LeJoG Day 5 - The Race Against The Race Against Time

There are few things better than a comfy bed at 2:30 a.m., and few things worse when you have to get out of it 6 hours later. Nevertheless, we made it up and out, sparing the breakfast diners the aroma of long distance cyclist, instead stopping in the shadow of the Kessock Bridge for roadside Bacon Butties and Tattie Scones. Overnight Ray had been visited by the puncture fairy, but with that and my chain deshipping on a climb the previous night, these were the only true mechanicals we suffered on the whole ride.

Suitably carbed-up, we headed over the bridge and onto Black Isle. Up and up the cycle path dragged until we rejoined the A9 at Tore. At the top of the next climb, a huge Red Kite wheeled overhead, waiting to feast upon the remains of fallen cyclist. I reckon it was big enough to carry Ray off whole. Our avian appreciation was interrupted by a rhythmic beeping from behind, and a support van emblazoned with "Caution Cyclists" came past. They stopped a bit further on, decamped hurriedly, and offered us any support we required. At this point, we declined politely and carried on.

Down the hill, over the Firth and approaching the A9 roundabout, it was all we could do to avoid being blown across the road. We could see the trees on the shore being bent well over by the wind, and as we turned at the roundabout it was as if someone was just giving us a mighty push. The impromptu food stop near Alness (8km further on) was reached at an average of 29kmh in little effort. Once going again,the 30kmh speed was maintained along the coast road, until 'the plastic bag' appeared. I could see a carrier bag (from a well known supermarket) making good progress in the 20+mph winds, and kept an eye as I overtook it. As the road edged upwards, I took advantage of the following wind, and wound up the effort, fairly flying up the gradient. I looked over my shoulder at the top to give Ray a grin.........but there was no Ray. I pulled over and waited. No Ray. I waited more. Still no Ray until, finally, a small figure going balls-out rounded the corner and came flying up the drag. "Did you see that plastic bag?" he exclaimed. "The bloody thing blew across the road and wrapped itself into my rear mech and cassette!"

Once we got going again, the support van reappeared, and this time we stopped and took them up on their kind offer of water and cake. It turns out that they were the Bishop Simeon Fund Race Against Time, who had set off from Lands End on the previous Saturday on a 6.5 day timetable. All their riders were wearing the same kit, and they had taken the A38 through Somerset & Gloucestershire. We had, it seemed, caught up with the 'opposition' we had been told about on the first two days. And very nice people they were too. It wasn't just them and us on the road either, LeJoGers were out in force, strung along the A9 at varying intervals.

Just before our next stop at Durnoch, a solidly built rider shot past with a shout of "Keep going, we're nearly there". Closer inspection of his bike revealed a solitary water bottle, and a saddlebag the size of a mouse's scrotum. Clearly they had the benefit of being supported. His first mate shot past in hot pursuit and the third rider, with whom Ray had been talking, ground past telling me "You're bloody barmy!" Apparently, they were on a two week, supported LeJoG. A bit different to our own, 'nearly there' meant Helmsdale, they weren't even going all the way to John O'Groats that night. By the time we arrived in Helmsdale it was 14:40 and we were only an hour and a half down on time. Nonetheless, the sun was much hotter than we expected at those latitudes, and a 45 minute rest was taken. This was, in part, due to the fact that I knew what was coming.

The climb out of Helmsdale is a belter, almost 7km of varying gradient, all uphill. In another ride, I must find the opportunity to descend this excellent piece of new tarmac. After this climb, there is a bimble along the top of the hills and then a terrifying plummet into Berriedale Braes. This is one where the gradient exceeds my bottle, and I was on the brakes much of the way down, still managing to top 60kmh. What goes down at 17% also goes up at the same gradient, and with a 7kg Carradice and over 1300km in the legs is a real test. A test I passed, crawling up in the granny gear to rejoin Ray near the Llama farm at the top. Llamas in Scotland, whatever next? Latheronwheel and Latheron are both in possession of further hills but after that the climbing petered out towards Wick, where we arrived at 18:20, some 17 miles behind our original timetable.

The sun was still blisteringly hot even at this point of the day. I use the term 'blisteringly' since a look at my front tyre revealed an ominous bulge in the tyrewall, and a rock hard tyre. Evidently the sun was warming them thoroughly because I hadn't taken a pump near them in the last 1400km. I hadn't the energy to replace the tyre with the spare I carry for such emergencies, instead just letting some air out and continuing carefully.

North of Wick, there isn't much, and the last 17 miles were largely quiet and isolated. The support van rocketed past up the final climb before JoG, indicating we weren't far in front of the Race Against Time riders. Cresting the top, further land could be seen, when all we expected was sea. As we reached the true hilltop, this could be seen to be Stroma and the rest of the Orkneys, which I hadn't realised were so close to the mainland. We freewheeled the last 3 km down into John O'Groats, arriving at 19:59, just before the souvenir shop closed, thus providing us with proof of finishing.

The Race Against Time guys came over and congratulated us, though I fear I was not as welcoming or attentive of their congratulation as I should have been. By this point, my brain was already shutting down, having decided we had finished. And so we had. Whilst at Garstang, I had phoned my brother-in-law and he had agreed to pick us up and drive us to our overnight stop in Thurso, thus obviating the need for a 30km ride after the 'finish'. Whilst the scenery is stunning, I think that to have to have cycled it in those circumstances would have been purgatory. Some 20 minutes after we finished, the RAT guys arrived, line abreast, to take their well deserved applause, ours included.

Once in Thurso, at the welcoming, if basic, Sandra's Backpackers Hostel, we quickly showered, changed and went out in search of beer and whisky. This was found in a local Hotel, who surprised us by calling last orders half way through the second pint. We were shocked to see that it was nearly 11p.m. despite the fact it was still light outside. A well-hot Kung Po Chicken followed before the last of energy left us. Ray informs me that I set a new record in his experience. 30 seconds between upright and conversational to horizontal and snoring. Result. We were both fast asleep for 9 hours. Perhaps we might have been just a bit tired?

Day 5 - 202km with 2308 metres of climb in 13 hours and 5 minutes.

Overall Stats -
1415km ridden
18024 metres of climbing
67 hours on the bike (moving average 21.2kmh)
25 hours holed up in Hotels
15 hours feeding our faces and hiding from the sun.
2 hours waiting for traffic lights and at junctions
1 shredded Human-Bicycle-Interface

Final elapsed time 4 days, 13 hours and 47 minutes.