Paws & Pedal

Paws & Pedal Burn survivor riding the entire UK coastline
on an e-trike with his dog, Taco. Hit follow and join the ride packmates.
(3)

Support us here: https://gofund.me/375556ce

Watch the journey here: https://www.youtube.com/

03/06/2026

NORTHERN IRELAND RECAP

The first country of the UK šŸ‡¬šŸ‡§ coastline completed.

588.9 kilometres.
3,980 metres of climbing.
16 riding days.
Three punctures.
One trike.
One dog.
And countless acts of kindness.

We rolled off the ferry from Cairnryan into Belfast with nowhere to stay on our first night.

Then Barbara stepped in and booked us a room in Carrickfergus.

That was the moment Northern Ireland’s generosity began.

In Carrickfergus, I met fellow burn survivor Mark before enjoying a complimentary tour of Carrickfergus Castle with Jacob.

From there we rode to Larne, where Carol at Seaview Guest House hosted us. We also dropped in at Larne Football Club, who welcomed us onto the pitch and donated shirts to support the cause.

Carrick Rangers FC later donated shirts to Mark on my behalf for the finale fundraising auction.

Next came Carnlough and two nights at the The Harbourview Hotel, Ireland’s first whiskey hotel. They generously donated a bottle of Carnlough Irish Whiskey which we raffled off, eventually raising around Ā£700 for charity.

Then came one of the most beautiful rides of the entire coastline journey along the Antrim Coast to Ballycastle and Ballintoy, where we stayed at the The Fullerton Arms and Guesthouse Inn in the heart of Game of Thrones country.

From Ballintoy we rode to Portrush, where Anne hosted us for three nights during the Northwest 200.

Then on to Derry, where Paul welcomed us and shared some of the city’s remarkable history.

Turning south again, we reached Ballykelly and stayed with Farmer Tom. It was here I woke up to my very first puncture of the entire journey.

The next stop was Ballymoney, where Bann River Cruises hosted us aboard a riverboat for the night – our first overnight stay on a boat anywhere around the UK coastline.

From there we rode to Bellaghy, where Dana hosted us, before suffering two back-to-back punctures on the road south.

With no way to continue, we found ourselves stranded in Castledawson.

Then another act of kindness arrived.

Steph, a follower from Scotland, who once passed me on the road out of Oban contacted me completely out of the blue and booked us into a hotel for the weekend while we waited for replacement tubes to arrive.

Once repaired, thanks to Newbridge Stores for safely storing the trike, we continued to Tandragee, where Natty, Paul and Carol hosted us before an interview with Armagh I the following morning.

Then it was on through the Newry Canal and down to Annalong, where Willowtree Glamping Mournes gave us a beautiful shepherd’s hut to rest in, complete with hot tub.

Around this point my chest started causing problems – issues that would eventually force me to pause the journey altogether.

But first there was one final surprise.

In Newcastle, King Charles was visiting. The Royal Family

We were only a few metres away from him.

Unfortunately, he chose to speak to the lady standing next to me instead.

Gutted.

From Newcastle we rode to Portaferry, where another follower, Clare, kindly booked us a guest house.

And finally, back to Belfast.

The kindness continued right to the very end.

Gale booked me a night at the Malmaison Belfast. The hotel then matched it with a second complimentary night.

Another follower called Leigh, then booked another night for us at a guesthouse on Lisburn Road.

The guest house even paid for a taxi back to collect the trike before we rolled to the ferry terminal and left Northern Ireland. With Stena Line UKIE refunding my ferry ticket after hearing of our quest.

The miles were incredible.

The scenery was spectacular.

But what I’ll remember most is the people.

This entire journey has been powered by the kindness of strangers, and nowhere demonstrated that more than Northern Ireland.

We arrived not knowing where we’d sleep on our first night.

We left having completed our first country of the UK coastline, carrying memories, friendships and acts of kindness that will stay with us forever.

Also Belfast Tandems and City Centre Cycles, Belfast Bike Tours amongst countless others also worth a mention.

Thank you, Northern Ireland.

