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Across the Midlands

Day 1 Peterborough- Owston

The northerly wind whipped off the Fens, as I stepped off the train at Peterborough. I had planned a 5 day ride across the middle of England ending on the Welsh border, but my favourite month of May felt more like January and I instantly started shivering. I wanted to find my bearings quickly so that I could warm up by pushing the pedals.

My bike was packed with two rear panniers and a lightweight tent strapped to the handlebars. I had reduced my load from previous trips so I no longer had additional baggage strapped on the rear rack. There was a small pouch on the crossbar with a few tools, pump and charger stuffed in. I carried two water bottles, 1 clipped to the seat post the other in the traditional place on the seat tube.

I was initially heading north out of Peterborough before veering west on what I hoped were quiet country lanes. The cycleways out of the city were well posted as I made my way through the suburbs and out into the countryside. The landscape was pleasantly rolling as I headed through Ufford and Barnack. At Burghley there was a beautiful uncut field of buttercups enclosed within stone walls. Stamford was bustling with tourists and privileged teenagers wandering into town from the private school founded in 1510.

My route took me within a hairsbreadth of the noisy A1 before slipping off and I found myself surrounded by birdsong [skylarks, blackbirds , crows] and arable fields. A woodland section followed, running parallel to Graffham Water and eventually dropping down to follow the cycle-track alongside the reservoir, leading into Oakham.

I stopped for a bite to eat at 3pm in Oakham as I was rough camping and would have nowhere to eat later on. A farm at Owston had kindly offered a woodland site and the owner accompanied by two dogs showed me a favoured spot deep in the woods. I was indeed a tranquil spot and I was left to pitch my tent and make camp for the night. I never bring a cooking stove so as to keep the weight down, so relied on snacks to fend off the cold. The evening lay ahead and I felt energetic enough to take a evening ride to Launde Abbey, once the retreat of Thomas Cromwell. I had been enthralled by Hilary Mantell’s Wolf Hall trilogy and was delighted to see the atmospheric Abbey in the evening sun. The journey added 7 miles to the days total, but was well worth the visit. The Tudor hall is surrounded by landscaped open grassland and today serves as a Christian retreat.

I dragged my bike back through the long grass to my tent in the woods. Sleep was interrupted by efforts to warm up, it was a cold moonlit night when I stepped out to relieve myself at 2am, hoping to startle an owl or deer. I was the only one stirring that night though! [39 miles]

Day 2- To Snarestone

I broke camp at first light and packed my dew wet tent. I warmed up cycling the hills towards Twyford, heading for a cafe breakfast of coffee and porridge. A map-reading error led me to ride a 5 mile detour but as I ended at a great breakfast stop at Burrough-on-the-Hill, all was not lost. The countryside in these parts is beautiful, lots of mixed farmland edged with the verdant May growth in the hedgerows.

I was heading towards Leicester. The route into the city-centre followed a canal and lakeside, bypassing the busy roads. The signposting was excellent, at one point taking me past the incongruous National Space Centre. Leicester was vibrant and bustling. I purchased a second sleeping bag as I had been so cold the night before. I steadily worked my way out of the city up a two mile hill towards the ‘delightfully’ named Ratby. I was following the Ivanhoe Trail, sometimes off-road, usually on country lanes. The village names kept me amused -Groby, Botcheston and Newton Burgoland were all passed. I eventually landed in Snarestone at the Globe Inn camp-site, to test out my sleeping bag within a sleeping bag. I explored the Ashby canal-side and Tunnel [which was dug under the village in 1804] before an evening meal at the pub. [49 miles]

Day 3-To Stafford

I had a warmer night’s sleep thanks to the double sleeping bag and then stopped at Measham enjoying a hearty breakfast and the Midland dialect of the friendly locals at the adjoining tables. I made good progress, as yesterday’s strong headwind had disappeared, but then headed incorrectly for Burton-on-Trent instead of Walton-on-Trent. I had to double-back over a busy stretch of road with heavy lorries heading to the local quarry.

