Tongue to John O'Groats: Land's End to John O'Groats

The last blast - it was hilly, steep, wet and headwind-toiling, and quite a finish as we worked our way along Scotland's wild far North Coast. Dave and Neville were irrepressibly cheerful, merrily slagging each other off as we dug in to the big climbs. They provided us with some much needed shelter from the headwind- something we had had remarkably little of in our trek up the country.

With hills to our right, and the sea to our left, we made Bettyhill - where we descended steeply and then climbed hard into the drizzle. We stopped for a good long lunch at a cafe in Thurso - and let another shower go by. We spotted Thurso station, Britain's most northerly - and it only seemed like a day ago we'd gone past Penzance, the most southwesterly!

By this stage- even I was convinved I could finish the ride! Our route took minor roads inland from the NC500 racetrack - which were nicer, but hillier than the main A836. Amazingly again we dodged the worst of the rain. My wife phoned to see if we needed to be met in the van to shelter from the downpour - but only a few miles from her we were pretty dry.

Eventually we closed in on the target, the famous signpost at John O' Groats, which is the other half of the pair we started at down in Cornwall. 

As we arrived at John O'Groats, it was quite emotional. Not just becuase we'd worked so hard to get there, but because of what it meant, for us all and Stewart especially. My wife was there, David & Michelle were there and so was Szabi - a little welcome party for us. There were a few tears..

And then our final video, filmed in Aviemore on the way back south that night.

Alness to Tongue: Land's End to John O' Groats 15

As the four of us set off from Alness, Neville said that this woudl be the best days cycling of the whole trip - I think he was right. It was absolutely stunning cycling - through wild mountain scenery, across the Flow Country and all the way to the North Coast, on smooth tarmac on largely empty roads. I can't express how wonderful it was.... and for sore bodies, the end was now getting closer and closer.

Our route climbed up from Alness, through Sittenham rolling through the hills around Glen Rory before plunging down the hills on an amazing descent to The Dornoch Firth. Here the views North were breathtaking and quite wonderful. 

The long climb up from Bonar Bridge to the Crask Inn was offset by the awe-inspiring landscape opening up on all sides. Dave and Neville provided us with some solid slipstreaming and a never-ending supply of banter.... and the miles were burned through as an absolute joy, as every bend revealed new delights. 

And onwards past the most Northerly Munros, Bens Kilbreck and Hope! Not all cycling days are this good - but wow, this was a special day out. And the end was in sight. Stewart and I were by this stage being compared to Stadler & Waldorf with out end of day video reports! Here's one from Tongue.

Chat GPT did the rest....

 

 

Aviemore to Alness: Land's End to John O'Groats 14

 

The posse, about to set off from Aviemore! Dave and Neville (who went all the way to the top with us), Graham and Hannah who were with us for the day, Kath and her dog (with home baking!) who came to wave us off!

We had a wonderful day ahead of us with one of the easier days on the whole LEJOG, after our one rest day! The weather looks reasonable and the mountains looked incredible. After the Stewarts had eventually arrived, we went North, up from Aviemore towards Carrbridge.

High windswept moorlands, distilleries, and some diversions around massive roadworks (the A9 is being duelled through this section) were our company as we followed the cycle route up the same glen as the main road and the railway line. 

Our major climb of the day was up to Slochd, a long steady pull - bit without any of the severe gradients which had marked the first few days of the ride.

That led to a fast downhill run to Inverness. The route around the city was a bit circuituitous but eventually we made the Kessock Bridge, on the far side of which were the van, our food, and a group of friends and family - some of whom I haven't seen in such a long time!

Then we were up and over the Black Isle, on lonely highlands roads, heading for Dingwall and the Cromarty Firth.

Lunch at a farm shop on the Cromarty Firth was next - after which Graham and Hannah left us to return to their highland holiday!

We finished with an easy run to Alness, where found our hotel - my wife had checked in and found somewhere safe for the bikes, and after a shower and doze we went out for a really excellent curry at the Cafe India! Two more days to go!

