Awake at seven and listening to the cars splashing through the puddles outside. Roll over and go back to sleep, we've only 58 miles to do today and plenty of time for the cycling business later.
Another cup of tea was presented and I decided to open my eyes. Elected against the custard creams though. Either way we were awake and hungry so a quick shower then out to Weatherspoons for breakfast again. A cup of tea, bowl of porridge and a sausage bap then Land's End doesn't seem too far away.
No BBC forecast today, just look out the window and see that we shall probably get a shade damp at one point or another. Either way we're in Cornwall and are actually going to do this. Yesterday we tested ourselves against the West countrys hills and were not found wanting, whatever comes from the skies today isn't going to be a problem.
We left Bodmin on the old road and climbed to the West towards the main road. No thoughts of back roads, just get there then home for tea and medals. We only made it four miles before having to take shelter in a bus stop for a shower to pass. Despite thoughts full of bravery and speech declaring the rain unimportant the bus stop was handy and there's no point in getting wet so early in the day...
Onto the A30, busier than yesterday but legs pushing us with determination we burned through the miles pretty quickly. Familiar name places from the hundreds of times we have driven this road passing us by. Indian Queens, Fraddon, Summercourt, all places we've been before but of no interest today. Today the mileage signs to Penzance were all that mattered, that and the next hill of which we knew were going to be many of. Showers all around us and occasional above too forcing us to sprint for shelter under bridges but still the miles to the finish were dropping.
A cup of tea at Chiverton Cross and an enforced wait in a petrol station whilst another heavy downpour passed became the midpoint of the journey. More hills and Penzance was getting closer and closer. More names of places we were familiar with, Newquay where we've surfed so often, Perranporth where I caught my first clean, green wave. Hayle roundabout then the climb towards Penzance and we were ticking off the miles one by one.
Just as we left Penzance for the final ten miles a spoke on my rear wheel gave way with a horrible snapping sound. I ground to a halt as the wheel deformed and pushed against the brake block. Undo the brakes, bend the spoke and pray for it to last. Ten more miles, don't fail me now! As gentle as possible up the hills, searching the road ahead for imperfections to avoid. Five more miles, two more miles and it's smiles all round as we know we are going to do this thing, something that seemed impossible standing on a wet quayside in Northern Scotland.
Past Sennon church and the last pub in England, down the final few yards and into the tacky theme park that is Land's End to be met by a familiar face. Mister King holding a camera wishing us welcome with a cheeky grin and a handshake. We've done it, 880ish miles give or take a few by bike in 11 days of cycling.
We've come a long way baby...
Wednesday, 26 September 2012
Day 12 Bodmin to Land's End
Well we made it after 880ish miles and 11 days of cycling, and in no small part thanks to the help and encouragement you have all supplied. I've had lots of facebook and text messages for us both and I will get around to replying to them and updating the blog about today in a bit.
Matt King very kindly met us there and drove us all the way back to Plymouth where there is a hot bath awaiting me so if you don't mind, I'm going to go for a soak.
Thanks all.
Matt King very kindly met us there and drove us all the way back to Plymouth where there is a hot bath awaiting me so if you don't mind, I'm going to go for a soak.
Thanks all.
Tuesday, 25 September 2012
Day 11 Taunton to Bodmin
Waking up in another decent bed was followed by Chris unexpectedly knocking on the door with a cup of tea. Sadly that was the highlight of the day and it was all going to be downhill from there on in. After breakfast we waved goodbye to our kind hosts and set off aiming to get Somerset and Devon done and dusted.
The weather forecast had promised rain and high winds for all of today but we arrived in Tiverton without getting too wet. In Tiverton we got our bike tyres pumped up by The Bike Shop and and the lass who was working in Subway let us bring our bikes inside whilst we wolfed down an early lunch. Thank you very much indeed!
Just outside of Tiverton we encountered the first rain shower of the day which saw me scurrying for waterproofs but Chris elected not to bother. Five minutes later Chris had obviously had the better foresight when the rain stopped and we were presented with the Bickleigh hill. That was a hill and a half, and was the first of many climbs that we would have on the road to Okehampton. And each hill was an evil little devil full of spite and switchbacks that promised summits but delivered more gradients.
Eventually we arrived in Oakhampton were with rain clouds looming we decided to stop for tea in a fabulous cake shop called W T Endacott which served hot pasties and scrumptious cakes. Suitably refreshed we decided to head out into the cold just as a shower had started. We bought four bags of skittles and started climbing towards the A30. We had planned on sticking to the minor roads however the hills that we had faced on the way to Okehampton convinced us that the main artery through Devon and Cornwall was going to be the only route to making decent ground.
Just outside of the town the shower became a downpour and we took shelter for five minutes under a tree until it had backed off a bit. By the time we arrived at the A30 slip road we had only covered 5 miles in two hours and realised we needed to get a wriggle on as there was still 40 miles in front of us that day. Just before the slip road we had seen two very low flying BAE Hawk jets in black and white colours flying around, at one point crossing below one another. It was a great surprise to see them roaring around in the leaden skies.
Although progress was faster on the dual carriageway it was still very hilly indeed. To be honest the 40 miles on the A30 were virtually all the same, either pedalling against the wind or climbing up long and drawn out inclines. At the summit of each slope we could usually see another two we would need to climb. Fun it wasn't... The only notable events were coming to the welcome to Cornwall sign, having the inside lane to ourselves for a few miles where half the road had been coned off due to resurfacing work and at the top of one particularly arduous climb seeing a very low flying GR4 Tornado complete with loads on the pylons banking only a few hundred feet above us. That properly lifted my spirits!
Eventually we found the turn to Bodmin and descended into the town. I'd never have believed I would be glad to see Bodmin but after 96 of the most cruelest miles I have cycled I was so happy to stop. We had some food in the local weatherspoons, a beautiful building that had once been a church then found accomodation in the White Hart Inn for the night which has the distinction of having the best shower of the trip outside the hotel and two very nice chaps running the place downstairs.
Tomorrow we should be in Lands End before 4pm with only 58 hilly miles to go and that will be the end of this adventure.
The weather forecast had promised rain and high winds for all of today but we arrived in Tiverton without getting too wet. In Tiverton we got our bike tyres pumped up by The Bike Shop and and the lass who was working in Subway let us bring our bikes inside whilst we wolfed down an early lunch. Thank you very much indeed!
Just outside of Tiverton we encountered the first rain shower of the day which saw me scurrying for waterproofs but Chris elected not to bother. Five minutes later Chris had obviously had the better foresight when the rain stopped and we were presented with the Bickleigh hill. That was a hill and a half, and was the first of many climbs that we would have on the road to Okehampton. And each hill was an evil little devil full of spite and switchbacks that promised summits but delivered more gradients.
Eventually we arrived in Oakhampton were with rain clouds looming we decided to stop for tea in a fabulous cake shop called W T Endacott which served hot pasties and scrumptious cakes. Suitably refreshed we decided to head out into the cold just as a shower had started. We bought four bags of skittles and started climbing towards the A30. We had planned on sticking to the minor roads however the hills that we had faced on the way to Okehampton convinced us that the main artery through Devon and Cornwall was going to be the only route to making decent ground.
