‘…a seemingly endless continuum of inner tubes, daffodils and cows.’

There I was. Having cycled ahead of Izzy, I’d reached the top of a hill and could see John O’Groats about half a mile away. Having planned this moment every night for nine weeks, right down to what music would be playing inside my head, it was hard to believe that we were almost there. However, my Tim-Robbins-at-the-end-of-the-Shawshank-Redemption moment of glory was curtailed slightly when Izzy caught up to tell me that it wasn’t John O’Groats.

Having prematurely blown my victory fuse, our arrival at the real John O’Groats was a slightly muted experience. It’s not like I was expecting the Emerald City or anything, but it’s disappointing after such an epic adventure to end up somewhere that’s tackier than getting married at Butlins. No sudden rushes of excitement. No internal fireworks. All we really did when we got there was pay 20p to use the toilets when I didn’t even need to go, and eat muffins.

However, the knowledge that I was now vastly superior to my friends induced a quiet satisfaction, and after sending out a mass text to let everyone know we had arrived, I sat back and waited for the congratulatory messages of love to come flooding in. Messages like ‘I forgot you were away’.

Obviously there was also the relief that it was over. Nine weeks. That’s a whole series of Big Brother. No weekends. No punctuation. After losing track of the days, Chasing Spring had become a seemingly endless continuum of inner tubes, daffodils and cows. And with virtually no meaningful contact with anybody other than each other for 65 days, cabin fever had definitely set in.

But despite this, Chasing Spring has truly been a once in a lifetime experience. Besides all the amazing things we got up to, it’s instilled in me a real sense that I should embrace life a bit more. It’s also left me in a state of physical fitness hitherto thought impossible for someone who spends so much of his free time horizontal.

So that’s it. I went and did something so far off my radar that before we started you may as well have asked me to give birth. And I’m dead chuffed.

Waste of 20p, though.

‘...like dragging an elephant through quick drying cement…’

David vs. Goliath. Cloud vs. Sephiroth. Seal Team 6 vs. Osama Bin Laden. All brilliant battles, I'm sure you'll agree. But they didn't have anything on our fight against Mother Nature yesterday morning, which left us battered, bruised and asleep in a deserted pub on top of a mountain. Definitely the hardest day so far, what should have been a triumphant ‘almost made it’ journey felt like dragging an elephant through quick drying cement. And that was downhill.

It's not all bad though. Over the last 200 miles the scenery has become increasingly epic, with all the amazing sights feeling like our reward for making it this far. Money would have been better, but we'll settle for seeing mountains placed against an iridescent midnight sky, because at this latitude the sun doesn't completely set.

One slightly less romantic aspect of the scenery is that every time a car passes us on a twisty mountain road, which isn't often, the whole landscape seems to transform into a car advert. You know the one, with the car, and the mountain. Pretty much every car ad ever made. That's what the second half of Chasing Spring will look like.

Despite a general dearth of human beings this far north, there has still been plenty to do. The last few days have been the usual string of seemingly random events, ranging from me lumber-jacking a proper big tree, to acquiring a mysterious and completely unexplained black eye. That was a little worrying – It’s not nice to think that you’re exerting yourself so hard that things have started to explode inside your head.

Looked great, though.

‘Nobody wants to be that guy who punched a deer…’

In a scene reminiscent of that bit in Stand By Me when Gordie comes across a deer in the forest, Izzy and I came across a deer in the forest. However, unlike Gordie, for whom the experience was so profoundly moving and personal he didn't tell anyone about it, I need something to write about in my blog. Despite being an awe inspiring moment as it held us in its gaze, there was the slight fear that it could suddenly decide to charge at any moment. What would we do? Nobody wants to be that guy who punched a deer.

So it was with a sense of quiet relief that we made it out of the forest and began the journey to Inverness, happy that the risk of having a pair of antlers involuntarily packed in to my bum had decreased slightly.

Whilst there we took a trip to Loch Ness, whistling the Family Ness theme tune along the way (does anyone else remember that?). We also managed to get an interview with a guy who has dedicated his entire life to pursuing his childhood obsession - Nessie. Having sold his home and left his girlfriend, he now lives right at the waters edge in a disused mobile library, his actual job being to record 'sightings'. Whatever you think about that, he had some guts, and it was strangely inspiring to meet someone so dedicated to their dream and unafraid of ridicule. He's been on the telly and everything.

Disappointingly, although unsurprisingly, we didn't manage to film any Loch Ness monsters ourselves. Instead we had a heated debate about the possibility of such creatures, which then for some reason turned into an argument about ghosts. Most of my conversations end like that.

Back at the hostel I found myself sharing a room with someone who made it very clear they were attracted to me. 'Yusss!!!' would be the normal reaction (not out loud), although unfortunately, rather than it being a beautiful young lady, it was an elderly man of about 80.

Clearly impressed by what we were doing, he spent much of the night flirtatiously leaning against my bed, lavishing me with compliments. Saying our farewells this morning, there was an awkward moment when he clasped both my hands in his and looked like he was expecting a goodbye kiss. No thanks. Nine weeks is a long time, but I'm not at that point. Not yet, anyway.

