Joining the Journey: The Final Days of Land’s End to John o’ Groats

Wednesday, 4 June 2025 – Prestatyn to Fort William

Day 1 – Heading North Through Clouds and Rain to Meet Liz

I was heading to Scotland to accompany Liz on the final days of her monster Land’s End to John O’Groats journey. After our last bike-packing adventure, I’d promised myself I’d never travel this way again—but when Liz’s sister had to pull out, I found myself saying yes. I’d never travelled through the north of Scotland before, and curiosity won over caution.

The morning began early and anxious. As the train pulled out, I wondered why on earth I’d volunteered for more stress and rain. Thick clouds hung overhead and the air had that damp, chilly feel that seeps into your bones. Thankfully, I’d packed well, and the last-minute addition of winter gloves proved a lifesaver—cold hands are misery.

First stop: Warrington Bank Quay.

A calm change-over and breakfast with helpful staff and a blessedly free plug socket for my phone. With a hot drink in hand and the train gently rocking north, I finally began to relax.

The change between stations in Glasgow went smoothly, and soon I was on the last leg of the journey. After leaving the city, the line narrowed to single track and the pace slowed, winding through some of the most beautiful scenery I’d ever seen. Even under rain-streaked skies, the Highlands were breathtaking—green slopes dropping into shadowed glens and lochs glimmering through the mist. Somewhere beyond Crianlarich the clouds lifted for a moment, revealing a hint of sunlight on distant hills — a glimpse of the wild country ahead.

By the time I reached Fort William it was raining hard again, grey and relentless. I found the B&B with only one brief wrong turn and arrived first; Liz was still finishing her day’s cycling. She appeared not long after, drenched but cheerful, peeling off her wet layers—each one wrapped in its own carrier or bin bag in a valiant attempt to stay dry. She looked remarkably well, considering the miles behind her and the weather she’d battled through.We walked to a nearby hotel for dinner. The food was surprisingly good, and over a glass of wine the nerves and rain both felt far away. By the time we returned to our rooms, the rain had softened to a steady rhythm on the window. As I drifted off, it no longer sounded like a warning, but an invitation—the Highlands calling..

Thursday, 5 June – Fort William to Inverfarigaig

Day 2 – A Day of canals, climbs, and Highland spirit.

The first full day in the saddle always feels a little awkward — adjusting to the weight of the panniers, the rhythm of pedalling, and the sudden awareness that this is it: the adventure has really begun. The morning sunshine breaking through the clouds promised a good start, and we set off shortly after nine, spirits high. Our first stop was a local bike shop to sort out a few small niggles that Liz had from yesterday.

Not long after leaving Fort William, we paused to admire Neptune’s Staircase at Banavie — an extraordinary flight of eight canal locks that lifts boats by about twenty metres from sea level into the Caledonian Canal. Watching the boats rise slowly through each lock was fascinating and made for a memorable start to the day.

From there, we joined the Caledonian Canal and followed a beautiful cycle route for about ten miles. Just as the rain began, Liz’s tubeless tyre gave a loud bang — flat as a pancake, sealant everywhere. Unfazed, she fitted a tube in record time and we were back on the road.

Undeterred, we pressed on to the Commando Memorial near Spean Bridge, which honours the British Commandos who trained in the Highlands during the war. Standing high above the valley, it offers stunning views of Ben Nevis and a moment of quiet reflection.

From there, we joined the A82, a fast, busy stretch with heavy traffic and little room for cyclists — not the most relaxing part of the ride. Eventually, we turned off and rejoined the cycle route at Invergarry, where we had planned to stop for lunch, though somehow we never found the cafe.

To add to the adventure, Liz picked up another puncture in the same tyre, but a quick repair had us rolling again soon enough.

We eventually rolled into Fort Augustus, a lively little village at the southern tip of Loch Ness. The canal runs right through the centre, with cafés, walkers, and cyclists gathered to watch the locks in action. A huge tour boat was making its way through just as we arrived — it barely squeezed through, drawing quite a crowd.

