Introduction
This bike ride is the second half of one I had planned from Land’s End to John O’Groats. I had ridden from Land’s End in Cornwall to Annan (the next town to Gretna Green in the Scottish Borders), then run out of time and had to go back to work. Our first child was due near the end of August 2002 so I wanted to finish the ride to John O’Groats and be back home by the end of July.
I carried on with the same pattern, fifty to seventy miles a day, that I had done on the first half of the ride. I had seen some riders doing a hundred miles-plus every day, often cycling along A roads, getting in late and grabbing whatever food they could find. I was on my own so I had more freedom to choose a route and accommodation that would allow me to stop and have a chat, a cup of tea or even an afternoon nap if I wanted one. I mostly followed a route set out by Phil Horsley in his excellent book Land’s End to John O’Groats. This is the story of my Scottish ride.
Wednesday 3 July: Barnet to Dumfries
I wake to the sound of the rain against the windows and cars going past, splashing in the puddles. Am I really going north, where it is usually wetter? I ride off in the pouring rain to Euston Station. My train tickets, which I ordered by phone and paid for ten days ago, haven’t arrived, but I have been assured that I can collect them at the station. I arrive at the ticket office forty-five minutes before the train is due to depart; they have no records of any tickets for me! They finally sort some out and with four minutes to spare I get my bike on to the train just as it leaves.
When I check the tickets, I discover that they have given me the wrong ones, and that none of them mention my bike. I decide that this will have to be sorted later. I am excited to be on my way to John O’Groats. The train arrives at Carlisle on time, for once, then I get the local train to Annan.
I cycle out of the station, remembering the town from last year, and set off for Dumfries, tonight’s destination. It is bright sunshine here, although just behind me to the south are gunmetal grey clouds and the odd rumble of thunder. I am soon sweeping downhill in blue skies towards the coast. The view of the hills is wonderful. A car going uphill blows his horn at me, and the driver looks rather cross. I wonder if anything is wrong. Perhaps it is because I am smiling? My wife, who is half-Scottish, often says that in Scotland a few of locals have a ‘no fun rule’ … perhaps there’s a ‘no smiling rule’ as well?
A little later another car overtakes me, sounds his horn, then waves. I am slightly freaked out as unfortunately the driver resembles one of my least favourite students. Perhaps he is stalking me? I am starting to fantasise – I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.
This is a splendid ride, flat with salt marshes, a bit like Norfolk, but with stunning hills surrounding me, lush crops and lots of cows and sheep in the pastures.
I stop a look at Caerlaverock Castle, a thirteenth-century triangular castle. It is in a perfect setting, overlooking the bay, with a moat.
I arrive at Dumfries. It is the birthplace of Robert Burns, probably Scotland’s best-known poet. He wrote ‘Auld Lang Syne’, ‘My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose’ and many more lovely poems.
Dumfries looks handsome in the evening sun, lots of red sandstone and castellated houses with green domes. I book into a B&B, have a shower, then go in search of food. There’s a pub at the end of a large pedestrianised street where I eat, then I stroll around the town. At the end of the street a large man appears, tacking from side to side and singing loudly and very badly, but clearly with great enjoyment. He seems oblivious of everything else and sits down on the pavement. Eventually he manages after several attempts to stand up again, and still singing, he weaves away. It’s a long time since I have seen anyone this drunk – it’s like a caricature of a drunken music hall act. A couple of minutes later an older disabled man appears with a younger man helping him walk. It is a touching sight. They both seem to be in the same happy state as the first man. They try a little dance together, nearly fall over, then stagger off laughing.
© Jim Anderson, 2025
Jim Anderson 