Friday 29 April: A day in Invergordon. Not technically a cycling day in terms of mileage progress, but worth a mention.
Fondo is fixed. Thanks to Bruce for the sharp thinking and instant contacts, Neil for the 11 mile lift back to the nearest bike shop at Tain in the big blue van and Marcus of Tain himself, a most knowledgeable and obliging bicycle repair man.
I’m increasingly aware that this is not a solo effort. Ok, I’m on my own for much of each cycling day but there’s no way I’d get very far without the aid of many good people.
Two unreserved plugs:
1. MounTain Bikes, Cadboll Street, Tain. (I love a good pun, especially if it’s not mine)
2. The Marine Hotel, High Street, Invergordon. Perfect for those occasions when you want a great meal, well kept beer, help with your smarter-than-you-are phone, great company, a seriously good choice of wee drams, and don’t feel like driving, cycling or even walking home.

Invergordon has a fascinating past, steeped in maritime history, both naval and industrial. It has a close community feel for quite a large place but concerns over gradually declining employment prospects. Despite the uncertain future, Invergordon still has an optimistic feel.
Today, there are three large, foreign cruise ships docked, bringing enough tourists from afar to almost double the town’s population for a day. A lot of them immediately boarded the waiting coaches and set off on a tour of Loch Ness or to the splendid, more local Dunrobin Castle (home for retired thieves & burglars?). Some ambled through the streets, looking for a cash machine to draw some Scottish Stirling. The more discerning, or simply hungry, follow their noses to the source of the appetising aroma of fried onions and burgers, coming from the Invergordon Lifeboat Station, which just so happens to be holding one of its main fundraising events of the year. I know this, because I was there.
Having spent a fascinating hour in Tain watching a couple of professional glass blowers creating beautiful bottles, I then cycled the 11 miles back to the good burgers of Invergordon.

The pop-up Lifeboat kitchen was in full flow with Kevin, the Lifeboat mechanic looking as comfortable at the grille as he probably is in the boat’s engine room.
Other crew, present and past, conducted guided tours of the Trent Class Lifeboat. More volunteers poured tea, sold Lifeboat Shop gifts and gave a passing cyclist lots of useful contact details and advice about his next day on the road. Thank you Bruce, Kevin, Neil, Michael, Allan, Colin, David, Charlie and the other equally good people of Invergordon who’s names momentarily escape me.
Time to move on, before I get too comfortably settled to leave this great community and become a permanent resident at The Marine Hotel.

Day 56 Thurs 28 April: A quick look at a map will confirm that the greatest distance between two adjacent RNLI Lifeboat Stations is that between Lochinver in the North West and Thurso on the North coast of Scotland. A very long way around the coast via Cape Wrath and 130 miles by road. It took more than two days to cycle the very demanding North Highland route, as described in days 46 to 48.

The second biggest distance between two Lifeboat stations is 82 miles, between Wick and Invergordon, today’s route. Southbound, down the east coast, from sparsely wooded Caithness, through the blossoming gorse and partly forested Sunderland and into Ross & Cromarty. Mostly gentle terrain, apart from two major climbs, the most notorious being Berriedale. Forewarned is forearmed. As it happened, the descent was more of a challenge than the immediate ascent. With a shear drop beyond the barrier on the first hairpin, already at 13%, Fondo started to accelerate too enthusiastically towards the next, steeper, sharper hairpin. The response to my firm braking sparked a tantrum on Fondo’s part as the front wheel began to shake and shimmy quite a lot. What a dilemma. Brake hard and be thrown off a wobbling bike or release the brakes and hope the tyres keep a grip on such a sharp, fast turn. A split second decision, an equally risky compromise (less front and slightly more rear braking) did the trick. Within seconds we almost ground to a momentum killing, gravity induced halt on the immediate steep ascent. At this gradient and with this load it was only possible in the lowest gear ratio, spinning a high cadence for the next half a mile.

