Lands End to John o’ Groats on not the fastest Moulton
A guest blog post by Paul Wood
Like many cyclists, I’ve long wanted to do LEJOG. Got the books, read others’ stories, but always been put off by the planning and logistics. Then, back in early May, some friends mentioned they were doing it in June as a fully supported ride, and I was hooked! In fact it was more than a LEJOG, over 1100 miles, and billed as a Grand Tour using many interesting lanes and island-hopping through the Scottish Islands. It was a dear do for a thrifty Yorkshireman like myself, but actually good value considering the accommodation and support. (The organising company was Green Jersey Cycling Tours).
The first question was ‘training’. As I had less than 4 weeks to go it was too late to worry about that, but I was in generally good form and was happy I would survive it.
The next, big, question was ‘which Moulton to take’?
The GT would have been a lovely fit for the adventure but might have got battered on the rough lanes and in transport, it’s just too precious.
The Cone might have worked if I did something about the gear range but is also still a bit ‘nice’.
Then there was my TSR27, my first spaceframe and a bike I love with a super gear range, but also well used and still on its original 2006 wheels which I’d like to keep a bit longer, so maybe it wasn’t quite up to this adventure.
Or maybe ‘Tango’, my orange Alfine 11 equipped TSR, bought on eBay 5 or 6 years ago as a ‘wet weather bike’ and somehow my most ridden bike. It’s a bit ‘well used’, and something of a ‘Trigger’s broom’ re. parts. But it is comfortable, has a good gear range, good mudguards and 35mm Marathon Plus tyres.
Prevaricating, I bought spare spokes and other bits for all the bikes (thanks, Fran!), but eventually settled on using Tango. A last minute panic over lower gears for the hills saw me swap the 54 tooth chainring to a 45 tooth Alfine chainset (and a new bottom bracket to fit) and that paid off in spades. (Keeping a 20T rear sprocket gave me gears as low as 23”.) An end to end service and he was ready!
I travelled to Penzance from Yorkshire by train and it was a pretty poor start to the adventure. I spent 5 hours standing squashed with Tango by the doors, even though I had a reserved bike space and seat. Perhaps the quirky little orange bike caused less annoyance to my fellow sufferers than a bigger bike might have done.
On the morning of 3 June, 7 of us set off from Lands End. It was a nice mix of experienced cyclists. My two friends on very smart electric road bikes, 4 others on regular road bikes.
At dinner the night before I’d explained that Tango wasn’t the fastest Moulton, and suggested the idea of ‘marginal losses’ (in contrast to Team Sky’s Dave Brailsford’s ‘marginal gains’): flat handlebars, a Brooks B17, those Schwalbe Marathon tyres, the heavy and slightly draggy Alfine hub, and the full size rear carrier with a generously packed rack bag, all affected speed. I found I could keep up with the group generally, though I felt better when I relaxed the pace a bit and drifted off the back. I also stopped quite often to take photos and Whatsapp them back to my family supporting me. That all worked OK with regrouping at coffee and lunch stops. And I like riding on my own.
We started with a ’short’ day of 55 miles to Newquay. The overnight rain had just about stopped and there was a good tailwind. I ride in Cornwall fairly often but the scenery impresses every time. The weather was improving and all was going well until the lunch stop at Portreath (Cornish pasty, of course!). Then there were some steep hills and Tango came crashing to a halt with a horrible noise from the back wheel.
I said earlier that Tango was a ‘Trigger’s broom’. After 10,000 miles (and who knows how many miles in the earlier years of its life) I was becoming concerned about the original Alfine 11 hub. Was it a bit slower and draggier than the norm? Was it starting to make funny noises? So when a ‘new old stock’ later generation 7001 hub turned up on eBay I bought it and put it into store. Back in April I’d built it into a new Sun CR18 rim and I was rather pleased with it (as only my second wheel build) BUT it had done less than 100 miles before LEJOG. And the Cornish hills tested it!
So, for a moment I thought the ‘new’ hub had failed. Then I noticed the pretzled spoke sticking out between sprocket and chain. It took some effort to extricate it, and I rode carefully on to the hotel where I replaced it and another spoke that had been broken at the same time (probably by the mangled one bashing against it). The thing is that on an organised group tour like this there isn’t a lot of time for bike fettling so I just had to make good and hope all would be OK.
Day 2 and we crossed into Devon (cream first (on your scones)) with the climbs that every LEJOGer fears. But Tango went well, those new lower gears helping (in fact, I did not walk a single step on any climb on the entire trip) and no more spoke issues. A wonderful climb up onto Bodmin and then more steep hills before Sheepwash, our bed for the night at 69 miles. At the foot of one of these hills was an elderly gent fettling his vintage Landrover and Triumph Herald, and we had a nice chat about British engineering (he didn’t know about the link between the Moulton and the Mini).
Day 3 was wet with some rough and muddy lanes at the start. We passed through towns and villages familiar to me with some of my wife’s family thereabouts. On to Tiverton and then Taunton. The arrangements for storing bikes in the various hotels and pubs we stayed at were varied, but in this case a large locked room with many other bikes, quite a few doing LEJOG. It was here that someone actually made the comment, though maybe others had thought it: “LEJOG, on that?” Of course I provided the chap with some good-natured education on Moultons and their benefits and capabilities.