Until next time. ā¤ļøšŸ¾ā¤ļø

If you have £10 that needs re homing drop it in here: https://gofund.me/d6ce2a8b4

THE NEXT MOUNTAIN TO CLIMB…EVEREST x 1.5 Taking this time out has given me a chance to look ahead.The next 1800 kilometr...
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 šŸ“ó §ó ¢ó ·ó ¬ó ³ó æ

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 Ā£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!! šŸ˜”

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

01/06/2026

Rollo & Taco Reconnect…

Maybe six weeks ago a feisty little sausage dog was at Barra Airport Cafe giving it large having ridden in with his mum and dad on a funky e-bike. Taco entered the picture and after a little bit of squabbling they became friends…although they hate to admit it.

Well, When Rollo heard Taco was in town he and his dad Mike, rode into the city and dropped into The Halston this evening to visit Taco and chew the phat over the good times back on the Hebrides.

Ride Rollo, Ride…

For dogs riding pillion drop some love here: https://gofund.me/cbf6fa8c5

31/05/2026

THE EMPTY SPACE BETWEEN CHAPTERS

By the time I arrived in Carlisle, I was running on empty. Not dramatically empty.

Not the sort of exhaustion people immediately notice.

Just worn down. Physically, Mentally, Emotionally.

What should have been a straightforward five-hour drive from Inverness became an eleven-hour ordeal after a trailer tyre blowout forced me back into the city, followed by replacing all three tyres, endless traffic, roadworks and holiday congestion.

By the time I finally pulled into Carlisle, I felt like I had spent every last ounce of energy simply getting there.

And then I found myself facing something far more uncomfortable than a tyre blowout.

The Stillness.

For the first time in weeks, I had nowhere to ride. Nowhere to be. No route to follow.

No challenge immediately in front of me demanding a solution.

Just stillness.

And in that stillness, the thoughts I’ve been outrunning for months started catching up.

I’ve realised something about myself on this journey. Movement protects me.

As long as I’m moving, I don’t have to sit with the bigger questions.

As long as I’m pedalling.

Navigating, Planning, Fundraising, Meeting people, Solving problems.

There is always something demanding my attention.

But when the movement stops, I am left alone with myself.

For almost two years since the accident, I’ve been moving towards something but actually, what is that exactly?

Somewhere along the way, without consciously admitting it, I think I started believing in a promise.

A promise I made to myself.

That if I just kept going…

If I worked hard enough…

If I suffered enough…

If I pushed myself far enough…

Then eventually I would arrive somewhere!!!

A place where this life finally made sense.

A place where the reason for surviving what I survived became obvious.

A place where uncertainty ended and where all of this effort somehow paid off.

But sitting in here, I realised
that, that destination doesn’t exist.

Life doesn’t suddenly hand you certainty because you’ve earned it.

There is no finish line. No magical sponsor appears. No perfect opportunity materialises overnight. No security suddenly arrives.

That’s why stopping always feels so difficult. As when I’m moving, I convince myself I’m getting closer to that imaginary destination.

When I stop, I have to face the possibility that it was never there in the first place.

At the end of all this, I’ll still be lonely, penniless and homeless and my injuries won’t ever go away.

I think I’m tired. Psychologically tired.

The kind of tiredness that comes from carrying uncertainty for too long.

Where am I sleeping next week?

What happens after the coastline?

What happens when the challenge ends?

What happens financially?

What direction does life take from here?

Questions without answers.

Day after day.

Week after week.

Month after month.

Eventually even the strongest shoulders start to feel the weight.

That’s where this unexpected pause has found me out.

A psychological wall.

And yet, just as I was sitting with all of those thoughts, something happened that reminded me why this journey matters.

Gale entered the story once again.

By this point she had become something of a guardian angel on this journey.

Without being asked or seeking recognition. She simply decided to help.

Unbeknown to me, she started ringing around hotels in Carlisle trying to find somewhere for Taco and me to stay.

Eventually she came across The Halston, here in Carlisle to sponsor us a complimentary night at their lovely hotel.

I expected a standard room.

