Tag Archives: Devon

Leg 70 – to Torquay

Only 52 miles covered today, including two ferries, but probably the hardest leg of the tour hill wise. Beautiful weather and scenery more than compensated though.

10 July 2013

I woke up slightly stiff, with a few bruises on my legs after yesterday’s altercation with the Volvo, and decided to give my bike a good check over before doing anything else just in case I missed anything last night.

Upon closer examination I discovered one of the pannier rack struts had snapped, on the front right and in the same place that went back on the east coast of Scotland, on the front left. I suspect this wasn’t as a result of the crash, but had probably been like it for a while and I hadn’t noticed. It appears to be a weak point in the design, but the Blackburn racks allegedly have a lifetime guarantee so I’ll see if I can replace them when I get back to Norwich. In the meantime I bound up the break with some wire and gaffer tape, plus a few cable ties for good measure. One of my rear pannier bags also had a dodgy clip, but nothing major, so aside from the slightly bent forks I already knew about I’d got off lightly. The Ridgeback was good to go for another day of riding.

It was already pretty hot as I had breakfast, followed by a shower and quickly packing up my tent. By the time I was ready to go I already had a bit of a sweat on, so it looked like it was going to be a day of frequent stops to rehydrate.

On the way out of Briar Farm campsite I bid goodbye to two other campers, one of whom was walking the coastal trail to St. Ives. He’d had a bit of a tough time of it for the last couple of days, but was hoping to make good progress today. I assured him the hills do get easier with time…mostly. Hope it went well James!

I was on the road by 10.00, cycling down country lanes to the A379 through such places as Smutty Moor Wood and Holbeton, which I initially read as Hobbiton. Sadly there were no Hobbits about and a serious lack of potential venues for second breakfast. Undeterred I pedalled on through the glorious Devon landscape, with a slight north easterly cooling me off. The tall hedgerows also lent a certain amount of shade which was most welcome.

The hills steadily increased in size as I passed through Modbury and rode down to Aveton Gifford. I tried to avoid the A379 as much as possible as it was proving very busy with traffic, but at times it was unavoidable on the way down to Kingsbridge. I turned on to the slightly less busy but hillier A381 which took me to Salcombe, past the turning to Hope Cove where I’d been on holiday a few years back. Hope Cove had been the inspiration for an episode I’ve written for the Ravenskil audio drama we’re recording as part of our It’s A Trap productions. Hopefully Wayne and Chris will finish getting it recorded this year, and it’ll be out next year post the editing process. Should be a good tale and slightly different to our previous venture into audio drama, ‘Jack Steel and the Starblade’, which was more tongue in cheek. Ravenskil is more a combination of X-Files and Cthulhu (H P Lovecraft).

Anyway, I digress, but I did have time to think about a lot whilst on the road, including more possible ideas for It’s A Trap.

Despite the tough climbs on the way to Salcombe, it was well worth the effort. A few other cyclists were out and about, but no tourers, and I exchanged smiles and hellos with several on my way down into the small coastal town. I was more than ready for a break by this stage, so bought a tuna, cheddar and chilli jam baguette from one of the several delicatessens ‘pedalling’ their wares. Tuna, cheddar and chilli jam seemed like a very odd combination, but it was the daily special and hence cheaper, and it turned out to be delicious. Although to be fair being permanently hungry on this tour I found pretty much all food delicious. Who knew tuna and chilli jam went together though?!

Having forgotten to take any pictures so far I had a wander around Salcombe, investigating the town’s narrow streets, boutiques and harbour front.

: Salcombe harbour 1 – looking towards East Portlemouh and the South Sands ferry

: Salcombe Harbour 2 – looking north

: Salcombe – lost seagull chick

: Salcombe – narrow streets and boutiques

: Salcombe – more steps to carry bike down

: Salcombe waterfront – looking south towards the sea

: Salcombe – waiting for the ferry

: On board the South Sands Ferry to East Portlemouth

Salcombe is another lovely Devon coastal town, and worth visiting if you’re in the area. It was very packed with tourists, several of whom I nearly ran over as they stepped out in front of me without looking. Despite judicious use of my bell they just don’t hear bikes, and people have a habit of subconsciously not looking if they don’t hear anything coming.

I managed to avoid running anyone over and carried my bike and panniers down to the ferry to East Portlemouth. The ferry was only a couple of quid, and took me over the Kingsbridge Estuary, past moored yachts and other river traffic. I unloaded on the other side, before carrying my kit up more steep steps to the road.

