The Epilogue

Having allowed a few days to come back down to earth I thought I'd draw together a few general impressions of what was a pretty special experience. 

Otherwise I fear that my memories of the Ride Across Britain will be like one of the several magnificent but ephemeral rainbows we saw on the ride, stretching the full width of the landscape in awe inspiring splendour.  I need to capture and preserve them before they fade and melt away into the background grey sky of normal life.

The whole experience of taking part in the RAB was anything but normal, quite extraordinary in fact.

I was incredibly lucky to have been there at all. Back in March when I had lost all power in my right hand due to ‘handlebar palsy’ and was told I would need surgery I really didn’t think it would happen. Indeed, had I not sought a second surgical opinion from the excellent Mike Hayton in Manchester who advised me not to delay the operation I suspect that not only would I not have done this ride but that my cycling days could easily have been at an end.

The organisation of the RAB itself was quite amazing. It defies belief that it could be possible to enable a group of some 700 riders of very different experience and abilities to cycle almost 1,000 miles in 9 days in some very testing conditions without it all going horribly wrong at some point. There were plenty of opportunities for this certainly. There were times when it was a struggle to keep the bike upright because of the strength of the winds; those same winds were attempting to blow our encampment of pop up tents into the next county one night; another of the camps had been flooded and was under several inches of water; there were many mechanical failures and broken bikes; there were inevitable crashes and injuries.

But the Deloitte RAB Team took all of this in their stride. One had the sense of superb project management so that when there were problems it had all been factored in and they had a contingency plan. Perhaps not, and there was a lot of feverish paddling below the surface even though the enterprise seems to glide, swan-like, on the surface.  It seemed that there was an almost military precision about everything. Not that this meant that we were subject to a stringent, impersonal regime. Anything but. The atmosphere throughout was one of kindliness and support and this permeated through to the riders so that most of us saw it as our mutual responsibility to see each other through.

For example, take the guys who were on security duty at the bike pen. Each day when we arrived at the next base camp the first person we saw after crossing the finish line was one of a number of burly blokes. They would applaud and congratulate us, high fiving and were genuinely delighted that each of us had made it though. They became the people we most wanted to see as they symbolized the end of another tough day and the chance to recuperate before we did it all again. They stayed out all night to ensure the bikes were safe.

I had assumed they were paid security guards but no. Chatting to some of them one night I discovered they were all serving police officers from the Armed Response Unit of Thames Valley Police. (the bikes were pretty safe then...). But what was astounding to me was that they had all taken holiday leave to participate in the RAB. They had no time off in lieu of this and all said that they did it because of the enjoyment it gave them to see the riders take on and conquer this challenge.

One of them disclosed to me that he knew he would be in tears at John o’Groats as people he had got to know over the event crossed the finishing line. And these are men who are trained to shoot to kill when necessary...

The honours list is endless:

·       the catering section who produced enormous quantities of healthy, fresh food twice daily;

·       the sports physiotherapy students from Birmingham University who gave free massages every other day and eased the aches and pains away;

·       the medical team, junior A & E Doctors lead by the lovely GP Dr Karen – they were constantly on standby with the Sudocrem and Vaseline as well as dealing with somewhat more serious injuries and ailments;

·       the team of bike mechanics from Halfords – it is no exaggeration to say that they worked through the night to ensure that our machines were roadworthy the next day, and did so with great humour. It was very disconcerting to note that one of them (‘Scouse’) both looked and sounded like Mark Cavendish. When I first spotted him I thought my tiredness was worse than I had thought. I had fallen asleep and in my dream I was riding a bike event where all the supporting crew were my pro-cycling idols. Look, here is Bradley Wiggins serving my evening meal and is that Eddie Merckx I see cleaning the showers...?

The list goes on:

·       the friendly tent allocation people;

·       the dispensers of PowerAid (I forgive you...);

·       the cheery tent erectors/ removers;

·       the shower attendants with their daily squeegee juggling act;

·       those manning the information tent fielding more daft questions from over tired riders;

·       the oh so welcome providers of bananas, crisps, sandwiches, chocolate and on special days wonderful rice puddings at our feed stops every 35 miles or so.

·       the speakers at the nightly briefings that became a highlight of each day as they were so entertaining and professional;

·       the guest ‘celebrity’ riders that spoke and then rode the next day’s stage, particularly the paraolympians who were truly inspirational

Everyone had one thing in common – a shared desire to make this event special and ensure that as far as possible each and every rider made it to John o’ Groats. They all really cared.

Then there were the riders. Of course there were far too many to get to know well but by the end of 9 days it was easy to recognise most from sections ridden together, chats at feed stops or over dinner or just from short interchanges and jokes shared while waiting in one of the many queues that made up a lot of our daily life while not riding, eating or sleeping.

Readers of this Blog will realise that something of a special bond formed between 3 of those 700 riders.

