Sunset on a journey

A joyful day: clear skies, wind at my back (weather forecast wildly wrong again on both counts, happily). I was so glad that the weather let me see and feel the world I was passing through - Scotland's wild, beautiful north coast. It was warm, too, and the road quiet, cutting a path through the gentle colours of the landscape - purple heather, deep green grasses, rust-red moss, and grey stone. Here and there lochs reflected the sky's blue and shimmered silver and white in the morning sun, and the sea broke in roaring waves over pristine, sandy beaches. The riding was hilly, but not so difficult that I couldn't hum Wonderful World.
I bumped into the tandem pair again, looking fresh and a good deal happier. They made it to the end, by the way, bringing to a close the many strains of their journey and allowing them to go home.
I turned off the main route for a few miles to climb the little road to the cliffs of Dunnet Head, the most northerly point in mainland Britain. From there I could see as far west as Cape Wrath and east as Duncansby Head - 70 miles apart. To the north was Orkney, where I hope to go tomorrow (for a bike ride, I think). The detour to Dunnet Head (and later to Duncansby Head, the extreme north-easterly tip of the mainland) means that I'll be squeezing just a few pennies more out of those who have sponsored me by the mile (but tomorrow's trip to Orkney is off the books, so don't panic). From there, I followed back roads by the sea, past Mey Castle to the final sign: 'Welcome to John o'Groats'. I hadn't been anticipating the ending but when it came, I felt joyous and moved. Every journey is merely a series of events until it ends, when it becomes a story: a whole in which every part has a place and a meaning. It seems so long ago that I set off from Lands End, when the bike was still clean and my bottom was as soft as a white pudding (another Scottish delicacy). Raquel has been faithful to the last - no punctures or broken spokes - I knew she was no village bike, whatever people may say about her.
When I rode into John o'Groats - the tourist trap at the end of the world (apart from a friendly campsite and a wonderful restaurant, the School House), people actually greeted me, saying 'Congratulations!' and 'Well done!', which I later had the chance to say to a couple of other end-to-enders as they arrived. I got my photo taken by the signpost to Lands End and bought a bottle of Highland Park 12 year-old single malt whisky. I didn't have anything to drink from, so I took a swig from the bottle - I hope that doesn't offend any readers, but I never went to finishing school. I drank to the friends who have supported me and to the gods in many guises who've helped me along. The rest of the bottle is for anyone who has supported me, sponsored me, left comments on the blog (apart from 'Knickers Girl'), or heckled me on the way.
I put my tent up at the campsite, right on the shore overlooking the Pentland Firth (I can hear the sea now as I write this in bed, and out of the open tent door the sky is still orange at 11.30pm). By the time I'd had a shower and got changed, the sun was starting to set over Orkney and on my journey. I'd come all the way from Lands End - more than 1,200 miles over the face of an island as beautiful as any in the world, passing 60 million people - I couldn't go any further without getting wet or going home. I savoured the memories of the journey and looked out over the world still unmet, and felt I might just be the luckiest, happiest person in the world.