Rest Day in Aviemore: Land's End to John O'Groats 13

Our one rest day in two weeks was in Aviemore, it was much needed and featured a full sports massage on both legs, which was surprisingly restorative! No film from us today, but this from The Vine Trust was lovely!

Next day, we hit the road again!

Perth to Aviemore: Land's End to John O' Groats 12

It was an emotional day that I will never forget. The LEJOG for Julia left her home town surrounded by friends, family, well-wishers colleagues, the church, the cycling club, with Stewart leading proceedings being watched by his children, their spouses and his grand-daughter. It really was quite something -and way more than I had imagined when I thought we might undertake this little advernture.

I believe it was as many as 33 cyclists who started out with us from Perth's North Inch, some with smaller kids did as little as 3 or 4 miles, a few stayed with us all the way to Aviemore. All different abilities, all ages, all kinds of bikes - and all there to honour Julia and her memory and to cheer us on in our efforts. The send off on The Inch was amazing - and then we had abourt 90 miles to pedal!

Groups joined and separated, clusters of riders worked together and then joined others - conversations started and ended, and re-started. Many of the cyclists knew each other - many had nothing in common except some connection to Julia and all kinds of people pedalled together! 

At Pitclochry I stopped with Graham to get some adjustments to my bike - and then we cycled really hard to catch up with our group; not realsing that they had waited for us in a different part of the town! Our regrouping point was House of Bruar, where my wife, along with many other friends had put on a feast! It had been hard getting going again after cycling all the way from Land's End to my own bed in Perth - so this roadside banquet was well received!

Alan had joined us at Murthly, with a track pump sticking out of the top of his rucksack! But appeared smiling and in good spirits at Bruar - and would continue all the way to Aviemore. Other folks from church and Stewarts family arrived there too, with more food - it was another little party. We couldn't help but notice, as we chatted to some of Julia's collegues, there with us - just how much she would have loved this. 

We got into a tight peleton and dashed through Drumochter heading for the Cairngorms, by the time we were in the National Partk the rain had set in, and we dug deep and rode hard. The press had picked up on our fundraising efforts, and were giving us some attention in some local rags - as had Graham Norton on his show too.

We had a great evening together with everyone in Aviemore - and a rest day the next day. We also saw our son who was working for the Summer in the Cairngorms. As usual we recorded our thoughts here:

What a day!

 

 

Moffat to Perth : Land's End to John O' Groats 11

 

We had almost a hundred miles of riding ahead of us when we left the AirB&B in Moffat, on a greay Friday morning. The ride had been timed so that we would be in Perth on a Saturday, as so many people who knew Julia wanted to come and support us, friends, family, neighbours, colleagues, cyclists and a load of people from church. That meant that we had diverged from the stages recommended in the guide book which had served us so well (mostly!), and a major ride was ahead of us. I think that by this stage of a ride, you are either at breaking point or getting stronger - and I think we were the latter. I had had a couple niggles in a knee and groin early in the ride, and had feared that these might escalate into an injury, but the opposite was true and we were by this stage strong but tired.

The ride was also strating to feel something like a pilgrimmage. There had been times (especially on the day I'd been ill) when keeping going was a matter of digging deep. The chidren in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe (At least in the film version) went into battle shoutng "For Aslan and for Narnia!". Somewhere just North of Tebay I had been sick and was struggling to keep going and was saying at one point, "For Julia and for Africa"! As we came closer to home, and sponsorship money was pouring into the Vine Trust, and friends and family started to meet us on the road, it seemed more significant than ever to do this. So we pushed on!

Although we didn't have to climb up the notorious 'devils beef tub' - (we were one glen over the the west), our day started with long ascent up into the hills which roll through the Scottish Borders. A repeated theme of conversation had been how much more beautiful the countryside looks from the high, minor roads on a bike than blasting up and down the M74. The borders are really, really beautiful - this was wonderful cycling.

Another conversation topic was what Julia would have thought of our antics over these 13 days of cycling.... she (I am sure) have laughed at us repeatedly. I'm sure she would have thought the sight of us trying to reinflate Stewart's tyre my the side of that canal in middle-England, rather comical. What she would have made of the day I got covered in pigeon poo - I can only imagine. 

