Lands End to John O'Groats, in a long weekend
- Patrick Retallick
- Sep 3, 2020
- 5 min read
Updated: Jan 4, 2021
A couple of weeks ago I managed lands end > John o'groats in five painful but otherwise brilliant days. Here's how it went.
While I was not in good shape (having fallen early with a covid-induced pneumonia) it occurred to me back around May that this commute-free period was possibly the best chance I'd get to see how far I could pedal, so I aimed for August and built up gradually, adding around 20km/ week from a base of 50.
I had my eye on LEJOG but being so close to the summer solstice already, I pencilled this in for another year.
I hit 100 miles on 13th June (all good), then 180 on 11th July (arse almost completely numb). The novelty of the 12 hour circle having worn off almost immediately, that was as far as I made it, leaving the glorious 200 miler for the big day(s).
Five days
(I rode alone, but with no panniers. Jen driving along the same route with spare parts, change of clothes etc)
Standing at the lands end sign I was buzzing, one big effort to Preston, a couple of recovery spins then a single push to the top. To my real surprise it was more or less that straightforward, until the Scottish weather popped me back in my place, delivering the demoralising hurdle that I would cash in 36 hours later while shuffling around the JOG sign to Come on Eileen.
To Bristol: excellent, hardly noticed the 2 miles+ of ascent & but for a misty fumble through Bodmin Moor I found the A30 quite peaceful, not at all scary and nice and quick
Bristol to Preston: Painfully samey. In and out of towns, a sharp bend or junction at the bottom of every hill, little to look at and a long way to go. Not too tired mind.
Preston to Lanarkshire: woke up with a splitting knee pain & while not hungry, I had the sort of sorry-for-myself mood that I know means not enough calories have been shovelled down. In the end I whipped up some adrenaline and rode the day without stopping for more than a little tinkle. When I finally jumped off the bike (only around 6 or 7pm), I really thought I'd had it. Limp and lifeless and sick as a dog, the result of a by now daytime TV-worthy calorie deficit, I hauled myself in for a medicinal MacDonald's and mustered enough energy to sort the bike out, prep for the morning and fall asleep (after pushing down another 2 steaks, a prawn salad and some chicken delight)
Lanarkshire to Ben Nevis: rain, really a tremendous amount of rain.
The 3.5 hours getting to and out of Glasgow really felt like a day. The rain was heavy & the roads too uneven to work up any heat of my own. The route I’d mapped through Glasgow took me along a far-too-busy inner-city A road, the avoidance of which involved lots of standing still, turning around, traffic lights and shivering. I became conscious of my ice-cold & dripping wet chest & the pneumonia I had so recently recovered from and wondered how far I was from having to do the sensible thing.
It was, gracefully, within an hour of this gut-wrenching low that the best of Scotland rushed into place
I was now on the A82, a smooth, quick & by this point dry-ish 100 mile sprint to the day’s end. The first 30km of confidence-building descent skirts Loch Lomond, this is really one of the best bits of Scotland in my opinion - it’s lots of open water, dotted with intriguing little islands, framed by mountains and with a perfect view from the road. From there there’s less than 100km to Fort William (Ben Nevis) and, counting now, 18 mountains of close to or above 1000m. Each of these guards it’s own patch of water and did a good job of distracting me from my various tender areas, the knots in each muscle and the unpleasantness that I had only so recently escaped.
Prior to Loch Lomond I had, grimacing, managed to average 25km/h, but from here on in I was coasting close to 30, wind in my face, nice and warm and wholly absorbed by my environment. I was out of my kit not long after 8pm, leaving plenty of time to aggressively loofah my legs and strike the balance between lying in bed hungry and throwing up another triple-dinner.
Ben Nevis to The Top
Day 5 was one of the biggest, but was at no point daunting. I could arrive as late as I liked and that was all I had to do. With energy conservation out the window and success down the road it was much like the roll into the Champs-Élysées, just half the speed and minus the cheering.
After surveying Loch Lochy & Ness, then nearly losing it all to an out-of-nowhere 200 metre (12%) lump, it was 100 miles along the coast to the finish. Possibly spoiled by the day before, I actually found this really quite boring. A sea-view is nice, but the sea’s the sea and when you’ve been looking at it for a full working day, that’s enough.
There was a manageable but incessant headwind through this whole period and to my complete surprise a good half dozen meaty climbs through that last stretch.
Nearly there, I noticed I was just about to miss the sunset and concerned that poor lighting might compromise the glory-shots, I settled into a familiar 40km time trial. Swallowed by fog & averaging a dizzying 34km/h, by the time the road stopped I was all a-buzz, free from fatigue and predictably emotional.
With the challenge so much exceeding anything I'd done before I hadn't considered this moment until now, preferring to focus only on each day and pragmatic about my chance of success, especially 24hrs earlier when it had seemed so likely I wouldn't make it. From this solemn place I burst into a sensory overload, my favourite 80s bop boom booming, Jen and her mum plus half a dozen recruits waving handmade trophies and the foggy peninsula oozing mystery. I had arrived in another world and resolved to dance the last bit of life out of my battered legs, circling the iconic sign and really having a smashing time of it.
It was an excellent few days that felt like a month. With my time again I’d stay west of the midlands, pack something warmer and come armed with a bigger big ring, the 11-25 setup asking more than I wanted to give up most hills. I am however quite content for the time-being with release from the work-ride-eat-sleep routine and the consequent flood of available time. Next stop may be the 4,000km Transcontinental Race (TCR)...
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