“Why so much boring cycling detail?” I hear you ask. Well I’ll tell you why. Soon after the first 60 miles but well after the main climbs, with 22 miles still to go, Fondo suffered a mechanical crisis. The first since our relationship began. Rear derailleur failure. In other words, no way to change down from top gear ratio for any remaining uphill pedalling. What a grind. A quick investigation was inconclusive, no obvious broken cable. Maybe a fiddly, expensive job at the combined brake/gear STI lever. Too tired & hungry to sort tonight. I needed refuelling first and wanted to meet Bruce, my very kind host, one of the Invergordon Lifeboat crew who also happens to run a very good local hotel.

Am I disappointed with my bicycle?  No.  Thanks Fondo, for delaying the inevitable until after today’s big hills. Yes, it was very hard work on even the slightest of the last few ascents but we made it to Invergordon in time for supper and Friday’s big Lifeboat Day. More details tomorrow.

Day 55  Weds 27 April:  Gather ’round everyone. Today we will learn about the different kinds of precipitation…. No, don’t switch off! Only joking. I really have retired. Those just happen to be the words that I involuntarily blurted out as I pedalled this morning. In the first hour of today’s ride I was rained on, sleeted, snowed upon and then battered by hail. Almost every type of precipitation. The only thing I didn’t experience was a tropical downpour. Warm rain, no matter how heavy, would have been preferable. Growing accustomed, as I am, to the frequent rapid changes in weather up here does not really help. Thankfully, it couldn’t get much worse so, by the time I proudly leaned Fondo against the famous John O’Groats white signpost, the bright sunny spell was unsurprising but very welcome.

Thawed out, replenished with hot mocha and a caramel slice (courtesy of the J O’G cafe) it really was time to turn south and head for my first east coast Lifeboat at Wick. The wind was on my back. So was the next heavy hail storm. It was as if I was being seen-off by an angry crowd of stone throwing Vikings as I fled southwards.  No apologies for harping on about the weather. It’s what we Brits do best. What would I have to talk about if I was cycling across the Atacama desert?

The great expanse of water on my l left was now that unmistakable steel grey of the North Sea. But for the acre upon acre of peat covered hills, I might’ve thought I’d by-passed the rest of Scotland and the north east of England and was already looking out to sea from East Anglia.

An hour ahead of schedule on arrival at Wick. Time for lunch at the Wickers World harbourside cafe, where they kindly allowed me to drip quietly in the corner and hang my sodden gloves on the radiator. The beautiful old photo prints on the walls showed Wick at the height of the herring fishing era. Large, razor sharp images captured more than a century earlier, when the quayside was jammed with thousands of barrels of herrings and the harbour heaving with many hundreds of fishing boats. A Scottish Lowestoft. Now, just a few creel boats, a familiar scenario around much of the coast.

At last, an All Weather Lifeboat that is not a Severn Class. Mark, the full time Lifeboat mechanic, kindly (and proudly) gave me a very full tour of his immaculately maintained Trent Class boat. Not as big as a Severn but appreciated every bit as much. It’s hard to believe this boat is twenty years old.

There has been a lifeboat station in Wick for 168 years. The challenges of responding to a ‘shout’ would have been very different all those years ago, with no powerful motors to rush the crew to a sinking ship in the Pentland Firth. Just oars and sails. Even so, today’s crews, mostly volunteers, are still prepared to put their lives on the line at the bleep of a pager as much as those heroes of yore did, at the boom of a maroon.

It was again a privilege to meet some of today’s crew. Another fine bunch. Thanks Mark (mech), Ian (Cox’n), Ross and Colin (crew) for giving me so much of your time and for finding me a bed for the night, just across the harbour where June has offered free b&b in support of the RNLI. Thank you so much June. You’re a National Treasure, of great character. Highly recommended, Seaview Guest House, Wick.

