The Will's Wheels 2010 End to End by Chris Riley.

Inside the bubble is an intense place to be. A 10 day period whistles by so quickly, yet at times, agonisingly slowly. Before you know it, in a blur of adventure, you're back at the beginning, where you started from. It's a truly surreal experience.

The twisting route that avoids all of the normal towns and place names you might have expected was designed to confuse and remove the individual from everyday bike riding. The anal and thorough organisation provides an environment where you have very little to do but ride your bike. It's a little bit like "The Prisoner" on wheels.

The social interactions between 23 men on the move change on a daily basis. The layers that make up the everyday persona of each individual, false or otherwise, are peeled away one at a time. It's a bit like watching a Dalek remove its armour, letting you see the creature within. And you knew it would be ugly.

The south west of our country is a tough place to ride a bike. The hills don't gain too much altitude but they come frequently and can be steep. You are allowed a short while from Land's End to chat and be enthusiastic, but the laughter is diminished from the back through to the front of the group as the terrain bites the legs.

The first couple of days are always intriguing. The sprinting for signs is always popular. Everyone does it, some more than others. It's a display of strength and bravado. Every sign counts at first. Villages, county boundaries, housing estates, large toadstools and just about anything that looks worthwhile sprinting for. Duncan is very keen and at the head of affairs for every skirmish. Will and Greg are a little more aware of the consequences of doing intervals on a 1000 mile ride but still do their fair share of sign bagging. Mark tries to mix it very early on but soon realises that he's out of his depth. Some of us knew that before hand and left the wheel bending to the fastest and strongest amongst us.

Everybody wants to be a part of the front group. It rolls along at a good pace and for the first few days, it provided good shelter from stiff north easterly winds. Stuart did his utmost to stick with the pace on day one. By the time he had caught up at Laddock, red faced and breathless, he looked forward to hooking up with the group of steady riders.

Mike and John were in no doubts as to what was required and "steady" ensured good progress whilst enjoying the surrounding countryside. During the following 10 days, the group fuelled by common sense and experience would assist more than a few in their hour(s) of need and sheer exhaustion.

If you are reading this and were not involved in the trip, you should be getting something of a good idea. The indefatigueable Duncan, the strong legs of Dave Lowe, old hands Will and Greg and rapid climbing from Phil made the pace very quick indeed. That wasn't it though, Martin Harney, Johnny Day, Jason P, Rick Johnson, Hugh Joseph, Matt Evans (and myself occasionally) all put in some very worthy turns on the front. Such a collection of strong legs made this one of the most solid groups of riders I have ever had the pleasure of riding with. It was a unique experience.

By the time we'd torn up the south west and turned to a more northerly tack, the group began to fire on all cylinders. The run into Stow on the Wold was like a stage finish of the Tour de France. A bit of clever misdirection sent the favourites reeling off course whilst the hammer went down. A 40mph stint saw the final selection and with a few miles to go on the painfully rolling road, Dave and Greg went clear for the victory. Dave finally distanced Greg on the last climb up to Stow for the stage win....! That's what touring is all about.

There are always riders on any such trip who are a little off the pace from time to time. This fluctuation of individuals varies on a daily basis and is dependant on a wide variety of factors. Ian Noons was certainly strong enough to ride at a good pace but struggled to stay in touch when the gradient cranked up. With an ungainly climbing style something akin to a camel on a climbing frame, Ian was often seen going into reverse on the hilly sections of the ride. His friend Sam, 18 years and learning, had flashes of greatness one day and was flat on his arse the next. Chris Schofield is a great bike rider....but undisciplined and doesn't do enough training. Mark Scholes..? Awesome climber on a good day, needs to sack the big Cannondale. When the animals start to wind things up to an uncomfortable pace, sliding off the back is probably the best thing you can do. This is about self preservation for all of the 10 days to John O' Groats.

The trail through the Cotswold lanes and into Leicestershire was lovely indeed. Bathed in warm sunny conditions with quintessential England all around you. We reached Newark in no time at all where we were met by East Midlands legend Jim Wild. Danielle, Cheshire legendess, had joined us for a few days and had also enjoyed the pleasure of our pre arranged weather conditions.

