Land's End to John O'Groats on an Electric Motorcycle: Tony Jackson's Rider Story

Tony Jackson rode a Maeving RM1S electric motorcycle from Land's End to John O'Groats at 65 years old, having never owned a motorcycle before.

What made it possible was 36 years in the RAF: the discipline, the strategic thinking, the ability to plan for every contingency and adapt when plans fall apart. What inspired him was a television programme, a milestone birthday and a determination to prove that 65 is as good an age for adventure as any.  

This is his Maeving story.

You spent more than 36 years in the RAF. When you finally stepped away from that career, what did you leave behind and what stayed with you?

It's an interesting question. It really does make you think about what you've left behind. I would say it comes down to one word: brotherhood. That camaraderie in the military – you really notice it, because you're often in areas where you haven't got many outside influences other than the people you work with. It forms this bond.

When you are posted overseas for a few years or detached on out-of-area operations of 4 to 6 months – and especially back in the early days when you didn't have the internet and television was limited, that brotherhood becomes special. I still have friends from my days in Cyprus in the 1980s that I meet up with every now and again.

And in terms of what stayed with me – everything, really. Leadership, bringing out the potential of others, strategic thinking, master planning. When you go to a new station for a new tour – anywhere between 18 months and four years – there's always something different that you learn.

And prior to Maeving, what experience did you have with motorcycles?

Pretty much zero, if I'm honest. Living overseas in Cyprus, you'd hire mopeds. But the reality is I had virtually no experience of motorcycles.  

My first real foray into riding was when I bought the RM1S last September. And I bought it specifically to do the Land's End to John O'Groats.

What prompted the challenge?

I was coming up to 65, and I thought: let's do something to celebrate that you're not old and knackered.  

A few years ago I watched The Long Way Up with Charley Boorman and Ewan McGregor, when they rode from Ushuaia up to Los Angeles on Harley-Davidson electric bikes, supported by Rivian electric trucks. I really enjoyed that, and it set my mind thinking. The open road, the adventure, the electric element – I was drawn to all of it. I already had an electric car, my partner has an electric car, I've got solar panels and a Tesla Powerwall. I like the whole electric thing.

Through research I came to Maeving, and you'd just launched the RM1S. It was a bit outside the budget I'd set myself, but the more I looked at it, the more I thought: I really need this bike.

Then one day I picked up an email saying the RM1S had just won MCN's Electric Bike of the Year, and to celebrate Maeving was knocking £1,500 off. I ordered one on the spot. The saving basically covered all the kit I needed: helmet, gloves, jacket, waterproofs – I had none of it.  

Walk us through the planning.

There's no point planning in detail until you understand your constraints. So the first job was identifying the equipment: the motorcycle, the support van and how we were going to keep everything charged.  

I put together an Operation Order (OPORD), a military planning format with set headings: Situation, Mission, Execution, Admin/Logistics, Command/Signal. I knew that if I was going to approach sponsors, I needed something formal and credible.  

The van was the critical problem. I needed vehicle-to-load capability – the ability to charge the spare Maeving batteries directly from the van, without relying on public charging points. After some research I found the Farizon SV. I tracked down a potential contact at Rygor Autos, gave him the pitch and sent him a copy of the OPORD, he took it to his managing director, and by the following Monday it was approved.  

In the space of about a week I'd gone from wondering if this was even possible to having the van, Zapmap covering the charging costs, and Maeving providing four spare batteries. And my brother Trevor signed on as support driver. 

And how did your RAF background lend itself to preparing for something like this? 

I'm a great believer in visualisation. Seeing myself on the bike from A to B, changing batteries, dealing with issues. I conducted practice rides throughout the winter into the spring, covering some 600 miles. Testing in different conditions and using the different power settings, to best understand what a safe, consistently achievable range was. This turned out to be around 50 miles. So I planned around that. 

The other thing I'd say is: plans don't survive first contact with the enemy. As an air traffic controller you think dynamically, and that's always stayed with me. The goal is to resolve issues logically and quickly, without deliberating too much, without the woe-is-me moment. It's here's the problem – let's sort it out. 

Were there any challenges on the road? 

No major challenges, really. Just the occasional speed bump. The planning meant we never suffered any real delays, and most days we actually finished 30 to 45 minutes ahead of schedule. 

We'd also use the battery changeover points to debrief, reassess the next leg and adjust if needed. It sounds simple, but that rhythm of review and adaptation made all the difference.  

Paint us a picture of what it was like being out on the road? 

I'll take you to Gloucestershire – the first heatwave of the summer – and the countryside just opened up and gave you space to breathe. 

