[FULL EXPERIENCE] BIKEPACKING a BMX the length of the UK – John o’Groats to Land’s End

This is the full experience of when I attempted to ride the length of the UK on a BMX.
What happens when you’re 6ft6 and try to ride a tiny BMX the entire length of the UK? Well… this.
This is part one of my journey from John o’Groats to Land’s End, attempting to ride 965 miles on a 20″ BMX
The ride – https://www.strava.com/activities/14223364798

Find all the routes and gear here – https://www.keepsmilingadventures.com/

Make a route suggestion here – https://www.keepsmilingadventures.com/route-sugestions

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The gear i am currently using

The tent – https://youtu.be/n9GKHSf805E
Framebag – https://youtu.be/6LM3UJKDOEk
Seatpost bag – https://youtu.be/W1E_iWY6Ajo
Jones Handlebars – https://youtu.be/dhPBSdRros8
Gravel bike – https://youtu.be/Gnd_4LgTyrg
plus bike mtb – https://youtu.be/COTUOzLPbGk
gps device – https://youtu.be/BWeMmx62A9M
mtb shoes – https://youtu.be/OYVEnfXwT0k
All the gear from GNT – https://youtu.be/e5oKSoPoMk0
Vest bag – https://youtu.be/01nzgd-t550
Ortleib bar roll https://youtu.be/Uk9fLgS1ioo
Dynamo setup – https://youtu.be/SL7MhjB6Lp0
Questions answered – https://youtu.be/u1q9AEs9flE
Gb divide bike/gear- https://youtu.be/epcZ81wqFCo
Sonder looped bar – https://youtu.be/BqWGTxd2VaQ
Tarpstar tent – https://youtu.be/RcQoBdZSAb8

Just through the fog… the John o’Groats sign.
I can barely see the sea this morning, but this is where my next challenge starts.
Every year, loads of cyclists take on the length of the UK—John o’Groats to Land’s End. 
JOGLE.
My route will cover over 965 miles. Most people do it on touring bikes, road 
bikes, gravel bikes… something with gears. Something built for distance.
But I’m doing things a bit differently this time around.
No long seat post. No clipless pedals. One gear. One bag.
I’m riding a BMX. If I want to pedal, I’ve got to stand up.
So here we go—attempting to take my 6-foot-6 body across the length of the UK… on 
possibly the smallest bike I could’ve chosen. And I’d better get used to riding it—fast.
Because I’ve got a long way to go. And while the rest of the UK is enjoying sunshine, 
I’m heading into the thick fog of the Highlands. I carried on the long, empty Scottish roads, that 
felt extra long with the tiny wheels and still covered in fog. riding in these conditions 
on a normal bike can be a bit boring but on a bmx it was defiantly making things feel 
slow. And i was still trying to get used to how to ride this thing efficiently.
I was heading toward the Flow Country, and honestly… I wasn’t sure how a BMX was going 
to handle it. But I’d find out soon enough. Then, just like that—I hit the 
edge of the fog. One moment it was grey and silent, and the next… 
blue skies. Sunlight. Actual views. it was a bit surreal honestly just how 
quickly it went from thick fog to blue skies. i guess now would be the time to see how a 
bmx would handle a little bit of off road riding. The Flow Country’s pretty special—it’s this 
massive stretch of open moorland and peat bog, the biggest in Europe. Remote, wild, and 
definitely not designed with BMXs in mind. But the trails were dry, the skies were clear, and after a morning of riding through nothing 
but thick fog… it was a very welcome change. When I first decided I was going to do this, I 
didn’t really have any expectations. No idea how hard it’d be, how far I could go each day.
But I knew one thing for sure: every now and then, that one gear would mean a 
little bit of hiking here and there. the downhills though Even the ones that didn’t 
look like much. The ones that barely had a slope. They felt like a reward. especially 
since to pedal, I’ve got to stand up. So those downhills? id use them for as long as 
i could until i came nearly to a complete stop. Once I was back on the road—leaving 
behind the only real off-road section I’d planned—I was soaking up the sun, 
pushed along by a welcome tailwind. I knew it probably wouldn’t last 
the whole trip… but for now, I was making surprisingly decent progress.