The younger men on the trip were Richard Towse, Mark Scholes, Chris Schofield and Sam Fillmore. All of them did there fair share of riding with the front group and spent some time together putting the miles under their belts. Richard proved to be a great character. Dressed head to toe in the Buxton CC yellow and blue, he was the living incarnation of "Banana Man"....Brilliant.

Heading northwards into Lincolnshire, the pace picked up another notch again. By the time the quicker group had the early risers in sight, the pace was chugging along at a steady 30mph. One or two had ideas to jump onto the back as we sailed past, but it was all a bit of a blur. A scheduled stop at 50 miles might have been the ideal place to make contact but the chasers, already losing ground, were dealt the final blow as the flying front group continued past the van without stopping. A puncture on the rough road across Burn Airfield slowed the group a little, but not for long. By the time we hit Tadcaster, lunchtime had barely passed.

The run into Boroughbridge was another whittling down affair and Rick sacrificed his own chances by closing the gap to Dave who was trying to bag another stage win. I had prior knowledge of the finish and took off on the final bit of a drag only to be beaten at the sign by Phil.

Lee Rushton was probably the most unlikely candidate on the trip. A fighter foremost and occasional bike rider, Lee had come with us to ride the route for the kids charity at the hospital. A naturally strong athlete, Lee had only done a few hundred miles bike riding in preparation for the trip. I think the biggest problem Lee was ever going to face on the ride was distance induced fatigue. For a man used to kicking his opponents clean out of the ring in under 3 minutes, six hours of plugging away in the saddle was going to take some adapting to. With most of the riders suffering the effects of tiredness by midway, there were one or two unnecessary bits of grumpy grumbling. The next man to make any mention of Lee not setting a gentlemanly pace was probably going to reach Greenhead that evening on the toe of one his SPD compatible boots.

The midway point is pretty important psychologically. Your body begins to accept the daily routine and the fatigue you may have been suffering two days into the ride is gone. It is always interesting to see how people adjust to the stresses of riding 100 miles a day and it would be fair to say that the second half of the trip, despite being a lot tougher, was a lot easier to cope with for everyone.

The roads across Yorkshire and up into the Pennines are very quiet and gently rolling for a while. After you have passed through Richmond and are making your way to Middleton in Teesdale, the road is beginning to climb up onto some much higher ground. Tough headwinds over the first 600m climb of the trip to Alston made it a real grind and the three youngest men were first across the summit. Behind, the group of GC contenders was ploughing into the wall of wind at a good rate of knots. Sharing the work load, the final stretch to the summit was tortuously tapped out by Hugh and Phil. Hugh wanted it so much that straight after the van stop, he hit the front for some more pain. If I was in court and the evidence as stacked against me, Hugh would certainly be my first choice for legal representation. He never gives up...!

The front group was about 15 minutes down at the summit which might have looked like curtains for those boys who desperately wanted to get in first that evening and take a glorious stage win. The lanes across the Wear and South Tyne rivers are tough and the chasing group was disintegrating on every climb. Duncan caught sight of the trio in the closing miles but it was too late. Banana Man had his day and won his stage at the border between England and Scotland. Good effort by the breakaway riders....full on for Banana Power......!

Dave Colley is one of those riders whose strength is hidden beneath a mild mannered persona. A regular Audax rider and Paris Brest Paris finisher, Dave has a talent for riding steady, enjoying the views and not letting anything unhinge him. Probably the most capable of the tourists amongst us. Whilst we might not have seen much of Dave in the earlier part of the week, the tougher second part of the ride across Scotland saw Dave doing his fair share of mixing it with the faster groups. I feel it only fair at this point to withdraw and apologise, for a previous comment I have made likening Dave to a snail.

A top bit of nosh at the Greenhead Hotel ensured we were well fuelled for the run into Scotland. Whilst I had not won much in the sign sprinting stakes, I had been ready and primed to beat the rest of the group across the border into Scotland. I knew where the sign was and duly flew across the River Esk and across the border with much groaning from behind about underhand tactics. You didn't think I was going to let you sign jumping buffoons take that one did you....!

Through Eskdalemuir and the Catterick forest is very quiet and the long, wooded roads were our own. Dave Lowe sported a face like a slapped arse for most of the day. He had increasingly been showing behaviour throughout the week that wouldn't have been out of place on Brat Camp. A 10 day tour was slowly undoing years of spoiled complacency.

