But how did we get here?

One pedal stroke at a time. We just kept moving.

I was going to be motorbiking Africa last week. When Covid put a stop to that i’d planned a motorbike ride in the UK instead. But on the morning of the 22nd of July I bumped into Pete, a fellow dog walker who told me he was reading a book about the Great North Road and that that week it will be 100 years since it was renamed the A1.

That’s where the seed was planted. But I wasn’t 100% on cycling it. Steve Silk the author of the book does it in 11 days and I only had 9 available. Plus I’d never cycled more than 32 miles in a day and this looked much harder. What I really wanted was a motorbike ride.

Later that day, I bought the book and tweeted the author asking if he’d share his route.

He responded a couple of days later and I was able to see that not all of the route was on roads. In fact a lot of it seemed to be along dirt tracks and cycle paths. I started chatting with my friend, experienced cycle tourer David Charles about the kind of kit he used for his long rides. Initially with the idea of riding to Wales. But the book was getting interesting what with all the Coaching Inns and mentions of great food and ale I wondered if it could be done in 9 days.

I’d also asked David if it was too late to set up a crowdfunding page. If I was going to do a bike ride it might make a good fundraiser. Especially for the charity that David rides for. The plight of refugees has been close to my heart since I experienced first hand camps in Jordon, Iraq, Syria, Turkey and France.

At the end of July I still wasn’t sure what I might do. I wrote in my weekly email…

“Perhaps I’ll start in London and see how far north I can get. Or maybe I can zigzag across the community map and visit any of you who might put me up for the night. ;-)”

But come the start of August I’d decided that i’d combine amateur radio with a bike ride up the GNR and bought the url CycingHertz.com

The week before the ride I got in a massive 9km of cycling. Mostly to test that the bags i’d just bought on eBay wouldn’t fall off.

And then on the 7th of August me and my bike got on the train and traveled into Central London and the beginning of the Great North Road. The plan was to use Steve’s route up the GNR as a rough guide.

This is how it went.

Day one on the 7th of August saw me travel from Central London to Buckden. (116km)
Day two, on the 8th Buckden to Foston. (116km)
Day three, the 9th Foston to Bawtry.(70.5km)
Day four Bawtry to Wetherby. (79.9km)
Day five Wetherby to Darlington. (84.8km)
Day six Darlington to Newcastle. (58.5km)
Day seven Newcastle to Seahouses. (97.7km)
Day eight Seahouses to Dunbar. (100km)
Day nine, the 15th August, Dunbar to Edinburgh (53.2km)

You see so much on a bike. You can learn a lot as well.

Things I learned or relearned along the way. Including some cycling tips:

1. You can google what you like, but the advice of experienced friends is a much better resource.

2. Your body can do more than you think it can.

3. You can sing away your woes.

4. Take sleep seriously.

5. Stop complaining and focus on the positive.

6. Eat and drink frequently in small amounts. Even if not hungry.

7. No one refuses to fill a lone cyclist’s water bottle.

8. Smear chamois cream in your cycling shorts.

9. Greet everyone with a smile.

10. The kindness of strangers is everywhere.

In total I peddled for 777 km ascending over 5330m over 39h 44m.

Along the way I chatted to Ham Radio operators. G4WIP, G4CJC, G4UXV, G0VPY, 2E0IQJ, M7CGO, G0HOF, M6AIA, G6OJB/DU9, M0TZR, G6MND, MM0JNL, M7RRJ and 2E0SLN.

At time of writing you have all helped raise £2300

When I get the chance to pick through my journal I’ll share more stories and images via the Documentally.net email.

My heart is overflowing with thanks to everyone who has supported me on this journey.

If you are thinking of doing something similar, go for it! There are no downsides.
Yes, this was one of the hardest physical challenges of my life and yes my body is tired. But my mind is still being fuelled with memories of all the amazing moments and people I’ve come into contact with along the way.

On day eight, one of the hardest days of my journey, I had the brief pleasure of riding alongside a 78-year-old cyclist called Jim. He sat proud on a shiny bike in full lycra, flying past Berwick on Tweed. As he confidently wound his way around the traffic. I asked him why he didn’t slow down for anything. He told me that he needed the momentum, that if he stopped there was a chance he’d fall over.