Coffee stop and restart in the Borders.

Somewhere after the New Lanark area our route left the Clyde and climbed up and over the western end of the Pentland Hills towards the Forth Valley. As we made the watershed and saw the view North it was strangley moving. The Forth wound its way across the view like a vast dark snake, beyond it The Trossach loomed dark, and mysterious through clouds, and the three 'sails' of the Queensferry Crossing caught the few rays of sunshine on offer. Beyond the Forth Bridges the Paps of Fife stood tall, beckoning us home.

Flying down into West, then East Caulder - we picked up the cycle route that winds its way through the Lothian towns towards the bridges. Grant appeared - having cycled down from Perth to guide us through this warren of paths - and offer us some powerful slipstreaming too! At the old Fort Road Bridge (now closed to traffic, but open to bikes) Wendy joined us. I've known Wendy for thirty years, but never cycled with her before!

Then The Yarney's appeared with a banner and snacks - and a photo stop on the Forth Bridge! Progress was slow - but it was a lot of fun. Then at the far end of the bridge a small crew of Stewart's cycling pals joined us for the run to Perth. Wendy turned back for home at Kinross - just before the heavens opened and drenched us for the climb up the hills near Milnathort and the final pull up from the Earn over to the Tay and the run into Perth. 

Home - for one night!

Tebay to Moffat: Land's End to John O'Groats 10

With Charles away, it was back to just Stewart and I, and an early start from near the hotel in Tebay where we had staggered in, soaking wet from the torrential rain the night before. It was a dark, and overcast morning, with dreadful storms forecast for the Carlise area. The BBC forecast promised us an 80% chance of heavy rain and an almost guaranteed prospect of thunder and lightning. We were, however also promised a strong tailwind! A 90 mile day was planned, so we had a decent breakfast before hitting the road!

  

We picked up speed soon, and with Stewart's timer on 2.5 minute turnrounds, we alternated at the front, working hard and resting in the other's slipstream - and pushed our average mph up - and we soon chewing through the miles. Our planned route went on tiny roads over the hills, but with an early start and not much traffic about, we hit the A6 for a fast blast - hoping we could outrun the weather! As we ran through Shap, we spotted Tim Farron MP filming at the side of the road. He obligingly eaved back as we shouted, 'Hi Tim!' and then emailed him later to explain who we were, and why we waving at him as we sped past!

Our route then crossed and re-crossed the M6 - many times, and ran alongside the London - Glasgow railway line. Penrith came and went, and still the rain had really caught us - and the tailwind blew! At Newton Reigny, my wife was waiting for us at Newton Reigny Trailer Centre, where the lovely owners let us use their car park to have some food, a rest, use their toilets - and they donated to the Julia McLean fund for Vine Trust! 

Carlise was soon in sight, and the national cyle route took us up river banks - missing most of the city. The eden took us out of the north west of the city and out onto lanes - which all pointed North to Scotland! First we crossed the River Esk at Metal Bridge, alongside the M6. The border itself was found at Gretna. It was predictably raining when we crossed, and my wife was there to filmn the moment!

Safely back home in Scotland we had a good feed in the van, and watched the rain soaking out bikes, and running down the windows. Eventually we thought it was easing a little and so we hit the road again - it felt as if we might be actually achieving this LEJOG now! It had felt almost impossible in Cornwall, now even I at my usual pessimistic worst, thought 'we are actually going to do this'!

We had a bit of headwind as the route went westward through southern Scotland, before turning northwards again at Annan. We still however didn't have any torrential rain or thunder storms! Moffat, our destination was due North, and not far away - when the weather did catch up though. We clocked 90 miles for the day in torrential rain and had a hard time finding out AirB&B. Eventually we dripped and shivered our way into the place, got the hot water on, and cooked up a feast.

The perils of modern cycling seem to be that everything needs to be charged up. Phone for navigation, with a battery back up. Lights, front and rear. Then the SRAMM batteries for the bluetooth gears. Moffat was a night for recharging everything. And making another end of day video. 