Instead, I walked into what can only be described as a luxury suite.

A full apartment.

Far beyond anything I would ever be able to book for myself.

I stood there looking around in disbelief.

Only hours earlier I had been questioning everything.

Questioning whether this journey was actually helping me.

Questioning whether I was healing or simply making life harder for myself.

Questioning what all of this was really leading towards.

And now I found myself standing in a beautiful apartment because a woman I’d never properly met had decided that she cared enough to help.

The contrast wasn’t lost on me.

Perhaps the journey hasn’t magically fixed my life.

Perhaps it hasn’t delivered security.

Perhaps it hasn’t answered every question about my future.

But what it has done is show me something I struggled to believe before I left.

That I am not doing this alone.

That people care.

That kindness exists in extraordinary quantities when you allow yourself to receive it.

Maybe the healing isn’t waiting at the end of the coastline.

Maybe it isn’t hidden in a sponsor, a job, a destination or some grand revelation.

Maybe the healing has been happening all along. In these moments of vulnerability.

For unexpected pauses and the psychological battles that come with them: https://gofund.me/283aa9c97

Thanks to follower, Jim for sending in his digital art of Taco recently.
31/05/2026

Thanks to follower, Jim for sending in his digital art of Taco recently.

I caught a lift to Stirling from Kirkcudbright with last nights hosts and then jumped on a train to Inverness where my c...
28/05/2026

I caught a lift to Stirling from Kirkcudbright with last nights hosts and then jumped on a train to Inverness where my car is being kept at a previous host x4 and we managed to find a chemist to prescribe some antibiotics to hopefully nip this chest infection in the bud and hopefully keep out of hospital.

I’ll be driving back to England tomorrow and will spend a weekend in Carlisle where I have a CT Scan on Sunday.

Then onto West Lakes for some R&R. When I’m fighting fit again it’ll be back to Kirkcudbright to restart the coastline for what will now be the third leg.

STATS FOR LEG 1 AND 2

PRELIMINARY RIDE IN THE ENGLISH COAST 2 COAST:

SEATON, CUMBRIA (Accident Location) > NEWCASTLE UPON TYNE (Hospital Location)

LEG 1

NEWCASTLE UPON TYNE > STORNOWAY, WESTERN ISLES
(Stopped due to breakdowns)

LEG 2

STORNOWAY > KIRKCUDBRIGHT VIA NORTHERN IRELAND
(Stopped due to illness)

Riding Days: 79

Riding Hours: 201

Distance: 3,224km or 2,003 miles

Ascent Climbed: 26,750 metres or 87,762 feet.

That’s the equivalent of climbing:

šŸ”ļø Just over 3 Mount Everest’s

🚓 An average of 40.8 km every single riding day

Not bad for a bloke stitched together with skin grafts, a restricted airway, stubbornness and the occasional Guinness.

That’s got to be worth a few quid in here šŸ‘‰šŸ» https://gofund.me/b6f3eaf71

27/05/2026

CREETOWN → KIRKCUDBRIGHT

Another beautiful sunny day on the road today, although definitely windier than yesterday with a bit more of a headwind to contend with.

We left our hosts at The Hill of Burns in Creetown and our first stop was Carsluith Castle.

Dating back to the 16th century, Carsluith Castle was once a fortified tower house overlooking the Solway coast and the old route through Galloway.

Big thanks as well to the team at the OakHill Cafe & Deli next door for the complimentary coffee and chat before we got rolling again. One of the owners happens to have a strong family connection to my hometown of Stamford.

From there we continued on to Cardoness Castle, another impressive tower house dating from the late 1400s.

Unfortunately both castles were closed today while high level inspections were being carried out on the stonework to make sure everything was safe for visitors.

I’d actually just been told by someone there to ā€œbe careful on the A75ā€ and I laughed saying compared to some roads I’ve ridden recently it felt easy…

Then literally minutes later, back on the A75, I had two absolutely ridiculous overtakes with oncoming traffic that nearly pushed me off the road.

Definitely tempted fate with that one.

