People can be amazing

I'm now sitting in T H Roberts coffee shop in Dolgellau after a stiff climb from Machynlleth. With only 50 miles to chew out today I gave myself a lie in and got up at 06:15. The extra time this morning allowed me to catch up on the blog, have a good breakfast and leave at a leisurely pace at 8.

Now at just before 11, I have covered 16 miles and am beginning to gear myself up for the inevitable climb of Snowdon in the rain. I have climbed Snowdon at least 5 times and have yet to see the view from the top! Tomorrow looks like being no different though there is a brief weather window during the night. I might go for that instead. Not only will this be more fun but will also allow me a complete day off with Laura and George tomorrow.

So to Dolgellau and the amazing people here. First off the owner of Dolgellau cycles, despite being incredibly busy, took the time to check and tighten both cranks and the bolts holding the gear change mech at the back. I had developed an annoying creak over the last 24 hours. He would take nothing for his work and I am very grateful.

Now I sit in the most amazing coffee shop with internet access and great food. Not only that, but on hearing that I was raising money for Samaritans, they gave me the coffee and flapjack free, but threw in 3 more pieces of flapjack for the journey!! It's going to be difficult to tear myself away from this place. Again and again, thank you.

I did manage to leave the comfort of T H Roberts and have been enjoying the flapjack since. The climb to the youth hostel would have been easier had I not made a slight navigational error. Thankfully here at least you can rely on an excentric to pop his head out of some derelict cottage miles from anywhere, just when you need one. Directions duly received and heeded, I was soon at the door of this incredible hostel. Apparently previously a holiday home!, it would put most of our lowly homes to shame. If you haven't tried youth hostelling, this is another Bakewell recommendation.

There is something wholesome about sharing breakfast with so many people....or maybe I have just spent too much time institutionalised at school and in the forces and this makes it comfortable for me. Who knows.

Laura and George arrived about 2 hours later after an epic journey of their own that included amongst other things, Caber, (my Black Lab,) delivering his breakfast all over George's books and toys in the front of the car! Too much information? Well I just want Laura to know that I appreciate the lengths that she went to, to come and join me for two days. It was really good to see them and to lead George, sorry, follow George around looking for 'sheeps'.

Mid Wales in one go!

Today was always going to be the ultimate test for me. With sore legs from 325 miles already completed, this leg was planned as another 85 miles with 4,000 feet of climbing. From my experience so far I was genuinely worried that I had bitten off more than I could chew. The upside, however, more help on the way.My younger brother Andy, who had rallied from a bout of Noro virus earlier inthe week, planned to meet me half way.

The route today would follow the Wye valley all the way to Llandiloes, before branching off to the north and west to reach the 8 mile decent into Machynlleth.

This route can be completed in its entirety on the Sustrans (sustainable transport) network route 8 and is another of those highly recommended cycling tours if you get the chance. Maps can be bought from sustrans and come complete with route and markers for rest stops.


Considering the height that I was to gain today, the early part of the route was relatively benign, following as it does the gently meandering flow of the river. Flanked on either side by ancient deciduous woodlands and acres of green fields, the morning passed much more quickly than I expected and I was soon in Rhayader, where I met Andy for a welcome half and lunch.

While I attended to blogs etc, he set to, changing my now very worn out brakes.









The route is full of surprises. I've noticed on previous visits to Wales that there are a number of good murals and this must be one of the most incredibly complex. For the train enthusiast, there are of course miles of now derelict rail network and the occasional monument to its passing.
















Andy left me at Llandiloes where he had left his car, and drove from there to Machhynlleth to meet Judith in whose home I was due to stay tonight. From there they would both climb the relentless 8 miles to the summit above the town, whilst I climbed to meet them from the east. Mine was a gradual rollercoaster of a ride, there's a thigh burning heartless detroyer of pretenders. Pretenders they were not, however and unbelieveably we arrived at the summit at exactly the same time.

The decent is incredible, scary, exhilarating and relaxing all at once. The final leg of a very very long day.

If you're reading this, please check back over the last couple of days, because I have now added the pictures and finished yesterdays entry.