Day 4, a trip to SJS Cycles in Bridgwater for spokes and a bit of a chat, across the Somerset Levels, up Cheddar Gorge and a long 77 miles on to a splendid hotel north of Bristol. A varied route including parts of the Bristol cycleway. Tango was going well with the odd wipe of the chain with an oily rag. The benefits of hub gears: others had been having issues with derailleurs and cassettes in the wet and grot. And I was going OK, feeling quite comfortable and relaxed. My Moulton straight bars with Ergon Biocork handgrips gave a few hand positions and must have been more comfortable than ‘riding on the hoods’ like the others on their drop handlebars.
The next day took us to Ludlow, via Wales. I’d always wanted to cycle over the Severn Bridge, but in serious rain and wind we were lucky the cycle path was open. Some of the little lanes in Wales were very testing: steep, rough, and dirty. Here I sailed jauntily past two of our party walking: my low gears and small wheels a better match for the challenge. In Ludlow I was happy to visit a British Cycle Quest point (but couldn’t persuade any of the others to start this fun activity).
Day 6 and the target was Ironbridge. More wonderful riding in Hereforshire and Shropshire, another BCQ right on the route, and a flypast of Spitfires.
Day 7 and we passed over the Wrekin and pressed on to Wilmslow on the southern edge of the Manchester conurbation. On most days we didn’t have the energy for exploring much once we reached our destination: the routine being to store the bike (doing some light maintenance where possible), stretch, shower and wash any kit, get all the electric doodahs charging up, touch base with home, update the all important Strava, eat, and sleep. But in Wilmslow I was lured out not to see the toyshops of the entitled (Bang and Olufsen, Pinarello, Aston Martin, ridiculous kitchens and bathroom shops) but to visit the Sainsbury’s next door for USB cables, snack bars, and other travel essentials. Ah, good to be back in civilisation!
Day 8 to Gibbon Bridge in Lancashire was billed as a ‘just get past Manchester day’ but it was better than that. Country lanes dodging nannies and ninnies in Range Rovers, right under the flight path of Manchester airport, Tatton Park, the striking flatness of Chat Moss with its turf farms and long, straight, but very bumpy tracks, the Bolton suburbs where I ran my first (and only) marathon, Lever Park with its fabulous cafe, the climb over to Belmont, and Tockholes wood beneath Darwen Tower. All lovely. Then, on some grotty, potholed Lancashire road, Tango had a spot of trouble. First, the front mudguard broke in ‘the usual place’. Fair enough, it had done a lot of miles, some of the last few hundred very rough. I simply removed the bottom half and continued with an 80’s style ‘racing’ mini guard (it seemed secure). Then more calamity, another spoke explosion. This one really chewed things up and left me at something of a loss at the roadside. But eventually I wrangled the spoke out, broke off the mangled rubber sprocket chain guard, and checked for other damage. A short test ride and it seemed OK. But I called my wife, who was to meet me for dinner that night at the hotel, to bring over the old wheel as a spare (entertaining describing to a non-cyclist just what to find in a rather cluttered bike room, I nearly landed up with a Brompton 3 speed wheel).
With 31 spokes we made it up 2 more pretty stiff climbs to glorious evening light on the top of Longridge then a spirited descent to the finish. With just 10 minutes to dinner there was no time for messing with spokes, nor was there the following morning when I just needed the sleep. Tango continued happily ‘one spoke short of a set’ for the next few days.
Day 9 and on to Ambleside (another BCQ point). But first the big climb in the Forest of Bowland to Cross o’ Greet and the screaming descent into Yorkshire (hurrah!). Lunch in Kirkby Lonsdale in the sunshine and nice roads to Windermere where I bought my TSR27 from a splendid chap. The Lake District scenery was as special as ever but even better in the sunshine.
Day 10 and out over the tops to the quiet road beside Thirlmere, a stretch of C2C path, then beautiful Mosedale. After Carlisle and an Audax Picnic, we reached Gretna and the Scottish Border and it struck us how far we had travelled. Saw a Millennium Milepost outside Gretna, they always make me smile. Maybe there were others earlier but I didn’t see them. A long day, 81 miles to Dumfries.
Day 11 presented a new challenge. Scottish ferry shenanigans meant we had to reach Troon, 68 miles away, in under 6 hours, for the ferry to Arran. No time for faffing or photos and a real need to press on. But Tango raised his game and we made it to Ayr in good time, such good time that it was declared we had time for lunch at Morrisons (horrid, Ken would be spinning in his grave if he knew what his stores were like now). But then some wibbly wobbly cycle paths out of Ayr (and stops to photograph two more Millennium Mileposts) meant it was very tight getting to our first ferry crossing. Once checked in there was all the time in the world to chat to other cycle adventurers as we were last on. It was a super new squillion-pound dual fuel ferry, with the smoothest and quietest ride, and one bike rack - huh!. It was the saddle-hang type so of course Tango wouldn’t fit that, but the engineers/stevedores liked the quirky little bike and found a nice safe place for it. A brief ride along Arran’s lovely coast to Corrie - it would have been nice to spend some more time on this lovely island. Haggis, neeps, and tatties for dinner!