Probably more to do with the downhill direction and the wind at my back than any 
actual BMX riding ability—but I’ll take it. Even with the help, though, it was 
still tiring work. So I made a quick stop at Baile an Or—the site of the 
Great Sutherland Gold Rush of 1869. I wasn’t there for the gold… 
just the water this time. Though who knows—maybe I drank some gold 
by accident. Might be worth a bit more now. After leaving Helmsdale—fuelled by a 
bloody good macaroni pie (trust me, they’re better than they sound)—it looked like 
the fog was starting to roll back in off the sea. And I wasn’t hanging around 
to get caught in it again. I wanted to squeeze out the last few miles 
for the day, before the cold really set in. That sea mist was creeping in quick, and the 
temperature was dropping just as fast… but I knew exactly where I wanted to spend my first 
night. so it was a late evening down the A9. It’s always a bit awkward sleeping in bird hides.
There’s that constant thought in the back of my head—what if someone walks in? But I guess there 
aren’t many bird watchers out at night… maybe. Either way, I was up and out first 
thing—back on the A9, and that’s when I saw it: my first sign for Inverness.
I took a little detour off my planned route that morning, just to ride some freshly 
laid, quieter tarmac. Totally worth it. It followed the other side of Loch Fleet—the 
same loch I’d slept beside the night before. Now that I had a bit of energy—thanks to an early morning Lidl stop—I was finally 
heading away from the busy A9. And honestly, it was a welcome relief.
The constant drone of cars flying past gets boring pretty fast, so rolling onto 
some quieter back roads felt brilliant. Even better—I bumped into another cyclist.
Of course, trying to draft someone with one gear was only ever going to end 
one way…
Yeah, didn’t last long. So it turns out the bikepacker I was chasing down 
was off on his own little bikepacking mission to Coventry—actually watches the channel.
Didn’t expect that. We ended up riding towards Inverness 
together, just chatting away. Nice surprise really. One of those little moments 
that makes the road feel a bit less lonely. By the time I’d made it across Inverness, 
it was starting to feel pretty warm. Maybe it was just the steeper hills 
kicking in—or the fact I was doing more hiking than riding at this point—but 
either way, the legs were fading fast. The roads felt endless, so I made the obvious 
call… quick stop for a classic Irn-Bru. After that, I was following the old A9, towards the cairngorms. and managed to have 
a bit of old school fun. never gets old. Carrying everything on my back meant I had 
to go as minimal as possible on this trip. So camp setup was about as simple as 
it gets—just a sleeping bag in a bivvy, and that’s it. No tent, no fuss. 
Just sleeping under the stars. At least while the weather was playing nice.
And tonight was one of those nights. After a long day of standing up and pedalling, 
it felt good to just lay back, watch the colours change in the sky, and let the tired legs rest 
while the sun disappeared behind the trees. Leaving my camp spot this morning, 
I knew it was going to be a fresh one.
But getting out of that warm sleeping 
bag… yeah, that’s always the hardest part. Still, once I was up and moving, I could tell it 
was going to be a proper good morning on the BMX. Being in the Cairngorms—or at least 
skirting around the edge of it—I was probably at one of the higher points of 
the whole ride.
So it makes sense… but the cold air brought with it one of the 
best, most beautiful mornings so far. Which definitely helped me forget 
that today was mostly uphill. It wasn’t a great sign to be picking 
up a wrist injury this early on.
And it definitely didn’t help that the next 
20 or so miles were already against me—grindy uphill roads, no relief in sight.
I basically found one position for my left hand that didn’t hurt too much… and just held it there.
That was all I could do at this point—down to one hand to go along with my one 
gear, and a long way still to go. After that slow, painful morning, finally reaching the top of the hill was 
the best feeling ever.