 

Bamber Bridge to Tebay: Land's End to John O'Groats 9

 

Stewart got back from the funeral late the night before, and while I tried to sleep - my wife collected him from Manchester airport. Charles, despite the rigours of the previous day, stayed on and cycled with us as we pushed right into the North of England. It was a day of big progress, and turned out to be the only day on the whole ride on which I was unwell - the first hour or two was grim, stopping to wretch in the bushes before getting back on the bike. Happily it seemd to lift by lunchtime and the day improved!

Despite feeling a bit rough, it was good running through pleasant lanes, and not too many dreadful canal towpaths and impassable tracks which had so blighted the previous day. Charles definitely enjoyed riding on some decent tarmac after the boneshaking we'd had. He's a strong cyclist, so feeeling ropey - I was very glad to have someone to draft, tucking in and slipstreaming as much as I could.

We reckoned that somewhere aorund this village must have been the halfway mark in the whole route!

Again one of the things that struck me as we weaved our way through the North, is just how much you miss on the M6! Our route wound its way through farms, villages, over moors and through the stark beauty of the North. The weather forecast had been decidedly dicey when we set off, but the rain held off for most of the day. 

Approaching the last hour and a half of the ride though, on minute narrow lanes, covering steep ground (with occasional glimspes of the M6 below us), we saw ominous clouds gathering to the west and behind us. The temperature was dropping and the light fading as they built. Then the distinctive sound of rumbling like massive kettle drums started to boom in the hills. Charles started playing "Riders on the Storm" on his phone as we peddled North!

The last hour of our ride to Tebay was through the heaviest rainfall I have seen in years. Just seeing was a problem on downhill stretches - it was hard work. Yet - through breaks in the rain we watched trains rattling North and South on the West Coast Main Line, and the line of car lights in the distance illuinating the route of the motorway. Eventually, cold and soaked to the skin we reached ourt hotel at Tebay. My wife was there, and had checked us in and found somewhere to store the bikes.

Szabi drove down from Scotland to pick Charles up (he needed to get back to work). It turned out that in order to help us with the ride he had actually delayed moving house (apologies to his wife!). So after some food and a photo they headed off into the night.

Then the end of day report...

 

Nantwich to Bamber Bridge: Land's End to John O' Groats 8

 

With Stewart in Northern Ireland for the day for his father-in-law's funeral - David brought Charles down from Scotland so that I wasn't cycling alone for the day! Having bashed out 40 extra miles the night before, it should have been an easy straightforward day, only 60 or so miles, with no major ascents to face - the map looked good.

It was a brute of a day in fact!

It started off well, Charles is a very strong cyclist, and we made excellent progress through the lanes of Cheshire, with Lancashire and the North in our sights. The GPX files we'd been using to navigate had been great all the way from Cornwall, but were severley out of date after Winsford where they led us into an impassable woodland - parallel to a new cycle track!

With our average speed on Strava looking incredible (and not in a good way), we trudged on. The next issues we faced were miles of canal towpaths. These can be great when the surface is decent, they are flat and often cut through major cities without using huge roads, junctions etc and are safe from traffic - and can be fast. 

Some of them became gravel paths, not suitable for road bikes - and some slowed us again to walking pace. The vibration was so extreme that Charles' head unit on his bike completely sheared off its mountings - and our hands were shattered.

But worse was to come as we followed the cycle route North between Manchester and Liverpool.

In some accursed spot near Wigan the cycle route picked up and old railway line. Now, in Devon and Cornwall these had been amazing rides, fast, smooth and direct. This one was almost impassable - not even suitable for gravel bikes, it was really a mountain bike track through cuttings which were boggy and full of rocks. It should not have been part of the national cycle network!! It was a horror show - we ended up walking a long way, again with many miles yet to cycle.

It was something of a godsend that I had managed to the extra 40miles the previous night, or we woudl have been in real trouble! However, tired, bruised and feeling very road-weary we staggered into Bamber Bridge and were very relieved to see my wife, and the van at Bamber Bridge - in the football club car park.

She drive us to the digs for the night and dropped us off. After some food we both crashed out, but she then drove to Manchester Airport to get Stewart. He'd flown out of Birmingham and back into Manchester, so only missed one leg of the LEJOG - which we will go back and cycle (but not that evil railway cutting!!).