Just outside of the town the shower became a downpour and we took shelter for five minutes under a tree until it had backed off a bit. By the time we arrived at the A30 slip road we had only covered 5 miles in two hours and realised we needed to get a wriggle on as there was still 40 miles in front of us that day. Just before the slip road we had seen two very low flying BAE Hawk jets in black and white colours flying around, at one point crossing below one another. It was a great surprise to see them roaring around in the leaden skies.
Although progress was faster on the dual carriageway it was still very hilly indeed. To be honest the 40 miles on the A30 were virtually all the same, either pedalling against the wind or climbing up long and drawn out inclines. At the summit of each slope we could usually see another two we would need to climb. Fun it wasn't... The only notable events were coming to the welcome to Cornwall sign, having the inside lane to ourselves for a few miles where half the road had been coned off due to resurfacing work and at the top of one particularly arduous climb seeing a very low flying GR4 Tornado complete with loads on the pylons banking only a few hundred feet above us. That properly lifted my spirits!
Eventually we found the turn to Bodmin and descended into the town. I'd never have believed I would be glad to see Bodmin but after 96 of the most cruelest miles I have cycled I was so happy to stop. We had some food in the local weatherspoons, a beautiful building that had once been a church then found accomodation in the White Hart Inn for the night which has the distinction of having the best shower of the trip outside the hotel and two very nice chaps running the place downstairs.
Tomorrow we should be in Lands End before 4pm with only 58 hilly miles to go and that will be the end of this adventure.
Monday, 24 September 2012
Day 10 Monmouth to Taunton
Waking up at 7am was met with mixed emotions. Happiness at being in a very large comfy bed, and disappointment at hearing the rain beating at the window. Peering out through the curtains of my well appointed bedroom it was wet. Very wet. Ludicrously wet. I went back to bed. At half seven I stupidly watched the BBC news weather forecast and saw the psychedelic colours marching across South Wales, but instead of promoting peace and love these were signifying rain and lots thereof.
After a porridge and bacon sandwich breakfast we went out into the rain in search of more waterproof gear. I bought a pair of sealskin socks and Chris scrounged a pair of plastic bags. We left the hotel with good wishes from the staff and after admonishments to take care, headed out into the drizzle.
The road South followed the River Wye and provided an easy hour of pedalling. Mist hung amongst the trees towering above us and the air was thick with the smell of damp leaves. The river was full and red with all the rain that had fallen overnight and we followed the road south alongside the water.
Soon we arrived at Tintern Abbey and stopped to take a few photographs. As nice as it was, ultimately we were quite wet and facing the first big climb of the day so we pretty much just got on with it. After an unpleasantly big hill we had a nicer descent and found the M48 bridge to cross over the Severn in front of us. The crossing was windy and led us to Avonmouth which were ultimately two unpleasant things. Avonmouth is a large industrial zone with lots of trucks and gritty streets, the wind was in front of us and blowing the grit into my contact lenses which wasn't a big bag of fun.
Eventually we passed under Brunell's bridge at Clifton and started heading down the A38 towards ristol airport and the M5. If you've never visited the area it's hilly, and thoroughly unfun if there is a 30 know wind blowing straight at you. It took far too long to get through Avonmouth and the climb out of Bristol really tried my patience. We stopped at a layby burger van for a cup of tea and a few text messages of support from friends lifted my sunken spirits somewhat. It's difficult cycling along roads you know because you can appreciate how far you actually have to go. I know the road from the M5 to the airport and I know how hilly it is, unfortunately.
With the wind against us we made slow progress towards and over the M5 but after devouring a sandwich and a bag of sweets we got there and onwards to Bridgewater. Legs were getting heavy now and conversation had dried up long ago but we could see signs for Taunton and despite a lot of traffic including an idiot in a Morris Minor doing his myopic best to squash Chris there was no reason not to forge ahead and reach the planned stop for the evening. That planned stop was Lee and Cath's house, friends of Chris who were kind enough to take in two cold and sweaty strays, cook them a very nice dinner and provide them a bed for the night. Thank you both.
Cornwall tomorrow, somwhere or other. Land's End by Wednesday might be asking a wee bit too much...
After a porridge and bacon sandwich breakfast we went out into the rain in search of more waterproof gear. I bought a pair of sealskin socks and Chris scrounged a pair of plastic bags. We left the hotel with good wishes from the staff and after admonishments to take care, headed out into the drizzle.
The road South followed the River Wye and provided an easy hour of pedalling. Mist hung amongst the trees towering above us and the air was thick with the smell of damp leaves. The river was full and red with all the rain that had fallen overnight and we followed the road south alongside the water.
Soon we arrived at Tintern Abbey and stopped to take a few photographs. As nice as it was, ultimately we were quite wet and facing the first big climb of the day so we pretty much just got on with it. After an unpleasantly big hill we had a nicer descent and found the M48 bridge to cross over the Severn in front of us. The crossing was windy and led us to Avonmouth which were ultimately two unpleasant things. Avonmouth is a large industrial zone with lots of trucks and gritty streets, the wind was in front of us and blowing the grit into my contact lenses which wasn't a big bag of fun.
Eventually we passed under Brunell's bridge at Clifton and started heading down the A38 towards ristol airport and the M5. If you've never visited the area it's hilly, and thoroughly unfun if there is a 30 know wind blowing straight at you. It took far too long to get through Avonmouth and the climb out of Bristol really tried my patience. We stopped at a layby burger van for a cup of tea and a few text messages of support from friends lifted my sunken spirits somewhat. It's difficult cycling along roads you know because you can appreciate how far you actually have to go. I know the road from the M5 to the airport and I know how hilly it is, unfortunately.
With the wind against us we made slow progress towards and over the M5 but after devouring a sandwich and a bag of sweets we got there and onwards to Bridgewater. Legs were getting heavy now and conversation had dried up long ago but we could see signs for Taunton and despite a lot of traffic including an idiot in a Morris Minor doing his myopic best to squash Chris there was no reason not to forge ahead and reach the planned stop for the evening. That planned stop was Lee and Cath's house, friends of Chris who were kind enough to take in two cold and sweaty strays, cook them a very nice dinner and provide them a bed for the night. Thank you both.
Cornwall tomorrow, somwhere or other. Land's End by Wednesday might be asking a wee bit too much...
Sunday, 23 September 2012
Day 9 Shrewsbury to Monmouth
An early start and a nice enough breakfast saw us leaving Shrewsbury in the frigid air at half eight, the roads pleasantly quiet. We realised today that although the weather would be closing in on us that the lesson from yesterday wasn't to push too quickly and to pace ourselves. It's a marathon, not a sprint or something like that at least...
More rolling hills greeted us as we headed south but these were more obliging than yesterday and were content to loom to port and starboard of the smooth blacktop we were rolling along. Around Church Stretton we saw hills to the East stretching towards the uniformly leaden skies which looked fun to climb. Another day perhaps.
