Thursday 30 June 2016 – Lybster to John O'Groats! Nearly there now!

At breakfast, our hostess Sandra talks to us about farming in the Caithness area, and how many farms are going to rack and ruin. She tells us that there's no money in farming now. Also much of the local industry and craftwork has disappeared; people are now employed by the big Tesco or Lidl which have opened up nearby.

Sandra cooks us a generous breakfast – Reg has a kipper, which he really enjoys. As we're leaving, she hands us some sandwiches for the journey – I think she's worried that we might get hungry before we find a shop. What a kind gesture.

Yesterday involved cycling up some tough hills, with panoramic views of splendid coastal scenery. Today our journey to John O'Groats is reasonably flat – at least, the hills we do meet are easy to cope with – but the scenery of the first part of our ride reminds us a little of the bleak tufted wastelands of the desert in Kazakhstan – only a bit greener. There's the odd house now and again, but often there are no buildings on the horizon at all. We are on the only country road that runs across this expanse of moorland. Every where we look there are sheep - they trot in front of us in the road and Reg says they are baa(r)ing our way (lol). As we get close they stare at us, then leap away at the last minute. There are wind turbines twirling away in the distance.

We know that there's a village called Watten on our route, once we leave the moorland. When we reach it we've already cycled 13 miles and I'm ready for – you guessed it – my cappuccino. I pop into the little Post Office to ask if there is a coffee shop in the village.

“I'm afraid not,” says the lady behind the counter. “This shop is all there is. We sell coffee and tea here though, from a machine.”

There are 2 wooden benches outside the store, so Reg and I make ourselves comfortable and relax for a few minutes drinking our tea and coffee. We have about another 17 miles to go to John O'Groats.

A man walks out of the Post Office, gets in his car, reverses, and hits the car behind him. He gets out to inspect the damage both to his car and the third party's. He looks very shamefaced.

“Do you know who that car belongs to?” he asks us. When we say no, he goes back into the post office, and comes out with the owner of the other car, who looks very stern. Luckily, there doesn't seem to be too much damage to either car. The man who caused the damage drives away, and the other driver stops to talk to us. He's able to raise an exasperated smile.

“It's just not my day today,” he muses. “My job's not going well at the moment, I dropped my sandwiches on the floor and had to make some more, and now this. I think I'd better just go home!”

“Oh dear, I am sorry,” is all I can think of to say. Having had a couple of car accidents myself, I sympathise with both drivers.

Fortified by tea and coffee we press on; in the next area the moorland is a bit less bleak, with a few more houses dotted here and there. We hope to reach John O'Groats before the swirling grey clouds above us turn into rain, but we don't manage it; we stop to don our waterproofs. We have had very little rain while we've been cycling during our whole trip, and consider ourselves extremely lucky.

We're now cycling with the sea on our left, and can see various islands. What is strange about today is that even as we near our destination, we don't see any roadsigns at all saying John O'Groats, to give us an indication that we're nearly there now. We think it's because we're approaching on a “B” road. As we get close I feel quite emotional – we've been a month on the road and have cycled 1000 miles.

As we reach the final junction the sign says, “Land's End – ¼”. We cycle down the last stretch to the sea and and we're there – at John O'Groats! We've done it! We made it! It feels surreal. We ask a lady if she will take some photos of us by the special signpost with various destinations and their mileages on it, including, of course Land's End. We hold up the towelling beer mat that the Cornish landlady gave us, which says “PROPER JOB” on it – and which she told us to include in a photo, when we got “to the other end.” I think I'm going to cry!

The tourist information office has a book “end to enders” can write in.

“But if you go to the cafe, they'll give you a certificate and you can write in their book.”

So this is what we do. Reg and I are each given a certificate, which the young woman behind the counter in the cafe fills in for us, and a medal – and we get to write in the book. We talk to 3 men who've also just completed Land's End to John O'Groats- though at about 80 miles a day, they completed the journey in 2 weeks.

We're glad we made it, and yes, we are proud we've done it. We never once thought of giving up, but it was a tough journey at times. On the other hand, long downhill coasting at 30 miles an hour was thrilling! We've seen quite a lot of the British countryside, and above all have met some wonderful people. Our lovely family and friends have sent emails, texts and whatsaps, encouraging us to keep going. Our little grandson (2 years 4 months) sent us a little video (with the help of his Mum, Marianne) on our penultimate, difficult day:

“Go Grandma, go! Go Grandad, go!” This really helped us up the hills, Arlie!! Yey!!

Strangely our 5 mile journey from John O'Groats to our next B&B seems take forever. Will we get there before the ominous black clouds break into rain? Our hostess, who has 6 dogs and about the same number of cats, greets us with a cuppa, and a terrific downpour follows, clattering on the plastic roofed conservatory where we're sitting. We've just made it in time.

We sleep for 2 hours, and then prepare for the journey home by train. We travel by 3 different trains to Edinburgh tomorrow – Wick to Inverness, Inverness to Perth, Perth to Edinburgh. We stay in Edinburgh overnight; on Saturday it's a straight through train from Edinburgh to Bristol Parkway.

It might take us a little while to adjust to normal life!

Wednesday 29 June - Brora to Lybster

I'm very apprehensive about today, our penultimate day.  Now and again, Reg has warned me about it, so that I can prepare myself,

"There'll be some tough hills on our penultimate day of riding, including an arrow hill." 

An arrow hill is one that is almost perpendicular.  Our ride today is Scotland's answer to the hills of Devon and Cornwall, and to Shap, in the Lake District.

Nearly all of our ride today is along the A9, apart from the last few miles, which are on the A99. We are cycling on hills overlooking the North Sea on our right.  The scenery is spectacular, as if being compensation for the steepness of the climb.  For the first few miles, we're on gently undulating roads, in fact until we reach the village/small town of Helmsdale, about 11 miles into our journey.  A man smiles and waves to us as we approach.

"Hello!  Is there anywhere we can get a cup of coffee near here?"

The man directs us to a street just around the corner - not far off route so it's perfect for us.  I get an excellent really hot cappuccino.  Reg wants green tea with a slice of lemon; the coffee shop proprietor sends her husband to the little Spar down the road to get a lemon.  How's that for service?

Now, Kirsty, I hope you are reading this as it's about sandwiches!  We have some different sandwiches for a change today - the coffee shop lady makes them up for us.  I have brie and Reg has smoked mackerel with cucumber.  

We talk to the lady about where we're going.  She knows all about the arrow hill. 

"It's on a bend, watch out for lorries.  They tend to come out into the middle of the road to go up that hill, because it's so steep."  Great.

Fortified by a cappuccino and a green tea, plus the lovely breakfast at the Royal Marine Hotel, we're soon on our way.

The hills are steep, but I find I'm coping with them better than in Devon and Cornwall, and better than climbing up Shap.  I do need to stop every now and again for a drink and a couple of minutes break, but I don't have to push my bike up at all. Reg says he reckons it's because I'm getting fitter!

I almost don't realise that I've gone up the arrow hill because the arrow part of the hill is very short.  I do stop to take a breather after I've done that section though!

We stop after the first big hill, in a parking lay-by to take photos and have a break.  A couple who are already in the lay-by in their car smile and wave to us.  A few minutes later the lady gets out of the car with cakes in her hand,

"Would you like a chocolate eclair?"  she asks, proffering the said cakes.

Now I don't need to be asked a question like that twice, and am soon munching through a cake, thanking the woman profusely.  Reg doesn't have one- he only likes fruit cake and Cadbury's Mini Chocolate rolls.  I go across the road to take some photos- meanwhile Reg engages in conversation with the couple, who are from Birmingham, and who he thinks are brother and sister.  They are touring the north coast of Scotland by car.

Some where along our journey we see a road sign - "John O'Groats - 47 miles".  This is encouraging - the number of miles to John O'Groats is going down!

When we've gone up the two most difficult hills, we find a little area of grass with panoramic views over the North Sea, and enjoy our picnic.  Bliss! 

The rest of our journey today is hilly, but manageable.  As we near Lybster, where we are staying, we turn onto the A99.  For the first time ever we have a bit of difficulty finding our B&B.  Reg says he made a mistake in setting up the Sat Nav, not realising that the B&B is actually in Occumster near Lybster, not Lybster itself. Reg's planning with the Garmin and Sat Nav have been brilliant - he says he couldn't have done the  journey without them.