Vicky I knew as a former colleague although not very well before the RAB. From her previous exploits running, trekking, cycling and taking part in madcap events (motorised rickshaw racing in India for example) she came with a reputation of something of a ‘superwoman’ and I suspected that I would not see her for dust once we began peddling!  In fact we found that our riding skills complemented each other quite well. I am a reasonably good and fast climber; Vicky is a very strong rider with a daredevil streak and superb bike handling skills on descents. I was able to help her a bit on a few of the climbs (there is some benefit in slipstreaming even when climbing) and as the days went on I became just a bit more confident about following her line when the road headed down and her broad grin announced she was about to take flight. But her athletic prowess comes with a very caring nature. I don’t think I ever saw her pass a slower rider without her asking how they were doing or fail to strike up a cheery conversation with those around her when we stopped.

The other member of our trio was Chris, the psychologist from Fife we chanced upon in the peloton and whose pace of riding, easy, intelligent banter and silly sense of humour matched ours very well. Very experienced on the bike, I suspect Chris was riding well within himself and it was great that he chose to make up our little gang. The miles sped by as we put the world to rights and he led our irreverent mini seminars in group dynamics and social anthropology.

We shared a mutual respect for each other’s riding abilities which meant we could relax with each other totally. When you are positioned 6 inches behind someone else’s back wheel believe me this is really important! It was very evident when we found ourselves part of larger groups that this sort of respect has to be earned and must never be taken for granted especially with riders you do not know. Moving out of line without proper warning or braking too hard can spell disaster. And we looked out for each other, taking our turns to ride at the front in the wind to allow the others to recover a bit and sharing food, extra layers of clothing, paracetamol and words of comfort and encouragement as required.

We discovered that we are all freedom loving Sagittarius and spookily in the case of Chris and myself, that we share 28^th November as our birthday. Not that I believe in any of that rubbish you understand...

Suffice it to say that the 3 of us are already planning our next big ride together in 2013.

I will never know if I would have done this ride had it not been for Sam's selfless struggle against his cancer and Annie and Peter's resolve to set up the Foundation in his name to honour his memory and to make a real difference for those unlucky enough to contract this horrible disease. I may have done I suppose as the 'End to End' is on every keen cyclists wish list of rides to tick off.

But I am sure that my experience would not have been the same if it had just been another cycling adventure. I admit to being pretty determined and competitive in any event, but throughout the RAB I felt an extra sense of duty to finish no matter what and in doing so to take out and give back as much as I could.

I had to finish because so many people had been so generous in sponsoring me. As I write my ride has already raised £5,750 for the Royal Marsden Cancer Charity without taking into account pledges made. It was unthinkable that I might not do it and, although my sponsors might not see it this way and I think most would have been happy to donate anyway, in my mind not to have finished would have been letting you all down.

But I also had to finish because of the very strong sense I had throughout the ride of the huge privilege bestowed on me, whether by my genes or just the lottery of good fortune, to have the health and fitness at the age of 60 yrs to even attempt an endurance event of this kind. So many of my contemporaries have been so much less lucky. And of course it was never far from my thoughts that Sam had suffered so much pain throughout his 20s and died so terribly young.

So, and with apologies if this seems maudlin, trite or even bordering on the rabbinical (which is not my calling for sure!) I did have a strong sense in the build up to the ride and during it that surely the duty of the living is to live, and to enhance our lives to the greatest extent that we can?  

As Chris commented when we were sharing our last coffee stop together 50 miles from John O’ Groats, the Ride Across Britain was a truly life enhancing experience.  You can’t ask for more than that.

Go for it, in whatever way suits you, because, to quote the RAB strap line:

MORE IS IN YOU

The Ride Day 9

The end of any journey can prove to be an anticlimax and waking up at 4.40am to the sound of rain falling on the tent didn't help dispel the slight mood of sadness that had settled on the group at last night's final briefing.

We knew that there would be only a brief time for goodbyes at the finish. There is not a lot to do at the most northerly point of the GB mainland.

We have been living in a bubble for 10 days and bubbles have to burst. We will rush off to catch our transfers and carry on where we left off in the parallel universe where our normal lives exist.

So for one last time I haul myself out of my cosy sleeping bag and prepare for another 104 miles. A task that would have been a lot easier if I had not mislaid my head torch some time during the night.

Working by feel I locate my gear. I'd already resolved the day's only real decision to be taken namely what to wear. Get this wrong and you either freeze or boil. Despite the rain I gamble on it brightening up and choose to go light rather than have to carry lots of kit if it warms up. So a gilet, arm and knee warmers and a very light showerproof race cape.

Then stagger over to the catering tent and join the line of other Lycra zombies (good name for a band Steve?!) shuffling along to fill digestive fuel tanks with quantities of food that would be obscene in any other context but on planet RAB represent Darwinian necessity.

