The eagle has landed

Hello all; firstly sorry you’re getting this on Sunday, I’ve had terrible trouble getting connected to the internet all week and my O2 dongle has been unreliable at best. The good news is that we completed our journey at 12.20 on Saturday and have spent a very pleasant couple of days in a lovely Hotel in St Ives, a few miles from Land’s End. As planned we left Launceston at 7 am in the hope of beating the traffic. One fact from the previous day that Stu and I hadn’t publicised was that we met a few police officers at the scene of an accident on Friday afternoon (a lorry had overturned on a narrow country lane, completely blocking it) and we chatted to them about what we were doing. They told us it was best not to take the A30 down to LE and that 8 months ago they attended the scene of an accident on that road where two Joglers had been hit by a car and one had died. We decided not to share this info with Sarah and Maria but it least explains our trepidation about the A30. We started off well, with very rapid downhill stretches (where we exceeded 40mph) interspersed with long, long shallow climbs of a mile or more. As we climbed up to Bodmin moor the temperature fell and the fog came down; as the traffic was getting busier this was a rather unpleasant half hour. The forecast had been for a very warm day and we weren’t carrying any cold weather gear or, indeed, any lights. With no other option, we pressed on and as we went “over the top” the light improved but the traffic didn’t ease until after we had been past turn offs for Bodmin, St Austell (where the Eden project draws hundreds of thousands of visitors) and Newquay; in our adrenalin fuelled charge we managed to cover 50 miles in three hours riding without a break. After Newquay the A30 flips between a dual carriageway and a single road; we preferred the single carriageway because we felt motorists were more predictable. And then we saw it; just before Penzance; the first sign to Land’s End (16 miles) what a boost that gave us! Motorists became more supportive, with several leaning out of the window to shout support, thumbs up and shouts of encouragement made us feel great. The only motorists we were really concerned about, however, were our support team who we hadn’t seen all day and as the miles to Land’s End ticked down we started to think the unthinkable that the two people who had been with us all the way would miss the finish. As we turned out of Penzance and up along the narrow winding road to Land’s End this seemed a more and more likely scenario. Cornwall, however wasn’t going to give up without a fight, as the miles ticked down 9, 8, 7 she threw everything at us hill after hill after hill; but the thought of the finish being so close helped keep us going and then, with just under 7 miles left and halfway up another hill I heard a distant toot of a now familiar horn. Sarah and Maria sped past whooping and hollering and blowing football horns and shaking rattles like mad women; it was a very emotional moment for us all. They had spent the morning buying up the contents of the “England Football” shop in Launceston (I guess their lease will end in about 10 days) to help us celebrate at the end. They narrowly managed to beat us to the finish where we were greeted with a cacophony worthy of a formula one winner, sprayed in champagne, photographed, hugged and generally praised to the skies. It was a wonderful few minutes and the realisation of what we had done sank in and even the pain in feet, hands, knees and bum disappeared for a few minutes. I know both Stu and I are very proud that we managed to complete the journey relatively unscathed, but we recognise that we were also pretty lucky in a number of ways; the extremes of weather forecast didn’t materialise except on the first day; the wind, which we had hyped into such a big factor was as often in our favour as against us, we had hardly any mechanical problems and no punctures at all, and most of the motorists (except one idiot in the great glen) gave us a bit of room. The biggest factor in our completion of the journey, however, was the unstinting support, patience, help and motivation of our support team, Sarah and Maria. It’s rare to get the chance to have an adventure in your mid 40’s and Stu and I have both been so lucky to find wives who not only let us get on with it but played a full and important part in the adventure itself. That’s why we’re pleased to say that the Joglers are a four piece, not a two piece.
Thank you all for your sponsorship, comments on the blog and interest. It looks like we’ll make about £2,500 for St Margaret’s. Money that’s much needed and will be well spent.