Tomorrow the trip to Snowdonia and then the climb of Snowdon to follow.

Two bridges

The pool table floor could have been comfortable enough for another two hours at least but I hoped to have had breakfast and blog complete before Simons arrival. He was cycling down to meet me before navigating me through the rush hour traffic into Bristol.

He duly arrived at just before 8 having completed the 20 odd miles in under an hour. Trimmer than I remember, he had swapped rugby for triathlons, having completed iron man twice in recent times.

We completed the trip back into Bristol in a little over two hours, approaching via the mecca for end to enders, the Clifton Suspension Bridge. I should have taken more photos here because the view up and down the gorge is stupendous, instead plumming for another bike picture....one of those that I promised earlier to try and avoid. At least the bike lends perspective. A little like Simon's bike that you could hold above your head in one hand.

Bristol is a beautiful city and one that should not be rushed through as I was about to do. On this evidence the best way to do LEJOG, would be to wait for retirement and take a year over it. Even then it would feel rushed.

Bristol is surprisingly hilly and with lots of green spaces. One of these, a large deer park took us through to the centre of town where we stopped for a coffee before heading north toward the Severn Bridge.

The only problem with letting someone else take care of the navigation, is that you tend to sit back and enjoy the view rather than take note of exactly where you are. I know that we passed Clifton College, where Simon works, and the Zoo which backs onto it, but after that the myriad of small country lanes blended into one as Simon and I caught up on ten years.

Eventually Simon left me at the Welsh end of the bridge before he headed back into the city. Thanks Simon for a great day and for taking the load for a while, (psychologically).

The ccycle track on the bridge takes you into Chepstow, but I skirted around the town, passing the race course as I headed for Tintern Abbey further up the Wye valley. Thank you to two ladies running a burger van, who kindly donated two bottles of water to the cause. People can be so generous.

Tintern Abbey served as an amazing backdrop to my lunch as I sat beside the Wye. A group of young Canadians came and sat nearby, balanced as I was, on the top of the high muddy bank of the river.

One of the girls dropped her can of drink down the bank and proceeded gingerly down after it prompting me to ask the young man whether or not chivalry was dead. He though about it for a second, saying how much he was enjoying watching the girl struggle, but then promptly lept up and started to follow her. With too much momentum, his enthusiasm combined with the mud saw him accelerate past his damsel in distress, toward the river below. How he stayed on his feet I'll never know and fortunately he stopped just short of the water, but how we all laughed. If only I'd had a video...if only!

From Tintern the roads were kind to Monmouth, but then cruel to Michaelchurch Escley, where Hugh and Anna have the most increndible home nestling as it does amongst Hereford's winding lanes, with the Black Mountains as the backdrop to the west.

An ice cold bath followed by a hearty supper with more good friends that I hadn't seen in years, the perfect end to another amazing day. Thank you again to Simon and to Hugh and Anna for your help and hospitality.

NCN 3 and beyond

Knowing that we had a very long day ahead, we awoke to the sound of a cuckoo calling from the moor outside. I was up before 6 and we hit the road by 06:10. The hills were quiet, muffled by the thin shroud of light mist. There were two groups of Roe Deer off to the left as we climbed away from the youth hostel. They looked at us nonchalantly, but nothing more.

The descent from Dartmoor is one minute hard grind, the next an exhilarating surf down long swerving hills. Few of them had enough visible length for you to let the bike go and so the brakes again took a hammering. Much to Laura's dismay, however, I can report that I managed to clock 39 mph down one of them!


We reached Exeter within 2 hours and parked ourselves in the cathedral ground, where we cooked our breakfast of porridge, accompanied by pattisserie bought doughnuts and tea. There just wasn't time to stop and take a look in the cathedral or anywhere else in town, which is a shame, so instead we headed north out of town toward Cullompton, Taunton and Richard's eventual dismount at Bridgewater.


There was alot of riding to be had before then, however. The terrain had been pacified and the rolling hills that we followed to the east of the M5 allowed us to average between 12 and 15 mph. Not that we were in a hurry, but it was refreshing to feel a steady breeze.