The sweet spot on the Maeving, I think, is around 40 mph. Not much wind resistance, going at a fair lick, but you can still soak in the environment around you. It's the difference between travelling through the landscape and actually being in it. 

Were there any landmarks or stretches of road that particularly stayed with you? 

There's no easy answer to that because it was 910 miles. 

The start at Land's End – chilly, bright, the beginning of the adventure. Riding into Bristol and seeing the Clifton Suspension Bridge. RAF Shawbury on day two. Shap Summit in Cumbria, the highest point on the A6. Crossing into Scotland, photographing the bike in front of the border sign, then in front of the old blacksmith's shop at Gretna Green. Crossing the Beauly Firth and the Cromarty Firth bridges at Inverness – the last day was drizzling and cold, but crossing that Cromarty Firth bridge, even in the rain, you knew you were on the road to the finish.  

And then the last miles into John O'Groats. 

What was it like riding to RAF Shawbury? 

I trained there three times across more than a decade - the courses were tough, and passing each one was a real sense of achievement. There's a pride attached to that place that doesn't leave you. Going back on a Maeving, for a charity ride, at 65 – that's a different kind of feeling.  

And what did it feel like to finally reach John O'Groats? 

Both Trevor and I were close to running out of charge – him in the van, me on the bike – in those last 20 miles. He was on edge. I'd had a piece of music I wanted to play for the final stretch, but my phone had run out of charge, so I never got to hear it.  

The last day had been difficult – low visibility, drizzle, trucks behind me on narrow roads. I was pulling into every passing place I could find to let traffic by, riding at 35 to 40 mph rather than 50, wiping my visor every 30 seconds. And as I came into those last few miles, the sky was visibly darkening. I thought: thank God it's nearly over, because it's about to absolutely pour it down. 

So when I pulled in and saw Trevor, it was relief more than jubilation. Relief that we'd done it, relief that the weather held just long enough. We got the photographs done, loaded the bike up and skedaddled – we were both cold, hungry and in need of a hot drink. It wasn't the cinematic finish I'd imagined. But we'd done it.  

On your journey home, you stopped at Maeving HQ in Coventry? 

We did. It was wonderful. We'd already done a photo shoot at RAF High Wycombe – my last posting, where I finished my RAF career, so that felt fitting. And we'd stopped in Bristol with the Zapmap team.   

Then Coventry, to hand back the batteries and kit Maeving had lent us. But it was also just great to put names to faces, have a factory tour, speak to some of the engineers. It's a people-first company. You can feel it when you're there. 

Since finishing, how have you been using the bike, and do you have any future adventures in mind?  

Well, I've already been thinking about what's next.  

I'm looking at the Snowdon 360 – a 360-mile circular route around North Wales. This time unsupported, so I'd need to work out what range I can realistically get from charging each battery between 10 and 80% at public chargers, plan the route around that, and aim for 100 to 120 miles a day starting at first light. It would take a lot of planning. But that's not a problem. 

The everyday rides still give me joy though – pure joy.  

There's a little place called Hambleden in the Chilterns, a post office where you can get a coffee and a cake. I parked up there one day, took my helmet off, and a woman sat down next to me and asked if it was electric. Then a neighbour walking by stopped and said: oh, it's a beautiful machine, I must tell my husband. And then two older gentlemen came over. Just in this little village, chatting away. It's a conversation starter wherever you go. 

QUICKFIRE ROUND 

If you could ride anywhere in the world, where would you go? 

Ushuaia, Argentina, through Chile, through the Atacama Desert to Lima – and maybe on to La Paz. Essentially part of The Long Way Up. 

Three words to describe Maeving. 

"Iconic," for two reasons: "design" and "engineering." 

Best advice you've ever received? 

Be the best you can. 

If Maeving made a film about your LEJOG ride, what song plays over the credits? 

Tubular Bells 3, last track. It's called "Far Above the Clouds." 

I listened to that album when I climbed Kilimanjaro – the last 46 minutes from the rim to the summit. I listened to it at the top of Mount Sinai watching the sun rise, and again at the top of Mount Nemrut in Turkey at sunset. I did all my LEJOG training listening to it. There's an association between that music and achievement that gives me goosebumps even now: I listened to it at lunchtime today and it still does.  

I wanted to play it for the last 46 minutes of the LEJOG ride, but my phone ran out of charge. I never got that ending. 

Lastly, what does genuine downtime look like for you? 

I'm a bit of a dreamer. So whenever I get a quiet moment – in the shower, in the steam room before swimming, sometimes actually while I'm swimming, even though I lose count of my lengths – I use that time to work through thoughts and plans.