Tewkesbury to Nantwich: Land's End to John O'Groats 7

 

One of the joys of doing the LEJOG was the people who came out to see us along the route, some of who cycled with us. The first of these were Ian and Gill, some of our oldest friends, who we've known for over three decades. We all met up at the starting point for the day's cycling in Tewksbury, Ian jumped on his bike, and Gill headed off in the car to meet us further up the road.

We had a really great run through the west and Midlands, through towns such as Worcester, along the banks of the Severn past the cathedral; through Droitwich  - somewhere that morning a pigeon managed to poo all over me; which was utterly gross!  Thankfully my wife and Gill were waiting for us all at the castle at Hartlebury, where I could clean up, clean the bike and change my clothes!

Long miles then followed along the banks of the Staffordshire and Worcester Canal, before lanes took us up the western side of Wolverhampton - where we cycled with some other chaps we met on the road with the most rich and engaging black country accents! Wolverhampton airport (who knew?) came and went, before our next stop for a late lunch at the garden centre at Albrighton. Here, Ian and Gill left us - and so did Stewart who went with them for a late flight to Northern Ireland for his father-in-law's funeral. He flew out of Birmingham airport, while I got back on the bike and bashed out another 40 miles - the only part of the trip when I had to ride solo!

The fast downhill running over the silky tarmac on the Lillieshill Golf estate, with a beast of a tailwind was quite exhilirating. Blasting up through Market Drayton, I managed to get all the way to Nantwich, a place I remember visiting as a boy. My wife was less than impressed, having had a dreadful drive in the van through all kinds of wangly lanes to find me - but we put down the pin by the lake in Nantwhich to resume the next day without Stewart - but another friend from church - Charles arrived that evening to ride for a couple of days with us. He was kindly driven down from scortland by David an old friend and former neighbour of Stewart's. The nexrt day was going to be a really tough one - but we didn't know just how rough it woud be!

Rooksbridge to Tewksbury: Land's End to John O' Groats 6

Well, this was a day of extreme contrasts! We began the day at the unlikely starting point of Rooksbridge on the A38, where we had got to by putting in something of a fast late-shift the night before; extending our previous day's riding. The first signs of morning weariness were setting in as we set off at the side of the main road before turning northwards onto the lanes and the never-ending road North.

 

Our route for the day was going to drive us up the eastside of the Severn Estuary and deep into Gloucestershire. The day began in pleasant rolling hills and nice villages, which we noted all had a First World War memorial; every village. A theme we were to note all the way into the Scottish Highlands. Much of the running was along the Strawberry Line, a disused railway path, with varying quality of surface. Then as we skirted the Avonouth Docks area, we navigated the most heavily industrialised part of the whole trip. The cyclepath joined the M5 bridge over the Avon, with industrail rail lines, power stations and factories, and post-industrial debris filling the view.

Possibly the sorriest sight on our whole ride ocurred here too, our route took us through as travellers site with obvious deprivation and more litter strewn in piles everywhere, than I have ever seen. Weaving in between ripped open black waste bags while sinister dogs looked on was a grim part of the ride.

Thankfully such grim vistas were rare, and before long the lovely Gloucestershire countryside took over. We headed for Berkeley Castle, where my wife was waiting for us in the van with lunch ready!  Strangely, in this lovely corner of rural England there was a medieval jousting tournament takign place, which she went and enjoyed once we were back on the road! This was only about three miles from the farm my Mum and Grandmoster were evacuated to from London, during the Blitz, a place she went back to a few times - and the place where my step-grandfather came from.

Slimbridge, Frampton on Severn, and Epney ran us through fields and alongside canals, right into the heart of Gloucester - a more beautiful city than I had realised - especially around the old docks. Again, the last shift of the day took us through gentle lanes, and lovely villages, all the way up to Tewksbury, ending our day at the Mythe Bridge, for pint by the river - before our lift to the hotel for the night.