By now it was after four o’clock, and the cafés had stopped serving meals, so we settled for cheese scones and cake instead. Not exactly the most nourishing choice, but enough to keep us going. 

When we finally left Fort Augustus, the road began to climb almost immediately — a long, steady ascent through forest and open moorland towards White Bridge. Partway up, we passed a lone cyclist battling the hill with a fully laden bike, head down and determined. It was a tough climb, but the views opened up beautifully as we gained height, and the quiet of the Highlands made every mile feel worthwhile.

Our next stop was Inverfarigaig, on Loch Ness, where we were staying for the night. By this point, I was starting to feel anxious — my battery was running very low, the light was fading, and a fine drizzle had turned into steady rain. It was a huge relief to finally see the sign for our B&B and know the day’s ride was over..

All in all, it was a memorable first day — full of challenges, small triumphs, and the beauty of the Scottish Highlands.

Friday 6 June – Inverfarigaig to Invergordon

Day 3 – Pedalling north along quiet lanes, busy roads, and classic Highland scenery.

After a restful night’s sleep in the invigorating Scottish air, I woke to find a hint of blue sky and, to my delight, no rain — what a relief! We enjoyed a fabulous breakfast before loading up the bikes, though the peace of the morning was quickly broken by a swarm of hungry midges. We made a hasty escape, pedalling off along Loch Ness via a quiet single-track lane, following part of National Cycle Route 78, which climbed gently away from the loch before winding through woodland and peaceful backroads. We were caught in a heavy shower, but fortunately, it didn’t last long. Loch Ness might not have lived up to its mysterious reputation, but it was still a pleasure to pedal beside its calm waters.

The morning rolled on beautifully under the sun, and before long, we reached Inverness. The ride into the city was lovely — following the river, crossing over to Ness Island, and then over another bridge to the opposite bank. Elegant Victorian houses lined the river, and the area was full of inviting bars and restaurants.

Our first stop in Inverness was Screwfix, where Liz needed a replacement battery for her gears. From there, we headed to a nearby bike shop to stock up on spare inner tubes, patches, and new cleats for her shoes. We even managed to squeeze in a quick lunch before returning to have the battery fitted. The staff couldn’t have been more helpful — patient and cheerful as Liz and the technician worked through the technical details.

Leaving Inverness was far less enjoyable. The cycle path over the river was closed, and after checking a few options there was nothing for it but to brave the dual carriageway. It was busy, noisy, and definitely not the highlight of the day. Once across, it took a while to pick up the cycle route again, and the next stretch alongside the A9 felt endless — mile after mile of traffic and grey tarmac.

A stop at Lidl in Dingwall for snacks was a welcome break before continuing north on the B817, the quieter road running above the A9. It offered fine views across the Cromarty Firth and a welcome break from the traffic. Soon after, we reached Alness and stopped at Lounge 23, a friendly pub where we enjoyed a delicious meal and a well-earned beer while the battery recharged. With full stomachs and a fully powered bike, we set off again, spirits lifted.

The final stretch into Invergordon was straightforward, and we arrived tired but happy after another long day on the road. Our B&B was a welcome sight, and after a hot shower and a bit of rest, the day’s miles seemed to melt away.

It had been a day of contrasts — sunshine and showers, traffic and tranquillity, hard miles and easy moments — but the Highlands were at their best, and it felt good to be deep in the north at last.

Saturday, 7 June – Invergordon to Altnaharra

Day 4 – Historic Inn and Highland Views

After a hearty breakfast and a quick bit of early morning bike maintenance to fix a puncture on my bike, we finally set off from Invergordon. We left town cycling towards black clouds and a headwind, passing the massive deep-water port with its huge oil platform moored just offshore — a striking reminder of the town’s industrial heart. From there, we followed a quiet road out of town back towards Alness, then continued north as the landscape opened up and the Cromarty Firth fell away behind us.