The B&B is along a lane; the house has magnificent sea views. We receive a warm welcome from our hostess, and the room is lovely.  I really didn't expect a bath tonight, but there is one!

"There's some muscle-soak bubble bath on the side," says our hostess. "I'm used to having cyclists here."

When I phoned yesterday our hostess said that there was a local pub which served meals, in the village, just 10 minutes walk away. We ride our bikes; we don't want to get on our bikes again today, but we don't fancy walking either.  Reg says his bike is light as a feather without our heavy panniers!  Mine too.

We have a lovely meal; the waitress at the pub tells us that a lot of their custom consists of cyclists making for John O'Groats.  We chat to 4 people from New Zealand,who are about our age, who are touring Scotland, Ireland, Wales and England.

"Thank goodness we rode our bikes to the pub," I say to Reg, on our way home.  "No way is it a 10 minute walk.  More like half an hour.  It's taken us 10 minutes to ride."

John O'Groats tomorrow, all being well.  Nearly there now!! 







 

Tuesday 28 June 2016 - Evanton to Brora

Each  B&B or hotel we stay in has its advantages and disadvantages.  One advantage of all of them, as far as I'm concerned, is that I'm not camping.  Youth hostels, yes; although Reg didn't book hostels this time because he wanted to book everything on Booking.com.  This was (a) to have a consecutive record of all the bookings, so that it would be easy to refer to this "log" each day, and (b) if anything goes wrong so that we can't continue our journey, we can cancel at 24 hours notice, without having to pay.

The pub in Evanton fronts onto the main road through the town.  Traffic isn't a problem, but there's a bus stop outside.  In front of the bathroom there's a large picture window which looks straight out onto the road.  The passengers of the double decker buses which stop outside are at eye level with this window - which doesn't have frosted glass or nets.  The bedroom also has a picture window; luckily we are already up and dressed when without warning, the window cleaner's face appears at the glass.

The bed has a plastic sheet on it, directly underneath a fitted sheet which doesn't fit properly; it isn't long before you're sleeping on the plastic sheet.  The plus side of the pub is that the food is really good, and they get a gold star for doing our washing.

We're off again.  We call into the Co-op a couple of doors down for our sandwiches.  The woman serving in the Co-op is really friendly - she spoke to us yesterday about our trip and wishes us all the best for our journey.

"Thank you,  It's really nice to be served by someone cheerful,"  I say.

 Reg says there should be a coffee stop in Invergordon, about 8 or 9 miles away, but as sometimes happens, our route doesn't actually take us into the town.  The wind is behind us all the way today and it's amazing the difference it makes to our speed.  Also, although there are hills, they aren't long or difficult.

We're coming up to a little town called Tain.  The cycle route seems to take us around the town yet again, but we've cycled 16 miles and I'm ready for my cappuccino.  We decide to go off route and go down a walkway which points to the town centre.  Before we get there we come across what looks like a castle.  It's called the Mansfield Castle Hotel and it serves coffee!  We're able to park our bikes outside the lounge window where we can see them, sink into a sofa and enjoy a cappuccino and green tea.  It's not just the coffee/tea that gives us a boost - it's the chance to relax for half an hour which recharges our batteries.  The hotel receptionist chats to us about the EU referendum result, and how it might affect her family here, as they are Bulgarian.

It starts to rain while we have coffee; it's good to be able to put our waterproofs on in the dry, instead of having to struggle with them under a tree.

We're cycling on thee A9 now, with a large expanse of estuary some distance away on our right.  There a bridge in the distance, the Dornock Firth Bridge, which crosses the estuary.

"We'll be going across that bridge in a minute," says Reg.

On our way to the bridge we see a road sign giving distances to various places.  One of the places is

"John O'Groats  85 miles".  We take a photo.  Well, maybe we're not "nearly there now" but not too far away!

The Dornock Firth Bridge is not as windy as the Kessock Bridge, which we crossed a couple of days ago.  We cycle on with the wind behind us, wanting to get a good mileage under our belt before we stop for our picnic lunch. We don't pass through any towns at all until towards the end of today's journey, but we come across a petrol filling station with a restaurant attached.  Reg suggests we have our cooked meal now, and our picnic tonight in our room, so this is what we do. Again, we can park our bikes where we can see them.  It's stopped raining! A woman is walking past Reg just as he says,

"I'll take my trousers off when we get inside."  The woman looks around; well, she doesn't know he means his waterproofs!

We continue on the A9 with a huge estuary/firth on our right - it's called Loch Fleet.  This is a really stunning ride.  We see a sign which says watch out for otters, but unfortunately we don't see any.  I'm really enjoying the ride today because it's not difficult cycling - having the wind behind us makes a huge difference.  I see a statue on a hill to the left and Reg says,

"That's the Duke of Sutherland."  The 1st Duke of Sutherland was a significant figure in the Scottish Highlands for his involvement in the "Highland Clearances." , when thousands of crofters were forcibly removed from the land to allow a greater number of sheep to graze.  Apparently, the Highland clearances, which destroyed so many people's lives, was the Duke's wife's idea. Of course.

We stop in the small town of Golspie, about 6 miles from Brora, where we'll be staying tonight, as I spot a sign for toilets.  Reg gets talking to another man about our trip.  I think how glad I am that I've just used the loo, as a coach draws up and the passengers all head for the toilets.

We're now in Sutherland, in the northern Highlands.  Our hotel for tonight is the Royal Marine Hotel, in Brora.  It's posh, as it was the only one Reg could get in the area; it's been a hotel since 1913.   It has a putting green, beauty salon, swimming pool and jaccuzzi, non of which we have the time, energy, or swimming costume to use. Trousers (not shorts) must be worn in the dining room.

Our room is huge, and is a period piece - this hotel is steeped in history.  Through one window you can see the sea.

No plastic sheet on this bed.

Monday 27 June 2016 - Evanton (Rest Day)

Rest day.

Sunday 26 June 2016 -Tomatin to Evanton

There are problems with wifi at this guest house,and it's taking Reg ages to download The Independent, as we sit at the breakfast table.

“That's probably what's stopping me getting into my router,” says our host, and she isn't saying it in a joking sort of way. I remember her defensive attitude about not providing an evening meal when I phoned up yesterday. Also, in our room is a notepad with about 3 sheets on it, on which our host has written,

“...use what you need, but please leave the rest.” This isn't a cheap B&B, and it isn't the most welcoming either. We have stayed in a huge variety of accommodation on this trip; it's the attitude of the host, or if a hotel, the management, that makes all the difference.

Four French guests from Normandy are also having breakfast. They cannot believe that we are cycling the length of the country. One lady in particular says:

“But you have your car as well, right?”

“No, just our bikes.”

“You have electric bikes?”

“No.”

“But you,” she says, looking at me, and smiling,” You're driving, right?”

“No, I'm cycling too.”

“You're joking, right?”

“No,” I smile good-naturedly, “I am cycling too.”

In many ways I can understand why people should be surprised that I am undertaking this venture, whereas they don't bat an eyelid at Reg doing it. I'm not the most physically-flexible or physically able of people (if I'm sitting on the floor, it's no mean feat for me to get up again.) In fact I myself wondered if I'd be able to do this – and there are still 3 more cycling days to go. We hope to get to John O'Groats on Thursday!

It's a lovely, warm sunny day today, though rain is forecast this afternoon. We are cycling on a very quiet road with the smell of pine trees in the air. Suddenly we spot a red squirrel! Scotland is one of their natural habitats – I'm not sure how or if Scotland has managed to keep out grey squirrels. A young deer leaps gracefully through the woodlands which line the road. The road at this point is fairly flat – which all adds up to cycling bliss!

We've already cycled 16 miles,and no sign of anywhere to have coffee.  However, we're coming up to a Tesco superstore near Inverness, with a Dobbies garden centre/coffee shop/restaurant attached. We decide to stop for a coffee break – but what to do about our bikes? We need them to be within sight; it would be too difficult to unload all our panniers.

“I'll go and find out where exactly the restaurant is,” says Reg. After about 15 minutes, Reg returns with a big smile on his face.

“We have the manager's permission to wheel our bikes through the store. We can put them outside the window of the restaurant, where we can see them.”

Time and again I admire Reg for not being afraid to ask. “Those that don't ask, don't get,” as my Dad used to say.