East Portlemouth jetty – looking back to Salcombe

Whilst recovering from carrying my stuff up and down steps, I gave a friend a call. Ian was due to meet up with me on Friday for a couple of days riding. He lives in Hastings so would get the train down to wherever I was, before cycling back east. We hoped to make it to Hastings by Sunday, in time for work (for Ian) on Monday, something that thankfully I didn’t have to worry about quite yet. Plan arranged I turned back to the pressing matter of navigating my way through the next rather complicated bit of Devon.

Salcombe from East Portlemouth

I cycled from East Portlemouth alongside the river, the road sticking to the side of the estuary to begin with. It looked like parts of the road are frequently flooded, and I had to cycle through a shallow ford at one point.

Ford near Waterhead Creek

The next section took me up to Chillington and the A379, via South Pool and Chilvelstone amongst other small villages. The confusingly signposted country lanes took me over some of the hardest hills of the tour, due to their gradient, length and frequency.

Narrow country lanes out of Salcombe

It was really satisfying to make it over the hills, but extremely hot, and my progress slowed considerably as a result. I had to push up one particularly steep climb after having to stop to let a car pass. It was impossible to get going again without rolling backwards or falling off. My legs were completely exhausted by the time I got to the top, and I stopped for a tactical banana break, noticing the shadow of a buzzard circling on the road next to me; the scavengers were moving in already!

After making it back to the A379 and avoiding the attention of any raptors looking to make a snack of a fainting cycle tourer, I had a nice descent down to Torcross, enjoying the cooling breeze. From Torcross there’s a flat stretch along to Slapton, past Slapton Ley, with Slapton Sands on the right and the lake on the left.

Slapton Sands, looking east

Slapton Ley is separated from Slapton Sands by a thin stretch of shingle, along which the road runs. It’s the largest natural freshwater lake in the South West England, and an important nature reserve being home to Bittern, amongst other interesting species of flora and fauna.

Slapton Sands looking west

I stopped in Slapton for a break at a small trailer cafe offering cold drinks, propping my bike up and sitting down on the shingle, looking out over Start Bay. The cold lemonade was extremely well timed, and I spent 15 minutes resting my legs and enjoying the sunshine before moving on.

There followed another steep climb up to Strete, during which I was encouraged on my way by a friendly cyclist on a super-light road bike. I appreciated the sentiment but could have done without the ‘I’ve done this climb dozens of times’ comments; try it with a bike weighing in the region of 60kg. More hills followed, with some wonderful scenery, as I made my way over to Dartmouth.

Blackpool Beach, Devon

I rode past Blackpool beach, which beat it’s namesake up north by a good measure. It’s a truly magnificent spot, set in a sheltered cove and surrounded by woodland.

I made it round to Dartmouth with my brakes squealing on the last descent. I was glad I wasn’t going the other way as the hill down into the naval town was particularly steep and long. I’d have to adjust my rear brake later and check the pads didn’t need replacing again. I was pretty knackered by this stage, and running low on water but couldn’t see anywhere convenient to top up.

Dartmouth 1

I needed to get the ferry over the River Dart and was glad to rest for a bit whilst I waited for it to arrive, remembering I had a bottle of Lucozade in my panniers which didn’t last long. What I really needed was some chocolate milk, the best sort of recovery drink.

Dartmouth 2 – looking towards Kingswear

The ferry over to the other side cost 50p, and I chatted to a young cyclist on the way over who was having trouble with his pedals – they kept falling off. I suggested he had them the wrong way around; if you put the wrong pedal on the wrong side it’s likely to come undone as you cycle along. He’d check it out when he got home.

Dartmouth Chain Ferry 1 – on its way over to me

Dartmouth Chain Ferry 2 – looking back to Dartmouth

My companion on the chain ferry was able to advise me that after a long climb up from the ferry it was relatively flat over to Torquay, my destination for the day, encouraging news.

The River Dart

The climb was indeed long and somewhat tricky on already tired legs, however I just got into a rhythm, putting the Ridgeback into a low gear and spinning my way slowly to the top. The traffic slowly increased in volume and decreased in patience as I made my over to Paignton, where I was able to scoot around several traffic jams thanks to my two wheeled method of transportation. I did however have to take care of my wide load when squeezing through some of the gaps between the cars, especially with one slightly dodgy pannier clip – a small bash could knock it tumbling to the tarmac.