Lee had a good day here despite getting a little tailed off toward the end and getting lost. He spent much of the run in front of the group and was very much full of beans. It was one, amongst many signs that people were adapting well to a routine six hours of bike riding on a daily basis. It's a good feeling and an often overlooked part of these trips. It's a soul cleansing experience and a long bike tour should be part of everyone's annual cycling diary. Try telling that to your wife....!

The Tinto Hotel at Symington was as faded in tartan glory as it had been last time we passed through. Not too clean, a bit untidy but very grand at the same time. The meal was not designed to excite anyone under 75 and was mildly unsatisfying to say the least. The company was good though and the prospect of more good weather as we made our way north was enough to make for a good atmosphere.

I awoke the following morning with a streaming nose and the dreaded cold that was haunting the group. How unfortunate, today I would be mainly sitting in and following some wheels with a red cross daubed across my back.

North and ever northward. We crossed the Firth of Forth on the stunning road bridge and headed through the lanes to Perth. From there, our big engines towed us along the quiet A93 to Blairgowrie.

The big group had remained pretty much intact from the start of the day but the prospect of the 665m Devils Elbow beyond Glenshee had a few people worried. At the call of nature stop, one or two pressed on without waiting. I hooked up with this little group and had the greatest of pleasures riding the front alongside our superhero "Banana Man". Richard is an amiable and enthusiastic individual who loves his bike riding. However, he still has a lot to learn. Riding at an uncomfortable pace, I think he thought a small turn would be sufficient before dropping back into the following wheels. Not so. As he faded I slowed with him, pinning him to the gutter with Chris and Phil behind ensuring he had nowhere to go. He recovered quickly and put in another big effort. I inched my front wheel just ahead of his, and some more, and a bit more again. He puffed and panted for a while before trying to scuttle backwards again. Pinning him back into his place, the three of us kept him on the front. He wasn't for being beaten though and after one of the descents he put in a good effort up the first half of the climb that followed. It was probably the final nail in the coffin and as the group came back up to us, he slipped backwards before finally being dropped just short of Glenshee. A spirited effort but hopefully a lesson learned. If you're reading Richard, ride more steadily on the front. You'll last a lot longer than 20 seconds and earn the respect of those riding with you. Talk less shit as well.

The final ascent up to the Cairnwell is a long grind. As the group split, I opted to let the quicker legs ride on. However, after I'd watched Mark jumping around and grinning like a Cheshire cat, I decided to go and ride with Greg and Rick who were some way up the road. I got across to them but floundered over the final section. With Duncan, Phil and Will doing the KOM stuff up ahead, the rest of us did what we could to limit our losses. I knew the place to be on the descent was within six inches of Greg's back wheel and so did Rick. Jason wasn't up for it though and we passed him at about 45mph in an effort to bridge across to the front three. I pulled out in front of Greg to do a turn but it was a poor, dangling effort. From then on I had to sit behind the pair of them who powered across to Will, Duncan and Phil. The pace lifted again and it was between 30 and 40mph all of the way down the valley to Braemar.

There was a good atmosphere and confident sense of satisfaction flowing through the group at Braemar YHA. Everyone knew to get this far you were almost certainly going to make it to the finish. However, there was also a confused message of panic in the air with the hardest stage of the trip imminent. Through the wild Grampians, across the Black Isle and into the northern Highlands. 131 miles of tough roads and a long, difficult route.

The weather dealt the Ace card first thing and delivered bright and warm conditions. The mountains were as tough as they had promised. We lost time from very early on when Matt decided to take a jersey off whilst descending at speed. The lycra top was chewed up very quickly by the spokes before it won the battle and locked up his rear wheel. After a 30 metre slide of death and a 30cm skid mark in his shorts, Matt did well to stay upright. We stopped for a sandwich at the top of the Lecht whilst Matt changed his soiled pants. Shortly after Tomintoul, Phil did a very unspectacular crash just short of Grantown. In the town, we sorted out a bike change and wasted some more time in a cafe. The dithering was reminiscent of one or two rides from years previous, It seemed like today's ride was going to take forever.

