The Last Leg

From pitstop five at Haggis Tours to the quayside at John o'Groats it's 119 miles. There's a petrol station just after we leave P5 in the middle of Inverness and it would almost be impossible to get the navigation wrong to the very far north easterly point of mainland Great Britain. I'm pretty certain that this leg will be one of the hardest though.

Nick and I bid farewell to everyone at the final pitstop just after half past two on Thursday morning. After brimming the tanks we headed out of Inverness, over the Kessock Bridge which I remembered well from the cycle ride a decade ago, just as it was starting to get lighter again. Half an hour later and there are signs for Nigg Energy Park where I've joined and left countless ships over the years I've worked offshore. Looking down on the Cromarty Firth I try to see if there are any ships I recognise tied up alongside but it seems quiet. We keep pushing on, Nick's bike struggles on the steeper hills but he's in momentum saving mode and not getting off the throttle for anything. I thought I'd be dog tired by now, and in a way I suppose I am, but I'm feeling fully alert and as the light increases so does my sense of the environment we're in. I can smell the salt air and the hydrocarbons when I get too close to Nicks bike. We take it in turns being the lead bike. It's easier when you're following as you've got their brake light to give you a warning of hazards and can see more of the road ahead with the assistance of their headlights.

Crossing the Dornoch Firth bridge I can't resist any longer and stop to take a photo. The light is beautiful; my phone doesn't do it justice.

Despite being stationary for only two or three minutes I have my work cut out to catch back up to Nick. Eventually I see his single tail light in the distance and slowly reel him back in. As the sun started to appear over the horizon the world suddenly feels warmer. We'd been going for almost two hours since leaving Inverness and still had what felt like a long way to go, but the chill that had set into me on the way into Inverness has been merrily banished with the borrowed thermal liners. The A9 closely follows the coast after the town of Golspie and the hills were steep and hard work for the nearly forty year old Honda. I was balancing keeping an eye on the road, an eye behind and also trying to take in the scenery too. It was bittersweet to see the sun. I was thankful for the illumination of the road and the beautiful scenery, but disappointed because I knew we would be well past the twenty four hour mark when we finally got to the end. Didn't stop me from taking more photos though...

Just after I put my phone back in my pocket a Tesco truck rumbled past me. I followed it for a few miles trying to find a safe place to pass, there were more than a few other cars and vans around now and the road isn't straight for long. Eventually I got past and again I had to push hard to play catch up until eventually I saw Nick's tail light again. Not long after I had caught up with him he suddenly disappeared from my mirrors.  After waiting for a minute or so at the top of a climb, I turned around and headed back down to find he had pulled into a lay-by for a wee and a smoke. He'd tried to get my attention but it was too light for flashing his lights to work and I couldn't hear his horn over the noise of my blowing exhaust.

The last thirty or so miles seemed to take forever, the speed limit keeps dropping into the thirties or forties, and there are camera warning signs everywhere. Nick had to stop again and whilst we were moving I was fine but as soon as we were stationary I felt every hour I'd been awake. The last few miles downhill into John o'Groats are really bleak, like being back in the middle of Dartmoor again. We went past the B&B that I'd stayed in a decade before and then a mile or so short of the finish, Nick's bike cut out as it had run completely dry of fuel. A five minute faff to get the securing straps off my spare fuel can and it kicked into life again. Johnny Mack, the event organiser, had booked us all rooms in the chalets at John o'Groats but we want we need to go to the signpost. It is the signpost more than anything that tells us we've made it. That we've completed the challenge and for now we can finally stop riding around on bikes.

It's taken me twenty five hours and about fifteen minutes to ride nine hundred and ninety three miles and it was hard, but so very much worth it. I wish I'd taken a photo without my helmet on so you could have seen my face.

 

Also at the signpost was Mr Transalp, which was a little awkward, we said hello and well done but left him to it. After a few minutes of looking out to sea we went in search of JM and were warmly greeted with a beer and directed to a chalet where we could could get our heads down for a bit. Not too much rest for the wicked though as everyone had to be back out for group photos and a free breakfast by ten am. Better get to sleep then...   

I remember staring at my face in the mirror whilst brushing my teeth and being amazed that it didn't look all that different, I thought I ought to have. I ached a little getting into bed, my wrist and bottom more than anything but all things considered I think I got off lightly. Ears were ringing despite wearing ear defenders for the entire ride and I felt happy. Still too awake for my liking but happy. Dave from Redruth arrived just after we did and we were allocated the same chalet and sharing a twin room, he fell asleep instantly where as I spent some time staring at the ceiling trying to put my thoughts in order and getting annoyed that I wasn't asleep.

Sooner or later though I nodded off and not long afterwards my alarm started bleating out for us to get up again, ten am had come around far too quickly. A brief cold shower, a quick nibble of some of last nights leftovers and then take the bike back to the signpost area. Breakfast had been paid for at the food shack overlooking the port, it's been developed nicely since I was here last and the sausage bap and coffee was very welcome. Lots of tired but very happy faces all around, many people smiling at a job well done.

 

We had a presentation for a few awards, a quick debrief (including thanking all of us for taking part) and a heartfelt thank you from the participants towards those who had done all the support work, many of whom weren't present here at JoG. I managed to get another photo of myself in front of the sign in amongst all the other tourists wanting to do the same. The last time I was here the sign would get taken away of the official photographer wasn't around. It seems like someone has decided to install a permanent signpost now, which is much better especially if you're arriving or departing at an unreasonable hour.

 

Not long afterwards everyone started to drift off. Nick was long gone as he needed to get a flight home from Edinburgh.  Dave was going to take a few days to ride home, but his route was taking him down the west of the country and mine was more to the east.

When I got to John o'Groats last night I was tired, hurting and adamant that I'd never do something like this again. As I rode off after saying my goodbyes I was already thinking that with a little better preparation and a few tweaks then I should easily be able to do this again next year on the GPZ in under twenty four hours...

And that was that. I had a room booked in Elgin, an appointment with friends and colleagues of my brother at RAF Lossiemouth tomorrow morning and some thermal liners to hand back. It was time to get on the road again, this time southwards.