Like him, let’s keep moving.

Thank You,
Christian x

Just getting packed in the Old Ship Inn in Seahouses.
I had to cycle back a few miles to get this room which popped up as available last night. As much as I did not to want to double back on myself a room for the night in an area void of such a luxury felt like finding treasure.

It's an amazing little inn. I bagged a tiny room in the attic which has served me just fine. And last night I had a corner table in my own part of the bar where I was able to pack in a mozzarella and tomato salad, a veggie lasagne and ginger treacle cake and custard. My misbehaving gut thanked me with the usual sounds and twinges.

Waking from another bout of night sweats I don't feel as rested as I like and my body is telling me in numerous ways that it would like a day off. My right hand is still in spasm and my legs, especially where they attach to my body are fully aware of having turned the pedals well over a million times.

Mentally I’m still with it. Or at least I think I am. Let’s see what kind of rollercoaster it gets to ride on this next 100 kilometres.

Thank you all for following this far. As much as I’d like to rest I really have to get to Edinburgh tomorrow. It’s the only window I could get to bring both myself and my bike back to Cambridgeshire on the train.

Tonight I have the promise of a bed at the end of this leg and it makes all the difference. So does the support in the feeds and seeing the donations trickle in.

Many thanks,
See you on the road!

Thank you all for your support. We smashed through the initial target so I moved it to £1000 and now we are past that. Truly amazing. I shall shift the target again. Who knows what might happen.

My right hand is yet to recover (more on that below) so my typing is slow and laboured. A bit like my peddling. I'm sat on the bed in my room above a pub in Wetherby. Fighting the urge to grab a beer.

I'll give you a update of as much as my tired mind can remember at the moment.

This is the twitter thread from Day two... https://twitter.com/Documentally/status/1424308390285688832?s=20

The second day started with me leaving dangerously close to 11am. Mainly because I was writing the first update. Also being at home I just got too comfy. Then I needed to get bottle racks fitted on the forks. It was worth the extra time as that made a big difference to the handling of the bike.

The roads didn't start very excitingly. They seemed straight and endless. Up until a car sped by, then they were just long and scary.

Did I have fun? Some of it was fun.

Outside of the endless peddling and the huffing and puffing up hills it had its joyful moments. I think I was in the village os Elton, hungry and feeling weak asking where the shop was and a lady told me it was closed and then made me an almond butter sandwich on brown. She then went on to tell me that her husband had recently got a bike after the neighbour who had been out riding suddenly died. She was only 50. I thanked her for the sarnie, some juice and the chat, we smiled and then I hit the hills with a headwind. It was a long old day and I took a wrong turn up a crazy hard hill hill. I had new and unfamiliar pains in my chest. Probably brought on by the ladies story. Finally I got to the smallholding of Malcolm and Christine. Family of a Twitter friend Jim Robbins. They were delightfully eccentric with a house full of curios, collections, antiques, two dogs and two cats who should have their own show and a table filled with great food and fine wine. Oh, and a Stellar that I could not finish as it seemed to amplify my exhaustion.

I only had half a glass of wine but it was worth it.

It was a fun night.

Every night I have gone to bed worrying about the length of the ride the following day but somehow I seem to have made it.

I was also worrying about accommodation but my internet friends have puled out all the stops. It reminds me of the 2010 Freebees challenge when I travelled end to end with no money. http://www.christianpayne.com/freebees/

The end of day three saw me get to Bawtry.

I had slept ok the previous of night in the comfiest of beds. But between the hours of 5 and 7 I slept great. I really did not want to get out of bed.

When it was time to leave it felt like I was leaving a safe place to venture into the unknown. Which was true I suppose.

As I retrieved the bike from Malcolm and Christine's shed I wondered what the lay of the land would have looked like 200 years ago. No doubt there was a stable or farm buildings in that exact spot but instead of the bike i would have been leading a horse. And instead of my mad dash across the many lanes of a bustling A1 I would have turned left and trotted along a narrow ancient road heading north.

