Day 1 John O' Groats to Tain

After a good nights kip at the Broo B&B in JoG we checked over the bikes again to see if our knackered state last night had led to any clear misshaps. Evidently we did a better job than we gave ourselves credit for, waved goodbye to Alister clutching the packed lunch they had kindly provided we rolled the mile downhill to the start line at the quayside. Disappointingly, we were denied the customary photo by the signpost predominantly by the sign not actually being there. Apparently the official photographer is a work shy layabout and declines to photograph foolhardy adventurers on a Saturday. Unperturbed we accosted a gift shop owner and got her to photograph us by a sign painted onto the quay wall and satisfied with that proceeded to pedal south.

We knew that we would be heading into the wind for much of this journey and the 10 knot headwind didn't seem too bad as we cycled the 17 miles to Wick. Over a cup of tea we agreed that is wasn't too bad and we would easily make our target of Tain 90 miles from JoG. Sadly there is quite a big gulf between knowing something and really knowing something. As we climbed away from Wick the wind picked up to over 20 knots and the landscape became more open and barren. The scenery was beautiful but much of the day was spent with our heads scrunched down against the wind and one eye towards the horizon looking at the menacing clouds scudding past.

There was only one big climb today which thankfully was out of the wind and the threatened rain failed to materialise but the wind really sapped the strength from our legs. Seven and a half hours of spinning the cranks led us into Tain where we were welcomed by Molly at her haven, the Carringtons B&B. We were very, very happy indeed to ditch the bikes in the shed and jump into the shower. Molly very kindly offered to wash our cycling kit which was quite brave of her and we are now basking in the warm glow achieved by the well fed, weary cyclist.

I'm a bit worried about my knee as generous application of ibuprofen hasn't stopped it from aching. Derrières are feeling a little delicate and both of us have a touch of windburn around the edges but as Ant would say; tomorrow we need to man up and get on with it. Sunday night we hope to be in Aviemore which is only sixty five miles down the road but a short day before Mondays hills seems like a cunning plan...