Eventually we left the A75 behind and got back onto quieter rolling countryside roads snaking along the coast.

Came to Kirkcudbright Bay, where we came across the remains of the Monreith, a steam trawler from Wigtown that sank in the bay in 1900.

A strange little link considering we’d only ridden through Wigtown yesterday.

Taco also managed to get herself an ice cream… although the ice cream man absolutely had my pants down.

I thought he meant a little sq**rt of cream in a cup.

Instead he pulled out an actual dog ice cream from the freezer and at that point I felt too awkward to say no šŸ˜‚

The closer we got to Kirkcudbright, the more recognition we got again from people following the journey.

We were even offered accommodation at the local campsite at The Stell, before we’d properly reached town.

Eventually rolled into the harbour, grabbed a sandwich from a local bakery, sat down for a late lunch by the water… and that’s where today’s reel ends.

Now time to explore Kirkcudbright in the little time I have here.

For coastline and castles give this link a try: https://gofund.me/7f82b28dc

Almost hit Ā£11k…let’s push it over this evening folks. Much love ā¤ļø

Tomorrow we go again.

šŸ“Š TODAY’S STATS

šŸ“ Distance: 42 km
ā›°ļø Elevation: 270 m
šŸ“ˆ Ascent Density: 6.4 m/km
⚔ Avg Speed: 16.4 km/h
ā±ļø Moving Time: 2h 33m
šŸŒ¤ļø Conditions: Sunny, warm and breezy

26/05/2026

WHITHORN → CREETOWN

Left the New Town Hall Bunkhouse in Whithorn this morning thinking it was probably going to be a fairly uneventful day.

Turned out not to be the case.

Early on in the ride, a small bird chick suddenly flew out from the hedge straight into the trike.

Nothing I could’ve done to avoid it.

But honestly… it played on my mind for most of the day afterwards. Just one of those sad little moments where a tiny life ends simply because it was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Absolute gutted for it 😭

What were the chances!!!???

With that on my mind we carried on into Wigtown, where we were immediately recognised by several people in the village and called over to the The Wigtown Ploughman, a community-owned pub.

Went in for a coffee and chat.

And ended up being served an absolutely massive ploughman’s lunch.

Ploughman’s by name, ploughman’s by nature.

While there I also met Sam, a bike mechanic, and her partner, Sophia who rode along with me for around 20 minutes as we left Wigtown before turning back. Probably to make sure I’d definitely left. šŸ˜‚

From there, I continued on towards Creetown and into the forest roads around Galloway Forest Park, where I stopped at Breakpad Bike Shop at Kirroughtree Forest. 🌳

Aside from replacing my chain and ending the incessantly squeaky front brake she also topped up my sun cream supply as I was running low, not ideal when you’re trying to protect burn scars in this heat.

To top it off she refused payment.

It was properly hot today.

Eventually followed a lovely cycle path onwards into Creetown, where tonight’s location is perhaps unintentionally the most fitting location possible for a burn survivor…

I’m staying on the Hill of Burns. šŸ”„šŸ”„šŸ”„

Despite the name, it’s nothing to do with fire or anyone called Burns, it apparently refers to the meeting point of three small streams or ā€œburnsā€.

Still made me laugh when I heard it.

Tonight I’m staying in a lovely shepherd’s hut overlooking the countryside, and after a very warm day on the road, it’s turned into a beautiful evening of last nights leftovers and a half a sausage roll left from my ploughman’s lunch.

What started out feeling like a quiet day… turned into another memorable one. Still sat thinking about that little bird.🄹

Please like, comment, share the love as it really helps us. Thank you. šŸ™šŸ»

In memory of kamikaze chicks 🐣 drop some love here: https://gofund.me/d38676703

šŸ“Š TODAY’S STATS

šŸ“ Distance: 46.9 km
ā›°ļø Elevation: 330 m
šŸ“ˆ Ascent Density: 7.0 m/km
⚔ Avg Speed: 16.8 km/h
ā±ļø Moving Time: 2h 47m
ā˜€ļø Conditions: Hot, dry and sunny

Address

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Carlisle

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