I crossed the River Trent and headed up to the lovely settlement of Barton under Needwood. Too big to call a village to small to call a town. The excellent Skinny Kitten cafe provided an welcome stop. The parkland westwards is very pleasant, rolling grassland and then a car-free track, taking me the next four miles. I picked up the Rugby canal further on and travelled the last few miles into Stafford on a busy switchback. Speedy cars and vans overtaking far too close. I stayed at an airbnb in the city centre with a friendly host and was able to freshen up with a hot shower and dry my camping gear. [33 miles]

Day 4-To Shrewsbury

I reflected on the counties I had cycled through- Lincolnshire, Rutland, Leicestershire, Derbyshire and Staffordshire with Shropshire and Powys to traverse, today and tomorrow. I started the day hunting around for the Newport to Staffs Greenway. This brilliant 10miles of off-road cycletrack is poorly signed at the Stafford end. I have mixed feelings about designated cycle-tracks.They often follow old railway lines and are often encased by trees which means you see little of the surrounding landscape; however because you are travelling through a tube you escape buffeting winds. This greenway was well surfaced and I therefore made good time. I made my way through the dreary outskirts of Telford before chancing on a great coffee shop and butchers, Antonys of Wellington butchers, where I was treated like a celebrity. The weather had improved and after some minor bike repairs I travelled the last 8 miles into Shrewsbury along undulating country lanes lined by May hedges. The weather had improved today- the first day without an anorak.

Shrewsbury is a lovely historic town, on the horseshoe of the River Severn, which seems to be prospering. Lots of good places to eat. I chose a vegetarian bistro and had a tasty dish of baked new potatoes with mushrooms all in a saucy salad. [35 miles]

Day 5 To Wales

I awoke and found a message from my host for my final night, saying the owner had suffered a heart attack. After sending my best wishes, I trawled the internet to find another stopover. I chose a wild camping spot in the Shropshire hills. Cycling out of the city southwards, I stopped for a breakfast at the Ground Coffee Company, full of a bustling crowd of local families and friends who had completed a fun-run. My onward route was busy with traffic, which didn’t make for relaxing cycling, but the scenery was changing- green hills and rolling valleys. My pitch was a mile up a very bumpy stone track, impossible to ride; but the 360 degree view, where I camped, more than made up for it. I went for an afternoon walk to the Stiperstones.These are a series of exposed quartzite rocks formed 480million years ago on a ridge. The lower fields were marshy grassland as I gradually climbed and left the meadows for the heather-clad tops, clambering over dry stone walls to get to the moorland. There was no obvious path to follow as I waded through waist high fern and scratchy heather to reach the summit. Red kites circled overhead.

I completed the day with a cycle into Wales for some pub grub. Journeys end. The next day, I broke camp and retraced my route back to Shrewsbury to pick up the train, to head home. [32 miles]

Westward Bound

WESTWARD BOUND

Ian J Wray

Having previously travelled from my home in Ipswich to the Welsh Border by bike trekking 2 years ago I was keen to find a new adventure this spring.

Whenever I go on a cycle ride I always enjoy the outward journey far more than the return leg. The morning is invariably sunny, there is anticipation of the journey, you are fresh legged and keen to explore. The return, by contrast, seems to drag, the wind is always in your face tiring you as your thoughts turn to home and putting your feet up. When you think about a long distance cycle trek however, the whole experience is the outward journey with none of the negative aspects of the return leg. You are travelling along unfamiliar roads, not knowing what is just around the corner and ,for me, this is the attraction. You appear to be able to double your range because there is literally no turning back. The distance is “banked” at the end of each day and you continue onwards. You can map your progress, often in a new county and feel the sense of achievement without having to start again from the beginning.

So it was that a ride from London to Totnes in Devon was routed and planned using the excellent cycle.travel for route planning. The ride would start in Cobham travel through “Austin” country to the chalk streams around Winchester and Salisbury. I would be skirting Salisbury Plain to Bruton and the Somerset levels before heading over the Blackdown Hills into Devon. The route was all on minor roads and tracks often following beautiful river valleys. I had planned 3 nights camping and the rest of the overnights would be in pubs and airbnb’s. Minimal spare clothing and lightweight camping kept the bike relatively unburdened.

