The Highlands. Argyle and Bute. East and South Ayrshire. Galloway and Dumfries. Cumbria. Lancashire. Warrington. Cheshire. Shropshire. Herefordshire. Powys and Monmouthshire. Gloucestershire. South Gloucestershire. Bristol. Somerset. Devon.

And so to Cornwall.

After two weeks of trekking down through the counties of England, Scotland and Wales, the end is almost in sight. I can’t quite believe how far we’ve come. Our journey up to John O’Groats seems like it took place a lifetime ago, rather than a mere fortnight; we’ve put a lot of distance between ourselves and the most north-easterly tip of the UK since then and, more importantly, created a lot of great memories.

We’ve also raised a fair bit cash for the Peter & Mary Trust, too, although we could always do with more: if you haven’t sponsored us – and I know there are many of you who haven’t got around to it yet – then please do so by using one of the methods on the Sponsor Us page. If you’re struggling to make a payment this way and would rather pay cash, then please let one of us know and we can collect it from you. Thanks! And of course, it goes without saying, a huge thank you to all who have sponsored so far. I’ll be creating a Thank You page on the blog to recognise all those who’ve supported us so far when I get back to Bristol – my patience with trying to manage the site from my iPhone is running thin, and creating new pages might just tip me over the edge!

Anyway, back to the trip: we received an additional boost this morning as we were joined by another old school friend, Martin ‘Monk’ Whitchurch, for the final push to Land’s End. I think he was a bit concerned about ‘doing a John Terry’ – turning up in full kit at the moment of glory in order to get in the photos – but it was great to have him with us! It certainly added an extra dimension to the group: we had to both rein in the crazier tendencies we’ve developed over the past two weeks (a good thing given our imminent reintegration back into normal society), and up our game to show that we hadn’t been broken by 950 miles of riding.

It was just as well, as today was another tough day in the saddle. The hills just keep on coming in this neck of the woods! If Monk was in any doubt as to how hard it is to cycle from John O’Groats to Land’s End, the climb in to (and out of) Launceston first thing will have quickly stripped those doubts away. The weather wasn’t great either: the jackets were on and off for most of the morning as we dodged the showers, before it cleared up later in the day.

In some ways, he’s not really seeing us at our best; it’s not that we’re no longer enjoying the trip, but there is definitely a sense – now that we’re so close to the finish – of us needing to get the job done. Photo stops are fewer and further between. Taking the scenic route often now gives way to the more practical concern of getting quick miles under the belt. There were still some great bits of riding – the stretch across the old airfield outside Camelford was fun, the old A30 cycle path, and the trek through the forest where progress was almost halted by a heavily pregnant pony who refused to move out of the path – but today was mostly about chalking off the miles and getting to Perranporth to enjoy our last night together before going our separate ways again.

Speaking of miles, we crossed another psychological barrier today as we crashed through the 1000-mile mark for the trip. We had wanted to record the moment on Bailey’s cycle computer by taking a photo of the counter on 999.99 miles (it resets to zero after that). But as we posed for the photo, getting the shot just right – the bonus of having an extra person with us is that they can take the role of official photographer and finally get all three of us in the frame – Bailey moved his bike a fraction of an inch and the clock ticked over. Frustrating! As you can see, our attempts to recreate the 1000 using hand signals proved less than successful. Ah well, at least we know we did it.

So, just the final matter of 30 or so miles to Land’s End tomorrow, where we’re being met by friends and families. I’m sure it’ll be emotional – although perhaps not to the same extent as other end-to-enders we’ve met en route, who’ve spoken about bursting into tears at the finish line – but we can’t wait.