Distance: 61.36 miles

Time: 6:30

Elevation: 2807 feet

I started the day by pedalling the half mile back into Dunkeld for breakfast, getting plenty of time to realise how attractive a historic town it was as I struggled to find anywhere for breakfast.

Ending up at a deli on the Main Street, I took my spoils to a bench by the river. Quickly polishing off a chorizo and goats cheese baguette, I turned to the pain au chocolat and pasteis de nata, I’d bought for later. Still hungry, it called for drastic action, so I ripped open a bag of Crispy M&Ms to see me through the 14 miles until Pitlochry.

Keeping to quiet roads, and old traces of the A9, I ducked and wove beside the new A9, before crossing it at Logierait, and one steep switchback led me to miles of tree-lined solitude.

Emerging just west of Pitlochry, I happened upon the Port-na-Craig Inn, with its fine river-side aspect, enjoying a burger in the, thankfully, shaded beer garden.

Through bustling Pitlochry I went, then onwards and upwards, over the Pass of Killiecrankie, then onwards again to Blair Atholl. On my approach, I was passed by 20 or more horse boxes, and then a sign for the Blair Atholl Estate International Horse Trials gave a clue. Thinking it must have finished and that I’d seen most of the horses leaving, I couldn’t believe it when I passed the estate and saw a field of horse boxes as far as the eye could see.

The House of Bruar was next on the A9 road-trippers itinerary, and it seemed like a good place for an ice cream. Typically House of Bruar, their range of ice creams were exclusively created by local ice cream heavyweight Mackie’s, with one customer moaning that she could have just taken a tub of vanilla out of the freezer. I chatted to a couple on a day out from Cupar, the man’s Dad had cycled the A9 in the 50s, perhaps when it had a few less cars on it.

Back on the trail, on a pristine bike path, a disclaimer was required, for what was to follow. And what was to follow, but a 20 mile foray over the Drumochter Pass, peaking at 462 metres.

Tracking the River Garry, the path climbed slowly but surely, up through the trees, and up again onto a high plateau, the ascent ever more gradual. The sun had been lost to cloud and the breeze had become a gale as I battled on upwards to the top of the pass.

Joining the road, to crest the summit, I took satisfaction from knowing that this was the highest point of the whole Land’s End to John o’Groats route.

Over the top, the landmarks became more frequent, passing the Balsporran Cottages, from where Munros have been climbed, to Dalwhinnie where my Dad’s favourite whisky is crafted, to Crubenmore Lodge, where my brother’s stag do was held, and on to Newtonmore, where family holidays were spent.

Reaching Kingussie, 60 miles in, and back at a slightly less hostile altitude of 250 metres, I looked for somewhere to stay, and came across a very basic camping field down by a stables. Accommodation booked, I dined in the chippy, before rolling down past the station and into the field. When I started to set up, it felt like there was a little rain in the air, but surely not, not this week…

Distance: 51.73 miles

Time: 4:44

Elevation: 2846 feet

It had been a thoroughly successful overnight at home, my clothes were washed, batteries recharged, kit repacked – with a few items less than before – and furthermore I’d managed to put a new chain and brake pads on the bike. I’d also enjoyed my Lamb Biryani, and managed to watch a film I’d worked on – The Road Dance – through the Edinburgh Film Festival streaming service.

Inevitably all of this took time, so I wasn’t too surprised that it was almost 3 in the afternoon before I was back on the road. I had planned accordingly, however, and although I had been hoping to get about 50 miles to Dunkeld, I was aware that there was a campsite at Scone, and as that was only 30 miles away, it might be more attainable.

I headed north on Pitdinnie Road, making it a matter of personal pride that I should get up the short steep section on the way to the cycle path. Once there, there was a lady from Sustrans interviewing people about the quality of the bike path, but as she already had a couple of victims, I carried on by.

Skirting passed Dunfermline, I continued over Cleish Hill, at 290 metres, one of my favourite climbs in the area, when I’m not carrying panniers. It was another glorious day and the view north towards Kinross and Loch Leven was superb as I flew down the sweeping single-track descent.

Carrying on towards Kinross on quiet country roads, I passed the spot where my friend Neil and I had seen professional cyclist Lizzie Deignan riding a single-speed bike on the Edinburgh to St Andrews charity ride. These roads were so familiar, and yet, now I was enjoying them as a stand out part of a ride running the whole length of Great Britain.

Through Kinross where a Beer Festival looked appealing, I turned onto the Argask and Dron cycle route, on quiet roads, never too far from the M90. Passed Glenfarg, the route veered uphill and two cycle tourists flew passed me heading South.

Aware that the Motorway crested a pass around here, I wasn’t surprised to find myself dropping sharply to cross over the M90 once more, and then came a thunderous 12% percent descent over the edge.

A short climb to Perth followed, then, while passing the Ice Factory night club, a brief chat with a cyclist on his way to Comrie for the weekend ensued. Afterwards, I was expecting to cross over the Tay and head round by Scone, but the route hugged the west bank of the river on an excellent bike path, passing the North Inch park and golf course and continuing for miles through parkland and forest. Eventually, the path followed the course of the Almond river, upstream all the way to Almondbank, where I realised that I was already way past Scone, and would now, definitely, be heading for Dunkeld, now only 14 miles away.

Off the beaten track I went, through the picturesque little haven of Pitcairngreen, where I promised myself I would return for a beer one day, and then to Bankfoot, no longer just a name on a sign, but where I picked up a Double Caramel Magnum at almost 8 o’clock on a sunny Saturday on my way round by ‘Waterloo’ to Dunkeld, another place that, speeding passed on the A9 had stopped me from getting to know; well it was now where I’d be going for breakfast.