Honestly—pure relief. The only problem now? The bike lanes 
heading down were really narrow.
And the brakes on this BMX… yeah, they weren’t 
exactly filling me with confidence. But in the end, I just kind of threw 
caution to the wind—and went for it. I think I already knew what was coming, really.
Turns out those long, endless climbs—somehow—are a bit easier on a BMX.
Okay, “easier” might be 
pushing it… but the short, steep ones?
Yeah, those meant literally pushing it. Off the bike. Walking.
I was being fuelled by ice lollies, Pringles, and grapes though
so i just kept 
moving forward—and it was getting hot. If I had any hope that getting to Perth was going 
to be an easy pedal…
Yeah, I was fooling myself. The next 20 miles were anything but easy.
“Slow 
and steady” definitely comes to mind. And if you’re thinking finally reaching Perth 
might mean a bit of a break—well, not quite. As I rolled in along the river, I was greeted 
with my first real issue with the BMX… Waking up to my natural alarm clock this 
morning, I was pretty excited for the day ahead. Not just because I was waking up 
right by the beautiful Loch Leven, which—first thing in the morning—was 
absolutely stunning. But today was also going to be significant. If all went 
well, I’d be crossing the Fourth Bridge and heading south of Edinburgh—closer and 
closer to that Scotland-England border. A groggy mind and a sluggish body—that’s 
what I was dealing with today. It was nice to be heading south of Edinburgh, 
sure, but that also meant getting through a lot of traffic.
And with my groggy mind, 
I really wasn’t feeling it at all. most of today i think i just shut my brain down.
All I wanted was to get through this last stretch and get back into the 
countryside as fast as possible I was now under 100 miles from 
the Scotland-England border—well within touching distance.
South of Edinburgh, the mountainous terrain was gone, 
and rolling farmland was opening up. Which, as I’d already figured out by now, 
meant harder work on this tiny little bike. No more endless long descents.
Now, 
every mile would be worked for. Today honestly just felt like it went on and on.
I think a big part of that i had been following close to the motorway for so long now.
Even though 
the roads I was on were quiet, I could still hear that constant drone of cars just over my shoulder.
The wide, open roads felt endless—and it was starting to wear me down.
Pedalling was 
becoming tedious. Soul-destroying, really. A couple cranks of the pedals… 
then coast… then repeat. I can’t say the Burger King really snapped me out 
of the groggy mood I was in… but the rinse off in a nice cold river
and finally reaching the top 
of this endless, draggy climb. Definitely helped From here, I’d get to slowly descend for what 
felt like forever.
These long descents were so helpful for getting distance covered on 
this bike they lated ages but not to steep. But now it was also getting late, and I needed 
to find somewhere to camp.
The problem? I was still so close to the motorway.
Decent spots were few and far between—and wherever I did end up, it 
was definitely going to be a noisy night. It had been a pretty noisy night with 
the motorway so close,
but surprisingly, I actually slept alright—and woke 
up feeling a little better today. That said, it was another freezing cold 
morning,
and getting out of the sleeping bag was, once again… less than fun.
But once I was back on the road, I had it all to myself.
Riding this quiet 
stretch that runs parallel to the motorway, still heading slightly downhill.
And just as I got moving, the sun started to rise.
Which honestly, 
couldn’t have come soon enough. While I was sat there eating my pancakes—yes, they were definitely pancakes—a couple of guys 
rode past.
They looked like they were on their own mission, and I couldn’t help myself…
I had to go and see what they were up to After a little chat with the guys on their 
old-school folding bike mission across the UK, I shot off and headed toward Gretna.
By the time I got there, the sun was properly warming things up—and yep, I was 
back on the ice lollies.
But more importantly, Gretna meant one big thing:
I was 
crossing the border back into England. That’s right—I’d actually pedalled 
a BMX across the length of Scotland. With that milestone ticked off, I 
kept pushing on toward Carlisle, finding a nice little cycle 
path that followed the river. And somehow—somewhere along the way—the two guys 
on the folding bikes must’ve slipped past me again.
