The End to End Gazette

The End to End Challenge - Become an End to Ender! Travel from Land's End to John O'Groats and join and our exclusive End to End Club

Sunday 5th September 2010

www.endtoenders.co.uk

LATEST NEWS DETAIL

News Page | News Archive

Memories of one End to End 27-09-09 to 10-10-09 by Steven Fort

I always thought of myself as fairly fit having been quite sporty for most of my life. However, as middle age came and went and my energies waned the sport was slowly replaced by the more sedate pastimes such as drinking wine and doing the occasional crossword.

I was awoken from the doldrums in May 1998 when, following a routine visit to the doctors, I was diagnosed with prostate cancer and radical surgery was required. The surgery quickly followed and I then had a spell of recuperation. During this time I vowed not to let middle age or the dreaded ‘Big C’ rule the rest of my life. I needed to get back to fitness and start enjoying life. But how can I do that? (because of the operation it was advised that I shouldn’t go running or swimming) - cycling was recommended as the ideal exercise.

I have no doubt that to most people this would have been welcome advice but to me it was something that would not have been my first choice as I had not ridden a bike since childhood, at least 50 years ago!

Undeterred, I bought a bike in September 2008 and for the first few days practised in the local park. I am aware of the old adage that ‘once you have ridden a bike, you can always ride a bike.’ But I have to say that the person who said that had obviously not had a break of 50 years between bike rides. Anyway, I fell off a few times and picked up a few bruises, mainly to my pride, but persisted and soon was confident enough to take to the open road. I even started to enjoy it, apart from the saddle sores, exhaust fumes and that unnerving feeling when being overtaken by a lorry doing 60 mph an inch from your ear. I slowly increased my distances and was, after a couple of months, regularly doing 30 mile rides.

It was in June 2009, 12 months after my operation, that I decided to really challenge myself and at the same time hopefully to raise some funds for Cancer Research. I decided that the End to End solo without support would be the ultimate challenge for me and that September 2009, 12 months after taking up cycling, would be my target date. I didn’t realise just what I was letting myself in for.

And so it was that at 8am on a grey but mild day in late September, I found myself at the start line at Land's End, full of excitement and trepidation as I pushed off into the unknown.

Day 1 was fantastic, 65 miles along that roller coaster of a road, the A30, to Bodmin. I arrived well before I expected and felt good. This was going to be a doddle!

The second day dawned and so did the realisation that as much as I had trained for this I had never ridden any distance on two consecutive days. I was soon going to regret it as saddle soreness and aching limbs replaced any pleasure I should have had from the freedom of the open road and what I am sure must have been stunning scenery.

I ventured on for the next five days, blessed with fine weather, through Devon, Somerset, Gloucestershire, Worcestershire, Staffordshire, Cheshire, Greater Manchester, West Yorkshire and Lancashire to Burnley, the town where I was brought up and where most of my family still live. The isolation of the previous seven days were just a memory as I met and shared some time with my family before leaving the next day for my adopted home in Darlington.

Day eight and the weather took a turn for the worse, to put it mildly. There were gale force winds and I needed to get across the Pennines to North Yorkshire and County Durham. After many, many hours of battling against the weather I eventually made it. Oh what a relief – my own hot bath, my own bed and the welcoming smile of my partner Lynda and all the aches and pains melted away. It was all too short lived.

And so started the second half of my journey.

During the planning stage for the ride I was led to believe from the many articles and accounts I had read that Devon and Cornwall are the hilly bits and that once you have negotiated those two counties it is plain sailing (or cycling). Does no one do the East of the Pennines route? The A68 through Durham and Northumberland is mountainous!

As well as the challenge of fighting against the foul weather and the endless steep hills, the psychological effect of heading away from my home had a massive effect on me. I had hoped to do 80 - 90 miles but only just managed to reach Chollerton at 37 miles and my determination to succeed was sorely tested. I went to bed utterly defeated and unsure whether I would carry on tomorrow.

Only the encouragement and support from Lynda during our daily phone call kept me from throwing in the towel.

I awoke the next day to the same foul weather but the night's rest had lifted my spirits and I decided to carry on and hopefully make up for some of the lost time. After a couple of hours of arduous riding I had my first puncture. I am sure it was the Gods trying to tell me something. I repaired it and continued on for about ten miles only to be thwarted with another puncture. My tyres weren’t the only thing that were deflated, I was at a low ebb and I only reached Jedburgh, 44 miles, before I had to call it a day. I was now a full day behind schedule.

Still tired, aching and wishing it was all over I set off again. The road between Jedburgh and Edinburgh stretched before me and I wasn’t looking forward to it, but things were about to turn in my favour: The weather had improved and though there was a slight head wind, compared to the previous two days this was luxury. This is perfect cycling country and soon I had forgotten my woes and began to almost enjoy myself. I had my third puncture of the trip, but even that didn’t bother me. The pain in my legs from negotiating the strenuous Soutra Hill was immediately forgotten when on turning the bend at the top I was greeted by the ‘Welcome to Scotland’ sign I smiled for the first time in days, it was now that I really first thought that I was going to make it.

I continued on through Edinburgh and headed towards Perth and the A9 which I followed for the next 2 days through some stunning countryside, which for the first time during the journey I had begun to appreciate. I arrived in Inverness feeling fresh and ready for the final two day jaunt through Northern Scotland.

As if to remind me that this is no pleasure trip the weather the next day was a nightmare with strong winds bearing down into my face and making the whole day an ordeal. My all mental attitude had changed now and I was in control. I knew that I was only a stones throw from the end and there was nothing going to stop me getting there. In the dark, cold wet night I arrived in Dunbeath.

The last day passed so quickly. I arrived in John O’Groats by lunchtime. The trip computer on my bike read 991 miles. I crossed the finish line and oh so wanted to feel the elation of a conqueror, or a cup winner, but instead I only felt a mild sense of achievement, a pleasant satisfaction, a feeling that is still with me two months on as I write this journal.

I raised £2000 for Cancer Research and hopefully sent a message to others frightened of the thought of Cancer that often it is not the ogre we all fear.
Here’s to the next time.

Steven Fort
Updated: 31st March 2010