Porridge, honey, tea/coffee, toast, jam, full English (or in my case full Veggie) breakfast, croissants, juice, yoghurt. I skip seconds today as it is only a short ride...

Shuffle out for queue for loos (courtesy of the imaginatively named company WC in Fields), then a spot of communal outdoor teeth brushing.

Remember at this point to check which way the wind is blowing to avoid being the victim of collateral damage - also applies to roadside pee stops :-)

Fill water bottles with worryingly coloured fluorescent, radioactive looking Powerade.

Locate my tent. I have my wristband with today's tent number on it but can't read it in the dark and my brain is still on recharge. I can't remember if today it is Purple 82 or 53.

Even if I could remember all the tents are identical green pop ups. In the rain and in my semi comatose state it is akin to trying to locate one individual pebble on a beach.

Stuff the rest of my fetid belongings into my bag (I swear dirty clothes weigh more than clean ones) and stagger over to dump it with the ever hale and hearty UPS guys running the baggage transport.

Re-unite with my poor bike, left out in the racking overnight at the mercy of the wind and the rain after another hammering day. And this my new custom made Italian beauty that has performed impeccably this trip.

You should only be for Sunday best and reside indoors displayed as a work of art. How will I ever make up to you for this abuse?...

Roll out gently, no-one speaking yet, only sound is the mesmeric and strangely empowering 'whissh' noise as the high pressure tyres glide along the smooth, damp Tarmac.

We slowly increase speed and come to life. Snippets of conversation are caught as we overtake slower moving groups. Always try to greet everyone even if it's no more than a 'hi'.

We get up to cruising speed, someone starts singing to themselves, jokes from previous days are recycled. All peppered with shouted warnings and signals and marinated with deep meaning to other cyclists used to bunch riding. Must sound very odd to any pedestrian we pass. "HOLE", "ON YOUR RIGHT", "BUMP", "GRAVEL" etc. The various hand signals must look positively Masonic to the uninitiated.

The rain clears and my wardrobe gamble is vindicated as the weak northern sun pastel washes over the breathtakingly beautiful countryside.

We reach the sea and continue along a fairly 'grippy' cornich road. The water is a deep blue and it would be easy to imagine I was riding the south coast of Crete, familiar from previous trips, if it were not for the somewhat lower temperature and lack of olive trees.

Getting closer to the finish. First feed station at 35 miles then our trio agree we need a coffee stop at the half way point.

Knowing the end is so close is quite bitter/sweet. We are pretty exhausted and although by now are doubtlessly highly trained to cope with day after day of century rides, home and a different type of normality beckons.

We start our goodbyes there to the soundtrack coming from the juke box.

The track changes to Alicia Keys singing about New York and I am subsumed by a sudden sadness reminding me why am here at all.

This was the last song played at the end of Sam and Ali's wedding party. We all (including me of 2 left feet fame) had formed a circle and swayed together to the melody bringing to a close that very special day.

We saddle up and finish what we started 9 days ago, gliding on towards JOG with the sun still shining on the glittering water. Chris catches up with a friend on the final run in.

I hear the pipes droning and see the finish line ahead. People are cheering and waving at me. I feel very happy.

Vicky and I cross the line together at 2.35 pm followed by Chris. We hear our names being announced over the tannoy system. Vicky's mum is there.

There are medals hanging round our necks. Hugs all round. Pictures at the JOG sign.

The Crew are lining the finish area and performing a Mexican Wave style 'wiggle dance' as riders come in. I try to thank as many as I can before packing the bike and gratefully accepting a lift back to Inverness

I have done it!

In doing so I have now raised over £5,000 for The Sam Keen Foundation's fight against malignant melanoma.

Thank you so much to everyone for helping to make this happen.

The Ride Day 8

It is a measure of something, I do not know what, that's a ride of 110 miles seems relatively moderate after what we have been through this week, and particularly yesterday.

Certainly, yesterday's extremes both of length and weather conditions has put everything else into perspective. The general feeling in the account is that if we can manage that we can manage anything and 110 miles holds no fears.

Today was payback time in terms of weather conditions. Although the day started dank and cold it warmed up and within a couple of hours we were riding in bright sun although still with a chilly winter.

I started a bit late and knew that my two riding partners were ahead of me and so put my head down and chased. After about 40 minutes I was caught by a group of four riding faster than me so I latched onto the back of them and the five of us took it in turns to ride in the wind with the other 4 sheltering behind to recover before coming to the front to do their turn. We really hammered it and for about an hour must've been riding at an average speed of close to 25 mph.

Despite this it took almost to the first feed station for me to catch my "team". I knew I'd pay for this later but it was worth it for the exhilaration of speeding along beautiful fast roads with no traffic.

