John O Groats to Lands End
It is June 1994 and after a few days preparation all bikes are loaded on the trailer ready for the long journey from Grimsby to John O Groats.
The bikes hoping to complete the run, which is going to be done in 24 hours non stop, are a 1935 Norton ES2 and a Royal Enfield Constellation.
The crew are Jim and Stuart Allen, his wife Sharon and Trevor Robson and John Walsham. Jim is riding his Norton and Stuart on the Constellation with Trevor and John sharing the driving in the car with the trailer following.
We set off from Holton le Clay and the sun was shining. This gave everybody a good feeling about the run. A stop was planned on the first night at Pitlochery so that we didn’t wear ourselves out in one long run up.
Getting up the next morning in our B+B, the sun was out and the birds singing. It’s funny how one can be lulled into a false sense of security. It doesn’t look very far on the map from Pitlochery to John O Groats but when you get going you soon start to realise how far it is to the top of Scotland and then the realisation of the task you have set yourself soon starts to hit home.
It was about mid afternoon when we got to our B+B and got the bikes unloaded. The Norton was fired up and a brief run up the coast to Dunnet head to see the lighthouse and to test the bike out was the order of the day. Stuart did not take his bike out he said it was ok. I enjoyed the ride after all them hours in a car. The scenery is very good and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, nor was it cold. The Orkney Isles seem that close you could almost feel you could touch them. Haggis was for tea and very nice it was. Then it was a brief walk down to the Hotel and a look at the next days start line and the Hotel.
The next day was much cooler and very cloudy. The bikes were checked over after a hearty breakfast and the unwanted items stowed in the car and trailer coupled up. 
We made are way to the start line and got there for about 9.30am. We decided to wait until 10.00am as this seemed like a nice round number to start on. We got someone in the hotel to witness our start time and on 10.00 we were off.
The bikes sounded great but I was aware that the old girl had to do nearly a thousand miles in the next 24 hours, so a good ear was kept on all things rattling. (All Nortons rattle, it is the irregular rattles that you are listening for). The pace was good at about 45-50mph. We got our first traffic jam at Wick but soon got through it. We hit that nice coast road and enjoyed the scenery. Not much traffic and the weather wasn’t too bad. After about 50 miles a thud was felt on my left foot. It was a surprise and it took a few more seconds to realise what had happened. The Horn had vibrated loose and had hit my foot. The weight of the Horn had snapped the wires and it had come bouncing off. The breakdown car was some way behind and they had not seen the incident. The horn could not be lost and so a full-scale search was ordered. Up and down the road we went looking for this thing and still the clock was ticking on our run. About 20 minutes later a shout was heard from Wally (John), he had found the horn about 300 yards back down the road in a field with some sheep. This was put into the car and we set off. The weather had started to turn a bit funny and very cold. Not bad for June I thought.
About three hours in and all was not well. We were getting near the Cromaty Firth and the ammeter started to make some odd discharge readings, almost bending the needle. Looking down I could see smoke coming out and small flames licking about the underside of the carb coming from the dynamo. I immediately pulled over and got off. The flames died down but I still turned the petrol off and pulled the wires off the battery. It appeared that the nut had come loose on the end of the dynamo and seized the dynamo up from turning by jamming the nut against the inside of the magdyno cover. On the early three brush dynamos a clutch was not present between the mag and the dynamo. The dynamo had seized up due to the nut and stripped the fibre wheel before milling its way through the Lucas King of the road badge in the cover. This was a major set back as the battery for the lights was only small and we were going to be riding through the night on motorways. We had brought along a flashing pushbike rear light for emergency. This was duly strapped to the back of my belt but the question of the headlight was worrying me. A decision was made and that was when it got dark Stuart was to ride in front and I was to stay behind him 
and the car and trailer was to ride at the rear to act as back marker.
Off we went again and it wasn’t long before another problem was rearing its ugly head. Why me I thought, every conceivable check had been made on this bike but I was forgetting it was nearly 60 years old. When people take their bikes out for a Sunday run they only cover, maybe, a couple of hundred miles over the entire day, not pushing their bike to do a thousand miles to a time limit. The weather started to get very cold as we started to get near Aviemore. It started to snow, this really put the mockers on my spirit but I kept telling myself it should get warmer soon as we headed south. A brief stop in Pitlochery at the petrol station and the problem was sorted; a quick change of plug was all that was needed. Ever since I have had the bike I have found out that the bike starts good on one grade of plug but runs better on another once warm, I don’t usually bother but this was continual use so it had to be right.
About tea time and we start to get near Glasgow and the rain is starting to come down in bucket fulls. The sort of rain that bounces off the road. The traffic is starting to get very heavy and I am now very fed up and wishing I were at home with my wife and kids. It is getting a bit dark although it is June and so Stuart goes into the lead.
The Norton has a panel tank and that means we were limited by the amount of fuel we could put into the tank. It holds just 2 gallons; we had been told that the filling stations on the motorway from Glasgow all the way down to Exeter were at 50-mile intervals, so it was decided to stop at every second one the first one being just south of Glasgow.