Whiddon Down to Rooksbridge: Land's End to John O' Groats 5

 

Sunshine again as Stewart and I were dropped off at Whiddon Down, to start our next stage of the LEJOG for Julia. A day of fast riding and a lot more downhill than ascent made rolling through the market towns of the west of England very enjoyable indeed. We seemed to cross the M5 too many times!

 

We also encoutered a cow-jam!

Another highlight was meeting another charity cyclist going from Land's End to the far South Eastern corner fo England, raising money for dementia care. 

Crediton, Cullompton, Taunton, Bridgwater - long lanes, and miles of towpaths also resulted in our only puncture of the entire trip (I am writing this up after we got home!). I was sceptical of Stewarts tubeless tyres and the sealant gunk he had filled them with, but sure enough despite spurting out through the puncture whole, it soon sealed up and lasted all the way to John O' Groats!

 

End of day video!

By this stage, our neice and her cousin (aged 2 and 5) decided that they should made daily encouragement videos for us too, which became a highlight! Again we were doing well and cycled beyind our scheduled destination at Bridgewater and pushed on to Rooksbridge where we were met my our 'support crew' ie my wife!

Fowey to Whiddon Down: Land's End to John O' Groats 4

If cycling was as good as this all the time, you'd never get people off their bikes. From our first steep pull up from the port of Fowey across the rest of Cornwall and on into Devon, the sun shone and the scenery was unrelentingly lovely! 

Although it was a hilly day, the miles seemed to fly past - and soon we were at our lunch top at Brent Tor, and distinctive hilltop with a historic tower and church on top. This clip is crossing the river Tamar into Devon.

Some of the finest riding of the whole trip was in Dartmoor. Here the old London and Southwestern Railway, long since bludgeoned by Dr Beeching, is now a spectacular cycle path which has a beautiful tarmac surface and  original bridges and viaducts to even out the gadient. Despite a very odd man in a high viz vest and clip board yelling at cyclists at Fratton (think 'you have no authority here Jackie Weaver!) the old railway line, now "The Granite Way" is just wonderful!

We had planned to stop at Sticklepath, but were doing well and pushed on to Whiddon Down, where my wife picked us up in the van and drove us to our accomodation for the night a few miles off the route. There we sat down and made another film about our day, in which we talked a lot about Julia - in whose memory we were doing the ride.

By this stage our fundraising efforts were really ramping up and we were checking in daily to see the latest on the 'totaliser'!

Land's End to Fowey: Land's End to John O'Groats 3

Land's End is a strange place! Car parks, tat-shops and nothing much else other than the iconic signpost around which we gathered to make a little film about our challenge!

Cornwall though is stunningly beautiful. It was an absolute joy to ride through the sun-drenched country and see so many places I had visited as a child on famiy holidays. Stewart and I soon got into a rythym and started to plough through the miles, and I figured out how to use the navigation system on my phone! Cornwall is relentlessly hilly though and although Day 1 was one of the shorter rides planned in terms of miles; the 6000+ft of ascent (some of it steep) made it a hefty challenge.

My wife met us at the cafe at Trellisick Gardens, where we fuelled up and refilled water bottles before running down to the King Harry Ferry over the River Fal. There we met a lovely couple of cyclists who asked about our trip and donated to the Vine Trust Fund in Julia's memory.

Along by the sea, by old tin mines, though stunning villages, over hills and eventually to the delightful village of Fowey and our pub for the night. Fowey is another place full of happy childhood memories for me, and it didn't dissapoint. One lady seeing our LEJOG shirts said, "One more day to go - nearly there!!" and I replied - actually we're going North, we're one day in! She looked as crestfallen as I felt!

Mousehole: Land's End to To John O'Groats 2

The night before we actually started cycling, we went for a stroll around the delightful harbour village of Mousehole. I have vagie memories of seeing this village on Blue Peter when I was a small child. The sun shone, and the water sparkled as we sat in Stewart's van eating our tea, and contemplating the following day's cycle! It was an idyllic scene; boats bobbing in the water, people jumping from the cliffs, toddlers building sand castles with their parents, and older folk deep into 'airport novels' with their flasks of tea. 

But Stewart looked perturbed.

