It's Mark here.
I've got up especially early to try and answer some questions, and to update you all from my perspective. Firstly, the blog; I have no idea what is happening there at all. Tom db gave me access to the blog, but on the proviso that it had to be okayed by the STW computer monkeys before it could be released. I'm not sure if, through my sheer technical imbecility, or if they'd forgotten that this was the case, as to why it hasn't come up but I'll contact Tom and see if I can get it sorted.
Some of you have texted stating you'd like to join up for parts of the ride, which is ace; please do not panic if we haven't got back to you at this time. We're trying to establish some sort of riding routine and will bell you a couple of days before the date you'd like to ride with us with a comprehensive route guide for said day. If only because we need someone to take the front and act as a wind-block. Joke. As far as we're concerned, if you've expressed a desire to ride or meet up with us (to buy us cake) it's a given….
Here are the first two blog entries; they're a little rough, but will have to do. If anyone knows of a good bike shop in Glasgow please text the details to my phone and Meg will make sure we get it.
Cheers guys!
PREP DAY:
Fooking nightmare day. The morning was spent at the BRIT School, with Rowan trying to explain in laymen’s terms how the website will be operational. I, like a concrete headed buffoon smiled and nodded furiously, hoping that he hadn’t noticed just how thick-as-pig-shit I am with IT. I had an interview with the team at BRIT FM, and then picked up the last bits and pieces needed to complete the ride. Despite an ‘putting–a-chicken-run-up-for-a -neighbour’ related delay the van was finally loaded up and I set of to pick up Meg, Laura and J from Horley/Reigate. We dumped the dog at the in-laws, loaded up all the bikes and equipment, and by the time the fish and chip supper had been dispatched it was half ten. General consensus was that the planned stop in Leeds should be forgotten, and so we set off on the sixteen hour trek to JOG.
I could go on about the significance of the journey; the emotions, anticipation and so on, but quite frankly the night drive was an arse. 6.30am saw us arrive in Edinburgh, and after a long run up the A9 we came across a bike shop in Pitlochry called Escape Route. Smashing shop, lovely staff (“Would you guys like an espresso after your long drive?” GET IN!) including a fella named Peter, who did his best to fit me into a baselayer of Lilliputian proportions and proceeded to give us a box of those cola flavoured energy sweets that make you piss like a race horse. Top work my friend!
Several hours later we arrived at JOG, weaving the van through a throng of cyclists of differing proportions and equipment ownership. There was no thrill to be there; just a desire to get to the B & B, get some food on board and sleep. Kit was distributed, god-awful curry from the local pub was consumed and a friend was made in another gent called Peter who worked for Cycle Skeddadle (I think). Great advice, an offer to assist if he could and a colossal handshake that made my balls hurt were all offered and gladly accepted (apart from the aching gonads part), and a new friend made. All that remained was to get to bed for the early start…
Sunday 24th July: John O’Groats – Tongue
I like things to be well oiled and smooth. My bike, my plans, my groin, etc.. And the first day of riding was exactly that. Kind of.
From the beginning then.
An early-ish start with a fantastic cooked breakfast from our host allowed final adjustments to clothing, equipment and chamois cream, and when all of our duties had been completed we made our way to JOG for the start of our epic adventure. We got to the car park and found that, bar a couple of other cyclists, it was deserted. The JOGLE road-sign, so very prolific in all the photos, had been removed to prevent it from being stolen (to be fair, I understand this action totally; my intention was to nick it), so we ended up waiting for the resident photographer to arrive and take our picture.
After a little time had passed, the fella turned up and spent a good three hours telling us exactly what each island was, how old the local rowing boats were and other JOG-related trivia. After prising ourselves away from him, we registered our JOGLE trip at the café, and set off with the storm clouds gathering.
The first twenty miles were a piece of piss. As Chris from Cycleworld had suggested, it was a nice flat run along a coastal road, with a fair headwind, but nothing we couldn’t handle. We rolled into Thurso an hour and a half after setting off and surprised Meg who pulled into the car park at Tesco’s for supplies. A little retail therapy followed (batteries, bananas, lunch) and we set off to complete the remaining miles buoyant and content.
From Thurso onwards, everything was up. The roads went up. The headwind was up. My bib was up. My crack, that is. Despite this, we continued to plough on and made very good time. Our policy of rehydrating every half hour combined with little bits of food regularly, was paying dividends and we scorched on past a number of other JOGLE groups towards the final destination of Tongue. During this time, Meg had been seeking out little spots for breaks, and managed to find an amazing beach in a cove close to Bettyhill, and so was getting her fill of beautiful scenery. This is very important – if your support driver isn’t feeling fulfilled, you’re screwed big time. Down goes the sandwich making, the friendly beeps as they drive by, and the encouraging words. Plus Meg grinds my nuts when she’s unhappy.
Towards the end of the ride, J and I decided to engage in a ‘Top Speed Challenge’ (TSC). Very little explanation is needed for this; suffice to say, J edged the challenge with me a fraction slower. This situation will be rectified soon. We rolled into Tongue four and three-quarter hours after setting off with a fairly respectable 13.9mph average, considering the terrain.
Laura’s knee has started to give her a bit of grief, but she has twice the balls I have so continues to grind out the miles. My shoulder is fairly knackered by still attached, which is good. J is so chirpy I want to hit him with a mallet until he stops twitching.
Yup, we’re all good. Roll on tomorrow.