We then rode along the shores of Loch Ness which was unbelievably scenic and then treated ourselves to a cappuccino by the waterfront in Inverness.

We then climbed the moors into Sutherland where we were struck by some really strong crosswinds which were blowing us all over the place but we got down safely to base camp still in lovely sunshine.

So last night in camp and tomorrow we ride to John o'Groats. Hard to accept we have almost done it. Lands End seems light years away.

The Ride Day 7

This will be a short update, dear public, as I need an early night.

Suffice to say that today, because of a landslide, our route was diverted at one point adding 7 miles to what was already by far the longest stage of the ride. So that meant a mere 134 miles over Rannoch Moor and down Glencoe to finish a few miles the other side of Fort William.

To make things really interesting the weather overnight had been atrocious with gale force winds brining in squally showers all night. You notice that sort of thing in a tent. Breakfast was a sober affair with lots of worried, sleep deprived faces - and with good reason.

We were 'allowed' to start early because of the longer day and our little team of 3 set off at 6.30 am.

Skirting through the western Glasgow suburbs we were very aware of the still very strong head/cross winds. It was also wet but not torrentially so.

We made good time through some pretty countryside and after Callender stopped for a coffee, which felt a real indulgence.

Amazingly the weather turned in our favour while we climbed up to Rannoch Moor. We saw some sun and the scenery up there was truly magnificent. I'd not seen this since Helen and I had ridden up from Crianlanarch many years ago on loaded touring bikes.

But despite the sun the riding was brutal because of the ferocity of the headwind and we had to work very hard to make headway. Both up and down! There is particular unfairness having to fight your way down a long descent after a gruelling climb.

We had one indulgence. Chris suggested a 'wee dram' at the pub in Glencoe Village. We deviated a mile down a beautiful side valley and surprised the locals somewhat who are more used to climbers than exhausted, sweaty cyclists.

Fortified, we carried on down and along the stunning coastline to Fort William.

This had to be one of the hardest days I have ever had on a bike but one of the most rewarding too. It was truly uplifting to see riders helping and encouraging others and applauding in the slower riders who didn't arrive in camp until after 8.00 pm

2 days to go. I need to sleep!

The Ride Day 6

On paper today's stage looked relatively 'easy'. 106 miles but no horrendous climbing and we assumed good fast roads to Hamilton Racecourse south of Glasgow.

I started with soggy wet shoes and still sporting my uber-specialised freezer bag inserts. I knew Vicky had started before me so put the hammer down to join her, riding the first 10 miles alone and then working with 4 fast riders who caught me for the next 25. That way I averaged 18.5 mph for the first 35 miles, much faster than normal.

But I didn't catch Vicky who had gone off like a rocket and was the very rider to reach Scotland. Chapeau to her!

The second stage was wet and pretty miserable. We rode with Chris, a psychologist from Fife and managed to keep our spirits up although they dipped at one point after an incident involving 2 other riders.

I then punctured and this cheered us up no end. I had loaned Vicky my jacket at the first feed stop as she was so cold. I was fine while riding but needed protection while standing still to change the tube. Chris had a spare cape which I couldn't work out how to put on. I received forceable assistance which still didn't work and hurt too. It then dawned that removing my helmet might help!

The final run in to Hamilton was pretty awful due to the combined effect of a tough headwind and atrocious road surfaces but we made base camp in good time.

It was really lovely to be cheered in by Lisa and Colin and to sit and relax with them.

Tomorrow is going to be the big one. 130 miles over wild country and bad weather predicted. Well, I knew this would be no picnic...

The Ride Day 5

As I sit here in the warmth of the catering tent it is hard to accept or describe the scene outside. Imagine the love child of Glastonbury and a Somme battlefield and you will not be far out.

We were warned last night that today's base camp at Penrith had been flooded and to prepare ourselves for a challenging night. The Deloitte RAB crew have done an excellent job of mitigating the inevitable discomfort but you can't drain a swamp overnight.

The drying room is full to overbrimming and is an Aladdin's cave of posh but fetid hanging Lycra and cycle shoes. I don't quite get the logic of the 90 per cent of riders who have deposited their shoes there. Do they think the site will be bone dry tomorrow? Their shoes will be saturated again by the time they have walked to their bikes for sure, and they will have a matching pair of muddy non-cycling shoes as well.

My cunning plan (and there is so much about tonight's site that smacks of an episode of Blackadder) was to keep wearing my sodden cycling shoes but inside them to have layers of socks, survival foil and a freezer bag. This way I keep my ordinary shoes dry. OK the penalty is trench foot but you can't have everything,

Today's ride was ranked as the hardest day since Cornwall. We first has to negotiate the badlands of Wigan but did eventually make it to rural roads. All this in pretty torrential rain. I rode all today with Vicky the Demon Descender and we really attacked the first 30 miles making good time and keeping warm despite the soaking.