Brutal

Day 7 (Friday) started with a crunch when I found a large portion of human tooth in my muesli at the Ibis Hotel in Bristol; I was about to register a complaint when I realised that the human concerned was me. Cycling is great for the legs and general toning, but all those sport drinks and chocolate are very bad for teeth; unless of course you’re a dentist. The cycling was brutal today (Friday). For the whole Jogle we’ve tried to get ahead of schedule, so that the last day wouldn’t be too bad. Today was the day we figured we would pay for that; we knew it would be a “tarmac day” (i.e.) head down, get on with it and to hell with the scenery. And so it proved. It’s been the hottest day of the year and our 117 mile journey from Bristol to Launceston started with hills, finished with hills and had a lot of hills in the middle. We must have gone up and over 40 or 50 hills of a few hundred feet in height, which normally wouldn’t bother us much, but when they gang up on you in fives and tens you’re in a spot of bother. We found our way out of Bristol, flew along the A38 to Taunton and finally arrived at a beautiful pub in Crediton (70 miles) at five to three desperate for something to eat only to find that the kitchen had shut and so we ate a snickers, a packet of crisps and a pint of beer to keep us going to Launceston. On the way Stu stopped to speak to an MG owner who told us the route was pretty flat to Launceston. We’re planning to go back and batter him on the way home and probably steal his car too; the lying get; coming out of Crediton the road just went up and up and up; and the temperature seemed to soar with us. In the end we must have taken a wrong turning because we ended up doing a complete circumnavigation of Okehampton which seems to be surrounded by hills; it was however absolutely beautiful and almost a pleasure to have come through it unscathed. On the way I was able to engage in some way with the local wildlife and am able to disprove two widely held theories re badgers. Firstly they are not rare and secondly the do not carry TB. I have seen many badgers today, they are round and flat and the size of a small dining table; they normally have a tyre mark down the middle and, frankly speaking, none of the ones I saw looked capable of carrying anything very far. Also on the animal front, I saw one of the strangest things ever in a field outside Crediton; a blindfolded horse. The blindfold covered it’s nose, eyes and had two pointy bits at the top for the ears. The poor thing looked like a member of the equine Ku Klux Klan, but on reflection I decided that it was waiting to be executed for desertion or cowardice; I waited for the firing squad (no doubt made up of 3 sheep good and true) but I expect they must have been on their lunch, because I waited ten minutes and they still hadn’t turned up. The last challenge of the day was a 20 mile stretch on the horrendous A30, motorway in all but name, and most of it was spent on the hard shoulder being buffeted by lorries and holiday makers. It’s a nightmare, but it’s quick and I’ve got a feeling we’ve got another 70 miles on it tomorrow; planning on a 7am start to get as far down as possible before the mad holiday makers come out to play. Quote of the day comes from Stu, who looked at my grime streaked face and panda eyes and suggested that I looked as if I spent the whole day flying a blooming tiger moth (those who know Stu will gather I’m paraphrasing here). Both man and machine are starting to show the strains of the journey, the bikes are filthy and both chains are starting to come off with annoying regularity; my left knee is killing me, I’m riding on the top of my thigh bones where my bum used to be and Stu is going to have to have reconstructive surgery on his Erskine. Nevertheless, tomorrow is the last day and I expect the adrenalin will get us through to the finish. Sunday on the beach!!!

Phew what a scorcher!

What a day! For once on this trip we got exactly what the forecast said we'd get; hot all day, the cyclists' tan is coming on very nicely. We left Shrewsbury on time at about 9 o'clock and followed the A49 South through Church Stretton, Ludlow and Leominster; lovely places all. From the cyclists point of view it was a great ride because although the road was quite busy it was beautifully smooth, which adds a couple of miles per hour and also makes the cycling physically easier because there isn't as much vibration coming through hands and wrists. After Hereford Stu made a good call on the route and took us down the back roads to Monmouth, which was less busy but even more beautiful than the main road. Unfortunately as we'd almost run out of Barbara's baps we had to stop at a pub for lunch and, a first for this week, a pint en route. Even better for us about three miles up the road we met up with Sarah and Maria who had a pastie for us, so two lunches in twenty five minutes! I love cycling! For me the most beautiful part almost of the entire ride came after Monmouth when we cycled along the Wye valley, especially past Tintern abbey which, while it doesn't have the spectacular intimidating nature of the Great Glen, is an absolutely picture perfect English countryside scene (although it might actually be in Wales!) For a few hours or so we followed the valley and it wasn't absolutely clear whether we were in England or Wales; certainly, after crossing the severn bridge we "returned" to England and after a trip through the outskirts of Bristol we came to the city centre, from where I write this. Tomorrow we're going to do a long run down to Okehampton or even to Launceston from where we'll make our last run on Saturday. Sarah and Maria are planning to set off early (with us) and visit the eden project before meeting up with us later.