Day 1

After staying with friends in Cobham, I set off on a showery, Sunday morning in May. Heading south-west, the wind was behind me along some gentle country lanes. After a short stretch running alongside the busy A3 the footpath suddenly dipped into a countrypark on the outskirts of Guildford. I dried off in a lovely, authentic Italian coffee shop before a steep climb onto the Hogs Back with extensive views North and South. The cycletrack cut through felled woodland before descending past the Watts Gallery, famous in Victorian times for the Arts and Crafts movement. I followed another long off-road section through mixed woodland and bypassed Farnham. Back into Forestry Commission land for a section which went past a Go-Ape complex and a final stretch along a pleasant B road around Binstead, before arriving at Alton at 5pm.

The kind reception staff and the Alton House Hotel allowed me to wheel a very muddy bike into their conference room to keep it secure overnight. [34miles ]

Day 2

Leaving Alton, I followed a lovely track along a dry valley of meadowland giving way to woods as it climbed the hillside. A section of rolling countryside after heathland followed and then a long descent toward the River Itchen and the unusual sight of commercial watercress beds. The clarity water due to the natural springs have enabled the watercress to thrive and Alresford is the centre through which I was travelling. Well actually I stopped, in the sunny market square for a well earned coffee!

The sun didn’t last for long as I headed for the ancient capital of the Anglo-Saxons and by the time I reached Winchester at lunchtime, it was raining heavily. I would have loved to have gone in the cathedral to explore but I was concerned about leaving the gear on my bike, so instead sheltered in the porchway and eavesdropped as the tourists came out exclaiming about the “unseasonable weather.”

“I left my brolly in the car”

“Well it wasn’t raining when we went in dear ,was it”

“Do you think we can make it to the cafe”

There was a steep climb out of the city along a busy road before finding the old Roman road running straight across downland for 10 miles. There followed a fast descent into Kings Sombourne followed by a ride along the old railway track into Stockbridge. I had entered serious fly-fishing country and the town was suitably attired with a range of shops and restaurants. As I wandered over a bridge on the High Street a big brother loudspeaker issued a warning from the riverbank not to trespass, you are being watched. Up until then I had rather liked the town. I was camping overnight at a wild campsite just above the town. It was a huge field with views over the downs and I had the whole site pretty much to myself. [32miles]

Day 3

An easy day of 24 miles. There is something quite satisfying about breaking camp and loading everything you need on your bike, which you then ride away on. The lightweight tent straps across my handlebars. Spare clothing stored in the panniers along with the airbed. Essentials such as tools, charger, phone and first aid in the small crossbar bag and sleeping bag and lock on the back rack. And away! Down the delightful Test valley before hanging a right at the NationalTrust estate at Montisfont. I maintain bad signage led me on a 12 mile, unintended detour at this point. The upside being, I was able to explore the lovely town of Romsey, that seemed to be unaffected by the retail collapse and was busy and bustling. I stopped for a smoothie in the town square. The sun was still shining as I got into Salisbury which was full of tourists meandering through the cathedral grounds and old town. I followed the river westwards towards my overnight stop at Wilton, the old capital of Wiltshire. [36 miles]

Day 4

I was up early and determined to cycle 12 miles before a breakfast stop. My route took me along the valley of the River Wylye. [pronounced Why Lee] A breeze was on my back and I zipped along taking in a string of villages and the full May hedgerows with hills as a backdrop. I felt I had earned scrambled eggs and two flat whites by the time I reached Boyton. When things are running smoothly on the ride I usually have a sing, making sure I pause if someone passes. Birdsong, sheep, cow parsley, downland and the ever present chalk stream accompanied me until I stopped for a beer at a pub in Maiden Bradley. I was met on entering, by a young barman, who though absolutely polite, managed to make me feel unwelcome. Country tweeds instead of cycling shorts required I think! Just to stake my right, I plopped down in the most comfortable armchair in the place.

After 4 days cycling I was beginning to feel my fitness levels improving. I was now in Somerset and explaining my journey from where I had come, instead of my intended destination.

I had originally intended to camp at Kingsettle but the weather forecast predicted thunderstorms and with a 3 mile jaunt to the nearest pub for food I decided to stay at the pub instead. The food at the Old Red Lion was home-cooked and delicious. I enjoyed watching the clouds and rain roll over King Alfred’sTower and Kingsettle as I tucked into my meal.