We enjoy our break, then buy sandwiches and crisps in Tesco's, to eat when we're further along the way. We're staying in a pub tonight and know we can get an evening meal.

Our route skirts around Inverness, and soon we are crossing Kessock Bridge, over the Moray Firth, and cycling through The Black Isle, an area of land jutting out between the Moray Firth and Cromarty Firth. The Kessock Bridge is the windiest bridge I've ever cycled across, and this is a calm day, with hardly a breeze moving the trees. There are warnings of strong side winds as you make your way across the bridge. Wow! I'd hate to cycle across on a windy day.

The cycle track on The Black Isle is superb – black tarmac, no ridges or potholes. The track runs beside a busy A road for much of the way. Gradually the summer blue sky melts into ominous grey clouds, and it starts to rain. We're looking for somewhere dry to eat our sandwiches; near a place called Tore, Reg spots a grassy bank under a huge tree which looks ideal, and we're able to have our lunch in the dry. Reg is very pleased with himself.

“Did you like sitting under that tree? Was it a good place to stop?”

Once again we struggle with our waterproofs and we're now on the last leg of today's journey. There's a long,long stretch of downhill to a little town called Dingwall, then uphill for about 1½ miles. As we cycle along the top of the ridge there's a magnificent view of the Cromarty Firth, the stretch of water which surrounds one side of The Black Isle. Another long downhill, followed by a short climb, and we've reached our destination – Evanton.

There's always a sense of exhilaration, mixed with relief, when we arrive at our accommodaton. We have a large room, with red pillowcases, and red and grey towels. No bath tonight, unfortunately!

Saturday 25 June – Newtonmore to Tomatin

At breakfast we speak to an older lady who's been on the Trans-Siberian Railway. We tell her that in 2012 we travelled from Bristol to Singapore by train. We discover that she visited Urumqi in Northern China, as we did. We tell her about the lovely Francis, the Chinese student we met there, who showed us around, and the Chinese school children who rushed up to us in the museum, wanting our autographs – the David and Victoria Beckham experience.

We pack up our panniers and are off again. Our host offered packed lunches, which will save us stopping at the little supermarket. It has obviously rained overnight, but is dry at the moment, and sunshine is trying to break through. After a few minutes though I have to stop to put on my coat – it's quite chilly,

We're in the heart of the highlands now, and it's absolutely beautiful, When off the main roads, there's a peace and majesty about the mountains surrounding us. There are splashes of bright yellow gorse everywhere, gurgling mountain streams, lochs and rivers, and sometimes, big clusters of purple and mauve lupins, and occasionally hollyhocks. Now and again there are clumps of purple heather. Of everywhere we've been on this trip, I think the highlands have impressed us the most.

We stop at one particular loch to take photos. There is a little stone-built monument, with a wreath of long-dead flowers beside it. The plaque gives the names of 3 young men who died in the lake in 1981. A reminder that this scenery is dangerous as well as beautiful.

Our host tells that we would be able to get a coffee in Kingcraig, which is the perfect coffee distance of 9 miles, but it will take us a couple of miles off-route. We decide to press on to Aviemore, a distance of 16 miles. Surprisingly, although we're in the Highlands, it's not difficult riding today. There are hills, but they aren't steep. The wind is behind us and we're soon in Aviemore.

This is adventure sports country. We see signs for white water rafting, hill walking, and canyoning (some sort of caving?). In this small town there are gift shops for tourists, and shops selling sports gear and outdoor clothing (as well as other clothes shops). There's a post office, a fish and chip shop, a convenience store, a bike shop, several charity shops – and 3 or 4 coffee shops.

We have our cappuccino and green tea and read our kindles for a while. We decide to phone tonight's guest house as Reg is worried that there won't be anywhere nearby to have food. Sure enough, our hostess confirms that the nearest pub is several miles away.

“I can't cook tonight, I'm sorry. I cook every other night of the week. Saturday's my day off.” She sounds very defensive.

“That's fine,” I say. “We aren't expecting you to cook. We can have something to eat along the way.”

We aren't really ready for food yet, but unless the next town, Carrbridge, has all day food, they may have finished serving by the time we arrive – Carrbridge is an hour and a half's cycling away. We decide to have fish and chips in Aviemore, and the freshly cooked haddock is delicious. While we are eating, the rain buckets down – but the skies are clear again by the time we are ready to move on again.

Reg has altered the route slightly today, slicing about 3 miles off its length. Our destination is about 16 miles away. There is some climbing, but a long downhill stretch of 3 – 4 miles to Tomatin, where we are staying.

A few miles on from Aviemore we meet 2 young Frenchmen who are touring on recumbent bikes -the ones where your legs stretch out in front of you and you're very low to the ground. They've come from St Malo, arrived in Portsmouth, cycled to Manchester, caught the train to Edinburgh, and are cycling to Inverness then Glasgow, where they will catch the ferry to Ireland and tour around Ireland. After that it'll be Ireland to Wales and South West England, and then the ferry from Plymouth back to Roscoff. Very impressive, since they are camping and have all their gear with them. They are (unusually) doing about the same mileage as us – approximately 40 miles a day.

We say our goodbyes, and they go on ahead, but we catch them up later and overtake them; then later they catch up with us while we are having a cup of tea by the side of the cycle track.

We love the 3 or 4 miles of downhill riding before we get to our guest house! The final leg of our journey is surprisingly on a private road which goes through a distillery!

Our room is comfortable but our hostess warns us to keep our windows closed as they've had trouble with midges, especially in damp weather. Ah! Our first experience of Scotland's famous midges!

There's a bath – we enjoy a relaxing soak, then later eat a picnic tea. It's great not to have to go out again to get something to eat,

Friday 24 June - Blair Atholl to Newtonmore

Breakfast in the Atholl Arms is in the vast dining room.  It's the usual serve-yourself cereals, fruit juice, cooked breakfast if you want it, or here there's a choice of kippers instead, and Reg has that.  We always have at least a small cooked breakfast, as it sets us up for the day.

When we're leaving, we chat for a minute to a hotel employee.  He helped us take all our panniers to our room when we arrived.

"I'm a panel-beater by trade," he tells us. "I did that for 27 years. But it gets to you in the end.... all the fumes.  It's a lonely job.  Here, I'm meeting people all the time."

"This is a very old-fashioned place, like something out of the 1940's"  I say. I'm remembering the very old letter in a glass case on the wall, dated 1940, requesting a room booking.

"Yes, but that's what people want, it's what they come here for.  A stay in an old-fashioned Scottish country hotel."

Reg and I think - yes, it is nice, but for us, not the best value for money.  We just needed somewhere to stay in this area.  And this hotel is our most expensive yet.

There's a tiny convenience store around the back of the hotel, and we buy our sandwiches from the glum-faced man behind the counter - then we're on our way!  Reg warns me that there won't be a coffee stop today - we're on B roads and cycle tracks this morning.  It's not just the coffee I miss - it's the opportunity to have a short break and recharge our batteries.

The early part of the journey goes well.  We are gently making our way uphill, but it's not too arduous.  There's a majesty about the hills around us, and the feeling of space and openness.  Whenever there is lovely scenery, Reg and I tend to have a little dialogue which goes something like this:

Me:  "This is nice."

Reg:  "This is wonderful!  This is beautiful!"  (Or words to that effect).


 Soon it starts to rain quite heavily. We go through the rigmarole of putting our waterproofs on, and shelter under some trees for a while, before deciding to cycle on.

The rain doesn't last that long, but we're on a difficult up-and-down cycle track, the wind is against us, and it's hard going.  Some cyclists pass us on the main road, a dual carriageway; the cycle track runs close to the road.

"They've got the right idea,"  I tell Reg.  Because the cycle track is so difficult at this point, we decide we will try the main 'A' road for a while.  It is easier cycling, but feels unsafe with huge lorries careering  past us. We reach a sign which says, "Welcome to the Highlands" and stop to take some photos.  By the time we stop for our picnic lunch though, at 2 pm, we seem to have made very little progress - we've only cycled 17 miles in 3 hours and didn't even have a coffee stop! And we have 18 more miles to go.  I'm feeling very disillusioned, but Reg cheers me up.  He can see all the gradients for the journey on Ride With GPS, an app on his phone.

"Don't worry, this afternoon will be different.  It's mostly downhill."

