DAY 9 LAST DAY!

The last day! Arising for our final cooked breakfast we were driven back to Tavistock where we had left off the night before and fiddled around with the GPS before setting off on our route. The weather looked promising this morning – it was slightly overcast, but bouts of sunshine were peeping through. Not even 500m into our journey this all changed though, and once again we had torrential rain. This time though it was so bad that we had to seek shelter in a nearby bus stop and waited for about 20 minutes whilst the rain hammered on the roof. Unfortunately the issue here wasn’t just one of gritting teeth and cycling through the rain. Because it was so torrential – the roads were akin to rivers, and drains were overflowing, there was the danger of other cars aqua-planing and not being able to stop quick enough. We waited for the rain to slow down to a moderately torrential amount before starting off again.

Although we moaned about the weather (again), we were very motivated to go on just because of the knowledge that there would be CHAMPAGNE at the end. Alcohol had become a serious motivator by this point.

Someone in team TROTT (I can’t remember who at the time of writing) was informed by the weather forecasters back home, that the area had received a severe weather warning and that we were right in the middle of it. Further to add to our dis-contempt with the weather (not that we needed any more hatred of the UK weather systems by this point), that the rain was following us SOUTH, despite the fact that the wind was blowing NORTH (or so it seemed). The other group of Lands end to John O Groaters from KGS (remember – the sensible ones doing it the correct way around?) had informed us that the worst thing about Cornwall and Devon (besides the hills) was the sunburn. SUNBURN??? WE WOULD HAVE GIVEN OUR WHEELS AND CRAWLED TO LANDS END FOR SUNBURN! Grumbling we TROTTed on (a joke that we found much too amusing when cycling – possibly due to low blood sugar and bouts of delirium).

After the initial climb we pulled over in a garage to inspect Tom’s break pads. He had the same problem as I had only a few days previously, his break pads were very worn down indeed. Learning from previous mistakes, we got the support car to Google bike shops nearby our current location. There was none within 10 miles so we opted for an impromptu measure – instead of replacing the pads, we borrowed a mechanics tools and made the callipers grip the wheel more tightly. Just a side note that this was a last minute measure and should not really be done unless the last option available.

Besides that minor hiccup, all was running smoothly (besides my ankle – but I strapped on a pair and got on with it). Then Robbie ran into some technical difficulties. Bombing down a road that was overcast with trees (restricting light), Robbie tore his front tyre when he went at 3x the speed of sound over some pesky sharp stones that were inconveniently in his way. Waiting at the bottom of the hill for Robbie to wheel his bike down, I phoned the support car to tell them what had happened. Robbie arrived and began to fit a new inner tube, but upon inspection of his tyre and the finding of a hole roughly the size of a bullet hole, it was realised that he needed a new tyre completely. Putting the bike on the rack, they set off in the support car to the nearest bike shop, leaving me and Tom to continue. We speculated that his tyre must have been shot by mercenaries hired by someone from a rival charity in an attempt to stop us.

Continuing on, me and Tom tackled some hideous hills that we had to go down slowly thanks to Toms dodgy back break pad. Still, after covering some milage, we met back up with the support crew and Robbie who had a shiny new tyre.

Reunited, we cycled on for the rest of the day without event. We were informed by my father via text that his train had been delayed by a suicidal woman on a viaduct, and despite leading the chorus of “jump you bugger, jump!” he was still going to be late.

It was now nearing the end of our journey, and with only a few miles to go we encountered a sign for Lands End after as we were passing through Penzance. Excited and spurred on by the thought of finishing, we went on and a few miles down the road encountered another sign that read that read “Mt. Misery”. Surprisingly, Mt. Misery was not actually that miserable (though this was possibly due to the fact that we were nearly finished), and it was the last climb of the day. The last couple of miles really were a joy. It was all flat and downhill, and the rain had stopped by this point. We finished with the support car behind us, blaring out blazing tunes as we cruised into Lands End, through the amusements there and touching the sign.

THE END!