[30 miles]

Day 5

An early cycle downhill into Bruton after a cooked breakfast, is always a good way to start. The mist and chill soon cleared as I cycled along a lovely B road with some steep, dingly dells, full of fern and wild garlic, towards Castle Gary. Then open countryside for the next section. Fields of buttercups, sunshine the wind on my back barrelling me along towards Somerton, the ancient capital of Wessex, where stone houses, an atmospheric market cross and the local populace gave a pleasant feel to the place. I picked up a tiny lane skirting a hill and realised the chalk downland had definitely been left at the Hampshire/Somerset border. The stone was red and the earth black peat and very different in character.I had a distant view of Glastonbury Tor as I followed the River’s Cary and Parrot. A long flat cycle with the wind in my face slowing me on what was the longest day of the ride so far. A final steep climb to my campsite at Ball Hill Farm, in an ancient apple orchard overlooking the Somerset levels. I pitched my tent on the only flat spot and had only the ewes and lambs for company. That evening I walked a mile to the nearest pub for an evening meal and retired to bed with the patchwork of fields far below being lit by the headlights of passing cars. [38 miles]

Day 6

Slept really well in the tent although it started to drizzle at 4am.so I stayed in the tent until 7.30 am, but had to break camp in the rain. Cycled off, looking for breakfast and eventually found it in the form of a sandwich and takeaway coffee at a petrol station on the main road. I sheltered under the canopy as the rain came down. I knew route finding was going to be tricky today as the landmarks were sparse and the lacery of lanes giving you opportunities to miss the route. So it proved, as I gradually slogged my way up onto the plateau of the Blackdown Hills. I misjudged a junction and took a wrong turning. The problem was, there was no real village I was heading for and I left it too long before consulting the sat-nav on my phone. A energy sapping error. The only thing on the plateau of note was the banger racing track at Smeatharpe, which also incidentally was the border. I entered Devon my final county and toasted with a drink of water. I descended down into Broadhembury and cycled the last 12 miles fatigued, but happy to have crossed the hilliest section of the ride. I stayed in Broadclyst overnight and was able to dry and repack my camping gear. [36 miles]

Day 7

An early start and an easy ride into Exeter,negotiating the suburbs to cross the River Exe and cycle on to Exminister. Some switchback riding over the Devon hills, slow descents on skiddy, twisting lanes followed by even slower ascents.

When riding it is weird that often wind is a larger factor than gradient. With a tailwind you can bomb up a hill and conversely with a tail wind you can be “treading treacle” going downhill. I skirted around Newton Abbott to hit a string of hamlets surrounded by Devon at it’s best. In one, a cottage on a crossroads was colourfully dressed for the Queen’s Platinum celebrations. Eventually I descended into Dartington to the steam engine line and the bridge over the River Dart. The final part of the trip took me through the cycle trails of the Dartington estate before hitting Totnes- my final destination on the trip. A celebratory wild swim in the river capped the day.[34 miles]

Most car drivers on the route had been super courteous, occasionally a driver had punched through on a single track section without a wave of thanks, but only a handful of times on the whole 250 mile trek. I was so pleased to have achieved it. My 66 year old body was feeling fit with no aches and pains.

The rail trip back to Suffolk awaited.

Across England under my own steam

I had been thinking of a long distance cycle for a while and the knowledge that I lived at the easterly end of the widest part of England led me to plan a route across England, following a line westwards, avoiding A roads and sticking to cycleways and country lanes. The ride was going to take in Saffron Walden, the Chilterns, Milton Keynes, Chipping Norton and the Cotswolds, Tewkesbury, Ross-on-Wye and end at the Welsh border in Hay-on-Wye. I then planned to cycle on to Hereford to get the train back to Ipswich.

The lockdown, because of the COVID pandemic, caused me to postpone my preferred start date in June, but a window opened in September 2020, when restrictions on travel were lifted and the journey became possible.

I purchased a lightweight tent and some carriers and had a few practice runs in Suffolk to test the increased weight and volume on the bike. All seemed to be good. I am not a road cyclist pounding out the miles, but prefer to amble along, so my modest 40 kilometres a day meant that I should be able to achieve the 450 kilometres in 8 days. I plotted the overnight stops at campsites, hotels and airbnb’s which committed me to the challenge, locking in each day’s itinerary.

Day 1

The forecast was mixed, but I set off in good spirits and butterflies in my stomach, on a bright mid-September morning, from my home in Ipswich.

