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!