We made it! After an incredible sting in the tail of an unbelievable journey, we stood freezing cold and blown sideways by 70mph winds at John O'Groats, and here's the evidence - these are smiles of pure relief after a day that tested us to the absolute limits.

We knew about the weather forecast - gales and rain across Northern Scotland, with only the most essential of journeys being advised, well that had to include us.

We had a fantastic breakfast at the Royal Hotel in Tain, waiters in white gloves serving huge plates of bacon and eggs. We were going to need the energy. After a team huddle in the car park, orchestrated by Sean, we hopped on the bikes for the last time this week and set off towards John O'Groats, 86 miles away.

Within a couple of miles we were crossing the Dornoch Firth bridge - with galeforce winds blowing directly across us from the left, and rain battering our faces. Anyone who managed to look up saw the first of many rainbows framing the whole bay to the East, as the sun was starting to break through. Personally I found hanging on for dear life more interesting than rainbows at that point. We cowered immediately afterwards in a petrol station forecourt, until someone noticed that a toothless hag was taking a fag break next to one of the pumps, so we decided we'd be safer in the wind and set off again. As we pedalled on, fighting our own little battles with the elements, a few of noticed a small bridge to the left, where a sinister looking whicker-man had been suspended on a rope, leering like a voodoo doll at passers by. Anyone who wasn't scared before was getting edgy now.

Thankfully from this point the huge winds were in our favour, and we wind-surfed the next 30 miles at top speed (John B hitting an incredible 50.4mph). At one point a few of us managed to reach 25mph from a standing start without pedalling. The views to the East were stunning as the whole east coast was bathed in sunshine, the ocean was a deep blue, and the wind was whipping up enormous white horses as far as the horizon. When there was a brief shower, it created the most vivid of rainbows. We were feeling lucky to be here with the end in sight.

At Helmsdale we had a coffee break at "La Mirage" coffee shop. This cosmopolitan den in the unlikeliest of places was run by a portly proprieter with a dusting of blusher. His able assistant was a young and athletic man of Eastern european descent, and the walls were adorned with photos of drag queens, stuffed kippers, and Seaman (David). having said all that, the hot scones fresh from the oven were delightful. Outside we met a poor fella who'd just set off from John O'Groats on his own; he'd been dumped by his woman in Plymouth, so he'd dumped his car in Wick, he's set off for Lands End and he was about to lose his dignity (or worse) in La Mirage, good luck to you, whoever you are.

We decided to push on to Wick and meet there for lunch. By now the wind was picking up to dangerous levels, a steady 40-50mph with gusts up to 70mph. The next 3 hours were a battle for survival which some found exhilarating, others terrifying. As we climbed on top of the cliffs the wind was blowing directly across us, meaning we were leaning at 45 degree angles to stop our bikes being blown into the road and the passing traffic. Birds were belting past at 200mph and rabbits were cowering in the hedgerows, looking at us like we were the brainless ones. We finally reached Wick with all riders intact. Only 17 miles to John O'Groats so a quick bite and back in the saddle, we just wanted to get there now.

Unbelievably, the weather deteriorated further. We turned into the wind for the last 10 miles and were pushing with all our might for a mere 5mph. Andy had left the van at the finish line and ridden back to meet us for the last 5 miles. We'll never forget the final descent into John O'Groats. Many riders before and since will saunter down that hill beaming with pride and taking in the views. We held on to our handlebars like a white knuckle rollercoaster and shielded our faces from piercing rain. We finally arrived at the small collection of tumble-down out houses they call John O'Groats, and were overwhelmed with relief, happiness and a massive sense of achievement. We'd started as a team and finished as one, all over the line, all safe, job done!

We couldn't have done it without the help and support from all our families, who've put up with us disappearing for most weekends of 2009 to train, and for a full 9 days of the trip. Thanks to our friends and colleagues for all your donations and messages of support - your commitment to us has meant we've been committed to the ride, the charity and the team. Thanks to John Davies for driving 12 hours to surprise us at the finish, which was a lovely touch, and to Gillian for being there to support us on our toughest day. Thanks to Jackie Brown for her tireless work in organising the logistics and making sure we always had a bed for the night, to Ste O'Neill for building this great website that was so simple to update en-route, and finally to Andy Bake, who was our essential "mother hen", fed us, watered us, fixed us, kept us going, what a star!

