It took me a while to recover from the last disastrous trip. I would rather not see a repeat the previous wet nightmare. So, it is with great urgency that I carefully review today’s weather data. Every 10 minutes I refresh the page, the verdict doesn’t change: Sporadic showers in the afternoon, overcast and with some sunshine. Wind 6-8 knots from the south-west. Good enough for me. Bag is packed. The GPS device programmed and I exit unto the road. Today’s sortie is a follow up on sortie ix, an attempt at finishing what I left unfinished.

Five points, up north leading me over to Watford north-west of Heathrow. The journey takes me along a very familiar route past Clapham North, Stockwell, Oval – to Waterloo and over the bridge to Holborn and further up north. It is Sunday and the streets are fairly quiet. Soon afterwards I enter Camden, which appears out of nowhere as a Tsunami of people and voices. I quickly cycle straight through – not stopping once.

The route today takes me in the close vicinity of Barnet that I know so well. The GPS tells me that I still many miles to go, and then out of nowhere, there it is: The hill of hell to Highgate. It’s a very steep one with no end in sight. I hit the pedals hard, changing my gears and press on. Slowly. It’s a real battle; sweat purring down me, gasping for breath like an unfit leopard. I tell myself just to get off and walk the rest, but a counter argument appears informing me that if I do that it will be my first time. I ignore both voices and continue, ignoring the cars, watching the hill and eventually I reach its summit. I rest there for a couple of minutes in a victorious mood, catching my breath. Drinking some water.

Minutes later I reach the first waypoint of the day. Considering the fact that I have just climbed my highest mountain I feel remarkably well. Perhaps my legs are finally getting better after all the recent cycling. I press onwards to the next waypoint a couple of miles away and there is still no sign of rain.

My squinting eye is met with the usual blanket of off-white clouds. A Varig MD11 from Brazil is flying towards what I gather to be the Lambourne holding pattern. I watch it as it disappears in the distance. I slowly catch on to the general direction of my second waypoint of the day. The mile counter is now down to less than half a nautical. I get within 300 feet, as the point is located within the premises of a private golf club. Lots people are playing golf today. I take my picture pointing the camera in the direction of Heathrow and leave minutes later.

The next waypoint is quite a few miles away, further up north and in the general direction of Watford – the final destination of today’s sortie. I continue restlessly onwards and hit the A1. From studying satellite photographs and detailed maps at home I know that I need to follow the A1 for many miles. I don’t have to cycle on the A1, which would be insane as traffic is moving very fast. Parallel to the A1 they’ve also built a small bike and walking path – which is literally littered with garbage. Bottles, pieces of glas, discarded cigarettes. Anything that might have been thrown from a passing car is covering the path.

I continue slowly and a polite nod is shared with a fellow bicyclist who passes me along the way. A couple of miles down the road I exit the A1 and start cycling down through the quiet country streets. It reminds me of home. I rest in the gutter for some lunch. In the distance I can just about hear the traffic from the A1. Ahead of me awaits the third waypoint of the journey.

I continue my journey almost twenty minutes later towards the next waypoint, snarling my way through the bendy roads of the country area. It is very difficult to anticipate whether I am right on track or not. Eventually, after much cycling around and head scratching I locate the waypoint.

My camera is aimed at a couple of bushes as I take the picture in the direction of Heathrow. I rest for a couple of minutes. A couple of cars pass me by. Otherwise it’s very quiet here and it still hasn’t started to rain. Next up is watfo a waypoint a couple of miles away. Without drama I reach it and make my documentation of its existence while a couple of boys walk past me kicking a football around (This must be the third time that I have encountered a couple of boys playing football on my trips). As I leave, it starts to rain. I curse mother nature and it abtruptly stops.

The final destination of sortie x is in Watford town, a grim place. It takes me a bit of off-road cycling to reach the destination nested in a small residential estate. A man that I had encountered earlier and attempted to greet walks past me, looking at me with a worried gaze. I quickly finish things up and cycle into Watford town. At the train station I check the schedule. A train is due to leave in 15 minutes. I check my map but I am outside the reach of the London A-Z. I check my notes and a man walks past enquiring where I am going.

“Ehm, I am looking for A41”
“Where are you headed?”
“To Brixton or in the general direction of London. Do you what road I should get?”
He looks at me and smiles.
“When I was younger I used to do long trips on my motorcycle”. He looks at my bike. “It’s going to be a long journey”
“Yeah I know”
“Ok here’s what you do. Follow this road as long as you can”, he points right ahead, “until you reach a pub called the Alpino Pub. Make an immediate right turn and continue straight ahead, that should take you to Harrow, Wembley and Paddington and then you’re there.”
“Thanks, thanks.” I scribble down his advice. “Thanks again I appreciate it”. He smiles and walks of.

I check my GPS device and it’s pointing in the same direction. Ok, at least he’s right about that. I gather myself, get on the bike and start to cycle. Miles further down the road, right one cue is the Alpino Pub or what used to be it. Closed down indefinitely and all there is left is the name sign. I make the right turn and cycle home, another 13 nautical miles away – but I make it, exhausted and happy, the longest, hardest and most enjoyable trip for this project so far.