Despite the promised restraint the pace was still fast aided by a light tail wind and we made first Ludlow then Leominster in good time. At the latter we elected to lunch at the unusual location of Aldi where we quickly scoffed a sandwich, a pint of milk and a bag of chocolate buttons each. Not long after leaving the raindrops started falling and although it wasn't heavy rain it's persistence soon had us soaked through. We got our heads down and pushed on towards Hereford, the descent into the town chilled us to the core.
On the outskirts we saw a Halfords and nipped in so I could buy a pair of waterproof gloves. The staff were very kind and took pity on the shivering wretch in front of them and gave me a discount. Thank you very much. Into Hereford we searched for waterproof socks and trousers finding the latter but having to make do with the age old carrier bag over the socks method to obtain a reasonably dry foot.
With wet weather gear secured we scampered to the Weatherspoons pub for warmth and a hot tea but were refused entry to the empty pub with our bikes. Instead we went next door to the warmer, busier and friendlier Hop Pole where many people were watching the football but the staff still made room for our bikes and served us hot tea and cheesy chips. Nom! A very nice welcome indeed.
With feelings returned to fingers and feet we pushed on to Monmouth where the plan was for another brief tea stop then onwards to Chepstow. There were more climbs of increasing steepness as we ploughed on through the rain south with another chilly descent into the town. Despite the new waterproofs we were wet of foot again and our enthusiasm for another twenty miles was waning.
The weatherspoons pub in Monmouth is also a hotel which we hadn't realised when stopping provisionally for a cup of tea. We asked the staff if we could bring the bikes inside and they offered to lock them in the store room whilst we warmed up. Wheeling the bikes around the back we noticed a sign proclaiming rooms for £30 a night on Sundays and thoughts of more progress were cast to the wayside. Cold and wet we'd had enough for today. As a luxury we secured a room each, I've had a ludicrously hot bath, clothes have been washed, shoes are on the radiator and food been devoured. Tomorrow we should be in Somerset!
More rolling hills greeted us as we headed south but these were more obliging than yesterday and were content to loom to port and starboard of the smooth blacktop we were rolling along. Around Church Stretton we saw hills to the East stretching towards the uniformly leaden skies which looked fun to climb. Another day perhaps.
Despite the promised restraint the pace was still fast aided by a light tail wind and we made first Ludlow then Leominster in good time. At the latter we elected to lunch at the unusual location of Aldi where we quickly scoffed a sandwich, a pint of milk and a bag of chocolate buttons each. Not long after leaving the raindrops started falling and although it wasn't heavy rain it's persistence soon had us soaked through. We got our heads down and pushed on towards Hereford, the descent into the town chilled us to the core.
On the outskirts we saw a Halfords and nipped in so I could buy a pair of waterproof gloves. The staff were very kind and took pity on the shivering wretch in front of them and gave me a discount. Thank you very much. Into Hereford we searched for waterproof socks and trousers finding the latter but having to make do with the age old carrier bag over the socks method to obtain a reasonably dry foot.
With wet weather gear secured we scampered to the Weatherspoons pub for warmth and a hot tea but were refused entry to the empty pub with our bikes. Instead we went next door to the warmer, busier and friendlier Hop Pole where many people were watching the football but the staff still made room for our bikes and served us hot tea and cheesy chips. Nom! A very nice welcome indeed.
With feelings returned to fingers and feet we pushed on to Monmouth where the plan was for another brief tea stop then onwards to Chepstow. There were more climbs of increasing steepness as we ploughed on through the rain south with another chilly descent into the town. Despite the new waterproofs we were wet of foot again and our enthusiasm for another twenty miles was waning.
The weatherspoons pub in Monmouth is also a hotel which we hadn't realised when stopping provisionally for a cup of tea. We asked the staff if we could bring the bikes inside and they offered to lock them in the store room whilst we warmed up. Wheeling the bikes around the back we noticed a sign proclaiming rooms for £30 a night on Sundays and thoughts of more progress were cast to the wayside. Cold and wet we'd had enough for today. As a luxury we secured a room each, I've had a ludicrously hot bath, clothes have been washed, shoes are on the radiator and food been devoured. Tomorrow we should be in Somerset!
Saturday, 22 September 2012
Day 8 Leyland to Shrewsbury
After a very good nights kip in Richard and Leah's home we were treated to a full breakfast by Richard. I know I've said this before but we can't thank you both enough for the kindness you showed to two wet footed, cold and tired cyclists.
We departed Leyland in the frigid air taking care on the roads dusted with frost. The sun soon made an appearance and the day started to warm up as we headed south towards Wigan then Warrington. Navigation through the towns was proving easier that we had feared helped in part with a number of cyclist heading the same way as us.
The rolling countryside that we had admired on either side of the road yesterday decided to position itself on the road in front if us today. With good weather today and rain forecast for the next few days we were keen to make good progress today and cover as much ground as possible. With tomorrows rain in mind we pushed ourselves over the hills as fast as we could.
After fifty five miles we stopped in the pretty market town of Whitechurch and were pleased with how many miles we had covered in the morning session. One roast turkey sandwich later and we pressed on towards Shrewsbury over more green hills. Unfortunately our quick pace in the morning was beginning to take it's toll and with each subsequent incline seemed to be longer and steeper than the last, the bikes weighing more and our legs a shade more leaden. By the time we arrived at the outskirts of.Shrewsbury the tentative plan of arriving there and then seeing how far extra we could push ourselves had been assigned to the 'maybe another day' pile.
We found a b&b in Shrewsbury and descended into the town. It's a slightly dated place, or at least it was in 1987 but it has two beds, a hot shower and the promise of breakfast in the morning.
If you've got a minute too, Sue the manager of the the Shrewsbury Hotel is climbing Kilimanjaro in a couple of weeks in aid of Clic Sargent. If you go to her virgin money page you can show her some support with a few words of wisdom and a couple of beer tokens.
On the way home we got a kebab in the Town Fryer were we were served with a very good chicken kebab. We had a nice chat with the owner who wished us good fortune in our journey and gave us a free drink too. Thank you sir!
We departed Leyland in the frigid air taking care on the roads dusted with frost. The sun soon made an appearance and the day started to warm up as we headed south towards Wigan then Warrington. Navigation through the towns was proving easier that we had feared helped in part with a number of cyclist heading the same way as us.
The rolling countryside that we had admired on either side of the road yesterday decided to position itself on the road in front if us today. With good weather today and rain forecast for the next few days we were keen to make good progress today and cover as much ground as possible. With tomorrows rain in mind we pushed ourselves over the hills as fast as we could.
After fifty five miles we stopped in the pretty market town of Whitechurch and were pleased with how many miles we had covered in the morning session. One roast turkey sandwich later and we pressed on towards Shrewsbury over more green hills. Unfortunately our quick pace in the morning was beginning to take it's toll and with each subsequent incline seemed to be longer and steeper than the last, the bikes weighing more and our legs a shade more leaden. By the time we arrived at the outskirts of.Shrewsbury the tentative plan of arriving there and then seeing how far extra we could push ourselves had been assigned to the 'maybe another day' pile.