The Suffolk byways are special, meandering though villages with Anglo-Saxon names -Flowton, Aldham and Lindsey. I quickly got into a rhythm and my mind wandered about how things have changed in my 60 years in Suffolk . The mew of the buzzard in fields, replacing the flocks of ringed plovers. Eucalyptus trees and yuccas, replacing vegetable patches in cottage front gardens. Saplings that I had helped to plant turning into semi-mature woodland. Life slips by. Maybe the ride across England will give me a chance to store those memories and provide a fresh lens on England, in 2020.

I stopped at the Chapel of St James the Apostle on the edge of Lindsey. A 13th century flint building that had been built for the owners of Lindsey Castle [long since gone]. The atmospheric building is now looked after by English Heritage. If James is the Saint of Pilgrims, he was certainly out to test my resolve, as, after leaving the chapel, the thunderclouds rolled in and a deluge, of biblical proportions, pored down for over an hour, soaking me thoroughly. I eventually found a church lychgate where I was able to shelter and tip out the excess water from my shoes. Eventually, though wet through, I cycled on to my first overnight camping spot, just outside Sudbury. A testing first day.

Day 2:

I broke camp, had a cholesterol-laden breakfast in Sudbury and set off along a disused railway track through the water meadows of the upper Stour. Leaving the river valley and getting into more arable countryside you became aware of the season’s change. Where the combine harvesters had finished the wildlife was having to cope with less cover, enabling me to see a herd of deer and a hare, which froze until I got very close-by. I was running along the Suffolk-Essex border going through the villages of Cavendish and Clare. The house design was starting to change after these settlements, more traditional timber-framed cottages giving way to modern homes suitable for the high-tech industries to the south. The planes flying overhead as they circled reminded me how close I was to Stansted.

A quick pub lunch and then the afternoon cycling the lanes around delightful Ridgewell, Thaxted and on to Saffron Walden. I had booked an airbnb for the night and was met by a charming lady who made me very welcome. We swapped stories of hosting before I headed into Saffron Walden to explore and grab an evening meal at a lovely Indian restaurant. After complimenting the staff about the homemade mango chutney[spiced with ginger] I was offered a complimentary pot to take-away. This lovely touch I had to decline as the thought of the pickle leaking through my gear in the panniers was not worth the risk!

Saffron Walden is a picturesque, medieval town which derives it’s name from the marketing of crocuses for their saffron, obtained from the stigmas of the flowers. This reached it’s height in the 16th century. It’s ancient market has a great reputation, helped no doubt in modern times by sightings of Jamie Oliver.

Day 3

An idyllic start to the day, going past the splendour of Audley End - a Jacobean country estate, reputedly one of the finest in England. It certainly looked grand from the roadside, as I travelled past the landscaped gardens. A mile further on and I passed under the M11. The first of a number of south/north motorways which would bisect my cycle trip. I was entering a countryside of large arable fields with stormy skies overhead. I frequently startled buzzards and spotted a red kite wheeling just above me. I had headed out early to try and beat the predicted lunchtime rain but by 10.30 showers were increasing into steady rain and another soaking.

By 11 am I had suddenly left the rural landscape behind the A1 cutting across my path and entered a string of towns- Baldock, Letchworth and Hitchin. The rain made progress dreary. The topography had become more undulating as I travelled today and was aware of the clay soils suddenly giving way to chalkland. I could see the rising shape of the Chilterns through the clouds on the horizon. I was anxious about tackling my first real gradients and the predicted gusts of 50mph winds on the exposed hills tomorrow.

Today I had an unexpected road rage incident on a single track byroad. Every vehicle user had been polite and thoughtful thus far, giving me a wide berth, holding back, if an overtake was dangerous and often a giving a wave in their rear mirror. I, in turn, also tried to acknowledge thoughtfulness with a thumbs-up or wave. So I was taken aback when a large articulated lorry came up behind me on a lane where it was impossible for him to overtake. I sped up trying to find a safe place to pull over. Twenty yards on I stopped and tucked in, turning in time to see the manic driver wind down his window and verbally harangue me. For the next few miles I re-ran the incident over in my head, trying to make sense of the driver’s anger, but in the end had to accept that some people have burden’s to carry through life.