At one point Sarah Storey, the paraolympian cyclist who was fresh from her 4 gold medals, sped past us. I couldn't resist jumping on her wheel (a cycling expression meaning 'follow closely' rather than anything more literal!) and surprised myself by being able to stay in this exalted company for a reasonable time, OK she was on cruise control and i was eyeballs out with the effort but hey, she's younger than me,

It carried on raining but we were so lucky that our ascent of Shap Fell was in sunshine. The views were great but so was the effort needed both because of the gradient and the cold strong head wind all the way up. This continued all the way to Penrith. I have never had to put so much effort into riding downhill.

But I feel I am getting stronger each day and although extremely tired the thought I have now ridden over 500 miles and my fundraising today reached £5,000 will spur me on tomorrow into Scotland as will the thought of seeing my sister Lisa and her partner Colin tomorrow night at Hamilton, near Glasgow.

The Ride Day 4

Things didn't exactly get off to a great start for me today. Riding 106 miles on 2 hours sleep is not in the training manual and I confess to feeling a little miserable when dawn broke and it was time to do it all again.

I did start to buck up over my rather late breakfast. It's not every day that an Olympic gold medalist sits down at your table and starts chatting over a full English breakfast.

Rebecca Romero is a very unique athlete. An Olympic silver medallist and World Champion in the sport of rowing, Rebecca took up cycling with the aim of achieving the same elite standard. In a rapid rise through the ranks in track cycling she shattered British records and became double World Champion and Olympic Champion all within two and a half years in the sport. This made her the first British athlete and only the second woman in history to medal in two different sports.

Meantime, unknown to either of us and completely by chance our bikes were getting close up and personal as I discovered when I went to collect mine. There was no mistaking her state of the art time trial machine there in the racking the very next one to mine.

We started with a climb over the Shropshire hills before dropping down and on to the Cheshire plains. It should have been the easiest day but we were greeted by a very cold headwind which made life somewhat more uncomfortable. I started gently but by the second feed station was feeling back to normal, rolling in to Base Camp at Haydock Racecourse with a large group. Fantastic to see the 2 downhill skier paralympians riding hand cycles with us today. How hard must that be?

Our briefing this evening was brimming with Olympians and Para Olympians all encouraging and motivating us.

To be precise, James Cracknell, Sarah Storey and Barney Storey.

Tomorrow we cross Shap Fell en route to Penrith. Time for bed!

The Ride Day 3

After the ups, the more ups and downs of the last 2 days, Day 3 promised some respite.

We waved a sad farewell to the only bed we'd see for a week and hurtled down the steep hill into Bath. Very soon though it was more of the same with a very long draggy climb out of Bath to Marshfield. Lots of tired legs this morning but spirits were still high.

We've been told to expect a dip at about day 5. What was actually said was we start out as kids - full of enthusiasm and raring to go. Then by day 4 or 5 we reach the adolescent stage. Grumpy, difficult to reason with and hard to get out of 'bed'. Oh, with the odd hissy fit thrown in.

By Day 6 we are almost fully fledged RABbers. Sensible, philosophical and caring of the welfare of others. Day 7 often sees a return to adolescence apparently - not least as its the longest day at 127 miles... But only by Day 8 and especially Day 9 do we come of age, over 500 people of very different character, background and levels of fitness who have shared a rather unusual experience. We'll see and I'll keep you posted. I certainly don't need any motivation to keep going. The donations to the SKF are still coming in. Thanks so much to those who have given on line since I started riding.

We crossed the Severn Bridge and our first food/water stop was at Chepstow. Still on my home training ground here. I decided to take it easy on the climb up to the Forest of Dean. So often with Steve, Patrick and most definitely with demon climber Neil we put the hammer down on this 6 mile climb. It has been a while since I was able to admire the scenery and it was most enjoyable lads!

At the second stop it was raining for the first time on the ride but Vicky and I decided to press on and it stopped after about 20 mins. The last 30 miles to our camp at Ludlow racecourse were excellent with quiet, well surfaced sweeping roads we positively swooped along. A bit of a contrast with what we'd had before as I omitted to mention the 'off road' section.

Marco (my Italian frame builder - not only Brad Wiggins who can say that!) if you're reading this, and in one very material sense I know you're not as your only words of English when we met were 'Is good?") I am truly sorry. Nothing that beautiful should ever have to be ridden over that 8 miles or so of poorly surfaced track. It wasn't so much the potholes which with care could be navigated around. It was more the sandy sections laced with gravel which would fly like shrapnel against the frame. I wasn't planning on a re-spray quite this soon!

Actually it was fine and the views of the river Wye made up for everything.

We had a mixture of response from car drivers on this first working day of the trip. One not so gentleman leaned out of his window and told Vicky "I hope you get knocked off your bike, it would be really funny". Another lady asked in her posh voice who she could complain to. I hasten to add that we were an extremely well mannered small group of only 8-10 on both occasions, riding in single file.

