Behind Blue Eyes

A journey in numbers: 12 days, around 8 hours in the saddle each day, 949 miles in total, 2 punctures and several sense-of-humour failures. But, of course, the numbers mean nothing in themselves. A strange aspect of humanity kicks in during this kind of endurance challenge: as soon as I was off the bike the memory of how hard I had been working just a few seconds ago was gone. On the last day I cycled at full capacity almost without a break for six hours. By the time I reached the finish line my body was telling me that it was close to total exhaustion and yet my brain was saying “hey, that wasn’t so bad after all”. And by the time I had inhaled a pint of cider and a pasty I had forgotten the entire 12-day ordeal.

When the body is working at that intensity the brain cannot concentrate on much beyond simple survival. It’s wonderful. The mind does not ponder the stresses and strains of day-to-day life. “Real life” seemed a million miles away as I turned the pedals. Even remembering the name of the last town we had been through became quite difficult sometimes. The routine of getting up, eating, cycling, eating, cycling, eating, sleeping was all encompassing. On a good day it was possible to switch off entirely and plough through the miles without even thinking about it. On a hard day each yard was a test of character. Occasionally it seemed as though the journey would never end, at other times the nation seemed in the palm of my hands. The trick is just to keep going, ignore the discomfort, try not to think too hard about the distances and whistle a tune.

The challenge is not one of simple physical fitness. I think most people with a reasonable level of fitness have the physical attributes needed to complete the same journey. The difficult part was the mental challenge of pushing on in difficult circumstances. The toughest day for me was from Chepstow to Tiverton via Bristol and the A38. The wind was against us all day. I think I averaged about eight miles per hour. I had a puncture on the outskirts of Bristol. It then poured with rain until lunch time. The hills, wind and heavy traffic made for a pretty unpleasant day. But we all made it to our destination and dined in the best pub I have ever been to. The hard days just make the less hard days seem easier – the next day seemed like a breeze in comparison.

Those of you who wondered whether I could manage it were entirely justified. I was not sure myself whether I would be able to hold firm until the bitter end. After all, a challenge is not really a challenge if you know you can complete it before you set out.

Cycling really is a fantastic way of seeing the country. We saw pretty much everything that Britain has to offer: pristine Scottish lakes and rivers so beautiful that my eyes hurt; the rolling countryside of Shropshire; ancient towns; mountains; coastline; Warrington and Cowdenbeath. We were welcomed warmly everywhere we went. People were helpful and friendly to us, offering us refuge from the downpours and serving us tea and cake even while we dripped and sweated all over their establishments. Despite the deluge of problems which we have imposed on ourselves, Britain is a stunningly beautiful, thriving, vibrant, pleasant and welcoming country. Even in poor weather, the countryside is outstanding. For those of us who live in one of the big cities it is easy to forget how close we are to empty space, to narrow country lanes, to picture postcard market towns, to warm hospitality. We really must learn to take advantage and to be proud of this fantastic country of ours.

Now get your wallets out an give some of your hard-earned to those who don’t have the advantages that we enjoy.