I've decided not the edit my posts from day 6 and 7, but rather to write new one instead, as I think they speak for the suffering that I was experiencing! So I'll apologise if i overlap, but I'll start by writing about day 6 and 7 again here, then write an overview of my week in a new post!
Day 6; Perth to Inverness
On the evening of day 5 my friend Mark and his lovely girlfriend Bella (who I hadn't met before) came down to join me for the night in Perth (they live up in Elgin as Mark works at RAF Lossiemouth). We met up and went out for dinner; perhaps where my downfall was to begin!!
We chose a very good curry house called Tabla and tucked into a delicious meal, the best I'd had all week! I had already started to struggle with food, and my bowel habit was not looking good (sorry, I'm a medic, it's quite normal to talk about these things...) so I was relieved to find the curry appetising and to be able to eat a good sized portion.
After food and a good catch-up we headed back to our respective hotels, and I got my head down for a good night's sleep at my B&B (Rowanlea Guest House; I'd recommend it to anyone passing through!). 7am and I'm up again for breakfast, before heading over to meet Mark at his hotel. By 8.30 we are on our way (after he had finally finished his breakfast and stopped faffing!).
As I've probably mentioned before, riding LEJOG in 7 days means sticking to bigger, more direct roads, rather than following winding minor roads and B roads. Well day 6 runs for me runs from Perth to Inverness; up the A9!! Fortunately, I had already been told about the multiple smaller roads that follow the A9 most of the way up, so had planned my route to follow these, with only short sections on the A9. Mark knows what I'm like so insisted on me showing him the route on my maps, and persuading me not to follow the A9 out of Inverness, but instead to follow the National Cycle Route (no7) instead, insisting it was all on roads or tarmac!
As you'll see below (the photo of Mark lifting his lovely new bike over large muddy puddles) early on we hit a track that was not tarmac-ed!! Fortunately Felix is a bit less precious than Mark's new carbon-fibre Canyon, so rode through like the trusty steade he is! Thankfully after that though, we followed nice quiet roads up as far as Dunkeld before only a short bit on the A9 (where the cycle route diverts well out of the way!). My legs were making slow progress unfortunately, and a slightly later than hoped for start (that is not a dig, don't worry!) meant we didn't make it to our brunch stop at the House of Bruar (just north of Blair Atholl) until about 11.30. We met Bella for lunch. Mark had said I could put my handlebar bag in the car as Bella was following us north, but given my unsupported plan I decided to keep it with me. By this point I was already starting to get bad abdominal cramps, but figured I was probably just constipated.
After lunch we headed up and over the pass of Drumochter, in a tough headwind, with intermittent rain, following the cycle path that ran parallel to the A9. The pass of Drumochter was way better than I had expected. I think my legs had warmed up by this point, and having Mark to shield me from the wind certainly helped!! As the hills eased off, we picked up some speed and whizzed our way to Newtonmore (for a quick drink and cake stop at Ralia; v friendly!). The cycle path was mostly ok, but in parts was covered in gravel; not good at 20+mph with 23mm road tyres on! Swearing and braking ensued, not a happy Nikki! Thankfully I remained vertical for it, and got to the end of the day without puncture!
After Newtonmore we followed a B road through Kinguisse and on into Aviemore. Mark picked up the speed on the flats, but my legs were not having it, and felt thoroughly fatigued by the time we stopped at the ActivCafe in Aviemore. Still 40 or so miles to go, feeling rough, we stopped for food; a cheese toastie, hot chocolate and a glass of milk for me (they didn't do milkshakes!!). Back on our bikes now, we continued, up through Carr Bridge on B roads, and then following the A9 on a cycle path, almost all the way to Inverness. Just before Inverness the cycle road runs out (or else takes you on a very long detour into the city which my legs weren't willing to do!), so we hopped back onto the A9 for a short stretch of dual carriageway, first uphill, then speeding down into Inverness.
I had struggled during day 6, with stomach cramps, had started to struggle with temperature regulation, feeling really cold despite wearing what I'd normally ride in in winter, and cried a lot! At one point (on the climb out of Carr Bridge) Mark asked if I wanted to stop so he could comfort me, but no, I just wanted to keep going and arrive!! Finally, before 8 at night, we arrived at the Youth Hostel in Inverness, who had kindly saved me dinner (I'd rang through earlier to say I'd be arriving late and to save as much carbs as possible!). I said goodbye to Mark and Bella, put my bike away for the night, then headed inside.
It had been great riding with Mark; I think I would have really struggled by myself, and having someone to chat to, and catch up with was great! It was lovely to meet Bella as well!
At some point during the day I saw a red squirrel! I've never seen one of these before, and told Mark to remind me at the end of the day to add it to my blog! He reminded me, and I've remembered again!
