I don't think that this will last, but I'll give it a go. I'm now on a minibus with the bike in a trailer out back. Scotrail failed to deliver. Strangely I had a premonition that this would happen.
As I alluded to earlier, I woke to the sound of rain on the tent and prepared myself for my first real day of cycling in the rain. Booted and spurred I tackled the first of the remaining hills between me and John O'Groats. I had been told that past Dounreay things flattened out a bit, which was good because the wind had changed direction from northerly to a strong south easterly that at times made cycling downhill hard work.
Incidentally I note that in my journey through Britains unspoilt countryside, I have just passed my third nuclear power station. Trawsfynydd, Sellafield and now Dounreay.
It was difficult to take in the scenery with sheets of spray and drizzle blasting my face so I determined to get my head down and chew up the 17 miles to Thurso, that being about half way to my eventual goal.
In Thurso I stopped for the inevitable coffee and added in deference to the cold wet weather, a bowl of soup and a roll. A number of other cyclists passed through the town as I sat huddled in the window tapping on my keyboard. You get to see a lot more of them as we all converge from various different routes toward the same point. The Carbisdale three were not amongst them however, and I wondered whether or not we would catch up again. They had spent the night in Tonge and were therefore a good 10 miles further west than I was at the start of the day.
Northern Scotland is surprisingly like Cornwall from a cycling perspective as the roads weave their way between headlands, with the inevitable rollercoaster feel to the terrain. I tried to pick out the various headlands to the east to mark my position on the map and could easily see Dunnet Head, mainland Britains most northerly point. You would think after covering so many miles a day that it would be easy enough to find it within me to make the 9 mile detour to take in the view, but the weariness of 3 weeks on the road was beginning to sap my energy and I passed it by to the left.
Between Dunnet Head and John O'Groats my mind wandered to the writing of the last blog entry and the epilogue that would contain the inevitable long list of thank yous. My thoughts centered for a while on William and was glad of the rain that washed my face. I have dedicated this cycle to him and his family.
Shortly after the rain began to ease and I realised that the creaky crank was creaky no more. The Albatross had fallen from the ancient mariner's neck. I have absolutely no idea why and it remains silent now after another 25 miles of hard graft. Ahead of me I could see the lighthouse of Duncansby Head, the most north westerly point of the mainland and I resolved after the photo and the signpost, to cycle these 2 miles to ensure that I had really gone, End to End.
For those of you that have encouraged me along the way and occasionally profered the suggestion that I might be slightly deranged, spare a thought for Mike, whom I passed and then met again in the bar. He was on day 41 of his walk aorund the circumference of Scotland! While we sat and chatted the Carbisdale Three arrived and we celebrated some more.
As I alluded to earlier, I woke to the sound of rain on the tent and prepared myself for my first real day of cycling in the rain. Booted and spurred I tackled the first of the remaining hills between me and John O'Groats. I had been told that past Dounreay things flattened out a bit, which was good because the wind had changed direction from northerly to a strong south easterly that at times made cycling downhill hard work.
Incidentally I note that in my journey through Britains unspoilt countryside, I have just passed my third nuclear power station. Trawsfynydd, Sellafield and now Dounreay.
It was difficult to take in the scenery with sheets of spray and drizzle blasting my face so I determined to get my head down and chew up the 17 miles to Thurso, that being about half way to my eventual goal.
In Thurso I stopped for the inevitable coffee and added in deference to the cold wet weather, a bowl of soup and a roll. A number of other cyclists passed through the town as I sat huddled in the window tapping on my keyboard. You get to see a lot more of them as we all converge from various different routes toward the same point. The Carbisdale three were not amongst them however, and I wondered whether or not we would catch up again. They had spent the night in Tonge and were therefore a good 10 miles further west than I was at the start of the day.
Northern Scotland is surprisingly like Cornwall from a cycling perspective as the roads weave their way between headlands, with the inevitable rollercoaster feel to the terrain. I tried to pick out the various headlands to the east to mark my position on the map and could easily see Dunnet Head, mainland Britains most northerly point. You would think after covering so many miles a day that it would be easy enough to find it within me to make the 9 mile detour to take in the view, but the weariness of 3 weeks on the road was beginning to sap my energy and I passed it by to the left.
Between Dunnet Head and John O'Groats my mind wandered to the writing of the last blog entry and the epilogue that would contain the inevitable long list of thank yous. My thoughts centered for a while on William and was glad of the rain that washed my face. I have dedicated this cycle to him and his family.
Shortly after the rain began to ease and I realised that the creaky crank was creaky no more. The Albatross had fallen from the ancient mariner's neck. I have absolutely no idea why and it remains silent now after another 25 miles of hard graft. Ahead of me I could see the lighthouse of Duncansby Head, the most north westerly point of the mainland and I resolved after the photo and the signpost, to cycle these 2 miles to ensure that I had really gone, End to End.
For those of you that have encouraged me along the way and occasionally profered the suggestion that I might be slightly deranged, spare a thought for Mike, whom I passed and then met again in the bar. He was on day 41 of his walk aorund the circumference of Scotland! While we sat and chatted the Carbisdale Three arrived and we celebrated some more.
At 6pm I dragged myself out into the stiff southerly breeze and began to hawl myself south toward Wick and the end of the journey. There is always a surprise around every corner however if you keep your eyes open. There were castles and seascapes and new horizons and then this stroke of luck.
As I crossed a road bridge, casting my eyes for the signs of fish, I saw a swirl in the water. I stopped to investigate the possibility of trout and thinking that what I was looking at was the tail of a dabbling duck, waited for its head to surface so that I could identify it. To my delight I realised that what I was looking at was the head of an Otter. Unaware that I was there, he swam and fished moving all the time in my direction. I skipped across the bridge and waited for him to reappear. My parting photo for you. The Otter munching on supper. What a day.
Epilogue to follow.
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