It was a testing climb from Alness to Ardgay, made even tougher by a spell of torrential rain. Then, almost without warning, the gloom lifted — the wet and dank gave way to bright skies and cheerful light as we reached the top. We paused at a viewpoint above Ardgay to admire the beautiful views over the Dornoch Firth, where we met a lively group of guys in a mix of sporty cars who had driven up from Chester for a weekend in the Highlands — small world!

By lunchtime, we had reached Bonar Bridge, where we stopped at a friendly community café and centre. We fuelled up on beans on toast followed by cake — perfect cycling food — and it was just as well the café was there, as it really did feel like we were in the middle of nowhere.

After lunch, we began climbing again, stopping at the entrance to Carbisdale Castle. Liz had spent time there years ago with the Guides during her time as a Guide Leader, so it was a special moment for her to see it again. The castle, once a youth hostel, now stands as a stately home and private residence, its turrets and towers rising above the trees — a striking sight against the Highland backdrop.

After leaving the castle, we soon realised we were off route. We’d passed a sign just minutes earlier but, with a quick glance at the path, decided it couldn’t possibly be the right way — obviously, it was. Back we went and joined a narrow trail through the woods that led us to the Invershin Viaduct.

What had started as a perfectly normal cycle route suddenly turned into something far more adventurous: three very steep flights of steps, a narrow metal walkway across the river, and yet more stairs on the other side to rejoin the road. After checking for alternatives, it was clear there was only one option. We unpacked everything from the bikes to reduce the weight, changed out of our cycling shoes, and began the delicate task of manhandling them down the steps — a real team effort, helped by a small groove on the left, just wide enough for bike wheels.

We took the lighter bike first, inching it down one step at a time, before tackling my heavier “beast.” Then came a relay: carrying all our gear along the metal walkway, up the next set of steps, and repacking everything at the top. We couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer ludicrousness of it all — this was supposed to be part of National Cycle Route 1! The earlier finish we’d hoped for was clearly not to be, as this section took quite some time.

We carried on until Lairg, where we found a small filling station and shop — the perfect excuse for another coffee and something to eat, with still twenty miles left to go. After leaving Lairg, the road began a long, gradual climb along a single track towards Altnaharra, made all the more testing by a persistent northerly headwind. The scenery grew wilder with every mile — open moorland, distant lochs, and the feeling of being deep in the Highlands.

This was truly wild and rugged Highland terrain — vast moors, distant mountains, and the road tracing the line of the river. We stopped to take photos at the Mackay Country Stone, which sits just off the roadside. Carved into it is the word “Fàilte” — Gaelic for welcome. The stone marks the southern boundary of Mackay Country, the traditional territory of the Mackay clan, a fitting landmark as we rode deeper into the far north..

After a long day of cycling, we finally descended into the valley and arrived at the Altnaharra Hotel for the night. This historic drover’s inn, dating back to the 17th century, has been beautifully restored, offering a touch of luxury amid the wild landscape. Renowned for its fishing, the surrounding lochs and rivers added to the sense of calm after a full day on the road. From our room, the moors and distant hills stretched endlessly, a reminder of the vastness of this rugged corner of Scotland. Three days down, just two to go before we reach John O’Groats—tired, certainly, but still loving every minute of the adventure.

Sunday, 8 June – Altnaharra to Melvich

Day 5 – Sunshine, sheepdogs and the final miles to the north coast

After a cosy evening at our hotel in Altnaharra, we set off for a shorter ride to Melvich. The sun was shining, the breeze barely noticeable, and we enjoyed a smooth twenty-plus miles along Loch Naver and through a charming valley on a quiet, undulating lane. We passed two peaceful campsites tucked beside the loch — both noted as possible places to visit in our motorhome on a future trip. It was one of those perfect cycling mornings — peaceful, unhurried, and a joy from start to finish.

