Sporty Sexy Dad is attempting to achieve his goal of cycling the whole of britain.   Being the dutiful wife I dropped him off at Lands End and I will meet him again in 9 days time at John o’Groats to bring him gently home.    Thankfully he has joined an organised ride with Deloittes Ride Across Britain.  He has his own tent each night along with 900 other people, his luggage is carried to the next  venue and there is plenty of food, hot water for showers, electrics for chargers and medical backup.

With an eye on NANOWRIMO I have decided to research my next novel, so am looking historically at the British Isles in order to create the story for November.   I hope to get the opportunity  to do a very short daily blog of my journey weaving marital support, historical research and personal insight as I follow the cyclists up through the country.

This will be a varied and note like format as I explore the areas.  I am dictating on the move and will upload as I am able to access wifi.

‘So I have just run or more accurately walked  from Sennen Cove to Lands End.  Well I took at least one wrong turn and got lost, ending up in a field.  Leapt over a fence, well not quite leapt;  it was a barbed wire fence and I ended it by falling, landing very undignified on my behind.  I am now on the correct path back from Lands End to Sennen cove and my hotel.  I arrived at Lands End at 7.45 just in time to see the last 2 riders being waved off.  Apparently the other 900 odd had already left.

I am following a fairly good footpath (modern times),  which appears to have been hewn through the huge boulders either side.  These are probably what made up the road in the 1740s!

It is quite deserted.  I can see a couple approaching me with a dog so I better not appear to be talking to my phone.   I was passed on the way by a cyclist, not one from the Deloittes ride and then met a chap with his son walking along the path, he looked keener than the son who wandered behind, far enough not to lose his father but enough to make the statement “I don’t want to be here”

It is very deserted, very bleak and it is not raining but overcast .  But if you picture this in the 1740s; it would be very lonely, not a very nice place at all.   It would have been a very inhospitable place for a young boy.

It is not too bad a foot path, a few little inclines hence most of the walking.  I know my destination is Sennen Cove which is all down hill now via a steep cliff  but that keeps me going.’

Last night the cyclists arrived at base camp, lots of noise, lots of incredible organisation.  Tents all pitched and we were shown to Sexy Sporty Dad’s tent, shown where to to get food. He was given his chip so they can monitor where he is all the time.  I still haven’t worked that out, if I had I might have got there before he left.   Having settled him I left him going off for supper and a briefing before a rather nervous nights sleep I guess.  I did manage to text him good luck this morning.

‘I am going to go back to my hotel which is probably about 2 1/2 miles as I drove but apparently only 1.8 miles this route.  It feels an awful lot longer.

The heather is phenomenal  up here and the colours, the leaves are starting to turn brown some not yet there.  Some gorgeous orange flowers, don’t know what they are but the blackberries are out and many ripe.  There is a bit of a breeze thankfully because I am starting to feel hot.

Do you know, it is very quiet;  there are no birds to speak of.  I can hear the sea, I can hear the rustle of the wind going through the bracken crackling.

Well that’s incredible I turned the corner back towards the cove and suddenly there are five no six of them.  Gulls,  the cacophony of their screaming is such a contrast to before.   I can hear the wind now and see the beach which is still a little way away. Even the smell up here is fresh, there is nothing modern, no diesel not even any cows or sheep; it is just  fresh with a slight hint of salt on the tongue,  the wind is just brushing my face as I walk towards it.   Not cold at all just a tickle of fresh sea air.

Back to my hotel and the smell of bacon frying, and the sound of cleaners hoovering and a queue waiting to check out.’

Tiggy