The route on day three was varied and a delight to ride. I paced myself and took a break every 10 miles. The earlier start and the shorter distance did wonders psychologically. Physiologically I was fine apart from my hands. Mostly my right hand. No matter how many positions on the handle bars I tried, I just could not stop my right hand going numb. At one point I stopped to Google the issue and it sounded just like handlebar palsy.

The changes from road, to dirt, to gravel, to sand kept things interesting as did the insects that I came across. Many of them find their way into my cycling helmet but can’t seem to get out. My legs are covered with mosquito and ant bites and I’ve had a few horseflies aggressive dive-bomb me. I thought I’d made friends with one. It landed on my bar bag and sat there looking ahead. Like a tiny hitchhiker resting his wings. I thought it was cute for a few miles so asked him where he was going. Not that it had a choice in the matter. It then turned around to face me. I couldn’t tell if it had an evil grin or was responding to my question. So slightly unnerved, I flicked it off the bag. I felt a bit bad. Seconds later I was buzzed again. I kind of hope it was the same fly. Getting revenge.

Instead at marvelling at the history and survival capabilities of the Inns along the way I would take a snap of the more impressive ones and nip in to use the loo. I really wanted a beer but tired me is wobbly enough on the road to add ale to the mix.

And I was glad that I stuck to my guns as I rolled into Bawtry at a respectable 3pm.

I checked into The Crown Hotel, locked my bike in one of their meeting rooms and got into what is not a usual routine. First off I jump into an ice-cold bath. Cold baths are much easier than cold showers. Once you are in and have got over the blood oxygenating hyperventilating you can lay there for ages. I choose to stay in for a few minutes, till the first shiver and then when I get out the blood rushes to my limbs and it feels quite rejuvenating.

Then I washed my cycling gear and hung it to dry before checking email and then heading out to eat.

I wondered the town wondering what to do with my numb hand and taking in the sites. I picked an Italian as I fancied pasta and this time, a full glass of wine.

Quite often that is when I sit, check my Twitter replies and recap the day in my head.

Every mile is wonder-filled with things that evade the camera. But if I stopped for everything I’d never get to where I’m headed.

All I can do is capture them with my mind.

Downhills are sacred mood lifting moments. Anything that happens on a downhill goes undocumented. The lady waving from a windmill, The huge ornate gates going nowhere, A boy fishing off a bridge with a cane rod. You see so much more on a bike.

On day three I went to bed at 9:30pm way too early for me. Restless night.

Day four started with me fretting about my hand issue.

Then the rain that was pouring outside while wolfed down my £15 breakfast.

But as soon as I dragged myself and the bike out into the street the rain had stoped and I was faced with a downhill. It was 8:15am. A good time to start riding.

Not long later and I was in a bike shop asking for thicker gloves or a bar attachment. They had neither but did offer to raise the bar height a little.

Not sure if this helped too much but the more I rode the less it hurt. I did make an effort to not rest my right hand on the bars though.

I’m starting to flake out not but will add today was a good day. The twitter thread will fill in some gaps but I will say that despite being a 50mile day I still chatted with lots of folk and got some sites in.

The next few days have brought back that niggling feeling though. I’ll need to peddle more and blog less as well as sleep more and chat less. That goes for online and en route.

If I pick up another injury then I’m not sure I’ll be able to get to Edinburgh as the hand feels debilitating enough. I had to carry my clay caked bike up some stairs to cross a river today. If i’d still had the camping gear It would have meant taking everything off the bike. But as I found out tonight I’m not at all good at doing straps up with one hand. Thankfully I managed to drag the bike up the stairs. Bit id did make make me wish i’d started this steep learning curve before I started day one. Preparation I think it’s called.

I’ll finish with another thank you to you folk and my internet friends. The encouragement goes a long way to kickstarting a positive mindset when things get a little low.

We are half way through in distance but there is still five days riding to go. I’m told it can get hilly in Scotland. And my bike is built to have just enough gears for Cambridgeshire.

If you ever decide to follow this route and find a mini tripod and phone clamp lying in a quarry can I have it back please?