The journey out of Scotland was a psychological boost. It somehow felt like you were travelling down hill and that the hardest bit of the journey had been completed. The traffic started to ease a bit and a steady rhythm of the engine beat was obtained. A recorded speed on my Speedo said I was doing between 60-70mph, varying a bit depending on whether we were going up or down hill. The light started to fade and I was beginning to worry a bit about the lack of illumination to the front of the bike. Trevor tucked the car and trailer in behind me just close enough to stop the uncaring car drivers from cutting in between us and just far enough away to react if anything happened. The road seemed endless, just mile after mile of mind numbing boredom. The first petrol station was reached and we just carried on passed, Another 50 miles to go before the next one. Eventually we arrived at our welcome rest stop. It took just 2 gallons and according to the car Speedo it was about 100 miles from the last stop. With simple maths, which is all I was about capable of, I concluded that the bike was doing 50 miles to the gallon, not bad but not brilliant, I thought I would be getting at least 70mpg.
We set off again, all refreshed after a quick cup of coffee and a Mars bar. The road was dark and miserable and it was still cold and raining heavy. The water had got inside my rain suit, dripping off the back of my helmet and down into my collar. Why don’t helmet manufacturers put little gutters on the bottom to channel the water away from the back and around to the sides where it can land on your shoulders and get blown away?
It was nearly 12 hours since the eagerness to start had been present and we were travelling down this cold dark motorway. The hills, to me, seemed like big giants staring down on me and that was when the worst thing of all started to happen. The rhythm of the engine and the wearing off of the caffeine in the coffee and chocolate started to make me feel drowsy. I can remember closing my eyes momentarily and then opening them and finding myself drifting lanes. I don’t know why I woke up but something told me to. I think it was the fact that I had slackened my grip on the twist grip throttle and I had started to slow down, I must have noticed a change in engine rhythm. The experience was startling to say the least. It is a very good way to make you wake up quick. With adrenaline pumping I slowed down to about 40mph and opened my helmet, I didn’t mind the heavy rain coming into my helmet hitting my face hard and stinging, I was just glad to be alive. Falling asleep is not recommended at any time on a motorway, even more so when it is late at night in the pouring rain and with no lights.
Distances and times at this stage were a bit confusing but I think we were about 30 miles from the next petrol station. Stuart had had enough of going slow and so he sped off into the distance, probably to alleviate his boredom. With him doing this it caused me a problem, no headlight. I now rode as near as I could to the hard shoulder, sometimes drifting into it. We approached a filling station and as I looked over my shoulder what I saw made my hair stand on end (well I think it would have done if my helmet was not on). A highway patrol car was following me. That was just what I needed at this stage, points on my licence and being told to put my bike on the trailer. The patrol car followed me to the rest area where I parked up and got off my bike. The officer was very polite and very interested in the bike. I waffled on for a bit and then he asked me what I was doing out on the motorway at this time of night with no lights to speak of. I explained that my dynamo had caught fire and I had lost my lights and that my battery had just gone flat on me and the horn had fell off. I told him that I was on my way to lands end and that I was doing it for charity and trying to do it in less than 24 hours and that I had a back up car following me for my rear lights and that somebody was riding in front. To my surprise the officer wished me luck and he hoped I would make it there ok. He said it wouldn’t be long before the sun started to come up but he didn’t think the rain would stop until mid morning.
He walked away and I felt as though a big weight had been lifted from my shoulders. It was then back to business of coffee, mars bar, toilet and fuel, a long rest of 15 minutes.
When it came to starting again it was not responding, it was kick, kick, and more kick. Eventually I was exhausted so I took my helmet and gloves off, I then gave it a kick and guess what, it started. How many times have you been in that situation, you get all your gear on and go to kick it and it wont start, you get all hot and sweaty and so you disrobe, you give a half hearted kick because you are on your last legs and the thing starts, what a prat you feel and always when people are looking.
The bike was started and before it had time to realise what was happening I was dressed up and ready to go. We were soon up to speed and the tired spell I had had earlier was starting to disappear. The prospect of dawn coming up and the chance of succeeding was getting my hopes up. The bike up until this point felt as though it had been running very well, given the circumstances it was being put under.
When planning a trip like this you try to put yourself into all sorts of scenarios, one of the scenarios I put myself into was how would my hand feel after holding the twist grip for such a long time. In hindsight I made the wrong decision, I thought that having a light throttle would help the situation, ease the pressure in having to grip tight and turn it. How wrong I was!! The pressure of having to maintain a grip on the throttle to stop it shutting was enormous. It soon became the only thing I could think about. In my mind I was going through allsorts of bodges and contraptions to ease the situation, their was one good thing which came from it though, it concentrated my mind that much I forgot the riding and monotony of the bike and I nearly forgot to stop at the next fuel stop just north of Exeter on the M5.