But there was also the friendly driver who stopped to let us cross a busy A road where we could otherwise have been stranded until rush hour ended.

The other highlight was coming home to my country seat, a castle no less. See photographic evidence below.

But tonight my pop up tent must be my castle and that's where I'm heading before I fall asleep in my blog

The Ride Day 2

We were warned that today would be another toughie. 'Grippy' is the expression used by the excellent Andy Cook at the nightly briefings. He is the person responsible for devising the route. Didn't take us long to work out how that translated to normal, non-cycling English.

I've come across various versions of this briefing euphemism on previous cycling trips. The best one, and most deceitful, was 'a little bit up, a little bit down' spoken by the leader of a Mountain biking trip in Nepal 12 years ago. Use your imagination...

I think an ability to lie brazenly with a smile on your face is on some templated job description for adventure guides.

We all know they mean one thing only. The road will go up, then keep going up, then go up a lot... and then it will get horribly steep so that even you will doubt your sanity, something your family and friends knew you lost years ago.

I need only say that today was indeed grippy.

We were spared the most severe aspects of Dartmoor before dropping down to the valley road leading to Tiverton. Really beautiful countryside here and a pretty well perfect cycling day.

The main challenge came when we climbed over the Quantock Hills. Super grippy that one.

But after that it felt we were playing at home. The Somerset Levels, climbing Cheddar Gorge (one disappointed rider was reported as saying after getting to the top which brings you right to the top of the Mendip Hills 'I assumed when I heard it was a gorge we'd be riding along a river valley!')

Then on up to Bath where we have the luxury of a bed for the only night of the ride.

I was of course looking forward to my welcome committee knowing that Helen, Ali (Sam's wife) and Monty (my biggest fan ) were going to be there. Spurred on I rode like the (tail)wind.

I did pretty well - too well in some respects as I got to the finish shortly before them! I resisted the suggestion of riding back up the hill to get the true hero's welcome that was intended!

A real bed tonight - it will be hard crawling back into a tent tomorrow. And I suspect this great weather can't travel with us all the way to Scotland...

The Ride Day 1

Hard to describe the sense of anticipation around last night. The camp itself looks like a cross between a rock festival and a refugee camp.

But that belies the reality. All is very well organised. The facilities include an enormous dining marquee, secure bike parking (guard on duty round the clock and you an only remove a bike bearing the same number as your wrist band.

Wi fi, hot showers, massages, information point, chill out area, free newspapers. Sounds good doesn't it. Only snag is that you have to cycle over 100 miles a day to benefit from all this!

We were woken at 5.30 by Freddy Mercury telling us in his irritatingly predictable way that he wants to ride his bicycle. So did I but only after a huge breakfast which was impressive even for me.

We were promised a fine sunny day so I was decked out with sunglasses. In fact within 5 mins of leaving at 7.00 am we were in a thick sea mist. Damp and misting my glasses which were not helping at all I rode the first 40 mins 'blind' and therefore with extreme caution.

Then the sun emerged an the pattern of the day established itself. Very steep climb on probably the hottest day of the summer, followed by very steep descent which failed to deliver sufficient momentum to get you more than 10 meters up the next steep climb. Repeat for 107 miles. Or a lot more if you were the young lady I was talking to at the evening meal tonight.

She explained she had entered alone and had only taken up cycling in April. She was petrified of descending having had a nasty accident on a bike as a child. She missed a sign and got lost today and went 20 hilly miles out of her way. She eventually got back on route but was well behind everyone else. She was advised to quit but wouldn't.

It was tough. I like climbing (my 9 stone weakling physique has one benefit in that it confers a pretty good 'power to weight' ratio') but this was as tough as any cyclosportive I have done and I found it tough. But at least it was over quite quickly for me. I finished about 3.30. I was still watching and applauding riders coming in at 7.15pm. That is a very long day in the saddle in these conditions and they gained huge respect for seeing it through.

Really great that 3 work colleagues Rachel, Katie and Clare interrupted their weekend break in Cornwall to drive an hour each way to Okehampton to cheer in myself and Vicky who used to work with us at Barcan Woodward and is riding with me.

More of same tomorrow it seems. Off to bed sorry make that bag on sleeping mat...

Stage 12

The day has come! Luxury team bus transfer to Lands End. I wonder if there is an option to stow away and travel this way to John o' Groats?

Amazing set up at base camp and fine weather here.

This is to prove I have started from Lands End. Very proud to wear this cycling top

Bring it on!

Stage 11

The big day is getting very close. I just have to hope that the somewhat limited time I had for training will be enough. I think I am going pretty well and on my last 100 mile sportive recently I actually posted my fastest time for a century ride - 6hrs 2 mins to be precise. I was gutted about those 2 mins I can tell you but then found I was still within Gold standard time when my OAP status was taken into account.

