After 2 years of illness following the deca- ironman in Mexico I felt ready to make a comeback in 2000. So to get some much needed mileage I decided to attempt to break the record for cycling from Lands End (in the bottom south west corner of Britain) to John O’Groats (in the top north east corner of Britain) and back. I decided April was the only time I could fit it in so was hopeful the weather would be kind to me.

I managed to get sponsorship from a company called BIOFLOW. They gave me a motor home free of charge for us to use. I got 4 of my friends to agree to act as my support crew- which involves feeding me, giving me drinks, massages, tending to first aid, driving the motor home, directing me, collecting donations, obtaining witnesses for record ratification purposes, cycling with me occasionally, motivating me, washing my stinky clothes and making sure my bike works. Basically, they had loads to do!
I chose people who I knew were laid back like me, liked a laugh and would not get too stressed. Ro Ro is an ex-PE teacher and a great guy. Jamo has been head lifeguard on Gwenvor Beach for 21 years. I knew I would get 100% from him. Davo is a farmer from Sennen with a great sense of humour. Finally WW- just 17 at the time of cycle. A cracking kid who I thought would benefit greatly from the trip.

The Day Before
Things were frantic as we had to collect the motor home, buy enough food and drink to last 1 week, pack it all, pack all the clothes, bikes and equipment needed and attach sponsor logos to the motor home. Even though we were all nervous and apprehensive about the forthcoming 1700 miles we shared a laugh and a joke. Eventually, by 7pm we were ready so went down our local pub- The Old Success Inn for some supper. The start was due for 10am the next morning. As we sat in the pub, the clouds were very dark and threatening outside, the wind had picked up and it was unseasonably cold. Things didn’t look great!

The Start
9am and our first disaster. We went to drive the 1 mile to the start at LE but we had a flat battery. What a great start! Luckily, someone had some leads and before long we were on our way. Arriving at LE we were greeted by some of the media that had gathered to see us off. After getting my bike ready and having some photos taken we were ready. It is a strange at the start of a big endurance event. You feel nervous, yet at the same time so excited that you can hardly contain yourself. You haven’t got a clue what might happen. So many things could go wrong. However, I try to focus on all the positive things that will happen. Life is an adventure.
Finally, at 10.02am we were ready. As I let go of the famous sign at LE which would act as my start and finish point at pedalled away I glanced at the signpost which said John O’Groats 874 miles and felt good. I was on my way.

Day 1
The first 10 miles to Penzance were like a blur. It was a route I had cycled 100’s of times before so felt a bit strange. However, once through Penzance and onto the rolling hills of the A30 and the Cornish countryside, I finally felt I had really started. My friend Chris had decided to do the first 100 miles with me, so it was nice to have some company. The plan was to cycle 90 miles before having a 1 hour lunch break.

My support crew settled into their role quickly. Davo drove whilst Ro Ro and Jamo prepared my food and filled my drinks bottles. WW sat at the back of the motor home and acted as lookout. If I was falling too far behind the motorhome he would shout to Davo to slow down, and vice versa if I was getting too close.

My spirits were high as I dropped Chris on all the hills. He is a strong cyclist and I was surprised to see the grimace on his face as he fell behind. My speed was averaging a nice 18 m.p.h. After 5 hours I told the crew to pull into the next lay-by for my scheduled 1 hour stop.

My meal was already made. A nice curry with a mars bar and a rice krispie bar for desert, along with a mug of steaming hot tea. As well as all my normal meals we had packed 48 mars bars, 48 flapjacks, 48 rice krispie bars and 48 packets of skittles. I expected to eat them all during the ride such was the amount of energy I was using.

After a quick rub-down from Ro Ro I was on my way, hoping to make it to Bristol (200 miles) by 10pm. I had arranged to meet my friend Jules on the outskirts of the city (he lives in Bristol). He had kindly agreed to cycle with me through Bristol and over the bridge into Wales. It was crucial we didn’t lose our way and waste time and he would be able to take us the quickest way through Bristol.
Just before Exeter we had a problem. I had decided we could save a couple of miles by going on B roads and by-passing Exeter rather than go through the city centre. It was a mistake! We went off onto the wrong B road and ended up doing about 5 extra miles. Also, it was a lot hillier than I thought, so it was a very slow extra 5 miles!

Once back on course I started to make up time. Feeling strong and fluent, I relaxed by listening to my walkman to help the miles go quicker. Through Taunton and the steep hills of Taunton it began to get dark. The weather had been cold and windy, but the rain which had threatened, had not yet arrived.

At 10pm, in the pitch black I saw a cyclist coming towards me. It was Jules! It was really great to see him. The next 20 miles through Bristol passed quickly as we chatted. I was really grateful that he had given up his Friday night to cycle in the freezing cold with me. After crossing over the bridge into Wales he said his farewells to us and pedalled back to his bed. I still had another 30 miles to do before having a 4 hour sleep.