Whatever were we worried about?

Another surprisingly good day. Regular readers will know we were dreading the trip through the North West because of the apparently unremitting "town ness" of the days route. As it happened it was probably the best day we've had so far. We left Garstang at about 9 after another massive breakfast and rather than the beating sun we had more drizzle. We decided that defence is the best form of attack and just put the hammer down. We were through Preston in no time, then managed to find the A49 to Wigan without the expected hassle. This is a beautiful road, we were through Wigan in a trice and then on to Warrington and suddenly Whitchurch was signposted, OK it was 45 miles away, but we were on the right track. It got very hot in the afternoon and the legs and arms came out, to widespread acclaim. Stu and I are developing two particularly fine examples of cyclists tan (from just above the knee to the ankle and from just above the elbow to the wrist; not a good look, to be honest) and can't wait to expose them to the elements on the beach on Sunday; that'll draw the crowds, no doubt. we have discussed several theories as to the reason for our much improved performance today (16 mph average over 7 hours) and the quality of the roads is a factor as is the slight downhill gradient, however the main factor appears to be the widesprad use of Barbara's baps; just hope we're nt drug tested on the way home; not sure they're completely legal. Our support team also tucked in to the hamfest; unfortunately on double yellow lines at the A+E department of Chorley hospital; they even gatecrashed a wake this afternoon in order to get a drink, but were welcomed in with open arms, and paid their respects and drank the wine. In the afternoon Stu and I were cycling along the magnificent A49 to Whitchurch when we were follwed by a herd of about 50 calves running alongside us; it was like something out of jurassic park and i didn't think "veal" once; it was just great to be out in the countryside and cycling free. I'm writing this from a pub in Shrewsbury from where we will depart tomorow for another 100+ mile day on to somewhere near Bristol; no rest for the wicked. There was a major development on the scientific and technical front this afternnoon, when Stuart's idea that "Vauxhalls are crap, especially the hubcaps" was upgraded from theory to "Gough's Law" on the basis of a statistically significant scientific study. Look in any hedgerow in any part of the country and 80% of the hubcaps will be Vauxhall, I guarantee it. So; Vauxhalls are crap, especially the hubcaps; it's official. You heard it here first.

Bad day, good day, bad day....

Good day! From the first crow it was a good day; we woke up expecting to be marooned and as we hadn't packed the water wings thought we were in trouble, but there was only drizzle so cracked on heading for Gretna, which we reached in about an hour and a half, then onto the border where we had our obligatory picture taken at the England sign. It was a huge boost to us to know we had cycled the length of Scotland and were more or less in one piece. Only 500 or so miles to go! The big challenge of the day (apart from navigating through Carlisle and Penrith) was supposed to be going up and over shap fell (1400 feet); several times when we asked directions, a local would look at us, close one eye, tilt his head and say "Arrr you'll be going up shap then...." it was like that scene in "American werewolf in London".With some trepidation we got to the bottom, had a cheese sandwich and set off up and up. In then end however, Shap didn't deliver the horrors we expected; she was like The Duke's pass less attractive, but much friendlier sister, and we breezed up; must be all that training. We met the girls at the top (one of whom was asleep when we arrived), had another cheese sandwich and set off on the best decent I have ever ridden. More or less 7 or 8 miles down into Kendal; from there things picked up considerably and the roads through the North lakes were very kind to us, we finally arrived in Garstang at about 7 to be met by Sarah's Mum, Barbara; bearing a Barbara Young ham for sandwiches for the next three weeks. What a boost to see her! We then had a nice evening with star of stage and screen, Clive Cooper and Joanne Brayshaw before bed. One thing to add is the kindnes we have experienced from strangers; we've had about £100 of cash donations from members of the public; from £20 given to me by two girls at Penrith station (I could go down completely the wrong road with this, but won't) to the toilet attendant lady at Gretna Green offering Sarah and Maria her tips, which they gracefully declined. We've only had one negative experience when a red van man tried to pick a fight with Stu; big mistake. All ended peacefully and on we go. Today is the day we've dreaded since January, through the industrial towns of the North West; hopefully will be able to log on tonight and let you all know it wasn't as bad as we'd feared. We're more than half way now and once today is over (finishing in Wem in Shropshire) we'll be able to smell the sea (well nearly).