Day 54  Tues 26 April:  I don’t mean to be rude to Scotland in general nor to Scrabster specifically but I’m a bit sad to be here, back on the mainland. It means I’ve finished all the Scottish islands. From Arran in the south, via the Inner & Outer Hebrides in the west, to the Orkneys & Shetland Isles in the north. No more ferries across short, smooth Loch crossings. No more ferries across longer, rougher stretches of the North Sea and North Atlantic. I’ve had my few days off. Claire flew home on Monday….  Where’s my handkerchief?
So, how was the Shetland break? Well thanks for asking. It was brilliant. Puffins, sandy beaches, Lifeboat thrills, amazing archaeological sights, a stunning, dramatic coastline, lovely people, good food and some awful weather. I include the weather because even that was memorable. Although, I don’t remember being warm, apart from when standing under a hot power shower or being tucked up in bed. Two of my favourite regular places.
It was good to be back in Kirkwall last night. The touring ceramic poppies display at the Cathedral is beautifully done, in time for the Battle of Jutland Centenary. A very moving, clever installation. It was also good to have the strong north wind on my back for much of the return ride to Stromness today.
Many thanks to John (Mech), Davy (crew), David (LPO/crew) and Stuart (LOM). The boat is looking great. Good luck with the inspection tomorrow.

 

Day 53  Friday 22 April:  There’s no such thing as a free ride. As mentioned on Day 52, the invitation to join the most northerly Lifeboat crew on their exercise was one not to be missed. Alas, Aith could not be reached in time on a bicycle. Not even on a machine like Fondo. The only way was to resort to motorised transport. Having enjoyed the amazing experience already described in advance of the essential cycle ride, it was now payback time.
The unbroken chain of cycling the roads between Lifeboat Stations must continue.
Conditions: Fair (by Shetland standards), 17mph Northerly wind, mostly dry, light snow flurries, 3°C.
Going: Mostly good, stretches of smooth, recently resurfaced tarmac.
Ascent: 540 metres (three long, gradual climbs, one short sharp shocker).
Distance: 21miles.   Time: 1hr 50mins.    Max: 38mph.
Equipment: KinesisUK Racelight Ti GranFondo (a bicycle, better known as Fondo).
Conclusion: A much easier than average day of cycling in Scotland, through stunning Shetland scenery, only slightly blurred by north wind-induced tears. A low price to pay for the pre-enjoyed time already spent with the team right at the top of the British Isles. All downhill from here? If only ..!

Both Claire and I would like to express our sincere thanks again to Hylton Henry (Cox’n extraordinaire) Kevin Henry (Mech), John R (Mech) and crew members Jimmy, Raymond and Robert for their kindness on both visits, plus the rest of the crew we did not have the pleasure of meeting, for your generous donation to ‘the cause’. Good luck through 2016 and beyond.

