26 September - Thurso to John O'Groats

21.7 miles Thurso to John O'Groats (NCN 1)

£7 third of campsite fee in Thurso
£17 lunch and drinks for three at the John O'Groats visitor centre cafe

When I woke at 06:30 and pulled a curtain in the campervan aside, it looked like there was a thick sea mist. I was disappointed as I'd wanted a good morning view of Orkney. When I could wait no longer, I left the van to go to the loo and saw an amazing sunrise. What I had thought was sea mist was, in fact, condensation on the inside of the van windows. I ran to the toilet block so that I could get back to the van for a photo before the light went. I nearly garrotted myself in the process as the campsite had washing lines set up across the grass in front of the toilet block; I ducked my head only just in time.

I got away from the campsite at 08:30, just as a flat-bed recovery lorry arrived to rescue the large motor home from the mud. Vaughan and Liz were settling themselves down for a ringside view of the operation as they dried their tent and had a cuppa in their pyjamas.

The morning was very cold but bright so I had all my cycling clothing on as I cycled through Thurso on my final leg of the journey through the UK. Once I'd climbed the hill out of Thurso, passing kids on their BMX bikes going to school, the roads became long straight stretches of single track with clear views of Orkney. I'd decided I would cycle my final day totally on the Sustrans route even though I could have taken a more direct route to John O'Groats by following the A road I'd been on the previous evening. I didn't want to ruin my memories of my trip by finishing with a busy or cyclist-unfriendly road, though to be honest the roads this far north in Scotland never seemed to be busy and almost all the drivers were very respectful of cyclists.

I was heading pretty much due east all morning. After the previous day's easterly wind I'd been worried that the final leg would be battling against the wind, but I was pleasantly surprised to find the air was still. With the bright sunshine and still air I was soon sweating heavily in all my layers and waterproofs, so had to stop to take some layers off whilst admiring the views out to the Shetland Isles.

The bays around Castletown were stunning, with wide beaches of white sand and views across to Dunnet Head, the most northern part of mainland Scotland. I stopped to take lots of photos as reminders that a trip this far north would be worth repeating in the future.

As I came into the final couple of miles I saw a lone cyclist ahead of me. I hadn't seen him on the long straight stretches of minor roads I'd been on, so guessed he must have been on the main road and our routes had joined when the Sustrans route joined the A836 just after Canisbay. I called "good morning" as I overtook him and he jumped. I apologised for frightening him. I know how you can get caught up in your own thoughts as you silently cycle along a quiet road alone. I called back to him "are you finishing the End to End?" And when he said yes, also told me he'd done it in 22 days. I congratulated him, saying that was impressive.

When I arrived at John O'Groats I saw the campervan in the car park, so cycled around looking for Vaughan and Liz. I found them, sat on a wall by the famous finger post, with a bottle of Cava and three glasses. Vaughan wanted to video me arriving so I cycled off again around the corner so I could appear whilst he had his iPad filming, then cycled right up to the sign until the gravel became too thick and I thought it best to stop rather than insist on cycling right up to the sign and finish the trip with a recorded tumble from the bike.

As we did the customary photos and champagne drinking, we got chatting to two motorcyclists who were going to ride John O'Groats to Land's End non-stop in 24 hours the following day. Personally I think they're mad, but each to their own.

The guy I'd previously overtaken also appeared whilst we were stood at the sign. As solo LEJOGers I felt we had something in common, and he didn't have anyone there to welcome him in or take a photo, so I asked him if he'd like us to take his photo. He (Gary) had wanted to do LEJOG for 40 years, and was feeling very emotional at having now achieved it. He'd ridden the whole way wearing Converse All Stars as his footwear; I can only begin to imagine how uncomfortable that must have been, especially as he'd hit some of the cold and wet conditions I'd been riding through. He also said "never again" and that he'd almost given up after the first day's ride to Truro as the roads and traffic were so awful. He'd done it the 'usual' way on main roads, and I explained that I'd used the Sustrans routes with quiet county lanes and whilst that had significantly increased my mileage and time taken, I was pleased as almost all of it had been thoroughly enjoyable. Gary lives in the South of France, so maybe he's not used to cycling on Britain's roads. Mind you, even if you are, I wouldn't imagine 900 miles of main roads would be pleasant.

Another lone cyclist arrived at the signpost as Vaughan, Liz and I finished our lunch in the visitor centre cafe. He was taking a photo of his green bike against the signpost and Liz said it looked sad that he had to do that. I said I'd been doing similar all month, but it did seem a shame for the final photo of his trip, so I ran out and pushed my bike up to him (to show I was a fellow LEJOGer, though I'm not sure why, since it was pretty obvious from how I was dressed). As I got closer I saw that his bike was a Roberts so we got chatting; Vaughan sighed and said he'd go and get the van sorted whilst we continued to swap notes. After admiring each other's bikes, he said this was his second stab at LEJOG, having stopped after 800 miles in June as the head winds had made it impossible to finish in the time he'd given himself. I admire him for coming back and finishing the job off. I'm not sure I'll be that determined to go back to Kinross and cycle to Dundee for the 36 miles I missed.

I now type this from the back of the campervan as Vaughan drives us down to Perth for an overnight stay. I've had the bed down and slept for 3 hours, had a freshen up with baby wipes and changed out of my rather ripe cycling clothes. We're listening to a Scottish compilation that Liz has put together on her iPhone and singing along as we leave the Cairngorms behind us. I enjoyed The Proclaimers, but perhaps 'Donald Where's Your Trousers' is an acquired taste.

Would I do it all again? Yes, in a flash.

Would I use the Sustrans routes and make my route as long (1,414 miles)? Absolutely as the only stressful parts of the ride tended to be when I had to join main roads or cross cities.

Would I take as long? I'd probably want to take even longer, as I still didn't have time for sightseeing or have many rest days. I'm not sure I could cycle any faster on a laden touring bike, and after 50 miles I began to be ready to stop for the day too, so if I could do it with an average of about 30 miles a day I think that would be perfect.

Would I do it solo again? Yes, for sure. I loved the solitude, the flexibility, and the silence. Also the lack of need for compromise. I'm a control freak.

Would I have a support crew all the way? Probably not. I've now got all the gear to be self supporting, and I'm a bit disappointed with myself for jettisoning the tent, cooker, sleeping bag and mat after the first week. Carrying everything does make the bike heavy and slow but if I scheduled shorter days with less mileage to cover I'd feel happier about plodding along with my load and giving myself time to sort out the tent in the evenings and mornings. Whilst it was lovely to have Vaughan and Liz there for the final fortnight and it was fun to experience the variety of campsites, hotels, and pubs together, it also meant I spoke to less people in the evenings, drank more alcohol, and spent more money on meals and accommodation. If I'd been on my own I'd have stuck to Youth Hostels and campsites with occasional forays into cyclist friendly B&Bs.

Would I encourage other women 'of a certain age' to do something similar? Yes. Spend a year getting your fitness to a suitable level first, do it in a country you feel safe in, and trust that your knowledge of the culture and environment will keep you out of trouble. Don't take unnecessary risks and make sure someone always knows where you are and you check in every night to say you're safe.

Do I have lots of wonderful memories and stories to bore my friends and family with? Of course I do.

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