I caught up with them while one of them was 
fixing a puncture, so I stopped to lend a hand… …and when I tried to pick up one 
of their bikes—OMG.
They were heavy as hell. It seemed to be a day of 
meeting people—
and this time, I bumped into a roadie who was out 
training to ride every county in the UK. We got chatting, and I ended up getting dragged up 
the hills with him for a while,
which definitely helped take my mind off what I was actually doing.
Because ahead of me… was a bit of a mammoth climb. The BMX definitely felt out of place in these 
hills,
but once I made it to the top, the descent toward Kendal was so worth it.
So much fun. I was happy this morning—not only was I dry,
but 
getting away from some of the busier roads was a welcome change,
even if there was the 
odd little hike on the steep stuff. But with the weather looking like it was on 
the turn,
I just wanted to keep making the good progress I had done every day so far.
So, a quick stop to pick up supplies for the day,
and I’d be jumping on the canal a little 
earlier than expected to head towards Lancaster. “Heading towards Preston, I could already 
feel today was going to be a painful one. Not just with my wrist still giving me grief, but now heading into the busy Midlands, with all 
the stop-start traffic to deal with as well.” I managed to find my way back onto the route,
but 
today… my wrist was in a real bad way.
I’d kind of been able to ignore 
it up until now, just crack on with it,
but today it was properly painful.
And riding along the canal wasn’t helping—
the BMX doesn’t exactly absorb the bumps,
and 
every little knock just made it worse. For now, all I could do was take a couple of pills
and hope the pain and swelling would ease off. The rest of the day was just a case of 
gritting my teeth and getting on with it as I made my way around the 
outskirts of Manchester. At this point, I was starting to think 
that everyone who kept telling me the rain was coming was lying—
because 
it was yet another beautiful morning. It was another day though where 
I was still between the built-up areas,
which meant dealing with the 
morning traffic on occasion.
But my main priority today was just trying 
to take the pressure off my wrist. I managed to find a nice trail called 
the Biddulph Valley Way,
which was half uphill and half downhill, and nice 
and easy to follow.
The pressure was really on though to get through 
the miles and push past Birmingham today. I’d been on the canal for what felt like forever—
whether I actually 
had or not, I’m not too sure. With the wind in my face and riding a 
BMX,
it kind of felt like I was the sail on a boat.
Progress was slow going.
And if it wasn’t for the pain in my wrist,
I think I might’ve actually enjoyed the 
canals a bit more.
But every little bump, rut, or vibration through the bars
just sent 
a jolt of pain straight into my wrist. I did get a bit of shelter from the wind though
as 
I passed through Cannock Chase—
the trees giving me a bit of a break
before I had to try and figure 
out how to navigate my way through Birmingham. After a while of following the 
Sustrans signs,
I just gave up and started following the road signs 
instead.
It turned out to be a right call,
somehow, I made my way through the 
rubbish-filled streets of Birmingham. I’m not quite sure how,
but I managed 
to clock another 97 miles today.
And for the first time on this ride—
a proper 
bed and a shower, thanks to my sister. Starting out this morning, I 
was actually feeling clean and fresh—
a rare combo on this trip.
And knowing I was only about 300 miles from the end
of this epic 
challenge
was a pretty good feeling. What made it even better
was that I was now 
riding on much more familiar roads—
quieter, flowier, easier to ride.
The kind of roads 
that let you just relax a little bit. And to top it all off,
I’d still somehow 
managed to dodge the rain…
at least for now. Maybe it was the shower, maybe the good 
night’s sleep—
but I was having an absolute blast today.
The wrist felt a little better 
too—at least the swelling had eased off.
With a slight tailwind, I was happily cruising 
along the canal,
almost forgetting I was riding a BMX.
That’s how good the day had been.
But of course, something had to come along and spoil it.
I patched up a punctured tube, lost 
my twig mate from the Cairngorms,
and just as I got rolling again, the rain 
finally made an appearance.