As we're leaving the little picnic area by the side of the road, a Canadian who is parked nearby stops to ask about footpaths for walkers in the hills we see in front of us.  We have quite a chat about our different journeys - he and his wife have visited southern Ireland, now Scotland, but not England - "That's for next time," he says.

After lunch we return to the cycle track, and although there's quite a lot of shingle on the tarmac, the track is much improved, and we return to it.  Reg was right.  The afternoon's cycling is mostly downhill - it's bliss! When we're just a couple of miles from our guest house, we see a cafe and are tempted to stop for a cuppa. The sky is looking very dark however; we decide to press on to try to beat the rain.

The guest house, "Coig Na Shee" is absolutely beautiful.  Our bikes are put in the garage.   Our room is spacious and comfortable - and, yes, you've guessed it - there's a bath!

As we settle in, the heavens open, and it rains until early evening.

"We were so lucky," we say to each other.

When, later on, we walk the 10 minutes to the local hotel/pub for food, everything is fresh and sweet-smelling after the rain.

Thursday 23 June - Bankfoot to Blair Atholl

While we are eating our breakfast, the lady who runs the Bankfoot Arms, where we are staying, comes into the room with a huge vase of flowers.

"It was my birthday yesterday," she explains.  "But I spent it in the kitchen cooking 20 odd meals, as my chef is away."

"Oh dear," I commiserate with her.  "Well, my pork stroganof was very nice."  (I didn't add - when  it eventually arrived.)   So that explains the delay with our meals last night.  Apart from that, this has been a very comfortable, welcoming place to stay.  And we learn that the couple on the tandem, from Portishead, Graham and Mary Higton, whom we met in the Robertson Arms Hotel in Carnwath, stayed here the night before!

 Today turns out to be one of our best days so far. To begin with, we're only cycling 27 miles - that's more an accident of being able to find accommodation the right distance away.  Not only that, the weather is glorious - no "on and off" with the waterproofs today.  Also, although there are hills, they are mostly a gentle gradient; the one really steep hill is quite short.

The scenery is spectacular - we are in the foothills of the Scottish Highlands now. We see Highland cattle with their long curly horns - they look menacing but are apparently as gentle as lambs; and sheep, sheep and more sheep.  Wild flowers are abundant in the hedgerows.

"Look at that lake on  the left!" says Reg.  I look to the right.

"On the left! LEFT!"

This happens from time to time, that I muddle up right and left. Very frustrating for my tour guide!

On this section of the ride, we hardly see a car.  The place names are familiar to us as they are the names of streets where we live - Dunkeld, Kenmore, and Pitlochry.

As we are doing a shorter mileage today, we don't need to cycle 10 miles before we have coffee.

"Dunkeld is 7 miles away, we can have coffee there," Reg had said, as we set off.  The last section of our ride to Dunkeld is a cycle track, and we're soon in the main street. We pop into the Co-op to buy our lunch, then Reg goes off in search of a coffee shop.

"I've found a place you'll like," says Reg. "It's in a side street. Follow me!"

It's a lovely little place, though a somewhat harassed German waitress rather erodes any atmosphere of rest and relaxation.  She is rushing from one table to another.  After we've been waiting a while, another very calm waitress approaches our table.

"Has your order been taken yet?"

"No."

The calm waitress serves us, and the German waitress turns around in a fluster, realising she'd forgotten us.  We enjoy a lovely cappuccino and green tea, and I can't resist a slice of lemon cake.  After that breakfast?!!  No wonder Reg is losing weight on this trip - and I'm pretty sure I'm not!

There's 14 miles to ride to Pitlochry, where we're going to have our lunch, and then only 7 miles further on to our hotel in Blair Atholl.

We travel on B roads to Pitlochry - several cyclists greet us as they pass us in the other direction.  We discover that Pitlochry is a buzzing little tourist town,  We find a bench and tuck into our picnic, enjoying the chance to relax and read our kindles!

We walk up the main street with our bikes; I pop into a convenience store to buy a couple of lemons for Reg's green tea; we have of course brought green tea-bags with us.  A man, probably in his 80's, asks us where we're going.

"I've never done Land's End to John O'Groats," says the man. "But I have done some long trips. They were way back in the 40's, though. Unfortunately I can't cycle now," he says with a wry smile.

We'll on our way to Blair Atholl.  It's brilliant that we only have 7 miles to go!  We're gently climbing now, and tomorrow we'll be well into the Scottish Highlands.  The scenery is spectacular -  fast flowing rivers running over pebbled river beds, high hills, and buildings of grey Scottish stone.

Our hotel tonight is a rambling, old-fashioned Scottish hotel,  There's a wide vestibule with a dark wood staircase leading up to the first floor - all carpeted in blue and green tartan.  There's a warren of long corridors leading to the rooms; ours is 401, but the hotel is not big enough to have that many rooms.  This hotel reminds me of Sidholme in Sidmouth, where we've often gone for our church family weekends.

The room is nice; plain carpet with tartan curtains and bedspread.  And there's a bath!  It's only 4.30 pm, the earliest we've arrived at our destination on this trip.  We enjoy a bath, some rest and relaxation, and a meal in the bar before having an early night.

Wednesday 22June - Dunfermline to Bankfoot

The Guildhall and Linen Exchange, Wetherspoons' pub/restaurant/hotel, has been a really good place to stay, but there is one drawback - it's noisy at night.  People who've had a bit too much to drink are talking in loud voices below our window until 2 am, and a dog is squealing and yelping.  At 3 am the seagulls start cawing and at 5 am someone is moving around what sounds like beer barrels.  Not such a brilliant night's sleep.  But we did get our washing done, for which we are really thankful.  It was good to have a rest day yesterday.

Today we're off to Bankfoot, about 10 miles further on from Perth.  We pop to Greggs for our picnic lunch, and unusually, despite our usual faffing, (ok, Reg, my usual faffing) we are ready to leave Dunfermline by about 10 am.  It's hard to put your finger on it, and perhaps it's unfair to judge after only a couple of nights here, but we feel there's an air of "down at the mouth" about what we've seen of Dunfermline.  The town centre is pedestrianised and modern, but there is a proliferation of Pound shops, cheap shops and charity shops.  The "buzz" is missing, though on the plus side, it does have a Costa - and in the backstreets, a good bike shop where Reg had my new tyre fitted (rest day!).  It would have been nice though if the bike man didn't assume it was just Reg doing Land's End to John O'Groats, and that I was driving the luggage!  In the same street as the bike shop, I also found the best Christian bookshop I've ever been in. It is sponsored by some Christian organisation, which was why it could afford to be there.

 We have 37 miles to ride today. We're soon on lovely country roads with beautiful scenery- we're gradually climbing up, but the terrain isn't too difficult. Two Scottish men stop their car and want to know where a certain Loch is, as they are going fishing.  Reg soon looks it up for them on his sat nav.

It starts to rain, so we don waterproofs, but the rain doesn't last long - it's going to be off and on showery today.  While  we are putting on our waterproofs a cyclist stops to ask if we're okay.

"Are you all alright there?"  (Notice the "all" - even if there's just 2 of you.)

This happens often, when we're stopped and a cyclist passes us.  We do the same if we pass a stopped cyclist.  It seems to be the unwritten cyclists' Good Samaritan code.

 We're climbing steadily  (interspersed with some downhills) - when we come to a long, long downhill.  Unfortunately the road has just be resurfaced and laid with a thick surface of chippings - quite dangerous for bikes.  We wend our way gingerly down the hill.


"Think how fast we could have gone if the road didn't have chippings!"  I say to Reg.

We reach Kinross, which Reg has assured me will have a coffee shop, and sure enough, we find a little cafe where we have an excellent cappuccino and green tea.  We chat to the owner -the cafe's only been open 3 months. She tells us how she grew up in Australia but then her parents decided to come back to England.  And now her husband's job has meant she's ended up in Scotland!
 
We're on our way again, and the sun's come out - we're back on a scenic country road.  We've stopped for me to take off my waterproofs.  Reg says nothing but I know he gets a bit frustrated by the constant on-off waterproofs regime.  While we're stopped, 2 male cyclists come towards us on this little country road - and they are loaded with luggage. 

"Hi!  Where are you headed?" I shout as they come towards us.  They draw alongside us.