Anyway, too late to worry about that now as with only a few days to the off I have to be tapering. Essentially that means no major efforts, lots of rest and lots of eating. I have no problem with carbo loading certainly.

Recently my riding companions seem to have decided that their mission in life is to see me stuffed with cakes at our coffee stops. Steve, Patrick - I'll let you know if the force feeding strategy pays off or whether all the cash I spent on the new lightweight frame has been a complete waste thanks to you, offset by rider weight gain.

Had a last minute panic with a very squeaky rear wheel and decided it was going to drive me mad over 1000 miles. I got a new one which delayed me packing the bike to be transported to lands end. Then I had another panic when I realised the bike wouldn't fit into the bike box I had borrowed without being completely stripped down virtually to the last ball bearing!

I decided to revert to a very old bike bag that has not seeing active service since baggage handlers dropped it from a great height and trashed the bike inside but it'll be fine for this trip.

All packed and ready to go now though as can be seen from the before and after photos below.

My fundraising is really taking off now. Many thanks to everyone who has contributed and for the rest of you - it's not too late! Just click on the link to my Just Giving page alongside.

Stage 10

Seems hard to believe that the ride is starting in under 3 weeks from now. My training has very definitely wound up a notch or 2 in the last few weeks.

80 mile plus rides now seem quite normal and I seem to be coping with fairly strenuous efforts on consecutive days. That said the most I have attempted is 60 miles one day and about 100 the next. It may sound trite but there is no doubt that it is the last 40 (or 30,20 or 10) of a 100 mile ride that is the hardest. Shame there is no training method that lets you go out for 2 hours and ride just the last 30 miles!

But it's getting too late to be concerned about my state of preparation. I'll just have pretend I'm a football manager and take one day at a time, Brian.

I'll be taking inspiration from the GB Olympic cycling team of course. Spoilt for choice there. Not that I profess to have anything like the speed of Jason Kenny, the thighs of Chris Hoy, the exuberance of Laura Trott or the sheer amazing talent of Bradley Wiggins. Hope I don't have the bad luck of Victoria Pendleton either. What was that all about, relegating her when she was simply trying to stay upright despite her opponent's best efforts to elbow her off the track?

And that inspiration won't just come from the 2012 squad. Today I had the privilege to find myself riding with Phil Baynton. If that name isn't immediately familiar it is probably because he comes from a era of British cycling when the science of "marginal gains" was unheard of as was celebrity (well, apart from Tom Simpson perhaps), money and advertising endorsements. Nonetheless Phil Baynton had a very successful career as a pro cyclist, both in the UK and on the super tough Belgian scene. The highlight of his career though was finishing 4th in the 1972 Munich Olympics.

Today he was just another rider in the 100 mile sporttive I rode in the Cotswolds. About my age, but he looked a lot younger. A group of 4 of us formed on the road for no better reason than we had started in the same group of 50 and were riding at the same pace. We each take a turn on the front for a minute or so while the other 3 recover in the front man's slipstream. Then the pacemaker pulls over and drifts to the back of the impromptu 'team'.  It's called riding 'through and off' and has the dual benefit of being very efficient and also sociable.

Anyway, the 4 of us rode the last half of the ride together and as we talked it emerged that one of us had quite some history. He spoke about  his career of course and so very nearly getting to the Olympic podium, but also about the events which overshadowed the Games and everything that year. It will be recalled that these were the notorious Olympics where 11 Israeli athletes and coaches were massacred by a group of Palestinian terrorists. Phil was still clearly affected by what he saw with vivid memories of the events, mainly centered around the person on the roof attempting vain to negotiate with the terrorists.

Perhaps this is one of the reasons I love cycling. It is a huge leveller. It makes no difference who you are or what you do, or what you have done in your previous life. The person riding beside you could be a knight of the realm or an ex-con. You are in the moment and all that matters is getting up this steep climb, getting safely down a long twisting descent on potholed, gravelly roads, or sheltering in a large group as you batter against a horrible headwind on a long, flat exposed section. All you need is for the other guy to take his turn on the front for a few minutes more until it is your turn again to pull the group along.

Stage 9

The day of reckoning has dawned. Until now all I have known is that one month from now I will be riding the length of the country in 9 days. It doesn't sound too bad if you say it quickly.

A few hours ago the precise route maps were released by the organisers of the Ride Across Britain and I suspect that scattered around the country there are 600 rather stunned people at present.

Day 1 Lands End to Okehampton via Bodmin Moor. 108 miles with 4783 ft climbing.

Day 2 Okehampton to Bath via Dartmoor, Cheddar Gorge and the Mendips. 110 miles with 4284 ft of climbing.