The best bits today were flying through sunny wooded single track and then across a smooth black ribbon of meandering cycle way. Oh, and a massive plate of curry sauce and chips that I got for teaching the people in the chip shop how to send images off their phones.

The countryside is a wonderful backdrop but it is the people who are making this trip. Some of them may have had generations living along this ancient route, but so far all of them, locals, visitors and new arrivals have welcomed me into their lives. Even if most of then think what i’m doing is mad.

Tomorrow I’ll be off to Darlington.
See you on the road.
Christian x

Hi all,
Thanks for your support. It's really helping.

I'm not sure how sustainable these posts are going to be as I am also posting to Twitter. A lot. I hope you can catch up on the thread...

https://twitter.com/Documentally/status/1423895958681751557?s=20

I woke from 5 hours sleep this morning cursing for not writing this last night.

But I was broken. Ok, quite achy. Nothing some moment won’t cure. I’m hoping for some transcendent moments on the road ahead. Something to take my mind away from my battered body. Did I show you the and bites I sustained yesterday?

It’s gone nine. I should really be on the road now but yesterday was a very steep learning curve. Thankfully I can bounce ideas of David Charles who is an old hand at this.

I know a little about camping, bushcraft, international travel, cave diving etc but I've not cycle toured since I was a kid. And according to my dad the days were way shorter back then.

So this morning when I woke I pondered how I might be able to make things easier.

Last night, soaked through and tired, I could not bear the thought of camping. But I had all the gear as I didn't think i'd make it all the way to my village which is situated conveniently 25 yards from the Great North Road.

This morning with all that comfort, my body still feels battered. Not as bad as I thought though. I think the Ice bath helped.

Seventy two miles yesterday and I have around the same today. Now I see why people train for these things. :-)

I really need a shorter day today. So I can recover before the mountains. Shorter in time not distance. Although that would be nice.

Yesterday was slow. Outside of the puncture, the kindness of strangers, biting ants, and numerous deluges, it was only the thought of my own bed and being able to wash and dry all my gear that kept me going.

I expected that the posting of images and video was going to take up time. But standing there with arm in air for 10 mins to upload a 30second video is having me think I need to post less.

Radio is also taking up time. Bless the older radio operators, but they have no sense of urgency. A short conversation for some of them is a reoccurring Fifteen minute statement.

On top of all this my bike felt really heavy and fully loaded. And this is how I might be able to make things easier...

This morning I’ve taken off the camping gear, cooking gear, food and exchanged all that for a laptop. I’m hoping that a little web browsing the night before will help me secure a bed and somewhere to lock my bike for the following night.

So far I have a hotel or kind host for tonight the 8th in Foston
I'm waiting to hear if a hotel can put me up on the 9th in Bawtry not far from Austerfield where I was hoping to get to. And I think I have a hotel sorted in 12th Newcastle. (So many amazing people on that leg of the journey. Probably thanks to the Thinking Digital Conference.)

I'm still stuck for somewhere on the 10th in or near Wetherby. The 11th in or near Darlington, the 13th in or near Seahouses and the same for the 14th Dunbar
On the 15th I hope to ride straight for the train home. After a drink in Edinburgh of course.

Dumping the food was an easy decision. I have passed lots of places where I can get food. But it's certainly a gamble not having a tent. That was the backup. Some of the hotels I had bookmarked have suddenly closed due to covid and others are charging £160 for a grotty single room in an attic.

So these are my current thoughts right now as I sit with a cuppa about to make porridge and start day two. If you know anyone who might host a sweaty cyclist near these places please let me know.

Yesterday I had just wheezed up a particularly harsh hill and was fit to drop. Then on the following decent I took a sharp left down an ancient wooded track and under an old bridge covered in hanging ivy. The rain had just stopped and the sun was low. As I passed under the archway the sunbeams lit a curtain of diamante raindrops. It was as If I was passing into another world.

It’s moments like that are transcendent. You guys have done so much good with the money raised so far.
All that’s left is to enjoy the ride, and hopefully complete the journey.

Thank you again for all your support.
See you on the road.

Christian x