We found a b&b in Shrewsbury and descended into the town. It's a slightly dated place, or at least it was in 1987 but it has two beds, a hot shower and the promise of breakfast in the morning.
If you've got a minute too, Sue the manager of the the Shrewsbury Hotel is climbing Kilimanjaro in a couple of weeks in aid of Clic Sargent. If you go to her virgin money page you can show her some support with a few words of wisdom and a couple of beer tokens.
On the way home we got a kebab in the Town Fryer were we were served with a very good chicken kebab. We had a nice chat with the owner who wished us good fortune in our journey and gave us a free drink too. Thank you sir!
Friday, 21 September 2012
Day 7 Carlisle to Leyland
A seven o clock wake up in the travelodge led to a Subway breakfast and us on the road at 9 o'clock.
Nothing to do with me faffing around oh no... Anyway out of Carlisle a much prettier road than the one we arrived on climbed upwards towards clouds threatening rain despite the forecast promising sunshine. In the distance we could see the Lake District rising out of the mist to the West and we knew we would have some climbing to do today.
After a few climbs and photos of cows eating ferns that Chris had used to persuade them to pose for him we made Penrith. With the breeze behind us we were making good time and took the chance to look at some of the local architecture.
After Penrith came the 1400 foot climb to the top of Shap Pass where there were the twin view of the Yorkshire Moors to the East and the Lake district to the West. Despite it's beauty the real reward was the downhill afterwards where tired legs decided instead of resting to see how quickly we could go. 50.2mph if you are interested, according to the gps. Going back to architecture, the houses have a distinct look here, places to live in that demand they will be here for a very long time indeed. Stern, but with a beauty in their strength. Over each dry stone walls were landscapes of deep green and browns rising away from the road. We arrived in Kendal and went unsuccessfully in search of tea and mint cake. A 50 percent success rate isn't abysmal but it meant I had to settle for an oat cake.
A mile outside of Kendal we were caught by a shower that we had managed to dodge for far too long. Within a few minutes we were both soaked to the skin. The next fifty miles would be with very wet feet. The only way to warm up and get dry was to forge on as fast as we could whilst we had a 5 knot tailwind. Lancaster is such a pretty city it was a shame that it was rather rudely dispatched in the blink of an eye. In our defence the skies held more damp aggression and we had Preston in our sights. Towards Preston along the A6 it was a case of spinning the cranks as fast as possible. Heads down and cracking on the miles slipped by, the hills short enough to warm us and the down hills long enough to rest legs.
Eventually we arrived in Preston and a beeline was made the local weatherspoons. Usually the staff have welcomed us and allowed us to bring the bikes inside whilst we drank tea and eat hot food (and occasionally drank a pint) but this time we were met with a blank refusal to bring the bikes in by the manager. Shivering outside Chris used their wifi to try and find us a place to stay the night. A small group came outside and asked what we were doing. On hearing the ride was for the RAFBF one pushed some money into my hand whilst another offered us his spare room. When he heard that we had found a b&b in Fishergate he (checked with the Mrs) and offered the room again which we gladly accepted Richard and Leah gave us their address and agreed to meet us there in 40 minutes so we set out for the final five miles of todays 99 mile ride. When we met them we were brought inside and given hot tea, gin and tonic, washing put in the machine and a hot shower and sorted out with bed for the night in the home of two very kind people. The kindness of strangers never ceases to amaze me.
Nothing to do with me faffing around oh no... Anyway out of Carlisle a much prettier road than the one we arrived on climbed upwards towards clouds threatening rain despite the forecast promising sunshine. In the distance we could see the Lake District rising out of the mist to the West and we knew we would have some climbing to do today.
After a few climbs and photos of cows eating ferns that Chris had used to persuade them to pose for him we made Penrith. With the breeze behind us we were making good time and took the chance to look at some of the local architecture.
After Penrith came the 1400 foot climb to the top of Shap Pass where there were the twin view of the Yorkshire Moors to the East and the Lake district to the West. Despite it's beauty the real reward was the downhill afterwards where tired legs decided instead of resting to see how quickly we could go. 50.2mph if you are interested, according to the gps. Going back to architecture, the houses have a distinct look here, places to live in that demand they will be here for a very long time indeed. Stern, but with a beauty in their strength. Over each dry stone walls were landscapes of deep green and browns rising away from the road. We arrived in Kendal and went unsuccessfully in search of tea and mint cake. A 50 percent success rate isn't abysmal but it meant I had to settle for an oat cake.
A mile outside of Kendal we were caught by a shower that we had managed to dodge for far too long. Within a few minutes we were both soaked to the skin. The next fifty miles would be with very wet feet. The only way to warm up and get dry was to forge on as fast as we could whilst we had a 5 knot tailwind. Lancaster is such a pretty city it was a shame that it was rather rudely dispatched in the blink of an eye. In our defence the skies held more damp aggression and we had Preston in our sights. Towards Preston along the A6 it was a case of spinning the cranks as fast as possible. Heads down and cracking on the miles slipped by, the hills short enough to warm us and the down hills long enough to rest legs.
Eventually we arrived in Preston and a beeline was made the local weatherspoons. Usually the staff have welcomed us and allowed us to bring the bikes inside whilst we drank tea and eat hot food (and occasionally drank a pint) but this time we were met with a blank refusal to bring the bikes in by the manager. Shivering outside Chris used their wifi to try and find us a place to stay the night. A small group came outside and asked what we were doing. On hearing the ride was for the RAFBF one pushed some money into my hand whilst another offered us his spare room. When he heard that we had found a b&b in Fishergate he (checked with the Mrs) and offered the room again which we gladly accepted Richard and Leah gave us their address and agreed to meet us there in 40 minutes so we set out for the final five miles of todays 99 mile ride. When we met them we were brought inside and given hot tea, gin and tonic, washing put in the machine and a hot shower and sorted out with bed for the night in the home of two very kind people. The kindness of strangers never ceases to amaze me.
Thursday, 20 September 2012
A little video link, cycling is fun!
Taken from the long downhill stretch from Drumochre towards Perth. Not often you can film at 30mph on an A road...
A little video
A little video
Day 6 Moffat to Carlisle
Another fine breakfast provided by Paul & Lesley started our day, and outside the rain had slackened off giving us a false sense of hope for the days ride to Carlisle. The road out of Moffat was nowhere near as pleasant as the one into it and heading south shortly the road was only a few metres off the side of the motorway. Curiously it was also very busy with lorries despite the proximity of the motorway, many of them carrying tree trunks. Not long after leaving Moffat the rain started in earnest and we got our heads down and got on with the job of following the flat and straight road.
And that was pretty much a description of the entire 45 miles we rode today; flatish, wet and the only interesting thing was passing through Gretna Green. Even the sign at the border was quite nondescript.
We arrived in Carlisle as wet as an otters pocket and set up camp in the William Rufus pub. The staff kindly let us bring the bikes inside where we changed out of most of our wet clothes in full view of everyone. Honestly, we were that soaked we didn't care. Tonight we stay in a travelodge and will be trying to dry our clothes on the worlds smallest eletrical heater.
