Day Six: Embracing the Wilderness

It was a cold night as the wind howled away, but I didn’t care. I loved it. It felt just as adventurous out there on the moors as it did in Uganda or camping in the Amazon. It was just me and my backpack, the vastness of nature, and the relentless wind-a perfect recipe for adventure.

It’s just after 6 a.m. when I wake. The tent is still, as is my mind, until I’m haunted by my feelings of yesterday’s poor performance. I’m still tired, yet I know I need to start early and cover more miles today.

I open my tent to find a wild horse less than five meters away. We exchange long stares; she’s inquisitive but not intrusive. It’s the perfect start to the day, a moment of silent connection with the wild.

On the Road Again: Renewed Energy and Rolling Hills

I pack up my tent and continue following the disused railway line toward Tavistock. My bike, my legs, and my energy feel incredible as I cross off the first few miles. #lovetheflatearthidea. I’m pumped, not just for life but for this #Adventure. Despite the morning air being cool, it’s not that cold once you get going. I quickly warm up and push southwest through the tiny villages-through Gully Worthy, over to Callington, and into Bodmin.

The exhilarating rush of a smooth ride through scenic countryside feels like the essence of freedom, its how i feel the earth feels as she glides around the sun spinning freely.

It’s here, in Bodmin, that my energy starts to dip. I’m 50 miles in and realise that a banana and a can of beans only go so far. Spotting a corner shop, I binge hard on the world’s best Cornish pasty. It’s too early to camp, so after glancing at Google Maps, I decide St Austell looks like a good spot for a supermarket stop and to reevaluate where to camp over a fizzy drink. It’s been a long, hard, and hilly day, but with the weather cleared and the roads good, it’s all pleasure (with a hint of bum and knee pain).

A Needed Respite: Choosing Comfort Over Wilderness

At 60 miles, I find myself pitching up at a campsite. All I want is to shower, eat, sleep, and, frankly, use a proper bathroom. It makes sense occasionally to trade the wilderness for the security of 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 Land’s End.” I follow the A390 to Truro, and Google then suggests the A30-the M5 in disguise. It’s a near-death trap. Technically, it’s a dual carriageway (A road), but it’s 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.

Reaching the Goal: Land’s End and Emotional Release

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