Day 52  Weds 20 April:  Seven hours after leaving Kirkwall and a good night’s sleep in my cosy cabin I woke up to views of Sumburgh Head and South Shetland through my port side porthole, reminding me of the origin of the term ‘posh’,  ‘port out, starboard home’, the choice of cabins for the most wealthy on their long cruises down the west coast of Europe and Africa and back again, thus having the coastal view both ways.
So here I am, a posh arrival from way down south, riding a bicycle through Lerwick to the Lifeboat Station, less than half a mile along the shore. Already a busy place at 8.00am. A hearty “Ahoy There” type welcome from Ian, the new ‘Cox’n/mech’, leaning out of the top floor window of the substantial, solid stone Lifeboat Station overlooking the harbour and another big Severn Class Lifeboat.
Ian moved up to Shetland just a few weeks ago, from his previous position as one of the full time crew on what must have seemed an even more remote posting at the Humber Lifeboat Station at the end of Spurn Point. Although still relatively new to Lerwick, his infectious enthusiasm for this new role and his readiness to do anything to help (including offering to look after Fondo for a few days while I enjoy a bit of a break with Claire, flying up from Bristol today) was most appreciated.
So how do I get to Sumburgh to meet my wife, without Fondo? I’ll tell you how. They have things here with four wheels instead of two, and an engine! It’s called a ‘hirecar’. I think I’ve driven one before, a long, long time ago. It’s amazing!  Three pedals instead of two, takes a bit of getting used to but hills aren’t at all tiring. Wind, rain and snow have no effect and when you stop you don’t have to lean it against a wall or a boat or sheep.
The airport, 25 miles south of Lerwick at Sumburgh, was reached in just over half an hour. Unfortunately, not only am I an hour early, a text from Claire now informs me that her flight connection from Glasgow is delayed by over 2 hours. FlyBe. Or, as it’s known in Shetland, FlyMaybe.
No matter. Plenty to do whilst I wait. I’ll drive to the top of the precipitous Sumburgh Head, the southerly tip of the Shetland Isles to look at the light house and see if there’s a line in the ocean to show where the North Atlantic meets the North Sea. Disappointing? Absolutely not. I was thrilled. Couldn’t believe my luck! Just a few feet away from me, hovering on a strong up draught at the top of the cliff, was what looked like a very realistic characature of a fictitious bird species based loosely on a puffin. But too colourful and cute to be true. I was wrong. It was just the first glimpse of one of a large colony of very real puffins. A peep over the low wall revealed dozens of them, almost within reach. Not at all perturbed by my presence, they allowed me to watch them nestling in to their cosy nooks, mostly in pairs. Real rainbow-billed puffins. When Claire’s flight did eventually arrive, I had to return to the lighthouse to show her. She was not disappointed.
The original plan had been to dash back to Lerwick to pick up Fondo and cycle to Aith, the other Shetland Lifeboat, where I’d been invited to join them for the evening exercise on their boat. It was now too late to cycle the 21 miles to Aith over a few big hills. Crushed. Will I never get a ride on a Severn Class ALB? But wait a minute, what about the ‘hirecar’? We could drive there in time for this evening’s exercise and I could do the essential cycle ride tomorrow. Of course!
So we did. We arrived in time for a thrill even greater than the puffin party.
Hylton Henry, the Aith Cox’n, my new hero, welcomed us both warmly and insisted that Claire joined us too, for a full hour at sea. I was only mildly jealous of Claire being offered the helm before me but I soon got over it. I now know how it feels to open the throttles on the biggest All Weather Lifeboat to full power, to do power turns and to use the bow thruster to make the boat ‘turn on a sixpence’. After their practice launch, run & recovery of the smaller Y-boat, I obeyed the Cox’s command “take us back in Steve” with a grin as wide as the North Atlantic.

Day 51  Tues 19 April: A simple plan – be on the road by 9.00a.m. at the latest. This should ensure that the ferry from Houton to Lyness on Hoy would be reached on time. Switching on Garmin informs me it is already 9.01 whilst the chill wind on my face informs me that it’s going to be slower progress than reckoned. I must not let such minor irritations spoil the ride. Just appreciate the fact that the sun is shining and the gales are now a mere breeze. Show no panic. Not even when, on cresting the brow above Houton, I could see the last car boarding the ferry. Just freewheel up to the Cyclists Must Dismount sign and calmly walk Fondo down the slipway and up the ramp. No one can read my heart rate. Cutting it a bit fine? Not at all. Just precise timing. Phew.

The huge old wartime Naval base at Lyness is looking derelict, some crumbling buildings, jetties & piers submitting to the will of nature. Close to the small ferry terminal is the Scapa Flow visitor centre and museum. Quite atmosheric with many pieces of Naval hardware, including several big guns, now rusting in peace. It’s hard to imagine what it was like here at the height of both World Wars. Earily quiet now, just the sound of a few oystercatchers. Daffodils nodding around gun emplacements and pill boxes. Sure to be busy this year, with the Battle of Jutland Centenary to be commemorated here on the Orkneys this summer.

A few more miles around the bay on the east side of Hoy, across the causeway towards Longhope. Just before crossing, I see to the right the unmistakable giant Nissen shaped form of an old Lifeboat house with a steep slip way. A small sign indicates the way to Longhope Lifeboat Museum. Time for a quick detour. All locked up, no one around. Onwards to Longhope harbour, where the current Tamar Class All-Weather Lifeboat is kept afloat and ready. What a welcome! Just as I wonder how on earth they manage to staff a major Lifeboat in such a small, remote place, what appears to be a full crew of seven or eight emerge from the large Lifeboat Station on the quay. Today’s thanks go to Mary (LPO), Kevin (Cox’n), Alex (Mech), Jamie & Dougie (crew), Ian (LOM), Geordie, (DLA) and John (DLA/Mech[retd]). Great company. Great place. Great coffee & chocolate coated flapjacks.

