Day 7: John O'Groats - The Pain...

First and foremost, I must thank Steve and Fiona for their hospitality last night. I hope you recover from your cold soon Fiona. Don't pass it to Steve, he's got enough work on... :0)

Dinner was a fantastic curry at the local tandori house, with a couple of pints of Kingfisher. Brilliant. We talked politics, work, education and most importantly (with any curry) we talked football. A late night followed, which this trip just seems to attach for some reason. Ah well, I'll just have to sleep for three days when I get back home.

The difference a day makes is remarkable. Where yesterday saw the best weather I've seen in an age, today it rained. It rained from the moment I put my lid on -to- the moment I sat in the bar here. The rain has been constant and the wind just bites at you. The result is a headache which you wish was a hang-over. But still I had a ride to complete and today's was longer than any other. I rode from Alloa, through Stirling, Aviemore, Inverness and Wick (fucking Wick)! and so many little towns and villages in between. But the pain was excruciating. My fingers were so solid at one point that I could not put the fuel into the bike and I had to wait about quarter of an hour to thaw out (...even now, it's so back that my fingers are tingling as I write. I feel sleepy and the only thing I've to improve my being is Glenmorange).

Yet even in the rain and wind and chill-blanes which sting your body, you ride on. Pitlochery and the Tummel Valley was just as I remember it and Inverness too. In fact the scenery all around has been fab. But apart from fuel I have stopped nowhere. When I left Aviemore, I had diesel gloves on. They helped... Until I got a third to forty miles out, and then the rain got through... 'Ah well' I thought, 'its rain...' by the time I got to Wick, I couldn't feel my fingers. They hurt, they hurt so much. I stopped. I danced on the forecourt of a petrol station as I tried to stamp warmth back into my body. I couldn't feel my fingers, I didn't know if they were holding the handlebars or not, and I had no idea if I would again. Yes it was bloody cold. Its now a 1-1 and a half hours or so since I arrived in John O'Groats. There is nothing here... Nothing. The north sea, a couple of hotels, a few more B&Bs and fishermen (I guess, although there is no proof other than the clothes they wear, but that could just be because they're bloody cold). I jumped off the bike. I walked into the B&B. I got the key. I turned on the swower and that was me for the next 20mins. I'm tired. It's 6pm, and I'm tired. It's not just the ride, it's the rain. It is so draining, you just don't realise.

Right Stornoway tomorrow. Watch this space...