"Land's End to John O'Groats!"  says the older man.  We end up chatting for about half an hour.  They are father and son; the father tells us that the son has just finished his Master's degree in Maths  in Bath; the son says very little.  We talk about other cycle tours we've each done.  The father, probably in his 50's, says they are doing about 50 - 60 miles a day; they've come on a different route from us, and their mileage for the whole trip is about 1,200 miles, compared to our1,000.  They have a lot of miles to cover today; they bid their farewells and leave us to our more moderate mileage of around 40 miles on most days.

While Reg and I are still stopped another young cyclist, with very little luggage, stops and asks if we're okay.  He's also doing Land's End to John O'Groats.

"I had hoped to do it in 4 and a half days," he says, "but my knees didn't let me. Anyway, I must dash - I'm meeting my Mum for lunch in a town up ahead."

In a flash, he's gone.  Land's End to John O'Groat's in 4 days?  That would be 250 miles a day.  It's not possible, is it?


We were going to press on to Perth for lunch, but when we reach the village of "Bridge of Earn"  Reg spots a park bench and suggests we stop there.  I'm really glad to have a break.  I realise later why Reg decided to stop here; it's quite a climb up to Perth and that would have been very dispiriting before we'd had our lunch!

Reg realises that he's left his high-viz waistcoat somewhere.  We'll need to get a replacement as soon as possible.  While we're taking a couple of photos of the river in Perth, another cyclist approaches us and has a chat.  He tells Reg where there's a bike shop in Perth; Reg walks out of the shop wearing his new waistcoat.

We arrive at the Bankfoot Arms, Bankfoot, where we are spending the night.  It's 5.30 pm which is good for us!  The room is lovely, with a green/blue tartan carpet to remind us that we're in Scotland.  And there's 2 little packets of Scottish shortbread biscuits on the tea and coffee tray!

I'm really tired today.  We can eat here, though when we do we have to wait quite a long time for our meal.  I'm fast asleep by 9.30 pm.

Tuesday 21 June - Dunfermline

Rest day!

Monday 20 June - Carnwath to Dunfermline

At breakfast we meet Graham and Mary Higton, a couple about our age, who are also "end to enders", and they are doing the same route as us - but on a tandem.  Their ride is for charity, whereas ours isn't.  We are soon chatting away - it's good (and fun) to compare our experiences.  I know Reg's brother Geoff and our sister-in-law Rose will be interested to hear what  Graham & Mary have to say, as they are planning to do Land's End to John O'Groats next year, on a tandem.

"How have you found the journey so far?" I ask.

"Tough," replies Mary, but with a smile.

"And me," I say.  "How did you manage the canal gates and cycle path gates with the tandem?"

" We mostly had to take all the luggage off and lift the tandem over the gates," replies Graham.

We spend a long time chatting, and swop telephone numbers, with a view to meeting up, with Geoff and Rose too if they'd like to come, when we get back.

It's 11 am by the time we actually leave the hotel, and 11.15 am by the time we've bought our sandwiches in the  little Co-op down the road.  We are finally ready for off.

We cycle through quiet country lanes, on gently undulating terrain.  It's really a pleasure to be out today in the fresh clean air of the Scottish countryside.  There's a particularly nice view and I persuade Reg to stop and tale a photo.  The camera is playing up ever since it was dropped, though Reg says there was trouble with the zoom and the shutter before that.  With a little persuasion and molly-coddling the camera decides to work.

It's starting to rain heavily.  We are putting on our waterproofs under the shelter of a tree, when a young man on his bike, probably in his late 20's, and wearing a short-sleeved tee-shirt and shorts and no waterproofs whatsoever, and looking extremely fit in more ways than one, greets us and stops to have a chat.  (Yes, Sheila, I do believe that generally speaking, people are friendlier up North).

The young man, called George, wants to know where we're heading; he's interested to learn that we are "end-to-enders".  He talks about his love of cycle touring, and says he is going to tour Iceland in July.   He's been before and loves it. He's a real traveller and takes all his camping equipment with him - "I couldn't afford B&B's" he smiles.

Reg and George talk bikes and sat navs and Garmins.  George says he loves older bikes as they are made so well.  I would've told him about mine but the conversation moved on and the moment was lost.

We say our goodbyes, and afterwards I say to Reg, "What a lovely young man.  It's amazing the people you meet when  you're on  a bike."

Time is pressing on now; we're really behind today.  We cycle on a few more miles; the rain has cleared.   I don't expect my coffee today, but as we pass through West Calder, we see a sign for "New Cafe".  It's perfect, and we enjoy a cappuccino and an Earl Grey tea, and a few minutes to relax.

A few more miles and we're on cycle paths skirting the largish town of Livingston.  We decide we won't stop to eat there but will press on and get a few more miles under our belt.  Soon we're on a leafy cycle track, with the lovely scent of pink dog roses wafting around us.  We're looking out for somewhere to stop for lunch.  No park benches, but Reg spots a grassy bank which will suffice.  Soon my legs are covered by tiny insects.

"Midges!"  I squeal.

"That's not midges, that's greenfly!"  replies Reg, nonchalantly, totally unperturbed by the little insects.

I spend my relaxing lunch break brushing the little creatures off my legs and my pannier.

Only 13 miles to go - it's about 39 miles altogether today.  I'm really enjoying the ride as it hasn't been too taxing - so far.

At the end of our cycle track we're very close to the Forth Bridge, which is  part of our journey.  There are wonderful views from here of the river estuary, the red railway bridge, and the new bridge which is still under construction.

When we aren't far from Dunfermline, we pass through the little town of Inverkeithing ; Reg notices a bike shop.  He's worried about the condition of my front tyre.  We're soon on our way with Reg carrying a tyre across his body.

I enjoy cycling today until we reach the bike shop.  The last few miles into Dunfermline involve a very steep hill and a frustrating sometimes difficult-to -find trail into the town.  It's always a relief to get there, and eventually we pull up outside our hotel.  I'm left outside looking after the bikes while Reg goes to check in.  He emerges 20 minutes later; all I want to do is get to our room.

"You were a long time."

Reg smiles.  "Another young receptionist who doesn't know where Lands End is!"  

 So that's what he's been doing! The young receptionist says she will check with the manager to see whether the hotel can do our washing.

"We haven't been asked before," she says. "But we do have a washer/dryer on the premises."

There's a lift!  We transport ourselves and our panniers to  the first floor.  Our room is very nice - and has a bath!!  The receptionist phones through to say they CAN do our washing.  I do love a place with a can-do attitude!

This hotel is called The Guildhall and Linen Exchange.  It was originally just that, and was built in 1806.  I'm not surprised to learn that it's a Wetherspoons, as they like to use old buildings with history and character for their pubs.

We have a delicious good-value meal; Reg watches England play in the Euros and I fall asleep.

Sunday 19 June - Beattock to Carnwath

Sally, our hostess at Marchbankwood Guest House in Beattock, tells us about her 2 adopted children, Samantha and Callum, aged 6 & 3, and how much she enjoys running her bed and breakfast business.

"How do  you manage to take Samantha to school?"  I ask.  Sally explains that she does a rota with neighbours (neighbours? I don't see any houses nearby), and of course she is available to pick up in the afternoon.

"What a wonderful environment for the children to grow up in," I comment.  And it is. A vast area of lawn, and grassy bank, to play on, and a wild wood to explore.

We don't see much of Alistair, Sally's husband/partner - he's an accountant working from home.  But we really like Sally, who is full of Scottish warmth and hospitality.

At breakfast we meet a family who have just finished a week's break in the Scottish islands.  The mother, in her fifties, works in the patents office.  It sounds a very important job.  Her husband is an IT specialist but it sounds as if his job involves outsourcing (whatever that is) and is not very fulfilling.  The daughter is training to be an actuary, having done a Maths degree at Cambridge.  The daughter's boyfriend doesn't say anything. Later in the day, Reg comments,

"They were an intelligent family, at breakfast."  Indeed they were.

As we leave, Sally slips us a Crunchie and a Mars bar.  "For your elevenses," she says.

Rain is in the air; we put on our Gortex jackets. After a couple of miles cycling we reach the "B" road to Abington, 18 miles away.  We hope to have our Sunday lunch there - it's the first town we'll get to.  It doesn't seem as if there will be a coffee stop today.  Not only that, we want get to the Abington Hotel while they are still serving lunch, as it's the only place to eat for miles around, as far as we can tell.