Performance of the Day: All of us, we did it, despite the weather, everyone a hero - 902 miles, 2.5m pedal revolutions in total

Pillock of the day: Joint award - James for a nutrition related strop, solved by a mule bar. Anton for blatant bicycle abuse.

Injuries: None, everyone has healed miraculously

Roadkill: 2 frogs, Rabbit, Kes, a gnome, weasel, haggis, jellyfish

The sponsorship to date has been staggering and humbling, over £13k so far, but we want to beat our target - so look out here for details of our charity auction evening in Chester on November 13th, all welcome.

Still to follow- a multimedia page of all photos and videos

Thats all for now. Tom

The day started in miserable fashion as the rain fell in Fort William. We queued in the dark outside the breakfast room at the premier inn, waiting for our porridge and instructions on where we were off to today,

David claimed this would be a relatively easy day, only 83 miles, and we’d be in the pub by 4. This cheered the mood, as did the prospect of spotting a monster in Loch Ness, although how could that be any more monstrous than the morning ritual of your room mate slapping sudacrem liberally across his buttocks..?

On the way to Fort Augustus we climbed up onto a hill where the Army Commando memorial stands. We were lucky enough to be there on a day when there wasn’t a breath of wind and the mist had settled in the valley below Ben Nevis, which provided a stunning backdrop to an awe inspiring statue. The motto read “together we conquer” which we thought suitable enough for a gang of amateurs looking for some extra oomph to get through the last 2 days. Tom took the initiative and set a furious pace towards Loch Ness – this was pitifully short lived as La Machine hunted him down like a lame dog and left him to toil in his rightful place at the back. Roy’s metronome style has earned him a 6 month contract with Ikea, where he’ll pedal in a glass cabinet as an electronic counter informs shoppers how many times his legs have gone round without his feet falling off.

Loch Ness was silent and still but the cold and drizzle was getting to most of us. We pushed on along the west side of the Loch, with a short coffee stop to keep us going. Lunch was at Drumnadrochit and we stuffed ourselves from Andy’s passenger seat kitchen before cowering in the back to keep warm. John Bennett was notable by his absence, he’d zoomed off ahead to meet his other half about 20 miles ahead. We all followed after lunch and immediately faced a very steep climb up onto the plateau above the Loch. Chris was convicted of using his “granny ring” to make the top easily, a truly heinous crime.

There followed a long downhill, where Jimmy hit a PB of 43mph and James hit a pot-hole and had 3 Adam’s Apples for the next hour. A car passed us by shortly after with a grinning leering gargoyle hanging from the passenger window, it was Bennett – getting a lift in a car! Any normal person would have been disqualified and sent home but no-one could honestly believe he hadn’t ridden that stretch at least 6 times just for fun already.

Next stop was the Glen Ord Distillery, where we sampled some of the finest whisky available, from source. Maybe not the best idea for tired cyclists, but when Jimmy showed us his lumpy knees, it was the best medicine to get him through the ride, and us over the shock.

By now we’d clocked 60+ miles, and with 35 to go it was obvious that David’s breakfast estimates were some way off the mark again. A sign for “Kilmuir” was at risk of being taken literally.

The final slog along the busy A9 gave us a taste of more to come tomorrow, but was worth it for the sight of 2 golden eagles perched just off the roadside, and for Sean falling sideways, stuck in his pedals, helpless, in a layby.

We eventually made it to the lovely town of Tain, and the Royal Hotel, where we had a fantastic meal, courtesy of David, with Haggis, Neeps and Tatties, washed down with a few wee drams, what a great way to end the day.

Tomorrow’s forecast – horrendous gales, rain, and only 85 miles till the end of the adventure!

Performance of the day - Jimmy for making the last 30 miles with his dodgy knees

Pillock - Sean for falling over from a stationary position in a layby (and for riding off for a secret, silent strop!)

