UK01: I’m Cycling The Length of The UK

Lands End to John o’ Groats in 17 days

Beginnings

Spring has sprung, the days are getting longer, and the UK is suffering an unseasonably sunny spell of weather for what seems like the next week at least (fingers crossed for two). And it’s been almost a year since my last big cycle through Japan. So, time to get cracking on the next project, much more local: Lands End to John o’ Groats — LEJOG for short.

The Route

Living in London, it is embarrassingly easy to forget the rest of the country exists, this trip hopes to rectify that, at least to some extent.

An approximation of my route, hastily sketched.

There is a standard LEJOG route, but I’ve taken some liberties with it and traded the Midlands for Wales, which means more climbing, but also more time in some of the wildest parts of the British Isles. We start in Cornwall, with its rugged coastlines, before hopping across to Wales for some big(ish) mountains, and then through the Lake District and up into the Highlands (probably the section I’m most excited by, if the weather holds; now I’ve written this, it will not.) Finally, the great unknown northeast coast of Scotland, and to John o’ Groats. 1,700km total, 16 and a half days to do it.

Day 1 - Penzance → Lands End → Redruth, 80km

I am joined for the first few days by my brother Milo, the younger, stronger, more moustache-oriented version of me — great for drafting behind when there’s a persistent headwind.

Leaving London, the weather forecast for Cornwall was magnificent. The entire six-hour train ride to Penzance, the weather was magnificent. Arriving, finally, at Lands End, the weather was magnificent. And then we turned east, and straight into a headwind that seemed determined to blow us right back to the start again. And with the wind came the cloud, drizzle, and then freezing rain.

When we weren’t heads down making slow progress against the wind, we enjoyed the views to St Michael’s Mount, an island fortress that was once a secluded monastery, and now a privately owned castle (apparently by a friend of the King, must be nice). You can only get to St Michael’s Mount at low tide, when the stone causeway reveals itself to the speed-boat-less normies. Alas we were making such slow progress that by the time we got there, the causeway had vanished beneath the waves.

St Michael’s Mount, lost in the gloom.

Another highlight was lunch — all food is treasured when you’re cycling into the wind. We are, of course, in the land of pasties, and we found a great deli by the harbour in Mousehole serving BIG pasties and BIGGER sausage roles, and nostril-searing mustard. Top-tier Cornish lunch.

Eventually, with night falling, we made it to our hotel, on the outskirts of Redruth. I briefly worried that I’d broken Milo (sorry Mum), when I found him on the hotel room floor wrapped in a blanket, trying to warm up, starring blankly at the wall in front of him. After an appointment with an all-you-can eat carvery, he perked right up again, ready for another day as my domestique. Thanks bro, x.

Day 2 - Redruth → Bude (120km)

The cursed rain was gone when we woke up, the last vestiges of cloud blown away by the still persistent, but slightly weaker wind.

This was our first proper day, 120km in the saddle, crossing the spine of Cornwall from south coast to north. We had breakfast in Truro, and admired the cathedral, made largely of granite and topped with a slate roof and copper spires.

Then it was onto the Camel track, one of the UK’s many former train lines that has been converted into a dedicated cycle path. The track followed the Camel River for 20km and at the end was the Snail’s Pace Cafe, run by a man who’d cycled LEJOG 20 years ago, and who gave us a deal on a couple of fully loaded sausage-bacon-egg sandwiches. Chef’s kiss.

Leaving Snail’s Pace, we climbed onto one of Cornwall’s exposed plateaus, where we were once again heads down and at a snail’s pace into the wind. On the far side of the plateau, we descended to Tintagel, the castle town where King Arthur was supposedly born. We just about avoided the temptations of the Merlin’s Crystal Cave gift shop and instead went to see the ruins of the castle, split into two halves across the mainland and a desolate outcrop of rock out in the bay. The castle was once the seat of the Cornish Kings, but there is little left of it today. Milo pulled his bike out from a rock and declared himself King of England, and then we both suffered up the final climb of the day to Bude.

The remains of Tintagel Castle, and King Milo.

It was a long day, we left at 9.30am, and didn’t get into our accommodation until 7.30pm. We’ve just demolished a completely unglamorous but much needed dinner of mac & cheese and chips. I’m not yet sure this trip is going to have the same level of gastronomic excellence as the Japan version, though the bacon sandwich was pretty good. I remain ready to be convinced.

120km ridden, 1,400m climbed. We’re both pooped and ready for bed, but the fire alarm keeps going off…