We were deep in sheep country and were treated to the sight of a sheepdog expertly rounding up its flock, scattered across the hillsides — a wonderful glimpse of everyday Highland life. Along the way, we passed a small stone church, its setting as peaceful as the landscape around it. This stretch was simply stunning — timeless, unspoilt, and a reminder of why we love cycling through Scotland..

The Strathnaver Valley, which runs from Altnaharra down to the coast at Bettyhill, was once home to a thriving Gaelic-speaking community. For centuries, families lived on small crofts, tending cattle and growing crops on shared land under the traditional clan system. Everything changed in the early 19th century during the Highland Clearances — a period of forced evictions that reshaped the Highlands forever and left a lasting mark on this remote and beautiful valley.

Shortly after this thought-provoking stretch, disaster struck. Liz’s e-bike suddenly flashed an error message, and the battery cut out completely. We still had miles to go, with plenty of hills ahead — including the infamous Bettyhill climb. Fortunately, most of the morning’s ascent was already behind us, and we would soon begin the long descent towards the coast. Undeterred, Liz pressed on with her fully laden bike, determined to finish the ride under her own steam. We were both hugely relieved to roll into Bettyhill just in time for lunch.

After we left Bettyhill she faced the rolling climbs of the north coast under her own power — no small feat on those long, exposed hills. I’d ride ahead and wait for her at the top, cheering her on as she appeared in the distance. After a few of these, I realised it was chillier waiting than climbing, so I started stopping just short of the summits — tucking myself behind a stone wall, in a disused phone box, or any spot that offered a bit of shelter from the wind. It became our pattern for the rest of the day: pedal, wait, encourage, repeat. Liz was determined and kept battling on, never once complaining. She later said how much my support had helped her, but truth be told, I was just in awe of her grit and good humour.

The road followed the north coast, winding through open moorland and tiny scattered settlements, with the sea never far from view. It was a stunning stretch — remote, rugged, and full of testing climbs and fast descents — but Liz took it all in her stride, steady and determined.

When we arrived at our B&B, Liz got in touch with Alan, our ever-helpful friendly bike mechanic. After a bit of troubleshooting and a few messages back and forth, she went off to check the bike and soon reappeared with a beaming smile — the battery hiccup was finally sorted. With that small victory behind us, we could properly relax.

Melvich proved to be a peaceful coastal village with a wide sandy beach and sweeping views over the Atlantic — the perfect quiet stopover on Scotland’s north coast. Dinner at our B&B was a simple affair of chicken schnitzel and chips, followed by Angel Delight — a little old-fashioned and basic, prepared by our German host, who wasn’t exactly a cordon bleu chef but was friendly and full of character.

Monday, 9 June – Melvich to Kirkwall

Day 6 – The Final Push to John O’Groats and Beyond

It was an early start, with absolutely no mechanical issues and a tailwind all the way — the perfect send-off for our final day on the road. The ride was exhilarating, with a few stiff climbs and rolling hills adding just enough challenge to make it interesting. Before setting off, we posed for photos in our VC Melyd jerseys outside the B&B, marking the start of the last leg of Liz’s incredible journey. She’s been on the road for twenty-three days, covering hundreds of miles through ever-changing landscapes — from canals and glens to lochs, moors, and rugged coastlines — and today she would finally reach John O’Groats, the iconic end of the road.

The route followed the North Coast 500 along a spectacular stretch of coastline, with sweeping beaches, rocky coves, and endless sea views, before turning inland onto the quiet country lanes of Caithness. The scenery was breathtaking — wild yet peaceful, with the sunlight glinting off the water and barely a car in sight. And for once, everything went to plan — we even managed our planned coffee stop in Thurso mid-morning, a real treat after days of unpredictable timing.

Our next stop was Castletown, a quaint little port where we paused to shelter until a passing shower moved on. Once known for its flagstone industry, the village now has a short heritage trail that tells its story and the part it played in building towns across the world. When the sun returned, we rode on through lanes edged with wildflowers — a fabulous, mostly downhill stretch towards John O'Groats, with the fresh scent of rain still in the air..