I was feeling very hot again by this stage, and had run out of water, but spied a Sainsburys ‘local’ by the roadside which beckoned me into its air conditioned interior. I spent a good 5 minutes in the freezer isle cooling off, which must have looked slightly odd but I really didn’t care, it was lovely. I followed this up with a litre of deliciously cold banana mild to get some energy back, before calling Chris in Torquay to let him know I was nearly there. I was really looking forward to seeing Chris and Sam, and their son Matthew, having not been properly in touch for about a year.

I pedalled along the final stretch of the coast to Torquay, past throngs of holiday makers on the beaches getting sunburnt, eating ice-creams, and swimming. The water did look pretty inviting.

Torquay 1

I hadn’t been to Torquay since Chris’ stag do a few years back, and hadn’t seen it properly in the daytime as a result. It looks lovely in the sunshine.

Torquay 2

After faffing around slightly navigation wise I made it to Chris and Sam’s by about 17.30, completing a pretty slow but satisfying 52 miles. I’d need to do more miles tomorrow to make up for it, however it was good to be staying with friends, and to have an early stop.

There followed a great evening of chilling out and catching up, and meeting their son Matthew properly. Matthew had a very challenging first year, with serious heart problems that needed surgery. It was touch and go for a while but he’s much better now, and very lively which was ace to see. He does however have slight OCD when it comes to making sure doors are shut, which was a little inconvenient during the several trips I made to carry my stuff inside. It’s funny the habits children can pick up; my nephew Seb loves cleaning, whether that be mopping, brushing or wiping, he’s there. It was fab to see Chris and Sam, and I was looking forward to seeing them again in a field a little later in the year, presuming I made it back to Norwich.

After a huge amount of Chinese food and a few beers I was ready for sleep, even though it was boiling still. I thought there must be a storm coming but it didn’t materialise overnight as far as I could tell, however I could easily have slept through it.

I had vague plan to try and cycle all the way to more friends living near Bournemouth tomorrow, which would be a leg of at least 125 miles. It might be a little ambitious in the heat and if the hills continued to be as challenging, which I was pretty sure they would be, so I’d just have to see how it panned out.

Leg 69 – to Newton Ferrers via 4 ferries

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Link to map of today’s route: http://connect.garmin.com/course/4124115

09 July 2013

What an ace day, covering 85 miles through Cornwall and Devon, over 4 ferries, in gorgeous weather. And my legs seems to have acclimatised to the West Country hills too.

My tent was pretty hot when I woke up, indicating another great day was on the cards weather wise. I rolled out into the fresh air, quick to get out of the oven like conditions the Akto can create in direct sunlight. One drawback of sleeping in a tent is you can’t really have a lie in when it gets hot, unless you want to emerge slightly hard boiled. Mind you when the weather gets good you don’t need a tent, unless there’s an abundance of midges or mosquitoes as there had been in Scotland.

After a shower and a quick breakfast – I was still full from last nights feasting – I packed up and was on the road by 09.30. My objective for the day was to use 4 ferries to cross rivers along the coast, and get back into Devon.

My first stop was Helford Village, a picturesque spot on the banks of the Helford River. It’s a lovely small village with a great pub, the Shipwrights Arms, but it was a little early to be frequenting a drinking establishment.

Helford Village – another bright day

There’s a bit of a ford you can ride through, but there wasn’t a lot of water in it.

Helford Village – picturesque spot

Helford Village Pub – bit early for a pint

I followed a narrow path down to the ferry landing, and had to use the orange disk to summon the boat from the other side of the river. You just open up the disk, which can be clearly seen from the other side, when you want to cross. Better than a phone with little reception in the area, and more fun.

Orange Disk of ferry summoning

After unloading my bike to get it down the steps to the jetty, I sat on the wall to wait for the boat, idly swinging my legs to work some of the latent stiffness out of my muscles. It was a perfect morning and a perfect spot.

: Helford River – looking out towards the sea

: Helford River – lots of boats moored up

: Helford River – Ridgeback in good form

: Helford River – sunken path 1

: Helford River – sunken path 2

: Helford River ferry boat

: Helford River – view fom other side

The ferry duly arrived, and as the lone passenger I loaded my panniers and bike on board with help from the ferry boat skipper Stephanie (think that was her name anyway, apologies if not). Stephanie comes down from Cambridge each year to work the ferry for a few months, which sounds like sounds a pretty idyllic way to spend your summer. I only just had enough money to pay for the crossing, which costs £6 with a bike, however it was worth it for the scenery and experience and saved me a long trek inland to find a bridge. It’s only a short crossing over to Helford Passage, the village on the other side, where I disembarked and a group with an enormous dog got on for a trip back. The dog really wasn’t sure about the whole thing but was eventually coaxed into the boat.