It was all change after lunch though. Dave Lowe, mentally revitalised, fully Coked up and finally in the groove, sat on the front and chewed up anyone brave enough to sit along side him. We raced across the heather strewn Dava moorland at a ridiculous pace before hitting the lanes on route to Culloden. Phil got stuck in here and what I thought might have been an easier part of the ride was run off at Break neck speeds. We reached Culloden van stop in no time and the heat of the day forced bare legs and arms out into the open.

Through Inverness and over the Kessock Bridge. Dave had for sure ridden himself into good form and was having to slow himself down as we grovelled miserably to stay on his wheel to the Black Isle summit on the A9. Despite a tough sea breeze whistling into your face from the Cromarty Firth, Dave powered into the wind like a bull with a hard on. 26, 29, 32, 35mph and holding. It was an awesome performance. At the bridge, Matt and I both attempted to do a turn, barely holding a measly 20mph into the salty wind. Dave wasn't for riding that slow and lifted it again for another big power turn.

The race to catch the first group on the road was on. Dave, Duncan, Rick, Will and Greg powered along until the other riders, the break no less, were in our sights. We passed them at a rapid pace and as the road twisted northward again the line began to stretch. Dave was on fire and desperate to reach the final van stop for his next bottle of Coke. There was nowhere to hide in the stiff side wind and the lads at the back were dropping like flies. Soon, I was at the back with Martin. Then I gave up too and let the gap open. Both Martin and I looked at each other knowing that it was the right thing to do. We also grumbled a little in that over 40's kind of way.

We regrouped at the bottom of the Strui Hill and continued north to Bonar Bridge and along the Kyle of Sutherland. The pace was kept high and despite the slow start at the beginning of the day, we were looking at a reasonably early finish in Lairg. Another cracking day with a bunch of lads who were now on fire, riding like Tour de France stars.

The final night at the Nipp Inn was buzzing. Lots of laughter, good craic and a good meal with the sun setting over the still waters of the Loch. What more could you ask for.

The 95 miles to John O' Groats was an easy ride by comparison to the previous days. The roads were quiet and the run down Strathnaver humbles the soul amongst the vast wilderness that surrounds you. There were some tired legs amongst us but you can always press on a little more with the end in sight.

The final run to the finish saw the big engines chewing the gravel roads of Caithness and spitting them out like Haggis pips. In a symbolic display of alliance, the two strongest men towed the rest of the strongest men to a brilliant finale at John O' Groats. There was no sprint out of respect for Dave and Duncan who had ridden like true team leaders bringing the show to a successful close.

The sun soaked finish saw the popping of champagne corks and a group smile the size of an elephant. It was by far the finest End to End that I have had the pleasure to be involved with out of the five I have now done.

The two drivers and support men, Dave and Rob, pulled off the job without any glitches, brilliantly. The organisation that Will had put in place during the previous months was executed to perfection. The route was, I hope, significantly defining of the journey between the two ends of the country. Most of all, the group of riders was a collection of sound characters, awesome bike riders and most importantly....Men up to the challenge. Well done to everyone who took part.

Chris Riley.

Below is a list of stats taken from a Cateye computer on my bike. They are very slightly skewed because I turned all of the slightly short days into a century with a few extra miles. However, you get the jist of the kind of mileage we covered and the time that it took.

Land's End to Tavistock.   100 miles in 6 hrs 25 mins. Average speed-15.5mph.

Tavistock to Cerne Abbas.   100 miles in 6 hrs 42 mins. Average speed-14.9mph.

Cerne Abbas to Stow on the Wold.   112 miles in 6hrs 39 mins. Average Speed-16.9mph

Stow on the Wold to Newark Upon Trent.   110 miles in 5 hrs 56 mins. Average Speed-18.6 mph

Newark Upon Trent to Boroughbridge.   100 miles in 4 hrs 53 mins. Average Speed 20.6 mph.

Boroughbridge to Greenhead.   100 miles in 6hrs 9 mins. Average Speed-16.3 mph.

Greenhead to Symington.   100 miles in 6 hrs 3 mins. Average Speed-16.5 mph.

Symington to Braemar.   118 miles in 6 hrs 25 mins. Average Speed-18.3 mph.

Braemar to Lairg.   131 miles in 7 hrs 21 mins. Average Speed-17.8 mph.

Lairg to John O' Groats.   100 miles in 5hrs 16 mins. Average Speed-19 mph.