Arriving at the Inver Mill campsite, it was now quarter to 9, and as I approached I was a little concerned to see how busy it was. But, the friendly ladies at reception got me to jot down my details, while one of them went to seek out a spot for me, as she said, ‘we always try to fit in a cyclist’, and that was something of which I had to approve.

Distance: 56.3 miles

Time: 5:05

Elevation: 2154 feet

My night at Mount View caravan park had been a chilly one, giving me an excellent opportunity to use some of the excess clothes that had been weighing me down on the hills. Today was to finish with a pit stop at home and I had been hoping to ditch some of the excess kit, but I suppose I’d have to hold onto it now, if I didn’t want some sleepless nights from here on in.

I was actually surprised that my sleep hadn’t been more interrupted than it was, what with the background noise of the M74 being drowned out by the the foreground noise of the West Coast Main Line. I couldn’t really complain, for a 4th night running my campsite fee had been £10, after loftier prices of around £15 further south.

After leaving the campsite at just before 11, I popped into the shop in Abington, where I picked up some supplies, and chatted to a couple out on a 30 mile ride before work.

Still at around 250 metres elevation, it was another stunning day, but with an icy breeze coming from the north. I followed the road out of the village on the A702, starting along a lovely valley before taking the A73 towards Thankerton.

Climbing up passed Libberton primary school as the kids shot some hoops in the playground, I looked back to see an array of bright green fields falling away before me.

Reaching Carnwath, a staging post on the old Pedal for Scotland Sportive ride I first rode over a decade before, I made for the Apple Pie Bakery, lining my bike up alongside countless others. This was a popular place with the cycling fraternity. Once inside, I selected the no-doubt-infamous Carnwath delicacy, Chicken Curry, haggis and cheese pie.

Heading north towards Auchengray, the road started to rise up, reaching 290 metres before starting to fall down the other side. I took a right towards Livingston and caught my first glimpse of the Queensferry Crossing, acting like a beacon to draw me home.

Hitting the cycle paths through Livingston and the Almondell & Calderwood Country Park, I then continued East towards Newbridge before jumping on an old railway line to Kirkliston and finally reaching the Forth Road Bridge after 48 miles. I was too quick for my Dad who’d come along to see me cross the bridge, so I waited the few minutes until he arrived.

It was 8 miles to home, where I could wash some clothes, charge some batteries and work on the bike. But I was more excited about the Lamb Biryani I was having for tea.

Distance: 51.65 miles

Time: 5:08

Elevation: 2406 feet

Yesterday had been a big day, 70+ miles, over 4000 feet of climbing, hot and sunny all day long, and with the climax of the Scottish border to aim for, it had been a classic cycle touring day, but I needed to think about the rest of the route.

I awoke with the challenge of how to keep my bike rolling along. Over the last few days – as I’ve mentioned – various spokes have been slackening in the back wheel and I’ve just been tightening them up and making sure the wheel runs in a straight line. I’d tightened three spokes in Shap yesterday, but I’d also tightened two in Carlisle, and there was another one loose when I finished.

Reading a little online it suggested that if the spokes are too loose overall, then individual ones could start to lose tension. It was worth a try, so I started by tightening all the spokes and then tried trueing the wheel again from there.

It all looked great, until I looked at the wheel from the side and realised that the rim bulged out at a certain point in its spin. Oh great something new to learn, well that would have to wait, it was almost midday.

As it happened, I was now 90 or so miles from home in Fife, and I intended to stop off en route, do some laundry and swap out some of my gear. I would also have a better opportunity to fix anything needing done on the bike.

Realistically, after a big day yesterday, and with an ailing bike, I wasn’t going to try and ride all the way home in one go, so I decided to stop half way, give myself an easier day to home, get myself sorted overnight, then set out on the final 5 days to John O’Groats.

Leaving Annan at the bridge over the River Annan, I followed the path of the Annandale Way as the road tracked the river through picturesque countryside, passed Dalton and Lochmaben, where people were braving Castle Loch on paddle boards.

The road was rising gradually towards Moffat, and I was around 5 miles away, when suddenly a Microlight flew passed overheard. I might not normally have found this unusual, but as my Dad flies a Micorolight, and he could follow my tracker I found this very suspicious indeed. Texting my Mum to enquire about his whereabouts, it appeared he was indeed flying, and when he flew back over again, I managed to read his registration off of the wing!

Arriving in Moffat, I retraced the steps of my first visit – last September. I cycled up and down the high street, one by one eliminating all of the most appealing looking restaurants – because they weren’t serving food yet. Then left between two, I picked one, before realising that there wasn’t anywhere I could prop my bike outside it, so I went to the other one. Aah, that’s how I’d ended up at the Rumblin’ Tum last time. This time, I had a chicken and sweetcorn baguette and a white chocolate Oreo milkshake and despite my blatant attempts to avoid going there, it was actually quite nice.

Leaving Moffat, I took the B7076, the old road that runs alongside the M74. It was 18 miles to Abington and that would give me 50 miles for the day. Of the 18 miles, a large swathe of those were uphill, and on a very rough surface. The going was slow, and the sun lay low in the early evening sky, but gradually I crested the top of the hill at 330m, having started at 20m down in Annan.

Coming off the B7076 at Crawford, the route passed through the village, before crossing a river and traversing around the hillside high above the West Coast rail network, until, just before I dropped down to Abington, I discovered the Mount View Caravan Park, and it now being half 7, I called it a night.