The rain falls more heavily for a while; we stop to put on overtrousers and overshoes; however the rain soon eases up.  Knowing when to don our wet gear is sometimes difficult, and actually putting it on (and taking it off) is annoying and time consuming.

I'm a bit "gritchy grotch" this morning.  Yesterday Reg looked at his "Ride with GPS" statistics and told me that it would be mostly hills today.  Well, that's what I remember him saying. 

"No, what I said was, the GPS graph shows hills mainly in the first 10 miles."

"No, you said 'mostly hills today'.  This hill is worse than Shap.  It just goes on and on." You can tell I haven't had my cup of coffee today.

"Well, don't blame me!  And anyway, it's not worse than Shap.  We'll be going down hill in a couple of miles."

The realisation that these hills won't go on all day lifts my spirits, and I cycle much faster when we reach the downhill sections of road.  With the wind behind us, we're soon at at the Abington Hotel.  As we approach the hotel, I spot a convenience store which sells everything, including sandwiches.  I buy some for our tea.

It's all very old-fashioned inside.  There are lots of tables set up for dinner, but only few people dining.  It's a limited Sunday lunch menu - a choice of starters, then beef, or beef. Or chicken steaks and chips, or a veggie option. We wait ages for our lunch to be served.  When it comes, to be honest, it's mediocre, with no green vegetables.


We manage to turn heads when our Sat Nav lady, in the middle of lunch, says in a very loud voice,

"In a quarter of  a mile, turn left!"

It's raining when we leave the hotel.  On with the wet weather gear again.  Reg is really pleased with his black Marigold gloves, and the woolen ones inside.  They keep his hands completely dry. Berry, I'm really happy with the half-finger gloves you kindly gave me.

We have about 18 miles to go, to get to our destination.  We would have stopped for a cuppa from our flask, but there is no where to sit down in the dry.  We decide to press on.  We see a tractor parked outside someone's house in a little street, as you do. I take a photo for Arlie.

We cycle through  beautiful hills and fields, gradually climbing to the small town of Carnwath.  It's still raining heavily; Reg comments that the only part of his body that is wet are his legs.  Same here - our overtrousers are not the best.

Finally, we arrived at The Robertson Arms Hotel, Carnwath.  We put our bikes around the back of the pub, lock them up, and cover our saddles.  We take our panniers into the warm and dry & our hostess takes our soaking outer garments, saying she will dry them for us in her hot cupboard overnight.

Our room is spacious and comfortable.  We've arrived much earlier than usual - 5.30 pm (that was the lack of coffee break).  I have to take everything out of my wet panniers to enable the panniers to dry out; the clothes inside are dry in their plastic bags.

We have our sandwiches, crisps and fruit, so can enjoy an evening chilling out in our room,

Saturday 18 June - Carlisle to Beattock, Scotland

Before we left home, it was a big decision to make - to blog or not to blog?  Some of those people who know me and love me were worried that it would be too much to write the blog as well as cycle what for me is quite a distance, every day except rest days. Reg left the final decision to me, but I knew he wanted me to write it, (a) for posterity, and (b) because we've been asked to talk about our journey, and I won't remember it unless I write it down,  The days would all blur into each other.  I have to think really hard to remember what yesterday's hotel room was like, we've stayed in so many.

I'm overjoyed that the computer seems to be connecting to the internet now.  I set the alarm and write the blog in bed in the early morning, before I get ready.  Reg is fast asleep beside me.   I'm one of those "lark" people who is at their best in the morning.

It's Saturday, and an exciting day, as we'll be crossing over the border into Scotland.  We enjoy a good breakfast, then pop into the bakery across the road to buy filled rolls and crisps for lunch.  We're soon on our way, not having seen much of Carlisle.

We cycle along quiet "A" and "B" roads - there's very little traffic at all.  It's about 10 miles to Gretna, the first town across the Scottish border.  When we finally reach the "Welcome to Scotland" sign at the side of the road, we stop to take photos.  We have a welcome "pit stop" in the Gretna Inn.  They don't do  green tea, so Reg fishes a tea bag and slice of lemon from out of his pannier and they provide the hot water.  They do do cappuccino though!

As we are coming up the hill to Gretna, a stagecoach with feather-boa'd horses, with driver in livery, emerges from a side road in front of us - no bride though!  But already we see venues offering wedding packages - "we will not be beaten on price".

"Is Gretna the same place as Gretna Green?"  I ask the waitress.  She replies no, Gretna Green is about a half a mile up the road.  That's where couples actually get married, I guess. Jan, I have a feeling you and Phil might know something about this!

Before leaving Gretna, we phone our guest house for this evening, to check whether there is anywhere within walking distance to get a meal. We don't think there is, as it's right out in the country.  Our host confirms that the nearest place to eat is a mile away, which is what we thought. 

"What we might do then,"  I tell our host, "is have a meal at lunchtime, and have a picnic tonight,if  that's alright with you.  We won't want to take our bikes out again when we get there."

Our host is very understanding, and says this will be fine.   

We are absolutely loving cycling in Scotland, because the roads are so quiet.  We sometimes cycle a few miles without seeing a car.  In one sleepy village, we go down a quiet leafy lane for a toilet stop and drink of water.  Afterwards we start chatting to a local resident, who is interested to hear about our trip.

"I love the Scottish accent," Reg tells him.  I say that I'm surprised at how immediately the accent changes from a Cumbrian accent, before the border, to a Scottish accent as soon as you cross over into Scotland.

 It's lovely to be cycling in the dry, when we got so wet yesterday.  We have our overshoes dangling from our panniers to dry them out.  Our difficulty today, as always, is that we want to get 20 miles under our belt before lunch - but will we find a pub still open for food at about 2.30pm?  Luckily as we ride through the small quiet town of Ecclefechan we see a hotel which serves food until 3.00pm.  There isn't a lot of choice, but it means we can have our main meal of the day.

We are on gently undulating roads today - some uphills, but nothing unmanageable. I persuade Reg to stop at a garage where I buy a Magnum. It's delicious!  Reg doesn't want one. After we've cycled a bit more, I ask Reg the question that I dare not ask too often:

"How many miles have we done?  How many miles to go?"

" We've done 28. About 11 miles to go.  After another 7 miles, we can stop and have a cuppa from our flasks."  Reg is dangling this carrot at me to encourage me to keep going.

"Ok,"  I reply.  By the time we've done another 7 miles, I'm desperate for a break. We flop down on an area of green by the roadside. Tea never tasted so good.

The last few miles to our destination each day seems to go on forever, as I am longing to just be there - then suddenly Reg says, "This is it, isn't it?"

We're in an area of beautiful mountain scenery,  There's a long gravelly drive, which I have to walk up as I'm not good with gravel.  Reg has already disappeared to the top.  The drive meanders through a shady wild wood and emerges into the open to reveal a beautiful mansion, with panoramic views.

Our hosts Sally and Alistair, and their two young children Samantha and Callum, greet us warmly.

The room is beautiful.  And there's a bath!   It's wonderful to have a long hot soak, eat our picnic, and then to phone Elaine and have a chat.

Friday 17 June - Shap to Carlisle

After riding up Shap yesterday, I really could do with a rest day today.  I'm tired, and my knees ache.  However, a rest day isn't in our schedule at this point.

We have a big breakfast and since the landlady supplies packed lunches for a reasonable price, we take up the offer, and are soon on our way to Penrith, about 10 miles away.

"That will be the perfect place for you to have your cappuccino," says Reg.  "We'll have got the first 10 miles behind us."

Sheila's sent me an email congratulating us for getting up Shap.  She well remembers Shap from her walking days in that area.  She used to stay with her Aunt in Penrith, and often visited Carlisle, where we are heading today.

There are a few hills today, but they are short and mostly not too steep, and there's lots of downhill riding.  We're soon in Penrith, which we find to be a bustling little place, with severe traffic problems - lots of cars queuing everywhere. Down a side street, near to St Andrews (I think Anglican} church, I  spot a tea shop.  The board outside advertises speciality teas and coffees, so I'm guessing they'll do
a green tea with a slice of lemon for Reg.

It's very "twee" and quaint inside the tea shop,  There are embroidered table cloths and pretty floral cups (for tea) and thick white ones (for cappuccino).  My coffee is good, and Reg is pleased because he has real green tea leaves instead of a tea bag.

As we walk our bikes back into the "square" or centre of Penrith I spot a Sony shop.  We need batteries for the Bluetooth keyboard.  I notice a sign in the window which says,"WE FIX COMPUTERS".

