Sunday 24th August – JOGLE Day 14: St. Columb Major to Land’s End. 50 miles travelled.

Where Our Narrator Will And His Partner In Crime Ray Fight Their Way Ever Onwards, And Reach The Conclusion Of Their Journey.

The last day was here. I felt a bit strange about that: today was, god willing, going to be the last day of our journey, after which we would return to real life after having taken nearly two weeks out of it.

I got up, nudged Hannah (who decided to ignore me and pretend that she was still asleep) and got dressed. I met Ray in the corridor, and we crept our way down to make some breakfast and put some fuel in our engines. We ate quietly at the table in the kitchen, and decided to get out and start as soon as we could: we were both anxious to see the end of our journey. It felt to me like our very first day, eating breakfast in the youth hostel in Canisbay and waiting to get started on the first leg of the trip.

We washed up our stuff and headed back upstairs to get changed. I bullied Han out of bed and she grumpily got up and got ready while I climbed into my cycle gear for the last time. We packed with little fuss (it was by now a straight-forward and well rehearsed thing for me) and went down to the car to load it, leaving a note for Gill on the kitchen table thanking her profusely. We would have been in serious trouble had she not been there for us, and I hoped that the few words we left conveyed the depth of our thanks.

We drove back down the A39 once more, and the weather was slightly overcast but with little wind. The sun was occasionally peeping through gaps in the cloud, and it felt like it might be a nice day. We parked up on the same spot as the previous day and reassembled the steeds, giving them a once over to make sure that they were still in working order. The Manly Steed was eager to get going, and I felt the same way. Rich and Nigel (Good friends, and our previous Brighton-trip compadres) were coming down to meet us and I was looking forward to seeing them.

We agreed to meet Hannah in a place called Hayle for lunch, and set off once more on the A39. After a few miles the road went through a couple of roundabouts and then turned into dual carriageway, my least favourite type of road to be cycling along. As we went along the sun began to come out and the temperature soared, causing us to start overheat.

It was at this point that I cycled along a gutter on the side of the road and hit a wet patch with a lot of moss growing on it. The Manly Steed’s wheels slid out from under me, and I tumbled to the ground grazing my chin and whacking the side of my helmet on the road while traffic whizzed past three feet away. I have always been a big supporter of cycle helmets, and I was glad I was wearing it as it took a lot of the impact away from my skull.

We took a few minutes to check everything over, and the pannier had protected my derailleur and gears while my knee support had protected my knee from a serious gashing. Other than my nerves being a little jumpy I was fine, and the Manly Steed was ready to carry on.

We reached the A30, and turned onto it in the final leg of the journey: it would take us all the way down to Land’s End. The A30 is, quite frankly, a horrific road. It is a dual carriageway, and the main artery of Cornwall with lorries, vans, campervans, and pretty much everything you would expect from a motorway, except that there are lay-bys to stop in. I was not enjoying cycling along this as more than one lorry got too close, and the slip-stream from a large white van nearly blew me off the bike. We had been on the road for about 7 miles when we decided to pull into a lay-by for a break, and a car pulled passed us and stopped.

Mark, our recumbent JOGLE’r who we had last seen just north of Shap Fell a week previously, got out and flagged us down. He was with his wife, and had reached Land’s End the previous day amidst the rain and wind. His bike, which had been falling apart at regular intervals along the route, had finally given up the ghost and he had gone the last 7 miles with only the smallest gear working, and that held in place by a stick from the side of the road. They had been driving home on the other side of the road, had seen us, and then driven to the next junction and come back to wish us well.

His wife had made cake for him, which she doled out to us. It was delicious, and full of calories which I was craving by then. We congratulated Mark, and he told us that if we could hold our nerve on the way in to Penzance on the A30 then we would be finished by mid to late afternoon. I had been thinking of trying to get off the dual carriageway and use some back roads, but Mark convinced me that it would be simpler to just carry on as a lot of the traffic would peel off at each major town we passed.

We waved farewell to our other traveller, and headed on for our lunch spot at Hayle some 20 miles away. There is a knack to cycling on the side of the A30, I found: focus. You need a focus like a laser beam to keep looking at the road in front of you, and to ignore what is going on around you in the form of hurtling multi-tonne death-machines. The cake added fuel to my legs, and we battered away at the mileage in a rush to get off the road.

We passed Blackwater, and came up to Redruth not long afterwards, and true to Mark’s word the traffic got lighter as we went. We passed Cambourne and stopped to call Hannah and find out where she was, and got directions to a pub where we could have lunch. Rich and Nigel had arrived, and they were waiting for us.