Tomorrow is supposed to be dryer and we will hopefully make Preston.
Wednesday, 19 September 2012
Day 5 Kinross to Moffat
Another early morning but this time accompanied by frost on the ground. Pat from the Pascaig B&B made a delicious breakfast including our first bowl of porridge of the trip and sandwiches for the journey. We left a chilly Kinross and headed down quiet lanes to the Bridges over the Firth of Forth. The farmers were gathering their cereal crops in between showers and we watched the tractors scurrying backwards and forwards whilst steadily heading south. Does anyone know why some hay bales are made into cylinders and some into oblongs? We arrived at the north bank after a fast descent to see the bridges bathed in glorious sunlight.
After taking photos of the rail bridge and crossing the road bridge we had the far less than simple task of negotiating around Edinburgh. Unfortunately we planned to cycle around a quarter of the ring road, a necessary evil to get to the road we needed quickly. Edinburgh's town planners were keen to thwart our plans however and have decreed that the 50mph road is off limits to cyclists. Instead we wasted over an hour travelling through the numerous industrial estates until we had managed to inch our way around.
Once clear of the city we climbed to Pencuik through remarkably Kent like villages and stopped for a cup of tea and cake in a cafe called little Italy. The cake slice thing deserves special mention due to it's fantastic recuperation properties. It was chocolate with marshmallows and broken biscuits melted into it. Nom, nom and dare I say it Nom!
After a short break we hit the road for the second half of the day and the 40 miles to the night stop at Moffat. The landscape became more rugged with steep hills covered in heather and gorse. As we climbed the air got colder and our breath turned into mist as we ground up the hills. The ascents left us sweaty and the bitter wind we were heading into froze us on the shorter descents. I must have taken my jacket on and off a dozen times, doing it on the bike whilst cycling to save time in the end. The road was roughly surfaced, the vibration turned my fingers numb and I had to stop and resecure the aero bars after a number of big potholes.
Towards the top of the climb we were soaked twice by cold sharp showers alleviated somewhat by a skittle consuming session. The views from the top with a pair of rainbows to the East and turbines turning in the sunshine and drizzle on the skyline to the west were worth every mile. The six mile descent was along much better blacktop on the edge of the valley side with sheer drops and drying roads. It was addictively exhilarating, the speed down the slight gradient building relentlessly. Every opportunity to take our eyes off the road was met with majestic views across the valley and the sight of Moffat nestling at its foot. Faster and faster until the thrill of speed overcomes the fear of crashing! If you like driving cars, motorbikes or cycling I implore you to try the A701 from Penicuik to Moffat.
We've a room in the Bonnington Hotel and have just been very well fed. Tomorrow looks to be very wet indeed so instead of the 85 miles we achieved today our sights are set on Carlisle 41 miles away. Still, we shall see in the morning...
Tuesday, 18 September 2012
Day 4 Aviemore to Kinross
Today started badly but has gotten significantly better than I could have hoped for. What a difference a few hours can bring...
We got up early and went unsuccessfully in search of breakfast. I went to the bike shop for 8.30 to wait for the owners and pick up my new if somewhat unwanted Raleigh Airlite 100. After I'd paid for the bike Mike and Jenny went to get breakfast themselves and we started preparing for departure. Unfortunately the seat clamp snapped when adjusting it and we lost more time finding Mike to get a new one. I was somewhat cheesed off when I woke up this morning knowing I wouldn't be using Ants bike anymore and by the time we left Aviemore at half nine I had finished the cheese and moved on to the coffee and cigars. After a few miles in the rain I was metaphorical speaking, in a cab with two lady companions heading to the Pink Pussycat in Lower Regent. *
We cycled the same route we had tried the day beforehand which was quiet and very pretty and called in on Don and Gwen to say thank you again and give them a bottle of wine. We continued upon the road until it merged with the A9, the main route to Perth and one we feared would be busy. It was however quiet with traffic coming along in waves and very well paved. It was also exceptionally beautiful and we stopped a number of times to take photos. We had been warned that the journey today would have one unpleasant climb up to the summit of Drumochter and were making as much time as we could whilst we had a 5 knot tailwind.
We did leave the A9 once to use the cycle route that ran alongside but the poor surface meant the extra risk on the unexpectedly quiet main road and significant speed increase lured us back. We were nipping along at around 15mph when to our surprise we were greeted with a sign proclaiming we had crested the summit. We were understandably feeling rather chipper about this, but didn't realise that the next twenty miles would be all downhill on smooth tarmac.
Those twenty miles were some of the best cycling I've ever had the joy of doing. Speed never dropped below 20mph and I hit 41mph at one point. The drivers all gave us plenty of room when they came past but often we had the dual carriageway to ourselves and the scenery of the Cairngorms was outstanding. The wind was behind us and the rain gave way to grey-blue skies with sunlight streaking out to highlight luscious green and browns of the moorland.
We stopped for lunch in Pillochry where the pub did filling sandwiches and let us keep the bikes inside despite being rained upon for ten minutes before reaching shelter. After lunch we continued the brisk pace aiming for Perth, a ride of 81 miles and easily achievable. There was more smooth road although increasing levels of traffic and scenery that reminded me of Kent with many fields planted with cereals and stacks of straw bales glowing in the sunlight. We followed a cycle track along the river for the final few miles in to the city centre and had a cup of tea whilst deciding upon what to do. I to the end we wanted to get within striking distance of the Fourth bridge and so left Perth and continued south.
After Perth the motorways start and we took a very quiet A road that ran more or less a similar route to the M90 although it did have one sizeable climb to contend with and a number of times we stopped for photos. I almost regret not stopping in Perth as it was such a pleasant city but the views on the way out made up for it. We eventually made another 11 miles before the sun started to skulk behind the horizon and with tired legs and 102 miles on the clock today decided to stop. We found a b&b in Kinross where we could put the bikes in an outbuilding and Chris negotiated a little discount. We have even been promised sandwiches in the morning which always saves half an hour or so as we need an 11 o'clock nibble... There are two comfy beds, a kebab shop down the road has presented us with chicken kebabs and I'm sleepy, so I shall bid you a fine farewell. Goodnight!
* other Blackadder quotes are available.
Monday, 17 September 2012
Day 3 Aviemore to... Aviemore
Well that didn't go quite to plan.
After a few shandies last night we got our heads down in the Aviemore Bunkhouse and despite one Dutch chap doing his level best to keep us awake we still managed a few hours in the Land of Nod. Somewhat furry of tongue and bleary of eye we rode around the bike shops of Aviemore until we found Mikes Bikes who stocked road bike wheels. I bought a shiny pair of Shimano 105's on mavic rims from them and agreed to come back at half 11 when mike would have swapped the cassette over.
We wondered around Aviemore a bit, had some breakfast and then some cake in the Mountain Cafe. Owen had mentioned that he and Ant had been there on many occasions for tea and cake and I hoped by going there I'd be able to feel some kind of connection to the place. It's a lovely cafe but I left feeling disappointed that I hadn't been able to garner something more by being there.