‘…the 1000-mile mark…’

On Monday we decided to break 8 weeks of abstinence in style - by visiting the Glenfiddich distillery in Dufftown. Not before a slightly confusing phone call from mum though - 'For God's sake be careful, you know what whisky does to you!’ Whatever it was she was referring to, I was obviously too pissed at the time to remember. We were given a great tour, which evoked memories of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - only with less fat kids. The gorgeous, heady aroma of the distillery went straight in to my top 5 smells.

Suitably battered after loads of free samples, we staggered over to a castle where there was more free whisky on offer. After acting like a connoisseur, I even bought a bottle of the one I'd pretended to like the most to impress the lady. Probably shouldn't have done that seeing as how I can't even afford bread right now. Also, I should point out that all this free drink was part of a whisky festival, so unless you can get to Dufftown by last Monday then you've missed out.

You know that Proclaimers song about all the walking? Well, unlike Charlie and Craig Reid who are happy to sing about it, but probably wouldn't actually do it if they could help it, we really did break the 1000-mile mark today on our way to Grantown on Spey. On bikes admittedly, but some would say that was even more impressive.

‘…apart from all the abject filth, it was all very pleasant.’

Today was a truly epic marathon. After Izzy's insistence that we stay in Aberdeen to film some Morris dancers do their thing around a Maypole, we didn't set off until 3pm, meaning the ensuing 50 mile journey would be a heart pounding race against the sunset. But actually, it was easy. This was a stretch that would have seemed impossible 8 weeks ago, a time when every hill would have conjured up images of that struggling train out of Dumbo ('I think I can, I think I can!'). But today it was just plain fun, and a real indicator of our massively improved fitness. Admittedly it helped that the weather was perfect for cycling, with amazing sunshine offset by a cool breeze, but I think my now perfectly sculpted thighs deserve most of the credit.

And then there was the countryside...It gets boring banging on about how beautiful the scenery is all the time, so from now on all the scenery is absolutely stunning, unless stated otherwise.

The Morris dancing itself was enjoyable family fun - although included a slightly surreal moment when one of the dancers asked a bunch of kids to touch their 'tits' as part of a dance. An alarmed shout of 'You mean chest!' came from one of the parents. But apart from all the abject filth it was all very pleasant. In a Britain's Got Talent sort of way.

Tomorrow we're off to a whisky festival, so you can expect the next blog to make even less sense than usual.

‘…like some kind of artificial dreamscape…’

Both in a much better frame of mind after successfully reclaiming our mojos, yesterday's 45 miles were an enjoyable challenge rather than the arduous slog we were expecting. Cycling through the Grampian Mountains in absolutely blazing sunshine, we saw some of the most amazing scenery yet. We often found ourselves completely surrounded on all sides by oceans of green and yellow, with colours so vivid the landscape looked more like some kind of artificial dreamscape - a synthetic world created by aliens for a space explorer to put him at ease on first contact. That’s what I thought, anyway.

There's always an element of frustration when presented with sights like that - an urgent need to drink in the scenery long and hard enough until the image is seared onto your hippocampus, because you know photographs won't do it justice.

After a good 8 hour ride we arrived in Stonehaven; a bit less spectacular than the preceding countryside, and home to the worlds worst chip shop, but not without charm. At the hotel, after spending 10 minutes trying to figure out how to get the TV in our room to work, it eventually started doing what I wanted, although I was unsure as to how I was actually doing it. Manfully turning to Izzy to let her know I had it sorted, I saw that she was the one operating it with the correct controls. Emasculating.

The first hour of today (Friday) went really well - we successfully performed the unlikely feat of getting ourselves up at 6.30 in order to make it to Aberdeen by 10. However, within minutes of hitting a busy A-road we were in need of rescue as Izzy's back wheel pretty much just came off. So, whilst the nation enjoyed watching Kate and Wills join in holy matrimony, Izzy and I spent 3 hours playing 'I Spy' at the side of a dual carriageway. I won.

Staring intensely at Izzy's broken axel for 30 seconds, the rescue/repair guy (when he finally showed up) gave the impression of having the ability to weld metal with the power of his mind, before giving up and driving us off to a bike shop.

Eventually making it to Aberdeen several hours later than planned, a stressful afternoon followed as we struggled to make it to our awaiting interviewees on time. Getting lost in the process, we sought help from a confused bus driver who didn't seem to know where he was going, let alone where we wanted to go. But given the circumstances, it turned out to be a very productive day. We even shot an impromptu interview with some rough looking youths who asked if Chasing Spring could feature a murder scene. Bless.

‘We wore those massive bee-proof spacesuit things and everything.’

With only 2 weeks left until we reach the end, tensions were high this morning (Tuesday). Not the good kind of tension either. Maybe it was exhaustion; maybe it was Call of Duty withdrawal symptoms starting to manifest themselves. Or maybe it was the suffocation of spending every waking minute with the same person for 7 weeks, with the thought of 2 more to come. Whatever the reason, a brief altercation over who should have been looking out for a cycle path left us both uncommunicative and fed up for most of the day.

It hasn't all been bad though. Monday saw us interview the head of the Fife bee keeping association, who gave a great interview, and even let us film inside her hives. We wore those massive bee-proof spacesuit things and everything. BUZZ Aldrin? Never mind.

Before that, we stopped off at an RSPB nature reserve to see if we could spot any spring-time birds. We couldn't, although we did get shown around a bit by a lady called Jane who I really fancied.