All too soon, we arrived at John O’Groats. The place was buzzing — coaches, cars, and crowds of sightseers filled the car park, everyone drawn to this famous northern landmark. We joined the queue at the iconic signpost for our own set of photos, surrounded by other cyclists celebrating the end of their epic journeys. I couldn’t have been prouder of Liz — after twenty-three days on the road, she’d completed an extraordinary adventure. What an achievement!

After lunch in the visitor centre, it was back on the bikes for the short ride to Gills Bay, about four miles west of John O’Groats, to catch the Pentland Ferry to Orkney. There was no time to linger — dark clouds were gathering fast — and we reached the terminal just as the heavens opened. We quickly wheeled our bikes into the waiting room, grateful for the shelter as the rain hammered down outside. It was a dramatic farewell to the mainland and a fitting end to this unforgettable leg of our journey.

The ferry crossing to St Margaret’s Hope took about an hour, and once ashore, we climbed back on the bikes for the final eight miles to Kirkwall. The weather had turned damp and grey, and it was hard to get the legs going again. We crossed the Churchill Barriers, the wind whipping off the sea and waves crashing on either side, before tackling the hilly final stretch inland.

By the time we reached Kirkwall and the youth hostel, our home for the next two nights, we were tired, wet, and utterly elated — the end of a remarkable day and the perfect close to Liz’s epic journey.

It’s been a privilege to share these last days with Liz and to witness her determination first-hand. I’ll remember the people, the landscapes, and that incredible sense of achievement that comes with reaching the very top of Britain.

Tomorrow, we explore Orkney.

Tuesday, 10 June – Orkney

Day 7 – Across the Churchill Barriers to the Ring of Brodgar

After breakfast at the hostel, we headed to the bus station to organise a day trip around Orkney — a perfect way to see more of the islands without having to use much energy.

Our first stop was St Margaret’s Hope, the peaceful village on South Ronaldsay where we’d arrived by ferry the night before. Named after St Margaret of Scotland, it’s full of small cottages and a pretty harbour — the kind of place that feels wonderfully untouched by time.

To get there, we crossed the series of Churchill Barriers — causeways built during the Second World War to protect Scapa Flow, the great natural harbour once used by the Royal Navy. Italian prisoners of war helped to construct them, and their craftsmanship has truly stood the test of time. Today, the barriers link several of the smaller islands, and travelling across them gives sweeping views of the sea on both sides.

Our next stop was Stromness, a beautiful little harbour town on the southwest of Mainland Orkney. Its narrow flagstone streets and old stone houses have a quiet charm, with the sea seeming to wrap right around it. Once an important port for the Hudson’s Bay Company and later a base for whaling ships, Stromness now has a gentler, more artistic feel, with galleries and craft shops lining the waterfront. I have to admit, I struggled to stay awake on the bus — the gentle rocking and warmth didn’t help — but after a much-needed coffee in Stromness, I felt wide awake and ready to explore.

The highlight of the day was visiting the Ring of Brodgar, an ancient stone circle dating back over 4,000 years. Standing between two lochs, the great stones rise from the landscape in a setting that’s both impressive and peaceful. It was fascinating to imagine the ceremonies and gatherings that might have taken place there all those centuries ago.

It’s hard to picture now, but during the Second World War, this quiet landscape was used for tank training. The ground around the Ring of Brodgar still bears faint traces of those exercises — a striking contrast between the timeless calm of the stones and the echoes of a much more recent past.

Once we returned to Kirkwall, Orkney’s main town, we had a wander around. The grey stone buildings might not stand out at first, but the town has real character. The impressive St Magnus Cathedral dominates the centre — a reminder of Orkney’s Viking history — and the nearby streets are full of small independent shops and cafés.

We rounded off the day with dinner out, a lovely treat after a full day of exploring. Orkney has a quiet charm, shaped by its mix of sea air, history, and island life. It’s amazing how much history is packed into such a small group of islands — from ancient stone circles to wartime defences — all sitting together in the same peaceful landscape.

