The End Is Nigh!

100 more miles. One final push. The end is in sight. Actually, we can't even see across the road through all the rain coming down...

The night before was nice and relaxing, sitting around and chatting with the other two guests at the B&B. Because of our remote location it was perfectly dark and quiet, allowing for as restful a nights sleep as possible, but morning came all too soon nonetheless.

After our now familiar routine of re-packing and loading the days supplies, we headed down for breakfast and the days latest weather report. We knew it wasn't looking good, but so far the rain was holding off. We'd probably have an hour or two before the wind and rain came, which was at least some motivation to get moving.

That motivation was quickly eroded when the rain came just as breakfast finished. There were definitely some strong survival instincts suggesting that we avoid putting ourselves out  in the cold, wet, and wind, but there was only one way to get to the end, and get on our bikes we must.

As futile as it was, we geared up in as many layers as was comfortable and in the driest clothes we had. At least we could start comfortable. I'd say that we were dry for... two to three minutes? Sure, it was raining, but the wind. The wind! The rain wasn't coming from the sky, it was somehow being shot straight at us from cannon of misery directly in front of us and little to the right.

More than any other day our heads were down and teeth gritted, just thinking about turning the pedals over and over again, getting the miles behind us, and again we knew there was spectacular scenery that we would not get a chance to really appreciate. We did notice the little single-track road that wound it's way through the Scottish wilderness, but presently I was noticing that it was mostly covered in sheep poo. Sheep poo that was streaming down the road, being picked up by Myra's tyres and flung in my general direction. Noted, I backed off a bit and continued to try and ignore the elements as best as I could and get to our tea break that was now about 20 miles in the distance.

This was hard. Half of the problem was our current situation. It wasn't exactly warm and the rain was feeling more like running into a sandblaster, being driven into our faces by a constant 30-40mph wind with gusts. I don't know exactly how hard the wind was, but the forecast was for 80mph gusts, and I'd say 30mph was easily the constant headwind we were facing. The other half of the problem was that we knew that for the rest of the 80-90 miles it would be more of the same.

Stopping for a pee break, we were passed by two other cyclists loaded with panniers and enjoying the day out. Myra knew exactly what would happen. I gave chase, as I am powerless to do otherwise when someone is in front of me, and we caught them a minute later and had some company for the miles leading up to our tea break. They were from London, a couple of business men around 40 at the end of their ride from London to Thurso (the next decently sized town on our route).

We were heading north-east towards the coastline and reached both the ocean and the hotel at the same time. The sun came out and the wind died down, and as we sat down in the pretty neglected feeling lunch room, the weather looked strangely calm. Maybe the rest of the day would be better.

Lunch was disgusting. We had a couple of scones with our tea to get ourselves warmer and a bit drier, and then ordered lunch from the menu ranging from a basket of chicken fingers to burgers and, for the high-rollers in the house, a nice steak for about £6. Myra went for the chicken burger and it was the beef burger for me, which were about as nice as the food you might get at a traveling circus. Feeling fed but pretty gross, we took our less soggy selves back to our bikes and wished each other luck as we parted ways.

It was pretty hilly, and as soon as we crested the top of the main one to leave us exposed, the wind returned. With a vengeance. The rain was now gone but I kept thinking how much nicer it was when it was raining but less windy. So, for the next 50-60 or so miles, we were reminded of just how small and powerless and insignificant we are against the world we live in.

There are no words to describe to you how demoralizing this day was. Every second of it chipped away at us like waves rolling onto a beach, washing a bit of the ground away with it each time. When the road would curve or the wind would gust in a slightly different direction, it would take all of my efforts to avoid losing it, the trailer catching the wind like a sail, and I would literally have to slow down to a crawl, descending the hills almost at the same speed as climbing them. We were at the lowest point either of us has ever been at, and there would be no respite. There is a bit of video that I have that gives you an idea of the wind, but I can't seem to post it anymore, so you'll just have to take my word for it - worst day ever. We were  nearly reduced to tears because it felt like such a futile endeavour and yet we had no choice but to continue.

We really had nothing left to give and still had about 10 miles to go to John O'Groats, but the plan had been to cycle the last 13 miles to our last stop for the trip at Wick. Not likely. We'd be lucky to get to John O'Groats by the end of the day. Ten miles isn't too much to deal with on any normal day, but we were managing about 7mph on flat roads with maximum effort most of the time, so it was a case of so close yet so, so far.

When we reached the T-junction that lead either to John O'Groats or Wick, which was actually about 18 miles away, we couldn't have been more relieved. Not exactly happy, but relieved. We could see the end of our journey (literally), and as we coasted into the car park, at 7pm on a Sunday, cold, battered, and thoroughly demoralized... we had to still find a way to get to Wick.

Lands End was super touristy, but at least it was well done. It had tones of shops, clean, if a bit smelly, toilets, and seemed as though it did fairly well off of being the recognized bottom of the UK. John O'Groats was dominated by a derelict hotel that had not been used for about 15 years, a small selection of closed shops, and a caravan park off to one side. It took some searching to find anything that indicated that this was the top of Scotland.

 It was still cold and windy, but the way. and the contact we were given by our hosts at Altnaharra to get us and our bikes to Wick was no longer operating for the day. Perfect. He did, however, call a taxi company he had dealings with that could come and bring us to Wick, which was very kind of him to do, and now we just had to sit tight and wait. We were still both extremely miserable. There was a boat load of Germans who had just come from the Orkney Islands who were filing past us, and Myra asked an older couple to take our picture in front of the only sign we could find, followed by a bit of awkward banter.

Our taxi came, loaded up our bikes, and we had a the most relaxing ride of our lives down to Wick, in a warm, dry car. It felt unreal. Cars are fabulous inventions. The driver was super nice and we chatted the whole time, but I have to confess that I didn't understand everything he said. Our last B&B was really nice. It was an old house but had been totally re-built on the inside and had less of a feeling of a B&B and more of an executive hotel. Really nice big shower, big plasma TV, a cup of tea, and back out with the same cab company to get some dinner. While we were eating, the driver who had originally taken us from John O'Groats walked up to our table and handed me my cycle computer (just the little Cateye one). How great is that?! Most people wouldn't have given it a second thought and ignored it, but he tracked down where we were and brought back something that must have appeared insignificant to him. If anyone is ever in the Wick area, call up Miller Cabs (01955 606464).

We were done. Really done. We were also now relaxed. As soon as we reached the B&B, which had yet another lovely host, our spirits were lifted and already the day didn't seem as bad now that we were no longer struggling with it. 1014 miles covered in the pouring rain (mostly). This was our holiday for the year. It was fabulous in hindsight, and as much as we were glad, so very glad, to be done, part of us felt the desire to keep going. We definitely want to go back to Scotland to spend some more time there. Next year we'll do Spain, hopefully! Anyone want to join us?