There is still a touch of poignancy in the air here at Longhope. This, my 81st Lifeboat Station, shares a tragic history, similar to that of the first one visited last autumn. Penlee lost a full crew in the Solomon Brown disaster 13 years after the 1969 Longhope tragedy, where they too lost an entire crew of eight. Before leaving, there was time to accept Geordie’s kind offer to open up the the original boathouse for me. If you are ever in this remote, wonderful part of these islands, do not go home without visiting Longhope Lifeboat Museum. It’s a gem. Not only is the old Boathouse full of fascinating items of historical note and some great paintings and photographs, it has something very special indeed. The original Watson Lifeboat,  which served here for over 30 years and saved many dozens of lives, has been returned, restored and now resides in its own old Boathouse. It even has occasional outings, with a slipway launching! Well done Geordie and friends.

In the local cemetery at Osmondwall, on a hill above Longhope, stands a lone statue of a Lifeboat man, erected in memory of those who were tragically lost in the 1969 Longhope Lifeboat Disaster. The plaque at the base of the statue reads “Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his fellow men”

My last few hours on Orkney before boarding the Hamnavoe could have been a miserable ordeal. As I cycled back from Longhope to Kirkwall I realised that I had not planned anything for the five remaining hours before 9.00 pm, the earliest I could check in to the ferry terminal for the 23:45 departure.    I needn’t have worried. On returning to pick up some kit, my kind and generous hosts in Kirkwall, Aileen & Albert were happy to let me stay a while to use their wifi. By the time I’d caught up with all things in the digital ether-world and rolled down the hill for a fish supper, it was almost time to cycle through the gloaming, up to the ferry terminal to check in for the long, overnight crossing to the Shetland Isles.

Day 50  Mon 18 April:  After a restful Sunday exploring the fascinating town of Kirkwall, time for at least half a day of excitement. Extremely strong winds all day today. The Lerwick to Kirkwall ferry was cancelled. For similar meteorological reasons, my original plan to visit Longhope Lifeboat (a ride across very unsheltered stretches of Orkney, including a 6 mile ferry crossing to Hoy) was postponed. Plenty of time tomorrow. A day to stay local.  My first outing into town to stock up with essential provisions for the next 48 hours was probably a tad irresponsible. I soon realised that choosing to ride a light weight, unladen bike, even for just a mile each way in frequent 50mph gusts, was verging on the dangerous. But this was serious mission. I had run out of fig rolls. The gaps between heavy showers were too short to risk walking. So, a brief battle against the wind, a rapid raid on the Kirkwall Co-op and a wind assisted ascent. Mission accomplished in under 20 minutes, restocked with the FRs plus a few non essential extras.
The second outing was the big one. Kirkwall Lifeboat Crew training exercise, 18:00hrs. It was good to see Dupre again, having met him at Barra Island Lifeboat Station where he was on relief cover for their full time mechanic. Many thanks to him and the rest of the crew for such a fascinating insight into an important crew meeting and training session at an All Weather Lifeboat Station. It would be indiscrete to reveal all the goings on but I can assure you it was a very good blend of professionalism and good humour. Thanks again to Dupre (Mech), Stewart (Cox’n), crew members Ingram, Paul, John, Magnus, Ally and Lee. Particular thanks to Graham, 2nd Cox and much more, including photographer extraordinaire, for taking me with him on his photo shoot of the Severn Class Lifeboat being put through its paces in rough conditions. I think his camera, with that mega zoom lens costs and weighs more than Fondo. It was a pleasure and a privilege to meet you all.
Interesting fact of the day: The replacement MTU engines now fitted to many Severn Class Lifeboats are descendants/developments of the WW2 German Panzer tank, replacing the original Caterpillar engines. You’re free to share that pearl of wisdom at your leisure.