The ferry back to the mainland the next morning was only 6 miles away, but with a nice hill in the way. There was a bit of time pressure but I made it even more fun by starting with a full Scottish breakfast (haggis present again, though sadly no Lorne sausage), faffing around so I left late, turning back after half a mile to get my forgotten phone, then riding like fury to get to the ferry. Needless to say there was actually plenty of time at the ferry port but it was good to watch the little boat dance its way into the dock.
The 73 miles to Oban seemed tough, with more rain (we may have been the only place in the country to have such wetness at that time!) but some fabulous scenery. On a remote fast descent through forest I saw a stag right on the road in front of me. The bike storage in Oban was to leave them in the hotel’s bar, which was still in use. I could envisage some late night reveller taking Tango for a ride around the hotel’s corridors…
Day 13 and a walk to the ferry to Mull, where we rode just a few miles to get the ferry back to the mainland. This far North the roads were quiet and the scenery magnificent, but it was still raining! At least that kept the midgies at bay.
Day 14 started from Arisaig with another ferry dash, to get the boat over the sea to Skye. It was only 9 miles on a good road but a ‘twang’ from the back wheel made me pull up quickly. After soldiering on with 31 spokes for so long Tango had lost another. No obvious ancillary damage so pulled the loose spoke out and dashed on. This ferry crossing was our first ‘open sea one’ and was much rougher. At some stage the row of bikes fell over, leaving Tango with some war wounds but also, I realised when I rode off, a missing mirror. I love my Cateye mirror (I have them on all my bikes) and really missed it the next few days. It’s not just the safety thing (I also use a Garmin rear radar), I often look in the mirror for an interesting view. The Southern part of Skye is nice but not exciting, and the final road towards the Skye Road Bridge was horrid with comedy cycle paths, fast and narrow roads, and some terrible drivers. Ugh. Shan’t go there again. But once over the Bridge lovely lanes took us to Shieldag, a truly beautiful part of Scotland. Sadly the weather dimmed the view a bit, and made the ride more challenging. I arrived at the cafe for lunch, dripping wet, just as the poor staff were mopping up the puddles left by my mates who had departed minutes before. High on the moor after crossing a big cattle grid there was another ping, down to 29 spokes. The wheel still ran true but I walked the cattle grids for the rest of the day. The rain and cold made the optional ‘Top 100’ climb of Bealach na Ba a bit dangerous (pretty sure I wouldn’t have the legs anyway, though a very good cyclist in our group got up at 6 the next morning to do it before breakfast!)
A later start the next morning gave me a chance to replace the missing spokes and some prematurely worn brake blocks before the big ‘coast to coast’ ride 66 miles to Alness. It was glorious cycling all day, Loch Torridon, Liathach, Beinn Eighe, Kinlochewe, and the climb out of the glen. Then relatively quiet A and local roads to Strathpeffer for lunch. On then to Alness for the night. My legs were feeling tired now, and I was definitely a bit slower, but Tango was still going well and we enjoyed the final cycleways into Alness where the others had zoomed along the road.
Day 16 and a run up the coast to Lybster. We dodged the first bit of A9 by climbing over the hills and going around Dornoch Firth and Bonar Bridge. Some wonderful long descents but finally we were dragged back into modern life when we did hit the A9. Now the original plan was to turn straight off it and avoid 10 miles of A9 by doing 23 miles of smaller roads and 600’ of climb. Here my lack of long term training was really kicking in and I felt so tired. Knees and Achilles were niggling and I thought this extension might be the straw that broke the cyclist’s back. So reluctantly I rode the A9 to Brora and with a tailwind and a good surface it was over in 40 minutes. I wouldn’t recommend it, but it worked OK for me that day. I even had time to explore Brora a bit and get a nice lunch. After that there was no way to escape the A9 most of the way to Lybster, our stop for the night. It was bad in places, slightly less bad in others, a reminder that we live in the Kingdom of the Motor Vehicle. The road is shamefully short of cycle paths, though it looks like a short stretch is nearly ready to take out the steep ‘new road’ at Berriedale Braes. My 75 miles felt like a long day, some of the others arrived very tired indeed having had more distance, climb, and headwind.
The final day was like the final day of the Tour de France, a social ride, but the good road and tailwind meant we kept a good pace. A short stop in Wick at their very fine loos, and excellent views over the Flow Country and the coast all the way to John o’ Groats for Prosecco and the final photos.
Some final stats, from Strava: 1135 miles, 76,000’ of climb, over 101 hours of cycling in 17 days. Average pace of 11.2mph (which is my typical pace on hilly Yorkshire rides on minor roads on this bike). At the end I replaced 2 more spokes (making 7 in total), and found the rear suspension pivot had worn (no sign of that at the start, but the bike has done some 12,000 miles with me now). Tango, the little orange Moulton, has done me proud, and I will soon have him spruced up and back on the road for more adventures.
Paul Wood, June 2025.