There in the harbour were three or four paddleboarders, all happily doing their thing in the tidal waters of the water. All of them were kids, all of them were navigating around moorings of the boats, and all of them wore ankle leashes.

Since the tragedy of Julia's death, Stewart has been campaigning for the end of the use of ankle leashes on paddle boards on moving water. This is obviously on rivers, but also includes tidal waters too. The sad truth is that if the paddleboarder gets trapped under water and the current makes it impossible to release the ankle leash, tragedy awaits. A waist leash is far safer, as even in a strong current, the wearer can reach down and unclip themselves from it.

Part of the reason for cycling from Land's End to John O' Groats was to raise awareness of this danger, and to get people to consider replacing their ankle leashes with a safer waist leash.

Lands End to John O' Groats 1.

When I was a kid I knew a few people who had cycled the length of the British mainland. Back then it was known as doing 'the end-to-end', but time moves on as does language and it is now referred to as the LEJOG (or the JOGLE if you go the other way!). Either way, I never thought I'd be able to do it. But life, like time and language moves on in unexpected ways, and so a few weeks ago I found myself in a camper van with my pal Stewart and my wife, speeding down the M6 with our bikes on the back and Land's End in sight.

Just over a year before we set off, Stewart's wife Julia was killed in a dreadful paddleboarding accident on the River Spey near Aviemore. Julia was a close friend of my wife's, a fellow GP, a fellow Ulster woman in Perth, a confidant and prayer-partner at Perth Baptist Church, and they had been on medical missions together in Africa as well. While her loss was obviously most accutely felt by Stewart and her imemdiate family, the shock and grief spread out in waves from the epicentre and enveloped us all. And it was because of this that the three of us ended up heading to Cornwall with the bikes.

Knowing that Stewart was due to retire this year, and that he is a keen and very strong cyclist; and that my wife would be keen to do something in Julia's memory - I suggested to her that we do the LEJOG  (sponsored for her charity The Vine Trust). Then I bottled out, and - lost in the inevitable fog of self-doubt) dropped the idea and hoped it would it would go away. Then later that week, just after Julia's funeral we were sitting with Stewart, his kids and his son-in-law and daughter-in-law, at his dinning room table when in a lull in conversation my wife announced to everyone that I had "had a good idea!". Not getting the hint that I was now terrified at the prospect, and had absolutely decided not to mention it - I was now forced to share the idea - to which he said an immediate 'yes'. By the time we left that evening we had provisional dates in mind and a LEJOG route guide ordered from Amazon! The adventure was on.

Return to the Eastern Fannichs

With both the walks I had planned to do over the weekend completed in one go, and my wife up to 100 Munros, all the kids busy, and another day of uninterrupted sunshine forecast, we decided to complete the Fannich hills before heading home to Perth. After two night of dreadful sleep in the tent, we got a decent bed at the Alltguish Inn (nice room, good bed and shower, poor breakfast) before heading to the start point just along the road. The little car park by the metereological station marks the entry point to the Eastern Fannish from the Ullapool Rd, which is accessed by a bulldozed track through a forest just S/E of the bridge over the Abhain an Torrain Duibh. This track, is at once rather pleasant as it winds through open woodland, but equally hellish as it contains brutal swarms of cleggs which dive-bomb any walker who dares bare any skin.

Just before the end of the forest the track dives to the right, into denser forestry and millions of cleggs. On the map there seems to be no further path or track after this point, but in fact the track continues across the glen and almost all the way up Beinn Liath Mhor Fannaich via the broad Creag Dhubh Fannaich ridge. It's a long slow climb which was probably just as well as it was extremely hot and I was carrying five litres of fluid!

Beinn Liath Mhor Fannaich is a lovely hill, with especially great views of the Beinn Dearg group and An Teallach's distinctive shape to the North. What really grabs the attention however is Sgurr Mor, the next hill in this round - and one of the finest peaks in this range. Last time I climbed this it was only glimpsed intermittently between swirling clouds - but this weekend it shimmered in bright sunshine! What a sight. Also quite a climb!