Day 49 Sat 16 April:  After 11 days, 456 miles, 7 islands, a couple of dozen good hot Campervan meals/hot brews, a moderation of wee drams,  many laughs and now, almost a whole teardrop, it’s time to say goodbye to my great and very dear young brother Phil. It’s been so good to have your company over such a significant part of this challenge. I’ll never again underestimate the value of meals-on-wheels. When I eventually grow old enough to qualify, and the last morsel of our beloved national health and social care system has been sold off to private contractors,  can I please place my regular order with you? Is there such a thing as a mobile retirement home? Safe journey home little-big bro, I hear it’s still quite a long way home from the top right corner of Scotland down to Cornwall, even with a diesel motor. Don’t ever sell that lovely van. But PLEASE let me paint the top half Lifeboat Orange. You know it makes sense.

Continuing north from here obviously demands yet another ferry crossing.  Just 1.4 miles from last night’s stopover at The Weigh Inn down to the Scrabster Ferry Port. Fondo and I must now get used to hauling all my baggage once more.  If Fondo could talk,  the question would probably be “does my bum look big in this?” Yes, it does. Enormous. Also, with such skinny tyres and my silly cleated cycle shoes, we’re now more likely to take a Bambi type spill on the slippery, wet ramp on boarding the boat. Thankfully, we didn’t.

The Captain’s first announcement was that, due to the moderate to heavy swell at sea today, we shall be taking the calmer, easterly route around Hoy to Stromness. Mixed feelings. The usual westerly route would have given us a great view of that well known, magnificent geological feature known as The Old Man of Hoy. However, the calmer, easterly route will take us through the famous waters of Scapa Flow, over the sight of the scuttling of the German naval fleet. I’m glad the choice was the Captain’s and not mine. A comfortable crossing, with just the right swell to rock me to sleep for an hour. This being a Saturday,  the visit to Stromness Lifeboat is best left until my southbound return on a midweek morning next week. Just a 17mile cycle across the flat but very cold, exposed main island of Orkney to Kirkwall on the north shore. Lots of sign posts to sights of historic and archaeological interest en route. Not today, thanks. Kirkwall itself also appears to have much to trumpet, including a grand Cathedral, Bishop’s and Earl’s Palaces, Castle… but again, not today, thanks. For tomorrow is another day. A full day off.

Day 48  15 April:  As far as we could tell,  nobody had been murdered before we’d checked out of the Bettyhill Hotel this morning. Disappointing really. In the hotel dining room last night Phil and I were convinced that we were part of an Agatha Christie murder mystery. This was the perfect setting. Remote hotel,  13 guests, all of whom would have shared the same motive for murder.  Problem is, none of us had the courage to do it. As far as I’m aware, the potential victim still lives. The guest pianist. A lovely chap, desperate to please and entertain. And he did, for a while. We were initially very amused at his charming, stumbling style. Most of the right notes, but not necessarily in the right order. We laughed a lot.  We played advanced level “Guess that Tune”. Alas, the novelty wore off. Never before have I exchanged such knowing, pained looks with every other paying guest. We eventually adjourned to the bar to sample the local whiskey. Honestly officer, I don’t remember the rest. Apart from Nicola, the lovely barmaid who deftly kept Phil’s glass topped up. Quite a challenge.

The forecast for snow was not completely wrong. Just a light flurry but bitterly cold, still blowing in from the north. I enjoyed today’s long, hard climbs more than the downhill dashes, simply because I was warmer when pedalling uphill. The approach to Thurso,via Dounreay nuclear power station, was not the most scenic of routes today. On a warmer, clearer day the view of the Orkneys are probably wonderful.  The setting for the Thurso Lifeboat’s berth in the port of Scrabster was more industrial than most. But this is a serious ALB Station in a demanding environment, covering a huge sea area, from Cape Wrath to the notorious fast flowing currents & tidal races of the Pentland Firth. It was a privilege to meet Wing, the seasoned (salty?), wicked humoured Cox’n. Thanks so much for my latest trophy, perfect for a cold day like today. According to the embroidered badge on my cosy new jumper,  I am now an honorary member of the Thurso Lifeboat Crew. Thankfully,  I wasn’t issued with an pager, so I can sleep well again tonight.

On that note, if any of you kind donors out there can subtly spread the word with your friends, family,  workmates etc., my fundraising is slipping a bit. At well over 2,000 miles cycled but only just over £1,500 raised, I’m a wee bit behind my £1 per mile target. Every little helps. ALL donations go directly to the Lifeboats. Thanks.