At this stop we decided to have some breakfast. My belly was rumbling and so we all went in for a nice cooked breakfast. About 1 hour later, half an hour longer than we had planned we came out ready to go again. The reason that we took so long is that we all fell asleep at the table. None of us knew we had fallen asleep until we woke up, strange how it catches up with you.
Stuart was ready for the off but my old girl would not start. We kicked and we pushed. Running around a car park at 4.30 in the morning other people in the car park were not amused. I looked at the plug and checked for spark and fuel but it still would not start. We decided to send Stuart on his way so that at least one of us would make it. He went off and I still looked at my bike. I decided to check the valve clearances and that is when I discovered that I didn’t have any on the exhaust valve. It came back to me that a few months before the run the head had been off and a hardened valve seat fitted in the exhaust side. The old valve was very worn and so a new valve had been sourced. An exact fit was from a Perkins diesel engine, this was duly fitted and tried and found to be ok, or so we thought. (We later found out that the valve was made of too soft a metal) The valve had started to pull through its valve seat and so we were loosing compression, the tappet had to be adjusted but now the problem was that in order to get the valve to shut on its seat it was going to have to move further than the tappet adjuster would allow. The Norton is open valve gear and so the tappets were removed. What I needed was some washers to pack up the rocker arms to give more clearance. Their never is an RAC or AA van around when you want one, so it was off to look at the road signs to see if we could find any loose washers. None were found so we improvised with some locking wire wrapped around the rocker studs to pack it up. To my amazement it worked, we also noticed that the battery carrier had cracked with vibration and now that it was daylight we could safely remove the battery, during the operation to remove the battery a bungee strap sprang off and hit me just above the eye. It really hurt and stung.
We were soon racing down the M5 towards Exeter and the A30 for our final push. We had lost about 2 hours at that stop and Stuart was miles ahead of us.
The Norton felt like a different bike and the rest had done my hand a world of good.
Exeter came and went, we had no time for sight seeing their was a mission to accomplish and I was determined that I was going to do it now after all we had been through. A new dawn a new day I thought as I sped along the A30, passing all the cars I could, leaving my backup car and trailer in the distance behind
It had stopped raining and I felt optimistic, my usual self. Getting near Indian Queens there is a rise in the road and at the top I could make out some people stood by the side of the road with a bike. As I got closer I could see that it was Stuart, his face looked like thunder, he had been pushing the Constellation and a rumbling come dull knocking noise had developed. He had stopped to check the bike out and to let it cool down a bit. I stopped and asked if he needed any assistance and told him Trevor and Wally would be along shortly, he said he would be fine and that he would catch me up, so I went on my way, almost smelling success. That last part of the journey seemed almost never ending, I could have sworn somebody was moving Lands End further away. Penzance seemed to have every traffic light set to red and I got every Sunday driver in Cornwall out in front of me. The roads just got narrower and slower until it felt like the fighting spirit had been knocked out of me with frustration.
Then I could see the sign for Lands End and it was full steam ahead. I found the finish line and quickly parked up. Nothing was open, no one about. I dashed around looking for a phone box so that I could ring home. I was so pleased to be there I just needed to ring my Liz (my wife) to tell her I had made it. I had no idea of the time. I saw someone go into a small Post office near the car park so I dashed in there to ask what time it was and to ask for a phone. They said it was 9.52am. I was so relieved, a warm feeling of satisfaction came over me that I had accomplished what I had set out to do. Stuart rolled up just before 10.00am with Trevor following behind with the trailer. Trying to find a public phone was a real ordeal in itself. I knew Trevor had one of them new mobile phones but in Scotland the signal was very weak so assumed it would be here. Eventually I did find a public phone and was able to phone home at about 10.30am.
I hadn’t noticed that when I got off my bike that I couldn’t open my fingers. The pain had gone and my hand was set in a claw like position. It took quite a few days for the fingers to come straight again.
A partially loose big end pin causing the crank to be slightly out of alignment caused the extra vibration on the Norton, I was lucky it did not blow the engine up, testimony to how strong these engines were made.
We all went up to our B+B just up the coast, a welcome shower and rest. I think I slept most of the afternoon.
The next day the bikes were loaded back onto the trailer for the journey home. I was glad I was not riding the bike back, my hand and wrist were very painful and so were my hips and thighs.
The route we took from John O Groats was a simple one; it was down through Wick on the A99 and then down to join the A9. This took us to near Glasgow where the road numbers changed about a bit; it was the A80 then M73and M74. This road went down to the A74M and eventually into the M6. Next the M5 to Exeter and then the A30 to Penzance, after this a small B road up to Lands End.
The mileage was about 970, give or takes a few and it took 23 hours 52 minutes.
It probably would have been done quicker if it weren’t for the breakdowns, I think around the 18 hours mark.
I am not going to try to find out though. I have learnt the hard way that riding a bike in the cold and rain late at night around your normal bedtime and on a boring road can be quite dangerous. Sleep catches up on all of us.
The ride raised us £1000.00 for Motor Neurone Disease charity.
One day I might do it again but I would like to do it over a few days with Liz taking our time.