I really enjoyed cycling up the Tintern Valley. We were the only people on the road. We were making great progress and really enjoying the adventure. The crew were doing their job wonderfully and I was feeling strong and positive. Just before 2am I told the crew to pull in at the next lay-by and set up camp for the night. It had been a good day and nothing had gone wrong. Or so I thought.
Just as they were pulling into the lay-by the motorhome conked out. As I arrived a few minutes later, ready for my bed I was greeted with the sight of the motorhome stuck in the middle of the road on a dangerous bend. The guys were standing outside, and I could tell by the look on their faces that something bad had happened. But they said for me not to worry about it and get some sleep. As I got into bed they pushed the motorhome into the lay-by and then phoned for the AA. Jamo reckoned the gear box was knackered. He wasn’t sure whether it could be easily fixed.

After 230 miles in 16 hours I was tired. I tried to sleep but couldn’t. Without a support vehicle I couldn’t complete the record attempt. I was very worried.

Eventually, a man from a garage arrived as a representative for the AA. He said the only thing he could do was tow us to his garage (which we had passed through 6 miles previously) and then try and fix it in the morning.

Time to think. We hatched a plan for me to start cycling as planned at 6am on my own. Because we weren’t sure how long it would take for the motorhome to be fixed I would take a backpack with enough supplies to last me the whole day. I would also take my phone and stay in contact with the guys.

And so at 6am, and without having had a wink of sleep, I set off on my own, uncertain and worried, but pleased to be back on my way. The crew waved me off with a grimace more than a smile and said they would see me soon.

The first 6 miles were horrible because I had already cycled them the night before. The wind had changed direction and had become a headwind, and my spirits were low. All morning I cycled, listening out for the sound of my phone ringing. Nothing. My energy levels dropped after 3 hours. I realised I hadn’t been eating enough. Feeling weak and dejected I pulled over to the side of the road and sat on a grass verge, head in hands.

As I stuffed some skittles down my throat I thought of how badly it was going. But just then I heard a ‘beep beep’ from my mobile phone. A text message. I was almost too scared to look at it in case the news was bad. Tentatively, I opened the message and read it. ‘Great news, we’re on the road and right behind you!’
I was so relieved. Suddenly, I felt a wave of energy come into my body. One text message had totally changed me. I jumped back on my bike and set off with a renewed vigour in the bright sunshine. Suddenly life did not seem that bad.

Within half an hour the crew had caught me. After some hugs and back slapping we carried on, working as a team and happy to be back together.

Day 2
A funny thing happened as I cycled along the A49 through Church Stretton. Here I was, in all my lycra gear on my flashy bike trying to break this tough cycling record, and thinking that I was going at a decent pace, when a cyclist roars past me. I say cyclist, but this particular cyclist was wearing Wellington boots and a tweed suit and was riding the oldest bike I had ever seen in my life. You are supposed to cycle with your toes on the pedals, it is the most efficient way to ride. Yet he had his heels on the pedals. I couldn’t believe it as he went motoring past me. I felt very embarrassed, much to the amusement of my support crew. The 300 miles covered had obviously slowed me down a bit.

The day passed uneventfully after that. Apart from Jamo falling off his bike riding with me going through Shrewsbury (but only injuring his pride), everything went smoothly along the A49 towards Warrington. I planned to stop for an hour in Wigan before making it well into the Lake District by nightfall.

Going though the Wigan, Warrington and Preston area was not very pleasant. Lots of traffic and not much scenery to look at made for a pretty boring ride. I was pleased to be through there, onto the A6 heading towards our dinner stop in Lancaster.

I decide to treat the boys to a pub meal there. They had had a hard day. After I scoffed my steak and chips I told the boys to stay there for a while and relax as I would be fine on my own to Kendal. They could catch me up in a bit. So with darkness all around me, I set off on my own.

I don’t know how I missed the turning for Kendal. 1 hour later, and hopelessly lost, I began to panic. I phoned Jamo. They were through Kendal and were wondering where I was. In fact I was now behind them. I could see the lights of Kendal but still couldn’t find the right road.

Eventually, I rode through Kendal feeling very angry with myself. A stupid mistake had cost me 1 hour. I needed to concentrate more.
The weather was now closing in and I had the big climb up Shap Pass to contend with in the Lake District. During the day the scenery in this part of England is amazing. At night in the freezing cold rain it is not as pleasant. My spirits were as damp as the weather as I ascended Shap. I decided I would sleep for 4 hours after we had descended from Shap, 6 miles south of Penrith. Hopefully, the morning would bring better weather. The border with Scotland was not far away. We were getting there.