Day 3 Bath to Ludlow via the Forest of Dean. Only 99 miles but 5439 ft of draggy climbing I know well from training rides.

Day 4 Ludlow to Manchester via Wenlock Edge and most of Cheshire, perilously close to the scenic East Lancs Road I fear, 106 miles and 3303 ft of ascent.

Day 5 Manchester to Penrith past Wigan pier. through Preston, Kendal then over (gulp) Shap Fell. 104 miles with 5252 ft of Pennine upness.

Day 6 Penrith to Glasgow through Carlisle, eloping to Gretna Green then past lots of places I only know from James Alexander Gordon reading the Scottish football results. 100 miles on the nail and och aye 3353 ft which will not be going doon.

Day 7 Glasgow to Fort William. I had to read this one twice. The queen stage indeed. A massive 127 hilly, desolate miles culminating with the oppressive Glen Coe and camping at the foot of Ben Nevis. The biggest climbing day at 6017 ft.

Day 8 Fort William to Kyle of Sutherland along the Great Glen, perhaps a sighting of Nessy? 111 miles and 5301 ft of grind. 

Day 9 Kyle of Sutherland to John O'Groats. So far away and I am sure so very tired. 104 miles, 4140 ft of which is upwards. 

Total 969 miles and 41,872 ft - 8 miles high

Will you excuse me - I'm just going for a little lie down...

Stage 8

My training has had to take a back seat this weekend in the name of patriotic duty.

A couple of months back, defying all the odds and despite several false starts courtesy of the truly appalling LOCOG on-line ticketing system, I managed to acquire 4 tickets for the Men's Cycling Road Race.

Road cycling is generally 'free to view' on the basis that public roads are just that and anyway it would be impossible to devise any mechanism for ticketing and policing an event over 100 miles long. It seems though that LOCOG may not have done all their homework before devising and announcing the cycling road route. The pivotal aspect of both races was going to be Box Hill in Surrey, the women doing 2 circuits and the men 9. Problem was that Box Hill is owned and maintained by the National Trust who were less than thrilled at the thought of hundreds of thousands of spectators trampling over this beautiful and protected area with its rare flora and fauna.

Eventually a compromise was reached. The iconic climb including the Zig Zags would be accessible to just 15,000, heavily marshalled fans. At least LOCOG could not be accused of pricing people out of the market for this event. My OAP concession ticket cost me a whole £5, only the second advantage I have found, after my rail travel card, of having been declared officially old having turned 60.

So I can say I was one of those who did my bit for Queen and country that glorious day, cheering on 'our boys', resplendent in National colours (me that is, not the riders who had to endure some fashion mistake dreamt up by Stella McCartney).

A great day although there was a palpable mood of disappointment when we realised that the huge, Olympian indeed, effort from Miller,Wiggins, Froome and Stannard had not been enough to deliver the Manx Missile, Mark Cavendish to a sprint finish on The Mall where he would surely have won. GB paid the price for being the favorites. No other teams were willing to help chase down the breakaway, seeming to prefer to accept failure themselves rathe than risk a British victory.

At least I can say I was there. Indeed I have just had it pointed out to me that evidence of my presence by the roadside was captured for posterity in no less an august publication than the Daily Mail. I really don't know what to say about that but here it is. For those of you with less than hawk-like vision I have given a little assistance. Trust me, I'm a lawyer...

But let's hear it for Lizzie Armistead today for her brilliant silver medal ride in the women's road race!

Some other images from Saturday:

  

"Oy! Don't you know there's a 30 mph limit on Box Hill? You slow down Mr Wiggins or I'll have to to book you next time round!"

        The team protecting Cavendish (no 11)

 Team GB lead the chase

One rider needs on the fly medical treatment for a nasty saddle sore

No hills like this in Namibia then?

Stage 7

Not sure it gets very much better than this:

• Bradley Wiggins wins the Tour de France, first British rider to do so ever.
• Chris Froome is second; that has never happened before either.
• Mark Cavendish wins the final sprint stage on the Champs Elysees; in doing so he takes the record for the most sprint stages won by any rider ever.
• The sun shone all weekend.
• I managed 2 hard rides this weekend - 100 ks on Saturday and 100 miles on Sunday and don't feel I need to sleep for a week.
• Perhaps best of all, at my coffee stop today I overheard 2 non-cyclists discussing Team Sky's acheivements with an air of authority that suggested a familial love of cycling going back several generations. I strongly suspected the reality was 3 weeks maximum. Perhaps this is the breakthrough we have been waiting for and those of us who enjoy pedal power can emerge from the gutter of public opinion and ride with pride rather than being labelled as lycra-louts worthy only of derision and ASBOs? Or perhaps not quite yet...

Actually, it could get one little bit better - by Cavendish winning Olympic Gold in the Men's Road Race next weekend.

I'll be there on Box Hill to cheer him on!