Tomorrow, we’ll be back on the bikes to see more of what this fascinating island has to offer.

Day 8 – Wednesday 11 June

Farewell to Orkney

Headwinds, hidden gems and a fond farewell to the islands

Waking up this morning with our energy back, we decided to head out on the bikes and visit a couple of places we’d missed yesterday. The morning began grey and blustery, so we lingered over breakfast before setting off a little later than planned.

As we left Kirkland, we were met almost immediately by a fierce headwind on the road past the airport towards Deerness. It was hard going, but the Orkney landscape made up for it — wide skies, low rolling fields, and glints of sea on both sides. We stopped near Dingieshowe Beach and walked across the dunes, the wind tugging at our jackets. The views across Taracliffe Bay were amazing — wild, empty, and quietly beautiful.

From there, we crossed the Churchill Barriers to our next stop which was the Italian Chapel, a place that never fails to move you. Built by Italian prisoners of war during WWII, it’s a masterpiece of devotion — two humble Nissen huts transformed into a space of extraordinary beauty and peace.

Back at the hostel, we changed and did our final checks before heading out for a meal. We chose a lovely Italian restaurant in Kirkwall — the perfect ending to our Orkney adventure. The food was delicious, the atmosphere warm and relaxed, and it felt like a well-earned celebration after the miles we’d covered.

After dinner, we cycled to the port to catch the overnight ferry to Aberdeen. Thankfully, we’d left in good time — just as well, as we discovered there were two ports, and the correct one was a couple of miles further out of Kirkwall.

The ride there felt quite emotional — one last look at the Orkney coastline and the islands we’d explored over the past few days. As we boarded the ferry, it really hit us that this was the end of our time in the islands — a wonderful part of a journey we’ll never forget.

The crossing was smooth and comfortable. Our cabin had around twenty reclining seats, with plenty of space for our bits and pieces and good storage for our luggage. It was quiet, warm, and surprisingly comfortable — a welcome chance to rest after so many days on the move.

Day 9 – Thursday 12 June: Prestatyn

The Journey Home

Homeward bound after and unforgettable journey

The crossing was smooth and comfortable. Our cabin had around twenty reclining seats, with plenty of space for our bits and pieces and good storage for our luggage. It was quiet, warm, and surprisingly comfortable — a welcome chance to rest after so many days on the move.

We arrived in Aberdeen early after a calm crossing, feeling surprisingly rested. The city was just waking up as we wheeled the bikes off the ferry and made our way to the station. A hot coffee and pastry set us up for the day.

The train south rolled through green fields and along glimpses of coastline. We changed at Haymarket to avoid the busy Edinburgh Waverley, though there was a brief moment of confusion when the connecting train didn’t stop where we expected. Thankfully, it all worked out in the end, and before long we were comfortably on our way south again.

The rest of the journey went smoothly. After six days in the saddle, simply sitting back and watching the countryside slip by felt like pure luxury. Before long we were pulling into Prestatyn Station — home sweet home.

Looking back, it’s hard to believe how much we packed into those few days — from the steep climbs of the Highlands to the quiet lanes of Orkney, and everything in between. The weather had tested us, the miles had challenged us, but the scenery, the people, and the sense of achievement made every moment worthwhile. For Liz, completing her 23-day ride from Land’s End to John O’Groats was an incredible accomplishment, and I feel lucky to have shared the final stages of it. Scotland gave us its best and its wildest — a journey we’ll both remember for a long time to come.

End of Trip Summary

Eight days, hundreds of miles, and so many unforgettable moments. From quiet coastal roads and windswept headlands to the calm beauty of the Italian Chapel, every day brought something special. The journey tested us at times, but the laughter, teamwork, and sense of adventure made it all worthwhile. Another trip complete — tired legs, full hearts, and memories to last a lifetime.

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