We've had great difficulty connecting to the internet, and therefore posting the blog, from the notebook computer, which is the easiest one to use.  I can use the Ipad with the Bluetooth keyboard, but it's a laborious process, because the keys have to be pressed down really hard.  What's more the Ipad only let's you write a certain amount.  Reg is very good with computers, but so far this problem has defeated him - also, he hasn't really had the time to look into it.

Reg is in the computer shop for ages. I'm waiting outside, in charge of the bikes.  A man approaches me with a friendly smile and asks, pointing to my bike,

"Where did you get that bike?  I can tell it's a good one.  And very unusual.  The cross bar's been taken off."

I'm always happy to talk about my lovely bike.  I explain that it belonged to Jack Cotton, a prominent member of the Cyclists' Touring Club in  Bristol.  As he got older he thought it would be a good idea to remove the crossbar, obviously so that he could get on it more easily.  He must've loved this bike to go to all that trouble - why not just get a new bike?  When he died, his wife was looking for a good home for the bike, and Reg Porter. a friend of ours, knew I was looking for a bike.  It was fate.  My husband Reg fitted French handlebars, Shimano gears, new brakes, and a Brooks leather saddle.  And I've loved the bike ever since.

The man chatting to me tells me he has 5 bikes, and loves to go cycling, even though he's had 2 stents put in and can't walk far - but he can still cycle.  I said he's a bit like me - give me cycling over walking, any day.

Finally Reg emerges from the computer shop.

"You were a long time," I say, hopefully.  "Was the man able to help?"

"Yes," says Reg.  "I think I know what to do now.  The problem is almost certainly to do with the router address.  The computer is only set for one router address instead of being able to adapt to any address.  I should be able to sort it," 

This fills me with hope.

We're soon on our way towards Carlisle; we've done 10 miles and have 26 miles to go.  It's all  B roads and country lanes today and most of the road surfaces are really good.  When we've cycled about 18 miles we come to the lovely little village of  Skelton.  We decide to stop for lunch,as we spot a building which looks like a bus shelter, only bigger.  There is seating inside, and even a "Sun" newspaper in a plastic case (I didn't check the date on it).  It is threatening rain so at least we'll be able to have our lunch in the dry. 

As we eat our lunch tractors intermittently rumble past at a fair old rate.  We take a photo for Arlie.

It starts raining heavily, so we don our waterproofs.  The early part of our afternoon ride involves descending steep hills and then seeing how far you can get up the short steep hill on the other side.  Early on in this process, I race down the steep hill, but haven't put my bike in a low enough gear to climb up the other side.  Reg is ahead of me on this occasion, which is unusual, as he normally rides behind me.

I fall off my bike, and my bike and I are lost in the undergrowth.  I lie there unable to get up, with my bike beside me.  Meanwhile, Reg looks around and thinks, "Where's Les?"

Fortunately it's very soft foliage and both my bike and myself are unhurt.  Reg walks my bike up the  rest of the hill, and by grabbing some long grass, I'm able to pull myself up into a kneeling position, and so eventually stand up.  We're soon on our way, with only bruised pride on my part and grass sticking out from  the mudguards.

We are very wet, but as we eventually approach Carlisle, it stops raining.  As we cycle through Carlisle, we go past Dixon's Chimney and Shaddon Mill, now a listed building. In its day, it was the largest cotton mill, and 8th largest chimney in the world.

We arrive at our little hotel, and are asked to take our bikes around the back, where we can put them in an outbuilding, along with the bikes from other residents.  We meet them later and discover that they've just finished a 600 mile journey, which included cycling around Ireland.  They are even older than us, I think!

When we get to our room, I unpack all my stuff, as my panniers are soaking wet.  The things inside are mostly dry, thanks to the plastic bags.  Reg immediately gets the notebook computer out, looks at the wifi code, fiddles around for a few minutes, and says, "It's working!"  Perhaps I'll be able to post the blog more easily from now on, using the notebook computer.  Reg has cycling data he wants to upload, too.

 We both feel chilly, and have a hot shower and a cuppa, plus a rest!  There's an Indian curry house  across the road, which is recommended by the hotel receptionist. We enjoy a chicken biryani.

Thursday 16 June - Lancaster to Shap

I'm very apprehensive about today.  It will be one of our toughest days. We are cycling up Shap,  a total distance of about 40 miles, involving 10 continuous miles of uphill, taking us up a distance of about 1500 feet.  One plus factor is that the hills won't mostly be really steep - just very long.

We were relieved to see that our washing had been returned to our room,when we got back from seeing our old friends Geoff and Jean yesterday.  After a lovely cooked breakfast, we're soon packed up and ready for off, our bikes having been retrieved from the cellar.

We take a quick detour to Greggs to buy our lunch, and then we're on the road.

Reg has decided to change the route today, and go all the way to Shap (the name of the mountain, and also of the small town at the end of our journey today) by the A6.  This will be a faster route,on good roads, and should cut a few miles off our route.

The first part of our journey goes well. After we've got a few miles under our belt, I see a "tea room" sign, and about 100 yards off the main road, in a hamlet, we find a quaint building which is a tiny supermarket downstairs and a lovely little tea room upstairs.  I have a good cappucinno, and Reg is pleased that he's able to have his green tea with a slice of lemon. 

We're making really good progress on the A6, until we see that it turns into a very fast dual carriageway linked to the M6 motorway.  We can see how fast the road is and consider it will be dangerous, so have to detour to B roads.  It's actually quite pleasant on the B roads, but when we decide to try a river path we find we're on difficult terrain.  At one point the path ends completely.

We find our way back to the B road which will rejoin the A6.  We stop for our picnic on a park bench, surrounded by black-headed gulls and a community of ducks. Once back on the A road it isn't long before we start our 10 mile climb.  I'm pleased to say that I don't  have to push my bike at all;  but I ride much of the hill climb in lowest gear.  I also have to stop at regular intervals for short breaks.

It's quite chilly when we finally reach the top of Shap. The best bit is still to come!  We now have 5 miles of downhill decent to reach the little town called Shap.  The ride is absolute bliss!  We are staying in a pub; the owner welcomes us and opens up a building behind the pub for our bikes.  It's great to have a rest and a shower before a meal - and again, not to have to go out again.

We are full of joy that we managed our toughest long climb so far - we did it!

Wednesday 15 June - rest day

Tuesday 14 June - Preston to Lancaster

We're actually quite comfortable in the hotel in Preston, sharing our room with our bikes, and in the morning, checking out with the same non-smiling receptionist (poor man- has he been there all night?). I've been writing the blog - though I don't finish it so don't publish it - so we have a late breakfast, and are late leaving today – 10.45 am. Reg is ok about this as we should only be cycling 30 miles instead of our usual circa 40 miles,

We are pleasantly surprised to find that the first cycle path on our route is a really good one, tarmacked and with an archway of trees down its length. We progress through a beautiful park out onto the road again. I spot a little grocery shop and buy our sandwiches for lunch.

The route leads us through the centre of Preston which seems quite a nice shopping area. We've only cycled 4 miles, but since we're in a town centre and don't have so far to travel today, we're going to break our 10 mile rule (10 miles before a coffee stop). We don't see a Costa but come across a Cafe Nero. Reg says they are tax evaders and we shouldn't use them. I tell him that they do a delicious Sicilian lemon cheesecake, and will put it in plastic box for me, so I can have it later in the day.

“Ok,” says Reg.

After coffee we are back on the really good cycle track, but there are big problems ahead. Twice we have to carry our bikes up a number of very steep non-cycle-friendly steps in order to cross bridges. This entails me taking my panniers off – then I'm able to lift/drag my bike up the steps. Reg leaves his panniers on- I'm worried about him lifting such a heavy load- but his bags don't clip off as easily as mine.

We can't understand the logic of having beautiful, well-maintained cycle paths, and then not providing a way to at least walk your bike up to and over the bridge. Steep approaches to bridges have actually been a major problem on this journey, especially on canal paths.

The route takes us back on the roads, starting with the A6 towards Lancaster. What a fantastic road! It is much quieter than it used to be, as much of the traffic now uses the M6. The A6 has white-line marked cycle lanes along much of its route – also it's a fairly wide road, so lorries thundering past are not so much of a threat. The wind is behind us, and we make fast progress; soon we get to the B roads and find a quiet bench on which to sit for lunch. We've already done 18 miles.