From Cullompton, we picked up the the National Cycle Network route 3. If you get a chance to do any cycling in this part of the world then I cannot recommend this highly enough. Passing along tiny narrow country lanes and through villages that you would otherewise never see, it is mile after mile of relaxing and rewarding travel. The scenery is ever changing too as you will see from the photos when I can download them.

(Simon has just arrived from Bristol, so I must break here and come back to this tonight, but having completed 100 miles in total yesterday, there's still a little to tell.)

Having dropped Richard off in Bridgewater I managed to pick up a good tail wind that pushed me to Cheddar in a couple of hours. The managers of the campsite were just about to go out but still took the time to make sure that I had everything that I needed, even allowing me to lock myself and the bike in the pool room so that I didn't have to put the tent up. Thank you.


Ron and Helen took me for a huge pasta supper that I can now tell them fuelled my 85 miles today, but more of that in a bit. There is so much more that I could tell, but time is short at the end of these very long days. At the moment I seem to be averaging about 12 hours for my 80-100 miles a day so not surprisingly, I don't take any rocking.




Believe it or not I slept well on this floor.

A rest day

Today I was able to take full advantage of having travelled to Cornwall a day early. Having caught up with my original schedule yesterday, I had only 40 odd miles to go today and with not meeting Richard, (an old Navy oppo,) until 14:30, there was no hurry to leave the campsite either. A good thing as it turned out since it rained during the night and was still drizzling at 7 by which time I would normally have been on the road.

The hills from the campsite just east of Fowey were kinder with a slight sense that the geography had changed.....almost imperceptively since they were still mountains by Norfolk standards. None-the-less I made good time and ws able to stick to my small country roads.

Richard's one carriage train duly arrived 5 minutes late...UK rail network standard time... and we launched ourselves down the ridiculously steep hill that the village of Gunnislake had chosen to perch itself on. A half hour cycle saw us in the town centre of Tavistock from where we would in a short while launch ourselves up onto the summit of Dartmoor. All day the tops of the hills had been obscured by low cloud. I had watched masses of rain pass to the north of me, wondering all the time which one had my name on it, but thus far the Gods were being kind to me.

Lizzie and Ann's Uncle Stephen lives in Tavistock, however, so a planned stop for tea and cakes was duly honoured. In the 45 minutes we stayed we took on the health service, the forthcoming general election and the state of his beehives. The latter being by far the most interesting. I couldn't help noticing one thing down here though. As far as the political map is concerned, you are either Conservative or Lib Dem and more interestingly it seems, that to become a prospective Conservative candidate from Lands End to Tavistock, you have to be female and blonde! How does that work then Dave?

The pull up onto Dartmoor was surprisingly painless. The hill though seemingly endless was not too too steep, so it was just a case of getting the head down and the legs spinning.


I had been ordered by my father in law to visit the Two Bridges Hotel, where the previous summer I had introduced him to the Devon Cream Tea. This particular establishment serves up probably the best there is and on this occasion it was more than I could face. The half pint of Jail Ale, so named because it is brewed at the Dartmoor Prison, was however just the tonic.

At the end of 49.5 miles and after supper, we crawled into Bellever YHA. My first experience of youth hostelling, I am hooked. What a great location too.

You shoud treat all people equally, right?

Not eat them all at once!

The demands of cycling in Cornwall were about to reveal themselves in full and I was also about to find out that you can consume a huge amount of food keeping the show on the road.

I was woken this morning by the song of a finch that I didn't recognise. Carefully poking my head from the comfort of my tent, I duly scared it away. (Here's one for you David. A musical song followed by a double chirp at the end, lasting in total about 5 seconds.)

I breakfasted on biscuits and a cheese sandwich left over from yesterday; consumed a half litre of water and crawled out of bed. Necessity being the mother of invention, I used the dew from the grass to wash myself down before packing up the tent and heading out.

The road down into Newlyn is like many others in Cornwall. Incredibly steep and narrow. Not for the first time, I resolved to buy a spare set of brake blocks...soon.