We collected the bike, organised posting my old wheels back to Plymouth with the shop and set out at midday hoping to make at least Pitlochry 55 miles distant. We rode along a little used B road that ran parallel to the A9 and admired the hills looming over us and the tranquil loch alongside. We even stopped for a photo which isn't something we have done much so far. The morning rain had held off and the wind was less an obstruction on this sheltered road. We were merrily scampering along with a zip, zing and even a zap until I rode quickly over a manhole cover and things took a distinct turn for the worse.
A clunk was felt followed by the sound of a wheel rubbing against a chainstay, a sound i was particularly familiar with. We stopped and sheltered in a driveway whilst I hunted in my bag for a spoke key. Unfortunately all the spokes seemed to be OK and the wheel was brand new. We were 10 miles from Aviemore and a new wheel was apparently knackered but I couldn't work out either how or why. Ultimately, we were in a sticky situation, more sticky than when Sticky the stick insect got stuck on a sticky bun. Thankfully Don and Gwen who lived in the house we were outside came to our rescue. Don drove me back to the bike shop whilst Chris took shelter inside with a cup of tea.
At the bike shop Mike diagnosed the problem to be a failed bond between the chain-stay and the dropout. Ants bike was a write off, it wouldn't be making any more miles towards Land's End. I'd broken it. All the faff with wheel yesterday and worrying about the bottom braket had just been a symptom rather than the cause. Don patiently waited until I made up my mind with what to do. They only had a choice of two bikes in my size at the shop and the Inverness shop only had a couple too. In the end I plumped for a basic but functional Raleigh which Mike will be swapping the components off Ants Trek overnight.
Don then drove me back to the house where we were looked after by Gwen with tea and an open fire to warm us. Don finally drove us back to Aviemore in the pouring rain and bade us farewell. We are both incredibly thankful for their patience and kindness.
On arriving at the bunkhouse bar we met Mel and Roddy who upon hearing a tenth of today's woes pushed donations into my hand. Another pair of unexpectedly fantastic people who listed to our tale and gave me a much needed hug. Thank you both and take care on your fishing trip!
Back in the bunk house and after a shower and some scran I'm feeling a bit more chipper. Tomorrow should be dryer, I pick up the bike at half 8 and we should make Perth 81 miles away. Onwards and upwards...
Sunday, 16 September 2012
Day 2 Tain to Aviemore
After an early night we were presented with a full fried breakfast by Mollie which disappeared within seconds. Seems that cycling 90 miles makes Chris and Spike hungry bunnies. After a bit of faffing brought on by changeable weather conditions we left with an admonishment to not get into too much trouble and pedalled off into the morning drizzle. Thankfully after an hour the rain gave way to grey-blue skies and the beautiful scenery on the shores of Cromarty Firth.
With light hearts and a surprisingly springy turn of pedal we crossed the bridge and started the first climb of the day up the Black Isle. Surprisingly springy indeed because the surprise was my rear wheel had decided to become all foppish and left leaning, or at least snuggle up to my left chainstay. In short my wheel was a bit knackered and with a spoke key and a depleting sense of humour I set about trying to make it a bit more rounder. Half an hour later we had arranged to call into a bike shop in Inverness and set off hoping the next twenty miles wouldn't be interrupted by the sound of shattering spokes. The wheel truing took place in front of a Presbyterian church and I'm pleased to say I just about managed to keep my frustration at a thought only volume.
After a long slog uphill nursing the bike we had a long coast to Inverness and the excellent bike shop Alpine Bikes. There we had a hot meal in the the cafe whilst Martin trued the wheel far better than an angry fat man at the side of the road could ever hope to achieve. The guys in the shop were very kind to us, gave us information on the ride ahead, put up a couple of our flyers and bade us goodbye.as we climbed out of Inverness refreshed for the 30 miles ahead of us.
Outside of Inverness there is a three mile climb and sadly half way up it my bike developed a knock through the cranks. I'd felt it occasionally yesterday and thought it was a sticky link in the chain but as I'd oiled the chain this morning it had to be the bottom bracket. Despite being only 250 miles old it seems to have developed some play in it although moving it by hand doesn't show any movement when putting power through it the bottom bracket distinctly jumps. The swine.
Without many other options we kept on going me fervently begging for the bearings not to grind themselves out and climbed further away from the water towards the Cairngorms. Fifteen miles of climbing into some stunning scenery with dirty great big scar faced hills looming over us my rear wheel finally cried Uncle! and ground up against the chain stay again. It would seem that 8000 mile old triathlon wheels aren't that suitable for touring the highlands... More repairs were made and we made the summit of Slochd for photographs, grins and 7 miles of downhill to Aviemore.
We made the bunkhouse in Aviemore at quarter to five, where Owen Hannan was there to greet us. We've just been for a few beers, a deserved fish n chips and a long chat about Ant. Each time I meet one of Ants friends I feel privileged to know a bit more about him and in having a go at long distance cycling I'm learning another thing too. I'm not sure what that is but we've a fair few miles to go so I'm sure I'll work it out. Thanks Owen, hope to see you soon sir.
So tomorrow is going to be a race to buy new wheels and get the bottom bracket striped and rebuilt before tackling the hills and 81 miles to Perth in the rain. Rough and smooth, rough and smooth... If you are left unsatisfied by this once daily update and are yearning for blow by farcical blow updates on out ever increasing skittles addition you can follow us on twitter@longwaydownhill
With light hearts and a surprisingly springy turn of pedal we crossed the bridge and started the first climb of the day up the Black Isle. Surprisingly springy indeed because the surprise was my rear wheel had decided to become all foppish and left leaning, or at least snuggle up to my left chainstay. In short my wheel was a bit knackered and with a spoke key and a depleting sense of humour I set about trying to make it a bit more rounder. Half an hour later we had arranged to call into a bike shop in Inverness and set off hoping the next twenty miles wouldn't be interrupted by the sound of shattering spokes. The wheel truing took place in front of a Presbyterian church and I'm pleased to say I just about managed to keep my frustration at a thought only volume.
After a long slog uphill nursing the bike we had a long coast to Inverness and the excellent bike shop Alpine Bikes. There we had a hot meal in the the cafe whilst Martin trued the wheel far better than an angry fat man at the side of the road could ever hope to achieve. The guys in the shop were very kind to us, gave us information on the ride ahead, put up a couple of our flyers and bade us goodbye.as we climbed out of Inverness refreshed for the 30 miles ahead of us.
Outside of Inverness there is a three mile climb and sadly half way up it my bike developed a knock through the cranks. I'd felt it occasionally yesterday and thought it was a sticky link in the chain but as I'd oiled the chain this morning it had to be the bottom bracket. Despite being only 250 miles old it seems to have developed some play in it although moving it by hand doesn't show any movement when putting power through it the bottom bracket distinctly jumps. The swine.
Without many other options we kept on going me fervently begging for the bearings not to grind themselves out and climbed further away from the water towards the Cairngorms. Fifteen miles of climbing into some stunning scenery with dirty great big scar faced hills looming over us my rear wheel finally cried Uncle! and ground up against the chain stay again. It would seem that 8000 mile old triathlon wheels aren't that suitable for touring the highlands... More repairs were made and we made the summit of Slochd for photographs, grins and 7 miles of downhill to Aviemore.