I love our lunch stops. Out come the flasks, sandwiches and fruit, Café Nero's Sicilian lemon cheesecake and a Belgian bun, which we bought when we passed an Aldi yesterday and popped in to renew our supplies of green tea for Reg. Lunchtime is a great opportunity just to relax and regain our strength for the onward journey.

We continue on more really good B roads, making great progress. Not only that, Lady Sat Nav has decided to talk to us again, which is very reassuring, because she goes “pah -dwong” at intervals when we go off route.

Our route is due to take us on a beautiful ride along the estuary towards Lancaster.

“I'm sceptical about cycle tracks now,” says Reg. “Let's take a look at this one, and then make a decision as to whether we want to go on it or not.”

We cycle down a lane by the estuary to the beginning of the track. We discover that the track is about a foot wide, muddy, and with high grass either side which is likely to get caught in wheels and mudguards. We decide to deviate from the route and finish our journey into Lancaster by road.

We soon find our hotel and the manager is lovely – so welcoming and helpful. It's a terraced building – where will they put our bikes, I wonder? Unfazed, the manager decides to put them in the cellar.

Dave, the manager, takes one of my panniers and we wend our way up the stairs to the 3^rd floor. The room is lovely – no bath, but a really good walk-in shower.

It's great not to have to go out for dinner. I order Lancashire hot-pot, which I've never had before. It's absolutely delicious!

Tomorrow is a rest day, and in the afternoon, we're off by bus to visit Geoff and Jean Lear. Geoff was the minister at our church in the mid 80's – 90's; he baptised our daughter Elaine, and his wife Jean worked with me at youth centre for many years.

Monday 13 June - Manchester to Preston

Our sleeping accommodation last night was in a converted garage, all very sumptuous and modern, right down to the digital keypad on the outside door, so no need for a key.  We have breakfast in our host's conservatory - fruit, cereals, scrambled eggs on toast, croissants, fruit juice, tea.... it will be a while before we are hungry today.  A good breakfast really keeps us going.  Reg says that when he's cycled abroad, he'd be hungry again by 11 am after a continental breakfast.

As we prepare to leave, our host and her husband come to see us off.  He's a keen cyclist himself, riding about 55 miles before lunch on a Sunday.  He has an ultra lite bike, apparently.

"Fair play to you, touring on those bikes,"  he muses. Should we feel offended or proud?  Our bikes are heavy, I guess, but this also makes them stable for carrying the weight of our panniers.

"Has the journey so far made you feel tired, or fitter?"  asks Mr Keen Cyclist.

"Mmm ...  fitter, I think," I reply, and Reg agrees.  Who am I kidding? My knees ache, my shoulders are stiff, and I've spent so much time on a bike I've forgotten how to walk.

There's a Tesco express just down the road, so we stock up with sandwiches and a couple of Mars bars - we already have a couple of apples which our host gave us at breakfast.  Every day we fill our flasks with boiling water so that we can have a cuppa with our lunch.

There was drizzle in the air when we left the B&B, but this has now turned into heavy rain, so outside Tesco's we don all our wet gear - jackets, waterproof trousers and waterproof overshoes. For me, this is not a simple operation, especially the putting on of the waterproof trousers, which
 must be quite a comedy show for onlookers.

Finally, we're off!  We're soon on a really good cycle track with a river on one side. One difficulty is that every so often we have to manoeuvre our bikes through really awkward gates; presumably to prevent motorcyclists from using the paths.  Getting through these gates is a really tricky operation, especially as we are loaded with panniers.

We come across a tree blocking the path.  We meet a dog walker who says that this must have happened in the last couple of days as she regularly uses the path. There are trees and foliage on either side of the path, but with great difficulty, and thanks to the few people who have obviously been before us and carved out an emergency bypass, we manage to get around the tree and carry on.

We are able to go straight from the cycle track onto the canal path, and enjoy riding for a few miles on a really good surface in pleasant surroundings.  We have been delayed this morning by various things this morning - putting on our wet gear, cycle gates, a fallen tree - so I know Reg won't want to stop for coffee just yet - we need to get 10 miles under our belt first.  It's still raining really heavily and we're grateful for our extra lightweight Gortex jackets which have been thoroughly tested this morning and which have kept us dry.

Eventually I think it's safe to tentatively mention coffee, especially as I spot a pub.  We have to take our bikes down some steps to reach the pub (we find out afterwards that there's another way back to the canal path).

I'm not quite sure what the pub staff think when 2 dripping cyclists enter their nicely furnished, carpeted environment, but I'm sure we aren't the first cyclists to come in soaking wet,  It's lovely to  be in the dry for a while, and enjoy a cappuccino and green tea.

We continue cycling for some time on the canal path, until this finishes.  We're back on the roads for a while until we join a cycle track once again. This track is really tricky to  cycle on, with a very uneven, stone-and-mud  surface.  It's slow going, but we persevere for several miles until at Atherton the track eventually just disappears completely.  Reg has to readjust our route along A and B roads, which means we can ride faster, but it's not so pleasant having lorries and cars whizz past us at breakneck speeds.

The good news is that the rain has stopped, and we're now looking out for a bench so that we can have our lunch.  We spot one on a piece of green by the side of the road at Hinkley.  It's lovely to have a break!

We cycle on and pass a church which announces that it is "Aston Independent Methodist Church".   Reg looks it up later on the Internet and we find that the Independent Methodist Church movement seems to be something peculiar to the Wigan area.

As we have had such a difficult experience journeying on cycle tracks this morning, Reg has altered the rest of the route to Preston, so that this afternoon we are cycling entirely on B roads and A roads. Mrs Sat Nav has stopped talking to us anyway; she has been brilliant the whole trip, but today she has decided to play up.

The new route means that every so often Reg has to stop to check that we are going the right way.  Also, things are more difficult because I ride in front of Reg and rely on Mrs Sat Nav saying,

"In a quarter of a mile, turn right."  Then, when we get to the turning,  "Turn right!"

I am in the left hand lane, approaching a roundabout, in heavy traffic, with cars behind me and in front of me, and a bus next to me in the right hand lane.

"I can't get into the right hand lane!"  I shout, exasperated. I stop in the left hand lane which makes Reg nearly fall off his bike, to avoid crashing into me.  He shouts that I should say "stopping"if I'm going to stop. I shout that he should let me know in which direction we are going so that I can get into the right lane.

The traffic lights at the roundabout change and I am forced to carry on in the left hand lane. Reg is already in the right hand lane and goes around the roundabout. I have to make my way, walking my bike, from the left hand exit to the right hand exit road, where Reg is waiting for me. To be fair it is sometimes really difficult for Reg to know which lane we should be in until the last minute, but I'm cross and we're both frustrated, since we're going a different route.

“You need to tell me when you're stopping! I nearly came off my bike!”

“You knew I was stopping because I couldn't change lanes with that bus in the way!”

“You could've gone in front of the bus!”

“No, I couldn't! You have to keep far enough behind me so that you can stop in an emergency!”

We ride on in stony silence for a while. Soon Reg has to stop again to check the way. We look at each other and smile, and Reg gives me a kiss. I acknowledge that it is very difficult for Reg, as the person responsible for making sure we get there. We ride much faster on the road, as compared to canal paths and cycle tracks, but heavy traffic, especially when the road is narrow, does make it difficult. On balance though we'd rather ride on a busy road than an impossible and dangerous cycle track.

Finally we arrive at our destination, a small hotel rather than a B&B tonight. I wait outside with the bikes while Reg goes to check in. After what seems an eternity he comes back out.

“They can't find our booking, Have you got the paperwork? Don't worry, they do have rooms anyway.”

Eventually they find an email from Booking.com confirming our booking. I'm not impressed, although we all make mistakes. The male receptionist is a bit dour, so different from some of the lovely helpful staff we have encountered. Reg says,

“In the Premier Inn and Quality Inn we were allowed to keep our bikes in our room, Would that be ok?”

I do understand the receptionist's hesitation. Our bikes are muddy and we look as if we've been pulled through a hedge backwards.

“Alright.”

“And please could we have a ground floor room?”

Finally we are in our room and I switch on the kettle. The advantage of a hotel, rather than a B&B, is that there is normally some sort of food available, so we don't have to go out again – especially when there are no eating places nearby.