Penzance was shut down, it being only 7 in the morning as I passed through the town and headed for the beach at Marazion. With St Michael's Mount as a backdrop, I warmed up the last of my rice pudding with a pint of fresh milk and had a hearty meal while my tent dried off in the wind.

It took me another hour and a half to reach the original first stop just outside Helston. If you're not in a hurry, the up and down of this countryside offers white knuckle downhills and gentle pedestrian slogs up the other side. Anyway, by about mid-day I had found my way to my first water crossing and was grateful to the crew of the King Harry Ferry for letting me off my fare in the name of charity.

These tiny inlets at the extents of the Falmouth estuary show why this has always been a safe haven for ships during stormy weather. Far into the creeks, huge vessels lie at anchor, presumably either waiting to be decommisioned or for the economy to pick up.

From the ferry I climbed to the village of Philleigh where the very excellent Roseland Inn brews its own beer. Cornish Shag, 3.8%, Chough to bits, 4.2% and High as a Kite 4.8%. The food too is excellent and I wasn't paid to say this.....although they did let me borrow their electricity.

The half a pint was probably a mistake for anyone about to cycle away from Fowey after coming off the car ferry, fare free. The climb out was enough for me and I was grateful after 70 miles, to find a welcome campsite at the top at Lanteglos Highway.

Tomorrow's another day. I'm all in.

There's hills in Cornwall see!

The train arrived late into Penzance by nearly 50 minutes and by the time I had changed it was nearly18:30 before I got on the road.

Immediately confronted by a hill, since there's no way out of these seaside towns without one, I was and have been ever since, grateful to Andrew at Mr Cycle for his sage advice on gearing. To put it mildly, the previous advice I had been given was either for super-humans, or from someone who had never spent a whole day dragging a fully laden mtb up hills. The 'granny ring and small front sprocket allowed me to crawl up the hills at about 4 mph, but move I did. I have yet to get off my bike to walk. Long may it stay that way.

Lands End was all but desserted but for this crowd of students and their teacher, and shortly after a woman and her son, whom had just arrived from John O'Groats, exclaiming as they did...'never again!' So there's another reason for doing lejog rather than jogle; you don't end with the Cornish hills of doom.

You may have noticed the lack of sign markers. Well the official sign is owned by a private photographer and when he goes home, he takes the signage with him to stop people like me ripping him off. Fair enough.

Determined to enjoy said hills I plough out 19.5 miles before eventually finding a sheltered spot behind a Cornish hedge and amongst a young willow plantation. Wild camping cannot be equalled, but please make sure that you leave evrything exactly as you found it.

Exhausted but excited to at last be on the way, I collapsed into my faithful old bag and dropped off to sleep.

The Song Remains the Same

I love it when a plan comes together, For all the weeks of schemeing though, a well laid plan never quells the nerves of getting to the station to catch that first train in time. Goodyes are never easy, but Laura made it easy for me and George just wanted my apple, so that was easily solved.

I can't remember the last time that I just sat and listened to music. The two hours to London passed rather too quickly, but it's a journey I always enjoy for it is a trip back down memory lane. The first stop, Diss is where I worked before joining the Royal Navy in 1989 and Ipswich is where I went to school. I'm sorry Norwich, though I'm happy to see you back in the Championship, I'm still blue and white despite 10 years in your 'Fine City.'

South of Ipswich comes Bentley, a village of childhood memories. Memories of owls nests found in rabbit holes, of Grass Snakes caught and taken home, only to be released again when we couldn't get them to eat anything. Of enormous fish caught in the little village pond, (not by me, I hasten to add,) and of times when you played outside all summer long. Maybe this three weeks is an attempt to recapture some of that. If it is and I succeed, I shall be doubly lucky and who'se to say that's a bad thing.

Transport for London provide a superb website for cyclists. If you're planning to cross London with a bike, I recommend that you go to their website and plug in whatever your route is...with a bike. It was the Lierpool Street to Paddington route that I followed this morning and it was staright forward and well signposted and much of it on designated cycle tracks. Many of these are protected by curbs on both sides, so there is no danger of being run over except by the regular cycle commuters who know thir route and travel as fast as the cars. Probably faster and good luck to them.