I rolled into the pleasant town of Hitchin and was welcomed into an old coaching inn. The staff going out of their way to make me feel welcome as I dripped puddles in their reception area. A shower and fresh clothes shook off my melancholy and I went to explore meal options for the evening.

Day 4

A mixed day, as far as riding was concerned, with some glorious stretches, urban jungles and frustrating detours. The expected climbs over the Chilterns didn’t really trouble as they always seemed to be on my left and the cycle route I was following, skirted the hills whilst always giving me a distant vista. Barton le Clay slipped past and I pedalled onwards under the M1, to the hamlet of Tingrith. Here I took an unmade track along a bridleway providing me with a wonderful spectacle of a hobby flying fast and low across a meadow banking and twisting as it shot past. The weather was warm and sunny and it felt a special buzz to have made it halfway across England as I headed on to Woburn. I cycled through the middle of the estate without seeing any safari animals but lots of walkers, enjoying the sunshine. The village of Woburn was packed with coach tourists and the restaurants, cafes and pubs heaving with well-dressed sightseers. It all felt a bit surreal, so I cycled on. Milton Keynes was ahead with it’s cycle friendly lanes. When you can follow the signage the cycle-paths work well. However, it is so easy to miss these and then you find yourself on a fast dual-carriageway with vehicles hurling past. Another 200 yards further on and you suddenly pick up another marked route and calm returns. I lost my way this time in a residential estate before popping out the far side of Milton Keynes with a 10 mile rural section of cycle track ahead of me. Half a mile in and a barrier across the track told me that there was a “temporary closure” due to road or rail networks. No alternative diversion route was offered, leaving me high and dry. My frustration at the lack of planning increased, as I vainly tried to get to my destination of Winslow, being turned back on numerous occasions it seemed that all routes were blocked as I took increasingly large detours in an attempt to get to Winslow. Thank you rail planning department! Grrr!

Day 5

High winds were forecast and so it proved to be, as gusts of 50mph slowed me down or blew me sideways. Fallen branches and sticks were a further hazard. If the wind was head on, it certainly reduced your speed considerably, but was less dangerous than a buffeting side wind, which could slew you into the ditch or out into the road. As I cycled I came to search out the protection of hedgerows which protected me from the bullying winds and to brace myself as I left the protection of vegetation cover. The countryside was varied, sometimes hilly with deep valleys, a flat plain around Bicester, a Roman road,and a picturesque section around the Oxford canal at Tackley. I recorded two further counties- Buckinghamshire and Oxfordshire and started to see the honey coloured stone of the Cotswolds. A long day’s cycle for me battling the elements of wind and rain- I hoped that I would find a sheltered spot for the tent that night.

Chipping Norton was a typical busy Cotswold market town and after erecting the tent a few miles away, slipped down, into the town, for something to eat. A young family settled into a table next to me. The 5 year daughter was celebrating her birthday with mum and dad. The girl was being quite difficult and demanding, putting on a whiny voice to make life uncomfortable for her parents.

“ I don’t want this…. you know I don’t like that”

The dad had tried to bribe the daughter to be good, if she wanted her £200 birthday bonus! The mother, at this point, said to the little girl that she was acting like a diva; the girl naturally complied and burst into fake tears. She was eventually quietened with a chocolate treat. What were the parents going to do, I thought, when the girl hit her teenage years!

Day 6

After a quick breakfast I headed out into the countryside. After 3 miles I was surrounded by a large pack of beagles and two outriders on bikes, as the local hounds took their morning exercise. It was a good job I hadn’t stood in any fox scat or they would have been after blood!

The bike had behaved itself apart for minor brake adjustments and cable lubrication and it needed to be at it’s best on some of the inclines. Again the high winds played their part. Not so good when I had an eight mile stretch on a busy B road swelled with holiday and Saturday traffic speeding past. The countryside was rolling and partly wooded. I stopped for a breather at a roadside pub. The quiet sections were lovely and suddenly I had reached the escarpment of the Cotswolds with the Severn Valley below. The sweep downhill for a mile around some tight bends, reaching speeds that Chris Froome would be proud of, was glorious, as I headed toward Stanway. A few miles further on and I crossed the M5 the last of the artery North/South highways I was intersecting. My overnight stop was in the lovely town of Tewkesbury, with it’s timber framed high street. I was staying at one of the coaching inns, a bustling watering hole, where the locals were making full use of the lifting of restrictions, due to the pandemic. I was elated that I had reached another milestone in getting as far as the Severn Valley - it felt a long way from home. The accumulated miles felt significant and weighty in a way they would not have done had I travelled for the five hours from my home, by car. I felt fit and didn’t have any major aches or pains and Hurricane Phillip, or whatever the thing was called, had finally buggered off to France or Denmark!