Injury Count:

Roy - some short circuiting in the rain

Anton - knee fine, shares in Ibuprofen

Chris - absolutely flying, nothing to report

Andrew - driver's elbow and kitkat knee

John - verbal diarrhoea

Nick - silent but deadly

David - fine apart from campaign to Kilmuir

James - all is well for the rear admiral

Jimmy - lets get those knees through 1 more day

Sean - knees uphill, perfect downhill, great momentum

Roadkill - 2 badgers, a slug that had survived 5 days on Anton's top lip has sadly fallen and died, hedgehog, rabbit, crashed rangerover, culled ostrich

Finally, thanks from all the riders to Johanna Price, who looks after Henry on behalf of JDRF, and to James FG's Dad, for following our progress.

We woke to a chilly clear and crisp morning north of Glasgow and stocked up on a great breakfast, served up by the best hotel staff we've had en-route. Sean got the 1st laugh of the day by arriving dressed as a rotund ninja in crocs, you'd definitely hear him coming.

Our target was Fort William, yet another 89 miles (that always end up being 107), this time up into the Highlands, and we were all looking forward to some great scenery after the visual detritus of Wigan, Carlisle and East Kilbride.

It wasnt long before we were riding through open countryside in the early morning mist and eagerly awaiting our first view of Loch Lomond. If we'd ever wondered why the hell we were embarking on this trip, it was now as clear as the beautiful spectacle around us, and we cycled along silently absorbing this priceless adventure - it was overwhelming, and a few tears were shed, or maybe it was midges in the eyes.... Loch Lomond was wonderful, and made all the hard work so far worthwile.

We stopped on the banks of the Loch at Bonnie Brae's cafe, for bacon butties, millionaire shortbread and a can of McEwans Export for Johnny B (the sun was past the yard arm)  - there were no midgy bites but we got stung for that lot, anyway, onwards and definitely upwards, upwards upwards, climbing for miles up into the Highlands, through Tarbot, past the Green Welly pub and the Bridge of Orchy. The sights got more spectacular still. 

The group had split at this point, and we were strung over about 5 miles, Roy "La machine" Davies at the front with his booze-fuelled sidekick Johnny B. The coffee club was trundling along, Sean and Tom were passed on a flat stretch by 2 fellas on Miss Marple bikes with paniers on. David and James stayed back with us to enjoy the scenery, including an eagle, which none of the fast buggers saw, so there....We stopped for lunch at Rannock Moor, which felt like a shelf on top of the world - the weather was now closing in, it was getting cold, and very windy, the calm beauty of the Loch seemed a long time ago.

When we set off after lunch there was a long 5 mile downhiller, into the wind, which tested the resolve of the weaker members of the group, as pedalling uphill AND downhill does. The wind was strong enough to blow you back uphill, and we all spent a couple of hours with our noses to the handlebars battling away as we descended down out of the highlands.

As we descended back into civilisation, Andy was waiting with the van and was accosted by a local nutter who seemed hell bent on the destruction of the human race, Sean offered him his bike, but he wasnt that daft

The last stretch to Fort William was eaten up by the leaders, whilst for the stragglers it was torture, especially the "Welcome to Fort William" sign, which was 6 miles from Fort William.

We all met in the bar and decided that a couple of quick pints would be the best way to recover. Unfortunately someone got the order slightly wrong, and Roy shocked the group with a tirade of such fury that, when harnessed, means he'll be riding the same route backwards next year without shoes, and his eyes shut.

Injury Count
Roy's fingers - healed, thankfully, wont mention them again, honest, sorry                                                              Jimmy - all is well, despite the knee, he's flying                                                                                                      Chris - knee, acute neverreadiness
Anton - knee better but has been skipping with a mucky rope, or slug balancing
David - restricted hand motion, cant keep trousers up
John - knee trouble, taken to drinking at 11am, acute neverreadiness
James - physically fine but mentally crippled by the A82, his mind like a piece of knitting the cats have played with
Nick - sore knee, managing to control flatulence to an "on request" service
Sean - on the ropes, crippled, threatening to burn bike
Tom - just glad Sean is here, so glad

Performance of the day - Rocket Roy, "La Machine", Relentless Roy, you name it, a great ride, unstoppable, what a man

Pillock of the day - everyone for believing it was only 90 miles, stupid, just stupid (btw its only 76 miles tomorrow, all downhill)

Roadkill: Bingo Foxy, Bambi x 4, a soon to be ex-sparrow chased by an eagle, a robin, a frozen salmon, a bum bag, a bottle of frosty jacks and Jimmy Saville (he lives in the highlands, honest)

30th September - 22.54pm

Today started in Carlisle, with everyone benefiting from some good rest - not entirely intentional, as we'd been ready for a few pints in the local until Timmy Mallett appeared on stage, so we all left our pints and went to bed.