I headed in for my dinner, and ate before showering. I sat and cried into my meal; a plate of lasagne and chips, forcing myself to eat because I knew I needed the calories, but not really wanting to. I was feeling like crap, shivery, headachy, and still those bloody stomach cramps!
I headed up to my room; I'd booked a 'micro' room which meant I didn't have to share a dorm, but was sharing a bathroom a couple of doors down from my room which was fine with me. It was appropriately named and was tiny, but it was my space to that was ok! After a long hot shower, I headed to bed with plenty of fluids next to me (including Irn Bru) so that I could rehydrate as the night went on. Unfortunately from about 1am I was up every half hour having diarrhoea, and hot sweats, soaking the sheets through.
Day 7; Inverness to where?
Breakfast wasn't until 7.30 in the hostel, so I had a slightly later start of 7am, and got up, not feeling particularly refreshed, and got ready to go. To be fair, I felt better than when I arrived the night before, and had at least stopped crying (much to the relief of Alistair, the kind guy on the front desk of the hostel).
I headed down for breakfast to find the canteen full of Americans; I listened to their nattering as I munched some toast and cereals (because porridge was not an option; how is this the case in Scotland??). Shortly after 8am, and I was back on my bike, and headed to Morrisons to pick up more paracetamol, ibuprofen and Imodium (taking a dose there and then along with yet another poo...). I was trying to convince myself that my diarrhoea was just due my constipation, rather than obviously being an infective diarrhoea given the temperature and sweating I'd had. I know Imodium is never the best idea with an infective diarrhoea, but sometimes needs must! I was never going to get anywhere otherwise!
By 8.30am I was on my way, this time following the A9, then the A99 all the way to John O'Groats! Only 125 miles to go! My body hurt, I felt crap, but hey, my legs were still spinning (all be it a little bit slower)! After about an hour I needed my first toilet stop, and more Imodium. At 3 hours (having only cycled 38miles), I allowed myself a food stop and struggled to eat a cheese toastie in Tain. I has alternating between waves of adrenaline and happiness (I can do this, I can actually do this, it's my last day, big grin on my face smiley), and sheer suffering (think cramps, nausea, pain all over).
North of Goldspie things started going wrong (after yet another toilet stop). I'd hardly eaten any of the food I was carrying, certainly much less than I would have at 50miles on any of the other days. I stopped to lie down for a few minutes and close my eyes on a particularly attractive looking patch of green grass before getting back on and spinning some more. Next time I stopped the vomiting started. Things were not looking good.
I pushed on to Helmsdale where I saw signs for the 'Thyme & Plaice' cafe, welcoming cyclists. I pulled over and headed up, absolutely broken, tears streaming down my face. I thought if I could just eat and drink something I might be able to keep going; it was after all only another 55 miles to go. I managed to drink some Vimto which helped, and a bit of tea, but couldn't face food. I'd ordered a scone but it sat untouched in front of me. The kind owner (Rob, a yorkshireman) then put some flapjack in front of me, and offered me a smoothie. I called Tom, and my father-in-law Will who both insisted that I could do it! My friend Mel then rang after seeing my distressed facebook post. I explained I'd been poorly all night, and was now struggling to eat after vomiting. I think I needed someone to tell me it was ok to stop, and that's what Mel did. I hate to quit! I am not a quitter, and failing felt so bad (as if I didn't feel bad enough anyway!). But my body was broken. I was utterly, completely broken. How can you ride another 55miles without food? Retrospectively, riding 70miles already given the state I was in was pretty impressive.
Rob recommended a good local B&B to me, and after ringing to check they had a room, drove me and Felix up in his van (it was at the top of the hill, the last thing I needed when this broken!). Rob is honestly the kindest man I have met on my journey!! The couple at the B&B were lovely. I went straight to bed (at 4.30pm) and was brought some toast in bed a couple of hours later which I managed to eat cold at about 8.30pm. At this point I started to feel a bit more positive; if I can eat maybe I'll b able to finish? I needed to be at Wick by 8am, but it hardly gets dark in Scotland, so I spoke to the B&B owners and hatched a plan; setting my alarm for 2.30am ready for an early morning hit on the last bit of the journey. I continued to swing a temperature and to sweat through the night, and at 2am was up again with more diarrhoea. I turned my alarm off, accepting I was broken. I would not be reaching John O Groats this time round.
Day 8; Accepting Defeat
Instead, I got up at 8am, managed a bit more toast, then biked up down the hill to the station, calling in at the cafe to thank Rob again for looking after me. I then caught the same train south that I would have gotten on at Wick, and spent most of yesterday on a train, with intermittent episodes of diarrhoea.
Fortunately my diarrhoea is now settling, so provided it doesn't restart once I move back onto solid food, I'll be back at work again tomorrow. The extra day of rest has been appreciated!
I didn't make it to John O Groat's, but what a journey!!!
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