The Ride I Never Planned For

In mid-August, Kathy, our daughter Amy, and I were in Cornwall, dropping off our eldest for her first festival. We were staying at a YHA campsite, when I casually said:

“I might ride my bike from Land’s End to John O’Groats.”

“When?” Kathy asked.

“Next week,” I replied.

The truth? I hadn’t ridden my bike in two years.

The first day set the tone: a wrong turn out of Penzance station, soaked through and arriving in the dark at my hostel, with a yellow weather warning for Cornwall and Devon.

Over 13 days, I cycled over 1,000 miles. Some days flowed – Scotland was vast and stunning. Other days fought me with rain, headwinds, and endless climbs. 

On one particularly tough day, I pushed on for 98 miles to the Crask Inn, after seeing the weather forecast turn ugly. That’s where I met Claire and Debbie, also riding LEJOG, who generously offered me a bunkhouse bed in Melvich.

There were setbacks: a broken spoke (repaired by the brilliant Pump & Pedal bike shop), a puncture in the middle of nowhere, and more cake and flapjacks than I care to count.

I didn’t ride for charity. I didn’t ride to prove anything. I rode for myself and discovered that sometimes the best adventures happen when you don’t overthink.

 You just begin.