Our 1st stop was the Scottish border - David swelled with pride, Roy donned an Everton shirt (no-one mention this in the Brown Cow, Gateacre) but Brian Clark has doubled his donation for doing so, cheers Brian.

Worth mentioning we've now cycled the entire length of England and dipped into Wales, so this is 3 countries in 6 days, impressed? no? ok....

We thought about stopping at Gretna to celebrate David's union with Penny (his bike) but didnt want to intrude, so we pressed on with a 100 miler to Glasgow. Our first landmark was the village of Ecclefechen, which was Ecclefechen lovely, but Ecclefechen too far from the end for our liking. The countryside was nice but uneventful, so we coasted along as a single group, at a steady pace, and everyone chatted, instead of speaking to themselves, and jesus, and crying for their mothers, a nice change from the norm.

Another puncture for Tom (thats 3 for the Davies's and 0 for anyone else) so we stopped for a coffee break. After re-fuelling we kicked on, whilst David was still pulling up his lycra in the service station servicios. He wasnt amused, and we must sadly record another strop, he was Echlefechen furious that we'd left him, and he caught up and belted past us all at full speed. Thank God the wind was blowing in the wrong direction and only the sheep heard the expletives.

The following 50 odd miles were a head-down slog through the wind and rain as the elements turned against us, up through the hills and glens. Andrew rode back to join us and got some miles in with the leading group while the coffee club toiled behind, with Anton joining us with a gammy knee. We eventually got a lunch stop at the service station just short of Glasgow - scottish butteries, corned beef, ham and pasta, an eclectic mix, what a treat!

The last stretch to Glasgow was a real toughie - the road surface was last repaired by a fella called Hadrian and some of the pot-holes could have housed at least one of the Krankies. A public service sign asked us to phone "Larry the lion" if we had complaints about the road, or maybe talk to Percy the Pig eh?

The final climb upto East Kilbride was notable for another attempt by Dr Doom (Davies snr) to tell us (on the way up the steepest bit), exactly how continuous and steep the road was and how strong the wind was, but he was immediately told to be quiet and get back in line. We free-wheeled down into Glasgow centre and bombed through the last 5 miles to the unpronouncable Milgavninnie ("Moolgiay") where we're stopping for the night. Tomorrow we head up to Fort William, via Loch Lomond and Ben Nevis, so should be some great photos if the weather holds out, fingers crossed!

Injury Count
Roy's fingers - improving but still banana-like
Jimmy - fully restored confidence and coping with the knee, all is well
Chris - knee much improved, leading the line again like a champ
Anton - damaged knee, a dark day, spending time at the rear, shouting at cars, like a madman 
David - again, much improved, flying in fact, although driven by pure hate
John - didnt die, probably because he didnt eat a bird, to catch the fly.....
James - left his post as rear admiral to have fun at the front, who can blame him
Nick - unfortunately removed the cork, local news reporting huge profits for scottish wind farms
Tom - (whisper it) a moan-free day (apart from controlling Dr Doom)

Performance of the day - John B for navigating Glasgow centre with a map in one hand and cam corder in the other

Pillock of the day - David for full on stroppy strop

Roadkill: a fox and a rabbit, both squashed, caught in mid chase; a pair of plimpsoles, a kestrel, some irn bru, a parker, a caterpillar, some marlboro lights

One last thing, best wishes to Uncle Mike from all of us, get well soon lad!

Breakfast in Wigan and an all you can eat special, put fully to the test by Davids request for 16 sausages, which got the waitess in such a fluster she accepted the lower offer of 6, and an egg, job done!

We had a late start, with the first rain of the week and a howling wind. Everyone turned up in luminous yellow and shoe covers. Jimmy's gloves would look well on Jacques Cousteau. Injuries are starting to take their toll, as are the unfortunates sharing room with snorers, the excuses are building up horribly....

We set off on a road surface that was a series of potholes loosely connected by tarmac, with the odd broken bottle of WKD, which Roy drove over and burst his tyre, an early pit stop, Chris's knee was giving him trouble, more time to apply deep heat and ibuprofen, another pit stop.