After a freezing cold descent I eventually saw the motorhome pulled into the lay-by. After not sleeping the previous night due to the worry of the vehicle I fell into a deep sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. It had been a hard day but we were still going and on record schedule!

Just before 5am Ro Ro nudged me in the back. It was time to go. He was going to cycle with me while the boys had a bit of a lie in.
The weather had not improved. In fact it had deteriorated. Wrapped up in about 6 layers of clothing and in the pitch black, we set off for Penrith and then Scotland.

After getting lost in the ring-road around Penrith, we then made good progress, reaching Carlisle before the others had caught us. Ro Ro kept me amused in the miserable weather with lots of jokes and funny stories to pass the time. The scenery was amazing. Unfortunately, the strong headwind meant I kept my head down somewhat and was unable to fully appreciate it. Ro Ro wanted to keep cycling with me until we crossed the border, and did so with admirable grit and determination. Just after 10am, after 2 days we were finally in Scotland.

Day 3
The A7 was now to be our home until Edinburgh. Still facing a strong headwind and cold, driving rain I decided I needed refuelling. It was time for a famous Jamo fry-up! In no time at all I had eaten eggs, bacon, tomatoes, black pudding and sausages. What a life! In an event like this you can afford to eat food you wouldn’t normally eat as it is all being burnt off.

Through Hawick and Kelso, and on towards Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland. I was still feeling surprisingly good considering all the miles done and was bang on schedule to reach John O’Groats in 3 days. I wanted to get through Edinburgh before having my next break. Jamo knew I was worried about getting lost there, so in typical Jamo fashion, stopped a police motorbike on our approach to the city, explained what we were doing and got them to agree to give us a police escort all the way through to the Forth Bridge. And so with sirens blaring and lights flashing we were escorted through Edinburgh. No stopping at traffic lights for us, we just followed the police bike!

In no time at all we were over the bridge. After a late lunch I stepped out of the motorhome in foul weather ready to cycle into the Scottish Highlands on the A9. Once through Perth we headed towards Pitlochry. The rain stopped and we even caught a brief glimpse of the sun. As it was setting I looked around and admired the scenery. Fir trees and tall hills stretched as far as the eye could see. It was lovely.

The hours of darkness are always hard in an endurance event. It is then you have your moments of self doubt and pity. It can become difficult to focus. My music tends to keep me going through these periods. However, it is very hard. I managed to keep cycling until about 1am and then decided to grab a few hours sleep. It had been another good day despite the weather. The crew had done marvellously well. We made a great team.

In what seemed only like minutes it was 5am. Time to ride again. I didn’t feel like it but knew it had to be done. On through Inverness and Tain and soon the A9 became a winding, mountainous road which hugged the east coastline. Less than 70 miles to John O’Groats!

The weather was freezing but for some reason I had only shorts and a cycle jersey on. I was too excited to think about how cold I was becoming. With 10 miles to go a hail storm brought me to my senses. I realised how cold I was. But I was already becoming hypothermic.

So the cycle down the hill into John O’Groats was not the joyous event it should have been. As I touched the signpost that signified the end of the first half of the journey after 3 days 2 hours of cycling, I realised I needed to warm up in the motorhome for an hour rather than head straight back towards Lands End. For that hour inside the guys tried their best to get me warm but I had become dangerously hypothermic. Eventually, I had warmed up sufficiently to start the long journey back home. After signing the guest book in the John O’Groats hotel I slowly got on my bike and started pedalling.

Day 4
I hadn’t realised I had been cycling towards JOG with a strong tailwind so got a shock as I had to start riding back into the wind. I could hardly move, I was still cold and the rain had just started again. Suddenly, Lands End seemed a very far away place.
Ro Ro tried to keep my spirits up as we cycled into the wind, but I felt very despondent. Slowly I pedalled away, trying to make progress. 50 miles into the return journey and faced with a monstrous 1 in 4 climb up a huge hill I made the decision to stop for an emergency rest for an hour. As I slumped into bed I felt extremely weary. I couldn’t see how I could even make it up the next hill, let alone all the way to Lands End. I decided to use the mountain bike to climb the hill as it had a much lower gear and then change back to my road bike when (if) I got to the top. After a long struggle I did eventually make it to the top, and with that done felt much more optimistic.

As darkness came my spirits dropped again. Davo decided to put red wine in my bottle rather than water. This is not to be recommended but id did me wonders. For the next few hours I was flying and felt like a different man as we reached Tain, where we were going to stop for a few hours sleep.

We awoke the next morning to snow on the mountain tops. Not a good omen. Lower down the weather was bad. Sleet combined with a cold wind was not nice. Still, I had a record to break so just put my head down and got on with it. Down the A9 we had only come up the day before, each mile bringing us closer to home.

