced in advance. My Thorn Club Tour needed new cranks, as one pedal had jammed and could not be removed, and a new seat post which had rusted into the frame. Pete’s venerable Colnago needed a bit more work so by the time we started we both felt reasonably confident that our bikes were fit enough to make it. We were less confident about our own abilities, but we kept that to ourselves until well into the trip.
On 6 September 2014 my partner Hilary drove me, my bike and my kit to Paddington. I felt like everybody was more confident that I was that I would get all the way to John o’Groats.
In Pete’s local in Falmouth I got talking to a mate of his who had done the end-to-end a couple of years before. His advice – take plastic bags so that when you have day-long rain you can stop the water getting into your shoes – felt useful but depressing. He also claimed to have eaten two Snickers bars every day and still came back lighter.
I had a look at thetrainline.com and I discovered three interesting things: firstly that it takes thirteen hours to get from the north coast of Scotland to London by train, secondly that it costs £171 each and thirdly that thetrainline.com has no way of booking a bike ticket. I decided to call ScotRail, the company responsible for the first two trains of the journey -Thurso to Inverness and then Inverness to Edinburgh - and spoke to a delightful man who was clearly rather engaged with the idea of two blokes in their 60s, having cycled the length of the country, needing tickets home. He hummed and hawed a bit, asked me if I minded what trains we got on and eventually announced, with some pride: "I can do it for £56.40 - that's for the two of you and your bikes." Goodness knows how he did it.
Both bikes were serviced in advance. My Thorn Club Tour needed new cranks, as one pedal had jammed and could not be removed, and a new seat post which had rusted into the frame. Pete’s venerable Colnago needed a bit more work so by the time we started we both felt reasonably confident that our bikes were fit enough to make it. We were less confident about our own abilities, but we kept that to ourselves until well into the trip.
On 6 September 2014 my partner Hilary drove me, my bike and my kit to Paddington. I felt like everybody was more confident that I was that I would get all the way to John o’Groats.
In Pete’s local in Falmouth I got talking to a mate of his who had done the end-to-end a couple of years before. His advice – take plastic bags so that when you have day-long rain you can stop the water getting into your shoes – felt useful but depressing. He also claimed to have eaten two Snickers bars every day and still came back lighter.
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