Dawn Rhodes - Steep Hills & Learning Curves: Cycling Lands End to John O Groats

C laiming my cycling adventures were inspired by a dream (and by dream, I mean thoughts and images occurring in the mind during sleep) will likely sound rather banal. But before I come to that, I would first like to talk about the other kinds of dreams: our cherished aspirations, ambitions, or ideals, because I believe these are at the cornerstone of everyones existence. They keep us alive, move us out of our stupor, and they can be swayed by the most unexpected event or person we encounter.

As far back as I can remember, my head had always been full of rather wild, ambitious dreams. At the age of ten, I began planning a walk from my home in Sussex to Bangor in Wales. (What can I say? It felt at the time like a far-off mystical place.) My intention was to rescue all the neglected or abandoned horses I might encounter along the way and then live in the Welsh hills, surviving on berries and other wild foods whilst my horses roamed free. I already had my route marked out in my parents road atlas, but by the time I was fifteen, my dreams had morphed. I began saving my wages from my Saturday job so that as soon as I was old enough, I could buy a van. My plan was to convert it into a campervan and join a convoy of New Age travellers. The dream I held on to involved cooking over open fires, living in a like-minded community (lots of people with dreadlocks and guitars) and sleeping out under the stars. But when I had to give up my job in order to concentrate on exams, life continued more conventionally. I went to college to study for A-levels, but there was always a part of me that was lured away by other wayward souls, who chose to consume cheap lager in the park rather than attend lectures. Somehow, I still passed my exams and then found a job working for a railway company, and I began to save my wages again. Only this time, my dream was to buy a field so I could live in a caravan and run a small holding.

Then I met a man called Jason and the pendulum of my life began swinging once again when he introduced me to the concept of long-distance cycling. On weekends, we would load our bicycles with camping gear and head for a beauty spot, but whilst I struggled up even the shallowest of ascents on my old, heavy bicycle, Jason would be miles ahead on his sleek new tourer. It was not the most promising of starts, to an activity that would become a life-long passion. But I persisted and gradually my fitness improved, and I started to enjoy cycling for the first time since childhood. I parted company with Jason just then and became entwined in another relationship. It was around this time that I had my dream.

Im stood atop a mountain road in the Scottish Highlands. I close my eyes so I can sense the world in all its splendour: the warm breeze on my skin, the sun on my face, the smell of bracken in my nostrils and the distant peee-uu call of a buzzard. I open my eyes and reach out my fingertips, longing to touch the rugged mountains in the distance. Then I pick up my bicycle and begin the long descent down this twisty mountain road. Everything feels so tranquil, and I feel so happy. More serene than at any other time I can recall.

Up until this point, Id never believed that dreams have hidden meanings. I thought they were just a persons thoughts, memories and emotions all jumbled together at night, which result in some pretty wacky images. But to believe in the sensible scientific explanation all of the time, to always hear horses not zebras, is to be in danger of becoming closed-minded. And so, not long after, when I read an interesting proposal that: dreams are answers to questions we havent yet realised we need to ask ourselves , I froze. I reread this paragraph several times, thinking, yes, I like this. I like it very much . Then I recalled not just my dream but also the holiday a few years ago, when Id first clapped eyes on the Scottish Highlands. I remembered how it had felt akin to falling in love (an affinity that clearly had not gone away), and the concept whirled around my mind that maybe the two definitions of dream were more similar than Id realised. But one thing was crystal clear: I was going to explore the Highlands by bicycle.