02/06/2026
THE NEXT MOUNTAIN TO CLIMB…EVEREST x 1.5
Taking this time out has given me a chance to look ahead.
The next 1800 kilometres that could make or break this challenge.
The next stage, from Kirkcudbright to Connah’s Quay, Wales doesn’t worry me too much.
It’s 582 kilometres with 2,890 metres of climbing. An ascent density of just under 5 metres per kilometre.
Achievable and well within the trike’s capabilities.
After that, though, things start to change.
Wales 🏴
Then the South West England.
And suddenly the numbers become much harder to ignore.
The Welsh coast alone stretches for 833 kilometres and packs in 8,260 metres of climbing.
Almost three times the climbing of the next stage.
Nearly an entire Everest from sea level.
Then comes the South West.
Just 436 kilometres in distance from Chepstow to Lands End but another 5,240 metres of climbing.
Steeper overall than Wales.
Where every descent is followed immediately with another climb.
Together, Wales and the South West amount to 1,269 kilometres and 13,500 metres of climbing.
More than one and a half Everests.
An average daily ascent density of over 10 metres of climbing for every kilometre travelled. That’s tough going!!
And that is where the anxiety begins.
If this journey has taught me anything, it’s that I can endure far more physically than I ever thought possible.
Burn injuries, Breathing difficulties, Pneumonia, Tyre blowouts, Mechanical failures.
Yet somehow, I have always found a way forward.
The thing that concerns me isn’t whether I can keep going.
It’s whether the trike can, going by its breakdown history riding hilly terrain such as the Pennines and the Highlands.
The reality is that I’m now on my third motor. At around £500 per motor, there won’t be a fourth.
The motor that replaced the burnt out motor back in the Highlands was faulty and may have been repaired, refurbished, or replaced entirely. I honestly don’t know? I don’t get communication from the manufacturer. I just know it’s been relatively efficient since restarting from Stornoway, through the Hebrides, West Coast Scotland and Northern Ireland.
What I do know is that if another motor burns out, that’s probably the end of the road for this setup.
That knowledge sits quietly in the background every time I look at Wales, Cornwall, or another endless sequence of climbs on the route planner.
The challenge isn’t the hills themselves.
It’s trying to solve a problem before it happens.
Do I keep riding until an inevitable motor failure finally arrives?
Or do I make a change before that day comes?
Part of me is increasingly drawn towards a bikepacking setup.
A touring bike.
A lightweight trailer for Taco.
Pure pedal power.
In many ways it would make life harder.
The physical effort would increase dramatically.
My lungs and airways would be asked to do more.
But at the same time, much of the background anxiety would disappear.
No spending hours searching for hosts simply because I need somewhere to charge batteries.
No endless calculations about ascent / range = ascent density to figure out how far can I get? Where should I attempt to find my next host? Exhausting!! 😔
No worries about overheating motors, electrical failures, replacement costs, or every steep climb carrying a financial risk as well as a psychological and physical one.
A bike wouldn’t remove the challenge.
It would simply change the challenge.
Instead of worrying about whether the motor will survive tomorrow, I would only need to worry about whether I can.
That feels simpler.
There are other trade-offs too.
Less dependence on hosts.
More freedom to camp.
More nights in nature.
More solitude.
More self-reliance.
But perhaps less human connection.
Less of the kindness-of-strangers story that has become such a huge part of this adventure.
And yet, the more I sit with it, the more I realise there are reasons I haven’t made the switch.
The trike isn’t just a mode of transport anymore.
It’s become part of the story.
People notice it.
People stop and ask questions.
People remember it.
It’s unusual on a journey of this magnitude.
It’s recognisable.
It opens conversations that might never happen if I were simply another cyclist passing through with a dog trailer.
And perhaps most importantly, Taco rides close up behind me where she can seek cute moments of reassurance with a nudge in my back with her nose.
We’re sharing this journey together.
The trike has become part of our identity on the road.
Part of what makes this adventure what it is.
So perhaps the answer isn’t to abandon it because of what might happen.
We ride.
We ride through Cumbria.
We ride through Lancashire.
We ride through Merseyside.
We ride into Wales.
We tackle the 833 kilometres and 8,260 metres of climbing.
We face Cornwall and the South West with its 436 kilometres and 5,240 metres of relentless gradients.
And we see what happens.
Maybe the motor survives.
Maybe it doesn’t.
Maybe the trike gets us the 5,000km or so back to Newcastle.
Maybe it doesn’t.
There is little point trying to solve a problem that doesn’t yet exist.
Another somewhat unrealistic option, would be to ride the trike unladen of baggage and Taco. That requires meeting people almost everyday with the time to shepherd my kit and my dog. Or, someone joins me along these sections to drive ahead of me. This would give the trikes motor the best possible chance of surviving this gruelling section of coast.
If the trike gets through Wales and Cornwall unscathed, then we keep riding and dare I say it…we might just make it all the way to Newcastle triking it!!
If it finally reaches the end of its road, then we’ll find another way.
As we always have.
For now, the decision is made.
We ride until the trike can no longer be ridden.
And then we’ll deal with whatever comes next.
After everything this journey has thrown at us, that feels like the most honest answer of all.
Riding on for good causes and turning pain into purpose: https://gofund.me/9c530776a