In the interest of keeping warm JB had a dance off with an imaginary friend, who Jimmy peed on in the bushes, disgusting. After 2 hours we'd managed 11 miles, 3 coffee stops, 25 kitkats and the obligatory bananas, it was time to get cracking.

From Preston we headed out towards Lancaster, past Mandy's Badger Snacks, the shop selling the biggest onions in Britain, and on towards Kendal and the lakes. The sun broke through but an awesome silence descended as everyone knew what awaited - a 15 mile climb upto Shap village.

Everyone battled silently with their own demons, pushing hard to reach the summit. When it seemed almost possible that we'd make it, Roy decided to give us a morale boost with the shout "There's another bloody 8 miles yet". All too much for Tom, who dismounted in protest....

We all made it to Shap and felt literally on top of the world - it got even better with another cracking lunch from Andy - cumberland suasage, hot fried chicken, potato wedges, just delicious. The mood was even better when Sean's map told us we had 30 miles to go, and it was all down hill. After turning the first corner we climbed another few hundred feet and the air turned blue.

Anton led the angry mob towards Penrith and forced the entire team to jump a red light and take on an uphill fiesta. Not great form from our team copper. The hills continued for 30 miles to Carlisle, and on arrival we were so knackered and dishevelled the locals thought Tony Robinson and the Time Team had turned up.

The night ended with a slap up feast at Gianni's restaurant in Carlisle, and at this rate we'll all come home heavier than we started.

Injury Count:
Roy's fingers - still
Jimmy - delicate undercarriage, crippled knee, stiff shoulder, shattered confidence
Chris - damaged knee, lumpy porridge, snoring
Anton - damaged knee, sense of humour failure
David - open sores
John - strap chaffing
James - achilles heel (Mandy's badger)
Nick - cork stuck
Tom - writer's cramp, inner demons

Performance of the day - Chris for recovering from serios knee trouble in 1st 10 miles to make it another 100 miler under the belt

Pillock of the day - Anton for leading the troops through a red, Tom in 2nd again, but on balance, all Sean's fault

Roadkill: hedgehog, perfectly flattened badger (could have been a rug), kestrel, copper pipe, a duck (a dead one), John swallowed a fly, perhaps he'll die...

We awoke for another 100 miler in a quaint spot outside Leominster. At our guest house, our little brummy host got up early to serve toast, cereal, tea or "Coffoi", all on his own, as the Mrs has run off with the kitchen hand, or is under the "patiow". An air of tragedy hung over the place, with the broken sign reminiscent of Basil Fawlty's "F low eryt w a  ts". He told us he'd had 10 women staying there the night before, but then so did Norman Bates...
1st target - to reach Shrewsbury 30 miles away at rush hour on the A49- we hammered it at top speed but still built up a 10 mile tailback because Anton and John were side by side comparing cadence.

At Shrewsbury we were desperate for a coffee and asked a lady for directions "do you do a lot for charity? she asked us "can I have some money for mine then?" During a long stop a man called Brian gave us a tenner in the coffee shop - thanks mate!
We headed towards Whitchurch on a dull and uninteresting route. Between there and Tarpurley, Bennett tried to kill us one by one in a kato'esque suprise attack from a privet hedge with a camcorder.
Tom's mood darkened towards Tarporley, even a lurking James couldnt raise his spirits, and he let himself and his family down with a four letter outburst directed at all his fellow riders, very poor form, but on balance, all Sean's fault.
At Tarporley, Andy served up a gourmet lunch - ciabatta with ham, emmenthal, basil, sun dried tomatos, olives and sprinkled mule bar, washed down with tictacs after a visit from Uncle John (pictured). It would have been worthy of a michelin star if Nick hadnt bent to pick up his gloves and let loose a real bronx cheer. David received an official warning for enhancing his lycra shorts with a poorly positioned banana. 

Roy was riding well today despite a serious finger injury, have we mentioned his fingers? he's hurt his fingers.
Andy took JB for a 25 mph ride to tire him out and failed - after lunch he deliberately dropped his map at the top of a hill so he could go back and climb it again.