We made the bunkhouse in Aviemore at quarter to five, where Owen Hannan was there to greet us. We've just been for a few beers, a deserved fish n chips and a long chat about Ant. Each time I meet one of Ants friends I feel privileged to know a bit more about him and in having a go at long distance cycling I'm learning another thing too. I'm not sure what that is but we've a fair few miles to go so I'm sure I'll work it out. Thanks Owen, hope to see you soon sir.
So tomorrow is going to be a race to buy new wheels and get the bottom bracket striped and rebuilt before tackling the hills and 81 miles to Perth in the rain. Rough and smooth, rough and smooth... If you are left unsatisfied by this once daily update and are yearning for blow by farcical blow updates on out ever increasing skittles addition you can follow us on twitter@longwaydownhill
Saturday, 15 September 2012
Day 1 John O' Groats to Tain
After a good nights kip at the Broo B&B in JoG we checked over the bikes again to see if our knackered state last night had led to any clear misshaps. Evidently we did a better job than we gave ourselves credit for, waved goodbye to Alister clutching the packed lunch they had kindly provided we rolled the mile downhill to the start line at the quayside. Disappointingly, we were denied the customary photo by the signpost predominantly by the sign not actually being there. Apparently the official photographer is a work shy layabout and declines to photograph foolhardy adventurers on a Saturday. Unperturbed we accosted a gift shop owner and got her to photograph us by a sign painted onto the quay wall and satisfied with that proceeded to pedal south.
We knew that we would be heading into the wind for much of this journey and the 10 knot headwind didn't seem too bad as we cycled the 17 miles to Wick. Over a cup of tea we agreed that is wasn't too bad and we would easily make our target of Tain 90 miles from JoG. Sadly there is quite a big gulf between knowing something and really knowing something. As we climbed away from Wick the wind picked up to over 20 knots and the landscape became more open and barren. The scenery was beautiful but much of the day was spent with our heads scrunched down against the wind and one eye towards the horizon looking at the menacing clouds scudding past.
There was only one big climb today which thankfully was out of the wind and the threatened rain failed to materialise but the wind really sapped the strength from our legs. Seven and a half hours of spinning the cranks led us into Tain where we were welcomed by Molly at her haven, the Carringtons B&B. We were very, very happy indeed to ditch the bikes in the shed and jump into the shower. Molly very kindly offered to wash our cycling kit which was quite brave of her and we are now basking in the warm glow achieved by the well fed, weary cyclist.
I'm a bit worried about my knee as generous application of ibuprofen hasn't stopped it from aching. Derrières are feeling a little delicate and both of us have a touch of windburn around the edges but as Ant would say; tomorrow we need to man up and get on with it. Sunday night we hope to be in Aviemore which is only sixty five miles down the road but a short day before Mondays hills seems like a cunning plan...
Friday, 14 September 2012
T Minus 11 Hours
After fourteen hours of travelling involving one car, two planes, one train and a pair if buses (excusing two visits to a Weatherspoons) we are in our b&b at John O' Groats. Apparently the start line is a mere five minutes down the road and we have assembled the bikes although after a few shandies on the 4h train ride it may well be a good idea to check them again in the morning.
Much thanks must go to Mag my patient girlfriend for waking up at half four this morning to take Chris and I to Exeter airport, and to the bus driver who dropped us off right outside the Broo B&B in JoG rather than making us walk from the town.
So, the bikes are ready, the weather will be what ever it will be and hopefully us two foolish mortals shall be able to cycle at least eighty miles tomorrow. And then the next day, and the day after that too until there is no more of this green, damp and occasionally pleasant land to cycle upon. Hopefully we will see a few of you upon the way and share a cup of tea or two. Time to get a good nights kip and then get this farce on the road in the morning.
Night all...
Much thanks must go to Mag my patient girlfriend for waking up at half four this morning to take Chris and I to Exeter airport, and to the bus driver who dropped us off right outside the Broo B&B in JoG rather than making us walk from the town.
So, the bikes are ready, the weather will be what ever it will be and hopefully us two foolish mortals shall be able to cycle at least eighty miles tomorrow. And then the next day, and the day after that too until there is no more of this green, damp and occasionally pleasant land to cycle upon. Hopefully we will see a few of you upon the way and share a cup of tea or two. Time to get a good nights kip and then get this farce on the road in the morning.
Night all...
Thursday, 13 September 2012
T Minus a day and a bit...
Rightyo ho, it's a wee bit late but the flyers are here. Hope you like them and if you are in a printer abusing mode you can reprint one from here.
T Minus 2 Days
I've just had an email from Google telling me this blog has been suspected of being a spam site. That means it might be blocked for a few days at the very most which is a royal slap in the face. And not one of the nice kind either.
Hopefully I'll still be able to update this and you will still be able to read about me trying to cram the small amount of kit I'm wishing to take with me into the significantly smaller panniers I have to carry it in.
Hopefully I'll still be able to update this and you will still be able to read about me trying to cram the small amount of kit I'm wishing to take with me into the significantly smaller panniers I have to carry it in.
Wednesday, 12 September 2012
T Minus 3 Days
First and foremost may I please say a heartfelt thank you to everyone who has donated. I picked the target of £874 purely as that was the approximate number of miles we had to cycle but as of today we have over £1000 in sponsorship money (plus the gift aid too) and for that I am quite humbled. Thank you very much everyone.
The last minute panic has solidly started and the list of things to do has suddenly grown bigger. I've got a day to get everything done and then that's it, we'll be on a plane and shall just have to get on with it. Most of the last minute things are now centred around publicity. I had a phone interview with the lovely Becky Ricks from the Plymouth Herald who will hopefully publish a couple of articles on our ride. Due to time constraints Chris and I went up to the Blockhouse after he finished work and Mag took photos of us to hopefully be published in the Herald. I've promised to email Becky a photo from the John O' Groats signpost too.
I've bought a solar charger on the advice of Helen to enable me to charge my phone on the move for navigation and blog writing duties. Cotswolds Outdoors in Plymouth were very helpful and gave me a nice discount too, so thank you to them. Just need to have a bit of sun for the ride now...
Right, it's 11pm and I need to decide what to pack, find where those things are hiding and then somehow fit them into the world's smallest panniers. Hopefully tomorrow we will have some flyers, everything outstanding would have fallen into place and I can go and have a cheeky north coast surf before a final curry with everyone.
The last minute panic has solidly started and the list of things to do has suddenly grown bigger. I've got a day to get everything done and then that's it, we'll be on a plane and shall just have to get on with it. Most of the last minute things are now centred around publicity. I had a phone interview with the lovely Becky Ricks from the Plymouth Herald who will hopefully publish a couple of articles on our ride. Due to time constraints Chris and I went up to the Blockhouse after he finished work and Mag took photos of us to hopefully be published in the Herald. I've promised to email Becky a photo from the John O' Groats signpost too.