Day 5
The weather didn’t improve all day. The sleet became snow (though fortunately did not settle.) After a fish and chip lunch in Pitlochry, we set off, headed for Edinburgh. My spirits were quite low as I don’t perform well in the cold and wet. Through Perth and we decided to stop for dinner just before crossing the Forth Bridge, near Edinburgh. A lovely meal cooked by Davo and Jamo failed to lift my spirits. It was pouring with rain and darkness was just setting in.

There was no police escort through Edinburgh this time. Instead Jamo phoned his nephew (who lived there) and he agreed to guide us through this busy city. Once clear of the city we headed out into the darkness along the lonely A7.

The rain by this stage was absolutely lashing down. There was a distinct chill in the air and not even the 8 layers of clothing I was wearing could keep me going. I thought it was pointless to carry on in these foul conditions so made the decision to stop early for the night and hope that the weather had improved next morning.
At 3am I was supposed to get back on my bike but on rising found that the weather had got even worse, so waited until 5am before departing. The boys were doing a fantastic job of getting my clothes dry, even though by this point they really stunk. In fact, the smell in the motorhome was appalling as none of had washed for

5 days!
Ro Ro cycled with me at first through the darkness, rain and cold. He amused with his jokes, although his version of S-Club 7’s ‘There ain’t no party like an S-Club party’ left a lot to be desired!

Day 6
Slowly but surely the weather got better, and we started to make some progress. Eventually we were out of Scotland and heading towards the Lake District. This time we were able to see it in daylight and the views were amazing. With the climb up Shap completed we made the long descent into Kendal. This time I did not get lost and we had a steady afternoon, reaching Preston by dinnertime.

Again, once darkness fell my spirits dropped. I was by this stage getting very tired, both physically and mentally. In fact, all of us were knackered. We just wanted to get home. That night I tried to sleep but could not relax enough to enable me to drop off. The stress was getting to me.

I awoke early next morning with a better attitude. It was obvious we would not be able to finish in less than 6 days, but if I cycled through the next night, should be able to finish under 7. Down the A49 the miles passed quickly, until another careless navigational error cost me another hour. In my tired state it was not what I needed.

Day 7
It felt like we were nearly home as we crossed the bridge over the River Avon into England from Wales. There were only 200 miles to go!

Jules was working so could not guide us through Bristol again. But we spoke to him on the phone we were going through and we were able to make it through without getting lost. About 5 miles out of Bristol we stopped at a pub for lunch. As I relaxed with a pint of beer and some chips I almost forgot that I had another 180 miles to go. I thanked my wonderful crew for helping me to get this far and became quite emotional.

Back on the road the miles were not going very quickly. By this stage the media were becoming increasingly interested and I spent a fair amount of time giving interviews on the phone whilst cycling.

As it began to get dark I realised that I would not be getting any sleep this night. I still had over 100 miles to go. As on the way out I decided to by-pass Exeter by going on the B roads. Big mistake. In my tired state I could barely make it up the steep hills. Eventually I made it to Okehampton.

To save time I cycled a red traffic light. Not normally a problem but there happened to be a police car right behind me! I also hadn’t realised my back light had stopped working. They were not happy. I tried to explain what I was doing but then realised I was so tired I had lost the ability to speak! Ro Ro quickly took over and explained. Amazingly, the policeman let me off.

Back on the road and soon we were back in Cornwall. We only had to cycle along the A30 and we were home. But I was desperately tired. I could barely keep my eyes open. In fact, a couple of times I fell asleep briefly on my bike. Eventually, in the interests of safety, I took a ten minute nap to rest my eyes. But it didn’t do much good. I felt so groggy and all I wanted to do was lay down and sleep. Then I started hallucinating. I kept seeing imaginary barriers across the road and slammed on my brakes to stop even though there was nothing there. I was in a real state. My crew were fabulous. They kept me going through all these dark moments. I had to keep going for them.

Just before sunrise we reached Penzance. 10 miles to go. We were nearly there. I felt a renewed energy enter my body. I was flying. The hills felt effortless. I felt amazing. Descending the hill into Sennen with 1 mile to go, Davo in the motorhome beeped the horn and we all screamed with delight. And then we saw the finish come into view. A crowd of 50 people had been waiting all night for us. To the sound of great cheers we saw our friends at the signpost that marked the finish. After 6 days and 20 hours (a new record) and some 1700 miles of cycling, we had finally made it.
As I touched the sign champagne was sprayed everywhere. My crew and I all hugged. We had been through so much. We had experienced a lifetime’s worth of experiences in under 1 week. We had been through foul weather, getting lost, unexpected mishaps, rain, wind, snow and hills. We had stuck together and we had made it. I was very proud of them all. I was also proud of myself. What a week!