Day Six
It was a cold night as the wind howled away. I however simply did not care. I loved it. It felt just as adventurous out there on the moors as it did in Uganda or camping in the Amazon. I was me. And it was just me and my Backpack.

It’s just after 6am when I wake. The tent is still. As is my mind. That’s until I am haunted by my feelings of yesterday’s bad performance. I’m still tired. Yet aware that I need to start early and get the miles in sooner rather than later.

I open my tent to find a wild horse less than 5 meters away. We mutually exchange long stares and while she’s inquisitive she’s not intrusive. It’s the perfect start to the day.

I pack up my tent and continue to follow the disused railway line toward Travistoke.

The bike, my legs and my energy are at incredible levels as I cross off the first few miles. #lovetheflatearthidea.
Im pumped not only for life BUT for this #Adventure. Yet, despite the morning’s air being cool, it’s not that cold once you get going. I therefore quickly warm up and continue to push south westerly through the tiny villages. Through Gully Worthy over to Callington and into Bodmin.
It’s here, in Bodmin that my energy starts to dip, I’m 50 miles in and realise that there’s only so far that a banana and can of beans will go. Spotting a corner shop, I binge hard on the world’s best Cornish pasty. It’s too early to camp and so, after glancing at GoogleMaps, I decide that St Austell looks like a good spot for a supermarket and to reevaluate where to cam p over a fizzy drink. There was no doubt that it had been a long hard and hilly day. But because the weather had cleared and also because the roads were good, it was all pleasure ( with a hint of Bum and. Knee pain)

At 60miles I found myself pitching up at a campsite. all I wanted was to shower, eat and sleep. (And poo). It therefore made sense to trade ‘wilderness’ for ‘security’ by opting for a campsite – #PleasantStreamsFarmCamping.

the next day I cook up, wash up and pack up in record time. For the first time I tell google to ‘direct me to Lands End’. I follow the A390 to Turo. Google then again suggests A30. Ie the M5 in disguise . It’s a near death trap. . technically it’s a dual carriageway (a road) but is nothing short of a motorway. A quick look at the contours of the B roads is enough for me to risk it. I clip in and head to Hayle. The road is treacherous and even now, upon reflection,I wouldn’t ever recommend it to anyone on a bike.

Take your time and be safe.

Thankfully I make it then to Penzance, past the end of the railway line and on to Lands End. The hill continue to roll under to tyres in the mid afternoon air. Finally at about two miles out I’m on the final descent into Lands End. My eyes then uncontrollably swell and floods of tears wash across my ace. The adventure pours out. All my adventures pour out. I’m utterly overcome. Transcended, for a moment, to a moment of harmony and gratitude with the universe. I’ve arrived not only at Lands end but at a new chapter.