Day Thirteen - Tongue to John O'Groats

The last day. The last 69 miles. On paper this day had always looked a breeze. But a breeze wasn't the problem. The problem was a full blown gale.

From the moment I gingerly got on my bike at Tongue Youth Hostel and turned due east, we were headed directly into a 30 mile an hour headwind. It was so strong, that at times I saw birds being blown backwards and too often for my liking we were pedalling just to keep going downhill - and that is so, so wrong.

Especially when you are at the end of a two week trip such as ours.

And then it started pelting down for good measure. Cars had their headlights on during the middle if the day and the sky darkend. It was as if we were being made to really work to complete our trip.

I could fill the next few paragraphs with plenty of woeful, self-pitying prose; but let's just say it wasn't the happiest six hours I've ever spend on a bike.

Still, my grumbling Achilles and I slowly neared John O'Groats. The route we came by, cleverly plotted by Steve on little backroads, meant there were few signs counting down the miles, so all of a sudden, there it was.

I didn't except massed ranks cheering me as I arrived, nor did I expect wide-spread adulation, autograph hunters or packs of press photographers. But even my lowest expectations of the sort of welcome we might have expected at John O'Groats turned out to be over optimistic.

When we arrived in the rain, we went looking for the John O'Groats finger post to get our photos taken for posterity (and facebook) but found to our dismay a very grumpy man dismantling the sign and putting it in the boot of his car.

'It'll be £9.95 for me to get out the sign for you" he grunted. "I'm not getting out of the car for anything less". If you are familiar with my reluctance to spend money, you'll already know the answer he got.

Then, cold and wet, I went in search of a cup of tea and maybe even a slice of cake, to celebrate our success in a very British understated sort of way.

"We're closing, you can't sit down, you can only have take-away. And there's nothing hot to eat", said the charming hostess of the only open cafe.

So John O'Groats failed dismally on the warm welcome front. Still, we did find a rather sub-standard sign post for a photo, and as we sat contemplating our 1,000 mile trek (take-away teas in hand) we were able to watch other end-to-enders. Some were about to start their journey in the other direction. A couple of students, like us, had made it all the way from Lands End. Well, not all the way; they'd been caught in a storm in Pitlochry and taken the train, and got a puncture earlier in the day and got a taxi. Students = lightweights.

Once you arrive in John O'Groats, you are at something of a loose end. For weeks its been THE goal, the total focus on all your efforts, then you arrive and .... well, that's it really.

We wern't staying the night in John O'Groats (I wouldn't recommend that to anyone). Instead we were booked on the 18.00 ferry from John O'Groats to Orkney. Cath and the kids and Dindi, Steve's wife were that very afternoon flying up to Orkney (how very sensible). We were all staying with Anne and Eddie, good friends of our who live on Orkney.

So ironically it was on Orkney, not John O'Groats where the fantastic welcome began. Anne and her daughter Maggie drove down to meet Steve and I at the almost deserted dock where the ferry from the mainland arrives.

Leaping out of the car, they presented us with huge chocolate medals and a bottle of Orkney beer for each of us. Back at their house, champagne was opened, bunting had been put up and a massive poster congratulating Steve and I hung across the dinning room. A curry was slowly simmering on the Aga. It was wonderful to be among family and friends, to be among people who were genuinely happy for you, to be among clean people who did not smell of damp lycra.

The moment was completed when Eddie and his son James came into the kitchen both playing a salute on the bagpipes. They both know the pipes well, as they play in the Kirkwall City Pipe Band - it was a lovely touch.

It's been quite a journey - thanks for joining me on it, for the comments, the support and the sponsorship (you can still donate to my site on Just Giving).

Thanks also to Steve for putting up with we for 1,000 miles, and Cath, Callum and Beth for supporting me (and always believing I'd make it).