Only a quick shower, but the skies were starting to turn,
and it looked like the 
night might not be so kind. So I made the call to find shelter while 
I still could—
and ended up tucked in the doorway of a little church for the 
night.
Turned out to be a wise move. I really didn’t want to leave my little church 
doorway this morning.
The wind was absolutely brutal.
It was meant to be a flat stage of 
the journey—
but even then, I found myself having to get off and hike at times
just 
because of the sheer power of the headwind. I could see the bridge to Wales off 
in the distance—
not crossing it, just a familiar sight from past adventures.
But 
today, even that felt out of reach.
Progress was slow, every pedal stroke a bit of a battle.
This was turning into the toughest day of the trip so far.
Any challenge up to this point?
Yeah, 
that was starting to feel like a warm-up When I left that church doorway 
this morning,
I just assumed the whole day was going to be rainy, 
windy,
and downright miserable. But you know what?
Yeah, the wind 
was still trying to push me back the way I’d come—
but at least the rain had 
passed,
and the sun was starting to shine. I started following the Strawberry Line 
across the Mendips—
probably the easiest way to cross it, if I’m honest,
especially 
today…
and of course, especially on a BMX. All the hard work today battling across the 
Somerset Levels was finally starting to pay off.
The wind began to ease up a bit,
which meant 
I could actually enjoy the last of the flat lands. After all, I was getting closer and 
closer to Devon and Cornwall—
the final two counties,
and both absolutely 
notorious for their relentless steepness. So I made the most of this 
last flat evening,
knowing full well what was waiting just around the corner. I could definitely tell I was getting 
closer to Devon now—
the lanes were getting narrower, the hedges taller.
I had one last canal to follow: the Grand Western Canal,
which would 
carry me over the border and into Devon. That meant I only had two 
counties left to cross.
So, rolling into Tiverton, I knew it 
was time to start preparing for those hills…
which obviously meant 
hitting up the Lidl bakery first So after stuffing my face at the Lidl bakery 
i come to the first climb… At this point, with the long days stacking up behind me, I 
think I might’ve been losing the plot a bit… This old railway line-turned-cycle-route 
traces along the northwestern edge of Dartmoor, and it’s probably one of the most scenic 
and gentle ways to get close to the moor without being chewed up by its infamous 
hills. With the rugged dartmoor on my left and the epic rolling countryside 
of devon on my right it was is magical. And you know what else felt magical 
selecting the last part of this route on my garmin which meant just 100 miles to go 
after 10 days of riding this bmx across the uk. I’d started to become one with this little 
bike between my legs.
Sure, it wasn’t always the easiest thing to ride — especially on climbs 
— but I was honestly loving it.
Even the grind up to Minions, which is a proper climb at the best 
of times, felt like something I could take on. And once you reach the top… wow. You’re greeted 
by this wide, open landscape of Bodmin Moor, with old tin mine ruins scattered across the 
hills.
It’s really something special — rugged, I couldn’t believe it — actually, I kind of 
could.
Back when I met those guys with the folding bikes, we joked that you always get 
a flat when it’s raining. 
And here I was, just 50 miles from the finish, in the rain with 
a flat, on day 11 of riding a BMX the length of the UK… waking up to rain, fog, and wind.
Of course this is what it had come down to.
But today was the day — it had to be. I was 
going to finish this thing.
And yeah, it looked like it was going to be a proper miserable 
end…
There was only one thing that could fix that. I genuinely thought about scootering 
the BMX the last 10 miles to Land’s End… But with it being Easter weekend, 
I just didn’t have the time. There was no way I could get there and 
back again before the last train home. So the BMX made it so close 
— like, painfully close. Ten. Miles. Short.
I’d ridden a BMX almost the length of the UK. Through the Highlands, 
the cities, the wind, the rain, the wrist pain, the ice lollies, and everything in between.
It wasn’t perfect.
It wasn’t easy.
But it was definitely one of the best things I’ve ever done.
And this little bmx well what a story it has made.