Tarpurley to Warrington and Anton's wife Catherine turned up to say hello. We survived Warringtons, pot holes, 50mph roundabouts and manic shoppers, Devon it certainly wasnt.
We were cheered at Winnick by John, Laura and Megan with a good luck banner, giving us impetus for the final push to Wigan, if only the hotel was in Wigan, it was supposed to be Wigan North but by the time we got there could more aptly be called Glasgow South.

At the hotel we had the pleasure of visits from Tom, Roy, Jimmy and Johnny B's families (Max, Jo, Kathryn, Juliet, Oscar, Matilda, John and Sue, Ruth and Avis) giving us a much needed boost after a tough day - and helped by a bag of Pateley Bridge pies. We also got a visit from Sean, Tracey and Tracey's shoes.

Thanks also to Ray for making a special journey to deliver some of Wigan's finest pies for the team!

Pillock of the day - Tom for letting the demons into his life
Performance of the day - Andrew for gourmet lunch and bike repairs

Roadkill: live squirrel snuffing it, owl, hedgehog, rat x 3, a potato, the wasp in my helmet, a sausage roll in a wrapper, a fox, 2 polecats, a hare, a rhode island red....

Next stop - Carlisle - and past half way - Come on!!!!

Another day without rain - what's going on? I fear for what Scotland has in store for us. The day started with the stench of deep heat and growing complaints of tiredness, aches and pains - 3 days in the saddle is unchartered territory for most of us.

Despite this we belted out of Bridgwater at full speed and headed for Bristol. A cold and misty morning with hot air balloons drifting over Glastonbury to the East. Because of a seeming lack of interest in us from drivers, Jimmy scrawled Lands End to John O'Groats on our backs, which improved the interest, as now everyone drives past laughing or shaking their heads.

We made it into Bristol in record time, but were soon slowed up as we were taken on a guided tour of Sean's vile and disgusting youth, with memories too foul to reproduce here. We stopped in Asda car park for a pork pie break (silly old bugger fell over in the car park) and re-fuelled before heading to the original Severn Bridge. We headed over in glorious sunshine and Bridge Man Bob took our photo.

Safely over and finally heading North, welcome to Wales (or "tfykijidsjwduwniwndl" as the locals would say). The Wye valley took us North towards Monmouth, amazing country and sights like Tintern Abbey (where they invented "tinternet), and the white Lotus Esprit from "The Spy Who Loved Me" bombing past.

Andrew was waiting in Monmouth with lunch, strategically between 2 coffee shops, where we got some rest and recouperation. A 12 year old girl stopped and confused us with the question "Why isnt Lands End called Lands Beginning?" Sorry love dont know. Lots of kind people filled the bucket with spare change, many thanks to them all.

We then struggled on to Hereford - en route James hung around the back of Sean like a cheap harlot, but at least it got him there. We were 20 miles from home, slumped and tired, trying to ignore Nick's noxious emissions in the farmer's field, when a fella jogged past looking hardly out of breath - Simon is jogging from John O'Groats to Land's End raising monely for MS, at almost 50 miles a day - here he is smiling with some knackered cyclists.

 The final 20 were a bit of a struggle, huge climbs and darkness closing in, the S.O.B fell over again and sprained his finger, claiming deliberate obstruction as he tried to join the front runners.

We finished up in lovely Ludlow, flying downhill past the castle and up to the Cecil guest house for a much needed shower - 110 sweaty horrible miles under the belt.

Family visits from Aileen, Emily and John Muir, and Catherine and Alexander Sullivan boosted the spirits!

Pillock of the day - Sean for the tour of Bristol and for falling over with stress after being encouraged by shouting from passing motorists - close 2nd the S.O.B

Performance of the day - James - for dragging the stragglers home with Tantric breathing exercises and smooth gearing.

Road kill: Rat, Owl, Badger, Fox, Frog, Cuddly Toy, Ferrett / Polecat, Pigeon, Pheasant, Hedgehog, Squirrel, Vole, Blankety Blank Check Book and Pen....

Tomorrow, the road to Wigan Pier and Johnny B's pies from Andy Bake the gastronomic God

Written a day late - apologies, Wifi hasnt reached some parts of Devon yet.....

Another day of amazing weather, with great countryside, castles, market towns, hills, hills hills.

