Day 38: From Rock Cakes to Rockstars (and I dont mean the biscuits)

Today was epic. That’s the only word for it. I wheeled from Willand to Exeter — with a few surprises, emotional gut-punches, and dodgy road surfaces along the way. The stat check? 1,014 feet climbed, bringing my total to an arm-burning, Everest-beating 35,955 feet. Yep, I’ve now climbed higher than Everest. Beat that, Himalayas.
I had a slow start this morning, mostly because a “secret plan” was afoot — and while I suspected something was up (Cat’s a hopeless secret keeper), I wasn’t prepared for the tidal wave of joy waiting for me.
Paul showed up to ride alongside, Pam was in a bit of a mood, despite getting the home bed sleep she’s always asking for. Go figure. Phil was there snapping photos like a proper pap, and even our train-driving rugby mate turned up (whose name escapes me — brain fog strikes again). I was pretty shattered already and it wasn’t even lunchtime.
The roads were another kind of nightmare. I’ve officially rebranded them as “rock cakes” — not the nice bakery kind, but the gnarly, ankle-hating kind that only the UK’s worst-maintained roads can deliver. Still, I was wheeling along, cursing the camber, when something magical happened.
I looked up… and saw hundreds of kids. Literal hundreds. From Willand School and Gables Nursery. Cheering. Clapping. Waving homemade signs. Shouting my name like I was in the Tour de France. I was absolutely floored. I might’ve cried. Okay, I definitely cried. Twice.
Then, more cheering crowds further down the road. More children, more signs, more people showing up just to support me. ITV Westcountry even popped up, shoving a mic in my face mid-wheel while the poor cameraman backpedaled into a pothole. That gave me a much-needed giggle.
After that whirlwind of love and cameras, we stopped briefly — saw a lady walking her dogs who casually handed me £35 for the charity. Just like that. Out of her bum bag. I nearly dropped the wheels. The generosity of strangers today? Off the charts.
Every corner had another surprise: people waving, honking, cheering, handing out coffee, giving hugs, holding signs with our logo, and just generally restoring my faith in humanity one “you’re smashing it!” at a time. I wheeled through Clumpton and into Exeter feeling like royalty… albeit a very sweaty, slope-battered kind of royalty.
And wheeling through your own city? That’s a surreal one. It’s all so familiar, but from this angle — from this journey — it felt like a different universe. Every pothole, every hill (I’m looking at you, Dunsford Hill), and every shout of support hit differently.
Eventually, we wrapped at the Traveler's Rest Inn (aptly named). They clapped me in, handed me a juice, and let me collapse with gratitude. I finally got my bath too — been chasing that dream since yesterday.
Then it was straight back out to Clumpton Rugby Club for a ball handover, a cuddle from a stranger, a surprise pin badge (which is going straight on the backpack), and another chat with the team. They're incredible people, and I’m buzzing to catch a game later this year.
So yeah. It’s now way past bedtime. I’m running on cereal, caffeine, and raw emotion. But today — Day 38 — will go down as one of the most moving, overwhelming, humbling days of my life.
Thank you to every person who clapped, cheered, waved, donated, or just showed up. You helped push me up every hill — rock cakes and all.