We pounded along towards Hayle, and the sky cleared completely as we turned off into a business park and reached our lunch-spot. There were no cries of happiness, no chorus of angels to greet us, in fact there weren’t even our friends and loved ones: they were off looking at the discount clothing village. Ray and I took a seat with the steeds outside and waited for them to finish.

Finally we were reunited with our friends, and we ordered food and swapped gossip on what we had been up to in the last few weeks. We were politely asked to move inside as food could not be served outdoors because of ‘dive-bombing seagulls’ (I kid you not) and we ate lunch in view of the steeds which were tethered outside while Nigel explained why his leg was in plaster after having been run over the week before. “You should have seen the other guy!” he said. We got a text from our other JOGLE’r Dave saying that he had just finished, and wanting to know where we were.

We checked the map and figured that we had maybe 20 miles to go, and that it would be maybe two and half hours of cycling to get there. We texted Dave back and left the guys finishing their drinks and headed onwards, stopping to remove our arm and leg warmers after a couple of miles. The road changed from dual carriageway to single lane A road, and it wasn’t long before we saw our first sign for Land’s End.

I had been feeling a bit emotional as we went, and to see that were finally so close brought all those feeling to fore. We carried on passing by Whitecross and through Cockwells (I couldn’t resist a chuckle) and rounded a bend in the road to see Penzance in front of us with the bay glittering in the sunshine. We pedalled through the town and just past the town centre I had to stop and stretch everything in my right leg. Once remounted, we carried onwards leaving Penzance behind us, and following the A30 over some steep and hilly territory. The countryside was wooded around us giving us a nice bit of shade as we went, and I snacked on some Snickers bars that I had been saving. The woodlands opened up to reveal farmland and fields ranging away from us, and it felt like the sky had just got a lot a wider above our heads.

We passed a building with a sign saying: “WC Matthews & Son – Builder, Decorator and Funeral Directors” which caused me no end of chuckles. We saw more signposts and counted the mileage down in our heads as we went.

Five miles, and I could feel every ache in my body. “Ray,” I called. He slowed down and pulled alongside me. “If ever I suggest doing this again, I want you take me into a small room and slap me repeatedly until I remember how much it hurt!” He smiled.

Four miles, and I could taste the salt of the sea on the wind as it blew into my face, and I remembered smell of heather in Glencoe and the feeling of joy on Rannoch Moor looking at the mountains.

Three miles, and all the million frustrations came back to me, none of which seemed as bad as they had at the time.

Two miles, and the landscape around us was reminiscent of John O’Groats, and I felt a pull to see it once more.

One mile to go, and we passed The Last Inn in England (it’s The First Inn in England if you are coming the other way) and we stopped to call the guys to let them know we were about ten minutes away.

Ray turned to me. “Thanks for making me come on this,” he said. “It’s been fantastic.” I looked at him, remembering the countless times that he’d helped me get through it.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” I said.

“I’ve been thinking about it, and you should cross the finish line first.” He said.

“Oh, no. We started together, we finish together.” I said, and we gripped hands briefly before starting off once more and for the final time. The road led down towards the cluster of buildings that marked Land’s End, and we pedalled slowly in dodging groups of tourists as we went. We saw Dave with a camera, and he snapped us just before we reached the finish line; it was great to see him, and he had waited for three hours or so to see us reach the end. Our milometer read 908 miles, and we got a photo of it.

We met up with Hannah, Rich and Nigel and went to find the post with Land’s End written on it. I tried to walk up to it and was stopped by a pillock claiming that if I wanted a picture standing next to it I would have to pay about £10.00 for the privilege, and that he would take it himself. I stared at him absolutely gobsmacked, and nearly threw his camera over the cliff which was conveniently close by. I didn’t, because time on the road changes a man, so I walked away muttering to myself and we took some shots a little further out, and got Dave in on them as well.

After that, we grabbed a beer and all sat in the sun relaxing. Everyone was talking about it being a great achievement, but I wasn’t sure that it felt that way: I had pushed myself further than I thought I could, and had come close to quitting on a number of occasions. I was too close to it to really know how I felt.

We finished our beers, and said our farewells to Dave and his wife, promising to keep in touch. We broke down the bikes, and I could see the satisfied glint in the Manly Steed’s wheel as I put it into the boot of the car, and almost here it whispering its congratulations to me.

Ray was getting a lift with Rich and Nigel, and as Hannah and I got into the car, I looked over at her.

“Shall we go home?” I asked.