The long south-westerly ridge took us over Meall nan Peithrean, Meall Gorm and a big pull up to An Coileachan before a big descent Northwards towards Loch Gorm from where we could see the car, the other side of the clegg-ridden Forest of Doom! There are no photos of this part of the walk, we were being eaten alive!

This was a wonderful weekend, which had it all - time together, sun, sea, hills, peaks, wildlife, and views as goos as anywhere in the world! If Scotland had weather like this reliably, the tourist industry would be a goldmine!

Return to the Western Fannichs

If there is a finer sight in all the land than Wester Ross in blazing sunshine, I have yet to see it. Last weekend my wife and I enjoyed the rare collision of good weather and no work or church or parenting responsibilities and so drove North through lovely Ullapool to the Ardmair campsite, where we threw down our tent, brewed coffee and planned our adventure for the following day.

It's been many years since I have walked in The Fannish hills, that lovely range of mountains that appears to the left of the Ullapool road as it heads North through the Dirrie Mor. Countless cars see the graceful outlines of its' peaks and ridges, but very few people seem to venture up onto its spacious countours. Since completing the Munros, there have been several favourite walks which I have wanted to go back and share with my wife - and the Fannichs are right up there in the top ten.

After a fitful night (I never sleep that well in a tent),  we stocked up on coffee and filled our rucksacks. I have discovered that in order to feel OK, I need to carry a lot of fluid up the hills on hot days, and so my pack was heavy. Nevertheless, we strode down the track from the A832 to Loch a Bhraoin and following the 'Walk Highlands' route advice turned east and crossed the Alt Brebaig on a precarious bridge under the slopes of Meall a Chrasgaidh - our first hill of the day. A mile or so south of the bridge we turned directly west and marched up the relentlessly steep slopes to the summit - by which I had sweated my body weight in water and replenished it from my supplies.

It was good to spend some quality time with my wife, life has been extremely busy recently with work and family travel meaning that we have spent more time apart in the last year than in the previous 25! Realising that this wasn't really that great, we prioritsed some time together and ring-fenced it from other competing concerns. It's something that is really good for us and which we should do more often! 

Sgurr nan Clach Geala is a fine, high mountain, whose ridges are are untrammeled joy to traverse. From the airy walkways of this sculptured peak it seems as if half of Scotland is on show in all directions. Beinn Dearg, An Teallach, The Fisherfields, Slioch - all distinctive and each loaded with memories of hill days and companions. Last time I was on this hill was in June 2006 - and it was so windy that standing up was a real issue - I scampered off and back to Ullapool Youth Hostel as fast as I could. This time, the temptation to linger was strong - but we had a lot of miles and more hills to do. 

The next one was Sgurr nan Each, which from Sgurr nan Clach Geala looks tiny, is a good little hill in its own right. But where were all the people? It was a sunny weekend in the school holidays, Scotland was basking in light, it was stunningly beautiful and almost completely empty. Has hillwalking gone out of fashion? Was the weather too hot? Or do folks here in Scotland fail to appreciate the glory on our doorstep?

With plenty of food and fuel in the rucksack, we resisted the temptation to head Northwards to the car and instead hunted for the ascent track up Sgurr Breac. I remember finding this path in appalling weather in 2006, but here in sunshine it seemed to be well hidden - and only emerged further up the steep ascent. I was very up for more hills, and combining both the walks I had planned into a single day. My wife was inspired by the fact that she was on 98 Munros and that these two (which looked tantalisingly close) would clock up her hundred. But in the heat, towards the end of a long day, it was a fearful slog! In 2006 on this ridge I had seen nothing, in truly dreadful weather, so to repeat these hills in cloudless skies was a genuine delight. We went to A'Chailleach butr returned to Toman Choinnich to use it's long NW ridge as a descent route to Loch a Bhraion- descending the WalkHighlands recommended ascent path. It's steep and in places wet and slippery, but makes for a quick way back.

Sadly the extra two Munros meant we were not back in Ullapool before closing time at the Seafood Shack - which would have to wait until the following day! Not all hill days are this good - but this was as near darn perfect as it gets. Blessings duly counted and thanks given to God!