Three weeks ago, I embarked on a journey of self-discovery and self-inflicted agony that would take me across the United Kingdom, from my hometown to the nation's capital. After four days of near-constant peddling, I completed a challenge I set for myself several years ago, and naturally I had to take some snaps along the way to share with you. ^__^

So, this was it. The last day. The express trains can get between Reading and London in 25 minutes, and while it would take me a lot longer, there was no way I was going to give up now, despite the aching in my legs. Come what may, I was going to make it to London, and consider this bucket list item well and truly checked off. Today's route of 61 miles would see me skirt south of Heathrow Airport, crossing the M25 London Orbital Motorway, and then cycling along the Thames to the middle of London. Today's route would be quite a bit more urban than the previous three, unsurprisingly so, but at least that meant the cycle routes would be of better quality than they were yesterday, right...? Right...?

I woke up to a rather gloomy Monday morning in Reading, but didn't let the grey clouds above dampen my spirits for the day's cycling. After an OK cooked breakfast at the hotel, I packed up my things, checked out, and was on my way by 9am. The cycle route began following the River Kennet, right up to the point where it merges with the River Thames, and lazily flows its merry way to London. Apparently, this confluence also made for a nice home for many, many geese, as I gingerly cycled past hundreds of them resting on the riverbank. The route then headed inland a little, taking me back to the A4 carriageway, which I followed up until my first stop at a roundabout just north of Twyford.

It was here I made my first route change. You see, dear reader, I'd cycled about 200 miles by this point, and my legs were not feeling great. I was, however, determined to get to London, so I decided to cut out unnecessary hills if I could help it. This would have been the first of such hills (the perhaps aptly named "Crazies Hill"), where National Cycle Route 4 goes up it, before coming right back down to the A4 again. I therefore decided to stay on the A4, it having done me a good service for getting to Reading yesterday. This I did as far as Knowl Hill, entering the Royal Borough of Maidenhead and Windsor, before turning onto a small gravel road to take me through several farms to a suburb of Maidenhead. I cycled past the wealthy houses of Cox Green to the sound of light aircraft buzzing overhead, flying from the nearby White Waltham airfield, and I mused that there must be an airshow on or something, unless people there make a habit of flying around in biplanes. :D

I arrived outside Maidenhead for my second break, and drank water as schoolkids in very smart uniforms walked past me, likely heading on their lunch break. Feeling decidedly out of place as a sweaty Welshman on a bike, I continued on my way through little villages with houses likely costing 5 times the price of my home, and crossed a bridge over the M4 motorway, which I'd started cycling next to all the way back in Port Talbot. I continued following the Thames River, and with large aircraft inbound to Heathrow soaring overhead, I made it to the city of Windsor. While I didn't see the castle up close - and therefore can't be sure if His Majesty was in residence or not - my feeling of being out of place only got stronger, so I slinked into a restaurant whose brand I recognised for some half-decent sushi and yakisoba.

Departing Windsor, I again faced another unnecessary hill. While following the route religiously would have taken me through some rather nice gardens and plantations belonging to the Royal Family, I instead opted to follow the A308, which as the A4 did before landed me in the exact same place as the cycle path would have. It also took me through two very interesting places. First, I crossed over the Long Walk, the long straight road that goes from Windsor Castle through the Windsor Great Park, with its large signs indicated that bicycles should be neither ridden nor pushed along it (I planted an imprint of the Daicycle's front wheel onto it, as a small act of rebellion :P). Second, I passed through the town of Runnymede, a name that should have been more familiar to me, but when I saw a sign for the attraction with which it is associated came right back to me. Here, 808 years earlier, Magna Carta was signed between King John and the English barons who demanded more devolution of power for themselves. Seeing that my detour on the A308 had saved me oodles of time, I stopped in the Magna Carta tearoom and helped myself to some tea and ice cream (not in the same mug, though). They even refilled my water bottle for me, which was more gratifying. Even with my stop, I arrived at my next stop at Egham half an hour ahead of schedule. And just like that, I was within the boundaries of the M25, the London Orbital Motorway.