At Paddington I grabbed some lunch and whilst eating noticed that the front panniers had slipped in their mountings. Determined to get into the habit of fixing even the slightest problem immediately, I set to and remounted them, taking the front wheel off in the middle of the station to accomplish the job.

At the gate to the platform the fast food bag of a fellow traveller spewed hot carrot soup out onto the concourse, giving a new meaning to a sick bag, and left the distraught lady trying to work out how to rescue what looked like turning out to be a disasterous day for her. Her black slacks looking somewhat less business like with the vegeatble accompaniment.

Now on the verey busy Penzance train, I have two seats to myself. I can sit back and listen to 'The Song Remains the Same.' Nostalgic! Really?

The birds haven't started singing.

You know when you're excited; a little like a kid on Christmas morning. Up rediculously early to take a look under the tree. The birds haven't even started singing, but I couldn't stay in bed any longer.

The first of many bowls of porridge consumed, the obligatory rice pudding packed ready for lunch and most importantly, the washing up from last night done. The last attempt to appease the conscience as I set out leaving George and Laura behind for three weeks. I know well enough who has the hardest task ahead and it isn't me.

Thank you all for your kind good luck messages and to Sams HQ for mobilizing your PR machine ahead of my arrival in various towns and cities along the route. Anything that can be done to publicize your work will only add to the sense of achievement from my end.

Oh, and thanks George for the cold! Kids!

I'm determined not to post too many photos of the bike in the next few weeks, but here's one to get me going. Booted and spurred and weighing a tonne.

Shopping for the last bits and pieces

With just two days to go I'm beginning to get the butterflies of excitment and if I'm honest a little mild apprehension. Mostly, I guess about the usual stuff with travelling...what will I have forgotten? Have I taken too much? Certainly the bags that I have now packed, bar the food, are heavy. The combination of cycling and walking was always going to guarentee that. I think that I have it covered though.

This little computer that Nick Morritt kindly lent me, is fantastic. Nick for your trouble remind me to pass on the mobile dongle thing that I bought today, that will ensure connectivity in some of the places where I can't find wifi.

I'm also grateful to Lizzie, my eldest, for failing to break her old mobile phone, thus enabling me to give it a new lease of life. If you want to call me to chivvy me along, here's the number...

07866 312689.

So apart from the shopping spree I spent most of the day ironing out the final parts of the route. If you ever get to do something like this, there are many ways to skin the cat, so to speak. You could join an existing supported ride, or organise your own, but follow the many routes that are available through organisations like the CTC....or you could do what I've done, and make up your own.

Since this is a journey and not a race, I went looking for the country lanes and will no doubt get mad at too many steep hills as a consequence, but I have also tempered my mileage accordingly. The only piece of advice that I would proffer, however, is this:- Take advantage of google earth. A number of the online mapping programmes show roads where there are none. The classic example would be the apparent track that runs next to the M6 between Carlisle and Gretna. Take a look at Google Earth and you will see that there ain't one. Don't forget folks that you can't take your bicycle on a motorway, and if you could, you'd be nuts to try it.

All I need now is a bicycle! Mr Cycle is working hard on the rebuild of the drive train. The new tyres are on and the rear cassette too, however, the bottom bracket I had had fitted previously doesn't go with the new front sprocket set. Fingers crossed it will be with us by tomorrow in time for a test ride. In the mean time, apart from the bike, this is it.... see photo above.

Happiness is getting connected!

The girls (Lizzie and Anna) and I took a ride out today. Probably the last of any distance before I leave for the south west. A beautifully sunny, though cool day with fantastic visability. We took the high road from Wymondham Abbey to Deopham from where you can look down on both sides to Hingham and Wicklewood on one side and Morley and Besthorpe on the other.

