Day 1- To Sharnbrook

I left Cambridge station with rain threatening, but a coffee from one of the many outlets around the station concourse christened the start of the journey and warmed me up for the ride ahead. The cycleways through Cambridge are an absolute delight……why can’t every town create such a comprehensive and user-friendly system? I travelled through lots of pretty villages heading west via Bourn and Abbotesley. The latter village’s church of St Margaret’s unusually had 4 statues crowning the tower. They are said to be the kings - William, Harold, Macbeth and Malcolm. Two English and two Scots kings, due to the ancient landowner having a strong Celtic connection. Interestingly, talking with the verger, he maintained all four statues were Scottish kings. I guess it depends on where you research your history!

I had a quick break for lunch at St. Neots. The afternoon brought high cumulus clouds and blue skies. I stopped to watch four red kites feeding off carrion in a stubble field. They were glancing nervously across at me and finally one of them made the decision to carry the dead carcass off to a safer distance. The hedgerow was laden with blackberries and my passage was slowed by gorging on the ripe fruit. The village of Snarnbrook was a classic settlement built on a crossroads, complete with, pub, store, church and stream. My digs for the night a splendid manor house complete with eccentric owners and wayward dogs! The owner asked if I was all right with dogs. I was until the animal grasped my wrist and drew blood.

Day 2- To Buckingham

As I set off it felt that Autumn had kicked in and the temperature was markedly lower than yesterday. The morning ride largely followed the Gt. Ouse valley. This area was to feature heavily a couple of weeks later on the national news because of severe flooding. I was gradually heading toward Milton Keynes through a number of stone built villages. The roadsides were strewn with rubbish and the drivers were often going far too fast on the country lanes. I pushed my bike through Newport Pagnell looking for a likely coffee stop and tucked away, right at the end of the High Street came across the Farthing Brothers Coffee House. A friendly owner and a great flat white. This was the start of 6 miles of cycleways as I navigated through Milton Keynes. The cycle.travel app didn’t miss a beat and spat me out on the western fringe of the urbanisation very efficiently. I travelled the last 5 miles, into Buckingham, alongside a fellow cycle trekker. He had just started out on a journey from Milton Keynes to Wales. My route was to take me in a more southerly direction and we parted company in Buckingham. It was interesting to see his cycle set-up, he was carrying more kit than me but was more self sufficient with a stove and food. I spent the night in a Travellodge on the edge of town.

Day 3- To Oxford

The ride this morning from Buckingham was made more difficult by a strong head wind and by poor road surfaces of potholes and fragmented or patched tarmac. This meant your eyes are constantly on the road ahead, trying to gauge if the next 20 yards will buckle a wheel or have you in the ditch. Swerving to avoid these obstacles is not always possible when vehicles are coming towards you or overtaking from behind. The overall result is that you spend less time observing the scenery more time negotiating the highway. Wind can be your friend or foe causing you, on occasion, to pedal hard downhill to maintain forward momentum or, occasionally, free-wheeling up an incline with the aid of a tailwind!

Bicester is another world. I felt as if I had been tele-ported to Orlando. I was suddenly in kitsch-ville with stucco buildings, fake architecture and designer shops, selling overpriced merchandise to wealthy tourists, who were arriving in the concierge parking slots. Help, get me out of here.

The byways between Bicester and Oxford improved. I cynically wondered if the proximity to Blenheim had anything to do with it and whether local parish councils could influence highways departments. I pitched my tent outside Oxford just before the rain came. A 2 mile cycle ride with major hold-ups and getting soaked was compensated by a really great meal at the Talbot Inn at Eynsham.

Day 4- To Marlborough

I skirted around the southern edge of Oxford joining up the dots of small villages- heading steadily south. The hills in the distance were the North Wessex Downs and the famous Ridgeway route, traditionally named as the oldest pathway in the country. I was gradually heading to Uffingham and the famous chalk horse etched into the hillside.

The downland chalk slopes were quite a contrast to the farmland of Oxfordshire. At some point I crossed the border into Wiltshire. This meant I had travelled through the counties of Cambridgeshire, Bedfordshire, Buckinghamshire and Oxfordshire and was now halfway through my intended route. I was averaging 36 miles per day, not a huge amount by serious cyclists, but I would argue for quality over quantity! After cutting over the M4 I linked up with a cycleway on a disused railway which took me the remaining 8 miles into Marlborough. Marlborough is a pretty, market town with a broad high street. The affluence of the area no doubt, is helped by the famous public school. I was booked into a Forestry Commission camp-site in the Savernake Forest.

The site itself in a woodland glade just outside the town was idyllic; the road access to it for bikes was horrendous. A bending fast A road on a steep hill with cars and lorries speeding past. There was a footpath into town but that was too overgrown and steep for cyclists to use.

Day 5- To Wilton

I broke camp early, packed the tent wet and was off to tackle the busy road down into Marlborough, by 8.15am. I calmed down with a £5 breakfast at a “greasy spoon.” [A surprise bargain in expensive Wiltshire.]

The path out of Marlborough soon had me climbing into downland, characterised by chalk grassland and few trees. I spotted two iron age fortifications on hilltops, before swooping down into Alton Barnes. The Westbury Chalk Horse etched into the hillside was perfectly framed by one of the windows of the Saxon church. The atmosphere inside the building was one of calm. The simple timbered roof and ancient friezes were atmospheric. From there it was a short hop to the Oxford Wiltshire canal and a stop at Honey Street for coffee. There was some interesting reclaimed Indian furniture for sale but no space in my panniers for a wardrobe!

Another set of hill climbs and some warnings of tanks crossing the road led me to Bulford Camps, before descending once again, into Amesbury. I had been following the Upper Avon River for much of the morning but in-spite of checking lots of bridge crossings I had not seen any kingfishers. After reaching Wilton just west of Salisbury I headed off to a wonderful bed and breakfast at Burcombe Manor.

Day 6 -To Wareham

A long uphill slog out of Wilton, heading south, soon found me in downland again, before dropping down into the quintessentially, stone and thatch houses that make up the villages of Broad Chalke, Bowerchalke and Sixpenny Handley-complete with chalk stream. I saw an old signpost for the latter village which had been shortened to a pre decimal 6d Handley. I passed by a beautifully proportioned, Georgian pink stone, country residence. A blue plaque on the gateway said it was the former home of the celebrity photographer Cecil Beaton. I stopped for a bite to eat at Amen Corner and wondered if the seventies group took their name from this crossroads. The afternoon ride took me into a different landscape of verdant green pastures, oak and chestnut trees and arable fields. The white soil of chalk had been replaced by red earth. I explored a fording point at Tarrant Keyneston and caught sight of a bird I had been hoping to see all week. The blue flash of a kingfisher flitted into thick scrub at my approach. My last camp-site on a hillside overlooking the New Forest marked the 200 mile marker for my journey I was greeted by an empty camp-site save for an aging hippie who was strolling about stark naked! On seeing me, he scurried back into his tent and thankfully appeared clad in jogging bottoms.

After repacking the bike and an outside cold shower the next morning, I had a nice easy run of 8 miles into Wareham and hence a return trip, by train, to Ipswich.

My legs felt strong and my bike had performed well, though the cranks were wearing and probably needed replacing.