So, that's that, then? I've made it to London, right? Can I go home now, please? :P

Not quite. I still had to make it to Paddington railway station, where a train would take me straight back home. So, with the skies having cleared by now, I pressed on to my next stop at Weybridge. Passing through Staines (teehee), I followed the river south (though couldn't see much of it) until I crossed over another motorway, this time the M3. I also hadn't realised that it was near this junction where the theme park Thorpe Park is located, so I filed that away for future knowledge before getting back underway. From here on, I was cycling almost continuously through urban and suburban areas, pedalling through Addlestonemoor, along the A317, and into Weybridge. My route plan said I should stop at the Weybridge Tennis Club, but frankly, I saw a pub first with a an outside deck overlooking the river, and thought 'why not?'. So I bought a half pint of local cider, and took a long break sitting under an umbrella, watching little boats go by on the river and large planes circling above.

The next leg to Kingston-upon-Thames would be almost entirely off-road, cycling on the south bank of the Thames. Leaving the quaint little pub, I proceeded to the cycle path to see... oh no. No. Please. Not gravel! I turned around, and followed road that almost went the same way as the cycle path for as long as I could, but in the end, it was no use. I would have to go on the cycle path to continue. At least this one was well-maintained, and the views across the river were quite nice, with houses sporting their own docks (costing 5 years' worth of my salary and probably getting flooded every other year), and lovely low arched bridges like the one pictured. I continued through Elmbridge, around Hurst Park before crossing the Thames over to Hampton Court - King Henry VIII's old palace - and following a slightly nicer cycle path to Kingston, whereupon I had to cross the river again.

Those of you reading who aren't British may not understand what I mean when I say: you know you're near central London when your cheapest dining option is a Waitrose that's inside a John Lewis. Nevertheless, that's where I ended up getting my dinner, telling myself that I wouldn't look at my wallet for the next few weeks. Food consumed, I proceeded on the penultimate leg of my journey across the nation. From Kingston, the quality of the cycle path drastically improved, and at the Teddington Lock Jumps I turned right to cycle through Ham, and into the vast green Richmond Park. It was quite surreal cycling through a green space inhabited by wild deer on the west side of London, with only the occasional glimpse of distant tower blocks and the throngs of other cyclists giving the game away. This would be the last green space I traversed, as afterwards I made my way through Barnes and made it back to the river, for one final stretch of gravel before my second-to-last stop on this whole journey - Putney Bridge. I took my final water break, imagined the 'Warthog Run' theme from Halo 3 playing in my head, and set off.

This last leg of the cycle ride was very much Central London cycling, passing through Fulham, Chelsea, and Kensington. I'm aware that London has a bit of a reputation when it comes to cycling, with stories of unobservant cyclists and drivers alike. Well, having cycled through Central London, I can attest from my experience that the cyclists are the problem. Going through reds, cycling on pavements, off pavements, no indicating, weaving through moving traffic. They were even worse on the electric bikes, needing to get from A to B with very little regard for their own safety or of those around them. It was a drastic change from cycling along little country roads, where septuagenarian couples in cars from the 1980s would hesitate to pass you on a 2-mile long stretch of straight road with no oncoming traffic. Nevertheless, I survived, passing the Wandsworth and Battersea bridges, and turning left at the Chelsea bridge to head north towards my final destination.

I took a couple of wrong turns and ended up in South Kensington, though this gave me the chance to cycle past the Natural History Museum and the Victoria and Albert Museum, outside of which a very nice Rolls Royce was parked (photo maybe to be shared at a later date). I struggled pedalling uphill through Knightsbridge and through Hyde Park. But then one right turn, two right turns, and I was on Praed Street. There is was: Paddington.

I filmed the moment of my approach into the station (on foot, because one shouldn't cycle in railway stations). I locked up the Daicycle, and found the GWR First Class lounge... what, you didn't think I was heading home in coach, did you? I availed myself of their free tea, fruit juice, and snacks for the next couple of hours, briefly interrupted as I ventured out to the Mad Bishop and Bear station pub for a hearty plate of bangers and mash. Before long, it was time to head home. I retrieved the Daicycle, locked it in place on the train, found my first class seat, and promptly passed out.

It was about 1am by the time the train pulled into Port Talbot. 1 mile left on my grand journey. I willed my burning legs to push on, just a little bit more, only this time meaning it sincerely. I turned onto my street to see the strawberry moon low in the sky, shining brightly. What a sight by which to be welcomed home! I got inside, locked my bike away, dragged myself upstairs, and passed out for a second time, this time on my own bed.

Hope you enjoy!