Day 1: Romania? Romania!

John O’Groats to Golspie (95 Miles)

“Romania?”, “Yup Romania” I replied. “You’re cycling to Romania?”, the kind stranger sitting across from me has now sat up in her seat. “I’m cycling, swimming and kayaking”. “What!?, why?”, “because I want to”. I then went on to explain the entire journey, at the end of the story, the woman sat back, puffed out her cheeks, exhaled loudly and quietly whispered “wow”. I have found this to be quite a normal reaction when questioned about the trip. We then sat in silence for the next 15 minutes as the train continued to rumble north, finally pulling into Thurso around 8 hours after I initially setting off from my home in Aberdour. Thurso, a quaint little town, is about as north as north goes in mainland Scotland, it is also the place that I spent my final night before setting off on my 5000km JOG to the Black Sea.

If Thurso is about as north as north goes, then the tiny village of John O’Groats, is certainly where Scotland runs out of land and drops off into the treacherous North Sea. At around 7am on Thursday the 9^th of June, I set off from Thurso for the 20 mile cycle to John O’Groats to officially begin my journey to the Black Sea in Romania.

The 20 miles acted as a good warm up, although it was a little bit frustrating having to cycle for an hour and a half just to start the trip. Furthermore, with 900 more miles to go on this section, a warm up wasn’t really required. However, it was a pleasant morning and I was relieved to be finally on my way after months of planning and training and before long, I had reached John O’Groats. A sign, a few coloured houses and a café are about all that make up the settlement on Scotland’s northern coast, but it still felt like the perfect place to start the journey. Another advantage of starting here was, due to its size, it was incredibly easy (even with my navigational skills) to exit the village and set off on the correct route south. I initially had to pedal back along the road that I just travelled down, back towards Thurso, but after a few miles I was heading south with Dover in my sights.

My aim for the day was to get to the coastal village of Golspie, this would mean a strong first day of 95 miles of cycling (including the 20 mile warm up). Scotland doesn’t have any huge mountains, the highest point of the route down to Dover is only around 1,500 feet, however, the roads here are very rarely flat. It was a cool morning, but after some hill climbing, the sun was starting to poke its way through the clouds and it was soon time to ditch the jacket and get working on that cycling tan.

The route initially took me inland and then drifted back to the coast where I would spend the rest of the day. Passing through a few seaside villages, with the sun shining, it was proving to be a pleasant first day. There were some stoppages along the way, one to adjust the angle of my saddle, one to take an ill-advised photo (explanation below) and quite a few wildlife induced delays.

I was going quite fast on a long downhill when I whizzed past a sign for “Doll”, as I am technically now unemployed, I discussed in my mind the idea of getting a picture of me next to the sign with some sort of witty caption questioning whether I should visit the place to collect my benefit money. By the time I finally decided that this photo would be sufficiently witty enough to stop for, I had already travelled several hundred meters. Instead of cycling back up the hill, I decided to walk back up to get the photo. Photo taken, I then hoped back onto the bike and continued down the hill only to discover two more identical signs for Doll moments down the road. It wasn’t until I was having dinner that evening that I realised that the word I was looking for is actually spelt “Dole”, rendering the photo completely obsolete.

As afternoon drifted into early evening, I rolled into Golspie, grabbing some dinner and then continuing to my accommodation a mile down the road. I had arranged to stay with a warmshowers host (a website similar to couch surfing but specifically for cyclists) and by the time I reached the lovely little cottage, I had travelled 95 miles, the second longest day of cycling I have ever done. My host for the evening wasn’t actually there, but allowed me to stay nevertheless. The cottage was beautiful and a great place to spend my first night. A good first to start the trip, bike and body feeling good and ready for the challenges ahead.