We of course made the fundamental mistake of heading off with the wind at our backs, but this at least made for a relaxed beginning. We certainly covered the first 12 miles to Attleborough in good time, stopping there for lunch of pizza, steak pie, Mr Blobby biscuit and apple crumble slice! Not sure that I shall be able to keep that up for three weeks if I have any hope of reaching the other end.

The passage back home via Spooner Row passed uneventfully, but I was pleased as punch that we had covered 25 miles without difficulty. Well done L and A.

This afternoon Anna, George and I headed into Wymondham in search of an elusive Wifi signal emanating from someone else's Home Hub. BTfon.com allows you to plot the possible best locations and I'm hoping to use this to reach you all over the next few weeks. Without too much difficulty we found one! In the middle of a housing estate, we stopped on a roundabout and 'bingo'! there it was. Houston, we are connected!

The Samaritans kindness

I'm writing this entry on the little diddy notepad that Nick lent me. I have yet to find out how to maximise connectivity after spending fruitless minutes driving around Drayton, just outside norwich, trying to find someone elses Wifi signal.

I've discovered however, that if you look at www.btfon.com , you can look up a map of 'hotspots' that I hope will allow me to identify where I should be able to use this thing whilst on my way. The alternative that I have to look into tomorrow, is to use a mobile phone connection through the computer and hope that that covers those areas that Wifi does not.

If anyone is struggling to become a follower by the way, it goes something like this:-
Google lejog4samaritans, then double click on the options icon and go to site settings. That should give you the option to follow. Hope that helps.

Off to do some hotspot mapping. I'm actually starting to get excited about this thing. I wonder what will forget. Ideas on a postcard. See if you think of anything that I haven't. Could be a useful reminder. Good luck.

£900 from Norwich. Thank you.

Friday 9th saw us complete our final training and fund-raising day. £372 to the good, Norwich has now kindly donated over £900 in 3 weeks to the cause and in so doing have broken through my £2000 target. Thank you.

I hope that if you are reading this that you never have cause to need to use their service, but if you do, Norwich have an excellent group of volunteers, whom I have been very fortunate to be associated with. They must be great listeners, becaue they put up with me for hours on end.

The allergy to the shorts went from bad to worse during those 8 hours on Friday and I have now had to sell them to my brother, Andy. Let's just hope that our genome isn't so similar that he ends up with hives all over his legs as I did.

Todays blog is being written on an elonex notebook that Nick has kindly lent me for the journey and I am excited to discover having had a chat with BT this morning, that I can plug into anyone elses wireless network, if they also are subsrcibers to the free BT open zone network.

To find out if it works check in in 72 hours, by which time it should be active. Fingers crossed.

One more training/fund-raiser to go.

Seven and half hours of turbo training. It's a good thing that people watching can be as fun as watching the world go by. We had an excellent day today and the stalwarts from Norwich Sams have made this all possible. £361 to the good today, outstripping my best fund-raising day in the city back in 1997. Marathon year.

We met alot of people interested in the cycle aswell as the Samaritans today, including one fella who's setting off with his friends to do John O'Groats to Lands End, arriving in Penzance the same day that I do, except that he will be at the end of his journey and about to head into London to run the Marathon!! Fantastic guys and good luck. Hope to see you at Penzance station or on the road between there and Lands End.

Shucks! The new cycle shorts that I bought a week ago have brought my legs up in welts, where the rubber strip that holds the shorts to your legs. I'm allergic to my blinkin' shorts!!

So thats 160 odd miles for the week and George is screaming for a bath. So what George say, goes.

3 weeks to go.

Count down begins.

Now into April. The weather has taken a slightly odd change for the worse. My Father always said...'winter's not over until the end of March!' Well it's now the 1st April and for those of you in Northern England, Ireland and Scotland who are under feet of snow...sorry folks! Please clear the roads by the end of the month though.

A full week of work this week, so only cycling to and from Bowthorpe Road in Norwich. With the 8 hours that we have planned for Chapelfields this Saturday, however, this will end up being another 160 + mile week, so not bad at all.

Next week will be similar after which the bike goes for its overhaul and I start to concentrate on the final bits of planning and plenty of eating...well why not.