Day 7

The wind had finally calmed making progress easier although the hills were getting progressively steeper.

It was Sunday morning so all the club riders were out in numbers, haring as quickly as possible between their stops. I can’t help thinking that they miss so much by racing past the rural landscape. It is part idleness which means that my progress is slow and punctuated by frequent stops. I had been following the Severn River valley for an hour and came across the hamlet of Hartpury. Next to the church was a huge 14thC tithe barn which I found out was one of the biggest in the country [161ft x 36ft]. I sneaked inside to have a quick look at the incredible timber roof. Wandering around the churchyard I came across a large listed stone bee shelter which could house 28 skeps [ traditional basket-like hives]. It is estimated that it could house 840,000 bees! The stone shelving structure had been restored in 2002. It would have been so easy to cycle past and miss a wonderful bit of history.

The pale Cotswold stone had given way to red brick which I associate with the Shropshire and Birmingham area. It is to my mind an unattractive reddish, apricot hue which tends to make the houses look a little drab. The countryside more than made up for it.

When I arrived in Ross-on-Wye it was bustling with holiday-makers. Families were out and about and at 3pm the shops were all open trying to make up for lost revenue due to the COVID restrictions. It was a bit too chaotic for me after many days cycling alone. I retired to the lovely Royal Hotel.

Day 8

Another early start through through some lovely countryside following the river valley and passing a mixture of grassland, woods, orchards and arable fields. After 1 hour cycling I made a bad map-reading error and suddenly found myself way off the route I had planned. To make matters worse, the extra miles needed to get back on course, featured some gruelling hills. I switched on the data on my phone to access the GPS so that no more mistakes were made. I was making my way towards the Golden Valley and eventually stopped for a beer and a sandwich surrounded by beautiful hills on all sides. The weather was once again wet as I climbed towards my camping destination at Michaelchurch Escopi - a small hamlet in the shadow of the Black Mountains. I had pre -booked an evening meal at the Bridge Inn, as it was the only option on that part of the route. The meal did not disappoint, even though I got a soaking getting back to the tent. The stream over the Bridge had become a torrent in the space of an hour. As I lay in my tent that evening I reflected on my journey and smiled to myself that I had managed to get this far under my own steam. That self-congratulatory smirk was to cost me the next day! Smugness comes before a puncture!

Day 9

The tent performed really well in the rain and gale. I stalled my departure so I could break camp without getting too wet. Rain chased me up the valley to Cracknow. I passed a farmer cutting back the hedgerows and 200yrds later suffered my first puncture - 7 miles from my finish point! I had cycled about 250miles and now in the most remote section of the ride I had my first emergency. I unpacked the bike and was struggling to get the wheel off. I reloaded the bike and pushed the bike to a point where I could get a phone signal and sheepishly called for a taxi to pick me up, to ferry me to Hay-on-Wye. It was a galling end to the ride. I had made sure I practised puncture repair before the trip but stupidly came short “in the field.” I was fortunate there was a cycle shop which could help me. I reflected how life has a way of keeping your feet on the ground. The irony of completing the final few miles in a taxi was not lost on me.

I had spent nine days travelling across the widest part of England and whilst my daily targets of 30-40 miles, were modest by road cyclists standards, they were sufficiently taxing for me, on a loaded bike, at the age of 64. In truth I could hardly believe that I had achieved my goal. I had battled the worst that September weather can throw at you-50mph gales and deluges of biblical proportions. I had had a brilliant adventure, seen some of the best countryside that England can offer, all under the shadow of the Covid crisis. It had been a memorable trip, as much for the lows, as the highs. A short 20 mile journey to Hereford to catch the train home awaited. It proved to be a delightful ride, across lovely countryside and home by nightfall.

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