I've bought a solar charger on the advice of Helen to enable me to charge my phone on the move for navigation and blog writing duties. Cotswolds Outdoors in Plymouth were very helpful and gave me a nice discount too, so thank you to them. Just need to have a bit of sun for the ride now...
Right, it's 11pm and I need to decide what to pack, find where those things are hiding and then somehow fit them into the world's smallest panniers. Hopefully tomorrow we will have some flyers, everything outstanding would have fallen into place and I can go and have a cheeky north coast surf before a final curry with everyone.
Tuesday, 11 September 2012
T Minus 4 Days
Today was my last training ride, the next time I'll be doing more than a pop to the shops on two unpowered wheels is when I'm standing at John O' Groats with a bit of distance to go. Some people might say that I ought to have done a bit more training for this ride, that just a handful of 30-50 mile rides a week or two before hand isn't really adequate or even remotely near what I ought to have done. After today I'd agree.
In all fairness I'd have agreed beforehand too although now I will merrily add 'emphatically' to that statement. Today's journey was from Plymouth to Bugle near St Austell to pick up my van after a new suspension compressor had been fitted. For anyone who hasn't been there, St Austell is jokingly known as the centre of the Cornish Alps so you can guess that it's a touch on the hilly side although that does have something to do with the china clay mountains that are brought out of the mines. I chose the route to the garage as it included as few miles on A roads as possible because they can be particularly unpleasant in this part of the world, but it also meant I could practice my navigation skills. Having driven the route to the garage a fair few times (don't ever buy a French van...) if I rode the main route I could do it without thinking. I decided to use the same method in how we are planning to ride JoGLE, namely write a list of villages we expect to go through and tape the list on the top of the cross bar. Theoretically that's all you need to get along the back roads although a compass and a smartphone map helped once or twice.
The problem with this is twofold. Google maps (where I did my planning) is all well and good, but it classifies all the non A or B roads as just roads for better or for worse. Some of the roads I went along today were little more than frost ravaged cart tracks covered in mud and gravel, not the best thing for swift progress on skinny tyres. Secondly, the main roads are rarely the shortest route but they are often for a geographical point of view the path of least resistance. In 40 miles today I again climbed nearly 2500 feet and some of those inclines were 1 in 7's which after the first five or six I started to find less amusing. Cornwall is a big bunch of river valleys and you can often find yourself crossing the same river a mile upstream having ridden a mile up the side of the valley and then back down another muddy lane. At points you wonder why you don't take the more direct route and wade up river.
Anyway, I got to Bugle over four hours after I set off with one or two small nav errors, one puncture and an overwhelming feeling that a lot of the miles we are going to be riding will necessarily be on major roads. It didn't help that I was on my training bike with the mudguards that refuse to stop rubbing the wheels however much they are adjusted or cursed at, nor that I was riding into an 18 knot head wind either.
I'm sure that deep down on a cellular level I knew that the majority of miles will be head down and pedal away whilst on major roads, however up until this morning I had envisioned many a peaceful mile through gentle countryside with time to think and enjoy being outside.
So today was a rude awakening to the cat vomit of reality. Still, only four days to worry about it; it'll be too late after that...
In all fairness I'd have agreed beforehand too although now I will merrily add 'emphatically' to that statement. Today's journey was from Plymouth to Bugle near St Austell to pick up my van after a new suspension compressor had been fitted. For anyone who hasn't been there, St Austell is jokingly known as the centre of the Cornish Alps so you can guess that it's a touch on the hilly side although that does have something to do with the china clay mountains that are brought out of the mines. I chose the route to the garage as it included as few miles on A roads as possible because they can be particularly unpleasant in this part of the world, but it also meant I could practice my navigation skills. Having driven the route to the garage a fair few times (don't ever buy a French van...) if I rode the main route I could do it without thinking. I decided to use the same method in how we are planning to ride JoGLE, namely write a list of villages we expect to go through and tape the list on the top of the cross bar. Theoretically that's all you need to get along the back roads although a compass and a smartphone map helped once or twice.
The problem with this is twofold. Google maps (where I did my planning) is all well and good, but it classifies all the non A or B roads as just roads for better or for worse. Some of the roads I went along today were little more than frost ravaged cart tracks covered in mud and gravel, not the best thing for swift progress on skinny tyres. Secondly, the main roads are rarely the shortest route but they are often for a geographical point of view the path of least resistance. In 40 miles today I again climbed nearly 2500 feet and some of those inclines were 1 in 7's which after the first five or six I started to find less amusing. Cornwall is a big bunch of river valleys and you can often find yourself crossing the same river a mile upstream having ridden a mile up the side of the valley and then back down another muddy lane. At points you wonder why you don't take the more direct route and wade up river.
Anyway, I got to Bugle over four hours after I set off with one or two small nav errors, one puncture and an overwhelming feeling that a lot of the miles we are going to be riding will necessarily be on major roads. It didn't help that I was on my training bike with the mudguards that refuse to stop rubbing the wheels however much they are adjusted or cursed at, nor that I was riding into an 18 knot head wind either.
I'm sure that deep down on a cellular level I knew that the majority of miles will be head down and pedal away whilst on major roads, however up until this morning I had envisioned many a peaceful mile through gentle countryside with time to think and enjoy being outside.
So today was a rude awakening to the cat vomit of reality. Still, only four days to worry about it; it'll be too late after that...
Monday, 10 September 2012
T Minus 5 Days
There has been progress on the publicity front today as I have spoken to a journalist about getting a news item put into the Plymouth Herald, hopefully this will bear fruit. The wonderful Joe Kilkenny suggested contacting our local paper and has mailed someone she knows at the RAFBF to ask if they could do the same with the Inverness local paper too. The Inverness paper ran a big article after the announcement that Ant had been killed mainly due to the considerable part Ant had played in the Kinloss mountain rescue team.
The RAFBF have sent Chris and I two rather dashing T shirts too which no doubt we will be sporting on the ride. Our resident photographer Mag will inevitably take some pictures of us sporting these shirts just so if you see us out and about you can say "I recognise that chap with the small pillow up his shirt and the other lad with the rubbish beard". Thank you Gemma.
Chris was hard at work yesterday and has finally planned the route we will take (apart from the bits when we get lost) the length of Blighty. You can find it here and I have to say that after looking at all 962 miles of it I can confirm I am a tiny* bit scared.
We also may well have a twitter feed tobore entertain you with as we are cycling too. Watch this space!
* Lots. Very. Many. Gargantuan. Ohchristthisisgoingtohurt...
The RAFBF have sent Chris and I two rather dashing T shirts too which no doubt we will be sporting on the ride. Our resident photographer Mag will inevitably take some pictures of us sporting these shirts just so if you see us out and about you can say "I recognise that chap with the small pillow up his shirt and the other lad with the rubbish beard". Thank you Gemma.
Chris was hard at work yesterday and has finally planned the route we will take (apart from the bits when we get lost) the length of Blighty. You can find it here and I have to say that after looking at all 962 miles of it I can confirm I am a tiny* bit scared.
We also may well have a twitter feed to
* Lots. Very. Many. Gargantuan. Ohchristthisisgoingtohurt...
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