It started with a 30 mile life risking stretch on the A30 over Bodmin Moor where everyone drives like Jenson Button on speed. Andrew tried to protect us by coasting along at 15mph behind us but all this did was make the Cornish public even more abusive - we are really polarising opinion as we saunter along - some kind and generous folk wish us well and even dip their hands in their pockets, while others treat us as if we've ridden over their feet with burning tyres. David was waiting at some lights in Oakhampton minding his own business and got told he was an effing moron by a bloke on the way to the bank, and he'd never met him!

The tour of Cornwall, Devon and Somerset quickly split the group in 2 - upfront were the whizz kids, Johnny B, Anton, Chris, David and Nick. Bringing up the rear, the Coffee Club - Tom, Sean, Roy and Jimmy (membership granted for chronic injury, complete lack of willpower or pensioner status). James prostituted himself between groups accordingly. Strangely, as the day wore on, the coffee club grew - David by lunchtime, Nick by mid-afternoon and all the others wishing they could join but not daring to say - we'll see em all off soon.

We finished the day back in Bridgwater, a full 108 miles, and stayed at the lovely Pauline's Admiral Blake guesthouse - an oasis in the desert. She even donated part of the room fee to the charity. We all nipped out for a pint and some grub and were visited by Hugh and Kate Guest, some old pals who turned up with another donation and an auction prize - a week in their holiday home in Taunton - very generous and great to see you both.

Pillock of the day - could have been Anton for simulating being hit by a rogue sniper and bailing into the bushes. However, for a catalogue of errors and misdemeanors its the silly old bugger Roy, who mistook a badger for a hare (?), tried to get himself decapitated on the A30 "I'll just fix my chain", and for shouting "Morning!" at James without warning and causing him to jump into the grass verge

Performance of the day - Tom, Sean, Chris, Anton and Nick for losing their 100 mile virginity

As it was the countryside, a roadkill count - 4 badgers, 10 squirrels, 3 pheasants, 1 fox, a hen and an owl

Next stop - Ludlow

25/09/09 21.38

The end of a very long day - this was it, the big day, here at last..... It started with the second leg of the drive to Lands End, with a pit stop to pick up our glorious leader "Muir the Merciless" and his pals in Exeter. They claimed they'd been out boozing all night, but on arrival at Land's End we were horrified to discover that all the Chester lads had waxed their legs "for extra speed"...what? is this why they'd stayed in a different town to us? to get waxed?

Anyway this is all about the cause so we put that behind us, gathered at the famous sign and smiled for photos, and then we were off. Today was a relatively short 60 miler, but with the rolling Devon countryside it was still tough on the legs. Little things kept us amused, signs for Cockwell village and Verdengimp kept spirits high, as did John Bennett's jokes ("here comes a low bridge lads, duck!" ahaha ah ahhh dear...)

Andrew kept us in bananas, in fact he's ensured the GDP of all banana producing countries will stay in the black for many years to come.

Tempers flared briefly after the failure of 2 satnav systems to get us anywhere near Bodmin meant we all jumped a fence with bikes and climbed up a grass verge with bikes to escape the A30 and the hundreds of drivers hell bent on killing us.

As darkness fell we made it to the Bodmin Premier Inn and laughed over pies and pints at the awards given out for today:

Pillock - Tom - for yet another puncture and no spare inner tube
Performance - Sean for getting round with one good leg and Anton for being too good for everyone

Time to go to bed now as its a 100 miler to Bridgwater tomorrow, goodnight from all the gang

I'm writing this from a travelodge that's been built to house tired lorry drivers as they clock off from work at the national distribution centre for Safeway.

If that's not depressing enough, we have to stay here again after completing 100 miles on the way back on day 2. If we're really lucky the burger king will still be open in reception.

This is Bridgwater, just south of Bristol

We havent even got to Land's End yet.... in fact, I think people should be sponsored for driving to Land's End.

Going to try and get some sleep now as we're up at 6 to pick up David, James and Anton in Exeter. They arrived at their digs about 3 hours ago and we've loved receiving all their texts about which pint they're on now, lets hope they're not hungover eh

Sense of fear, excitement and trepidation as the start line awaits tomorrow, here's hoping for sunshine and a force 10 gale behind us

Goodnight from the blot on the landscape