I added Helford to my list of places to come back to , as I pedalled off up a big climb out of the village and took the road around to Falmouth and my next ferry crossing of the day. The Cornish countryside looked and smelt lovely in the sunshine, as I passed through Mawnan Smith and Penjerrick, very Cornish sounding place-names.

Falmouth is a much bigger town and I stopped to get some cash out, as well as pick up some supplies. I bought six ripe bananas for 48p from a greengrocers, a bargain, as well as some more sun-cream and multi-vitamins. After a cold drink I headed down to the harbour to find a ferry over to St. Mawes.

After a bit of a circuit of the town I located a promising ferry, and had to carry my bike and panniers down some steps to get to the boat on Princess Pier. I only just made the 12.15 sailing, and thankfully the crew were on hand to help load everything into the boat, a slightly bigger affair than the Helford ferry.

: Falmouth – crossing 1

: Falmouth – crossing 3

: Falmouth – guitarist on the ferry

: Falmouth – crossing 4

: Falmouth – me on the ferry

: Falmouth – crossing 5

It was a nice crossing over to St. Mawes, during which I chatted to one of the crew for whom today was his first day on the job. It’s a long day and hard work but nice being out in the sunshine and fresh air, providing the weather stays good. It was good to relate a few of my experiences and learn a bit about the route ahead over to Fowey. There was a guitarist on board who entertained us with a few melodies on the way across, made me miss my guitar but it really wouldn’t have been practical to bring it on tour.

St. Mawes harbour

I stopped for a bite to eat in St. Mawes, fish and chips; sustainably sourced Icelandic Cod from the Watch House. I don’t usually eat Cod however as the restaurant had gone to great lengths to promote the fact it was from sustainable resources I thought it a safe option. I was glad I’d decided to opt for the traditional seaside delicacy, as it rivalled that I’d had a couple of months back in Whitby, which felt like a long time ago now.

St. Mawes – looking over to St. Anthony

With my energy levels restored I pressed on, deciding against using the ferry across to St. Anthony, it was getting expensive on the wallet, and instead taking the A3078 up the hill to St. Just in Roseland. There are a lot of towns and villages around here named after saints.

There followed a long stint along country roads towards St. Austell. The lanes are a little maze like around this neck of the woods and I took a wrong turning up to Grampound. I also had a few close encounters with the drivers of large 4×4’s and vans, including one interesting altercation between a farm tractor and a shiny Chelsea tractor. As with other day I slipped through leaving them to sort out who was going to back down. Things would be a lot easier if people would just buy smaller cars, half of them only had one or two people in.

Back on track I headed past St. Austell and down to Fowey, drinking copious amounts of water due to the heat. I paused in Fowey for what I reckoned was a well earned cold pint after tackling a lot of hills, then had a quick look around. Fowey is another lovely small coastal town, with a ferry that runs across the River Fowey to Polruan.

: Fowey – looking over to Polruan

: Fowey – lots of small boats

: Fowey – looking towards the sea

: Fowey – Polruan again

: Fowey – panorama

: Fowey – enjoynig a cold pint, slight case of panda eyes

: Fowey – waiting for the ferry

: Fowey – waiting for the ferry 2

: Fowey – on the ferry, power monkey working well in the sunshine

: Fowey – me chilling out on the boat

: Fowey – crossing the river

: Fowey – crossing the river 2

Suitably rehydrated I took ferry number 3 over to Polruan, after negotiating steep steps down to the stone jetty. I was developing a pretty slick process of loading and unloading the panniers from my bike as I carried it and my kit to and from ferries, often up and down steep steps to jetties or piers.

The road out of Polruan involved a leg burning hill climb. I made it up but attracted curious looks from quite a few villagers and tourists, who obviously thought I was slightly mad for not just pushing my bike up. I pedalled on to Looe, via a slightly roundabout route due to bad map reading skills and warren like roads…again.

Looe 1

There’s a bridge over the river at Looe, rather than a ferry, which I crossed before heading up the A387, intending to join the B3253.

Looe 2

Unfortunately the B3253 was closed so I had to take the long way around, continuing inland on the A387 over rolling hills on my way to Torpoint.

B3253 closed – not a sign you want to see on a cycle tour

After a lovely ride through more great countryside, and waving to several other cyclists, I made it to Torpoint. I was impressed with my stamina today, my legs seemed to be working well taking on one hill after another without too much trouble.

I met another cyclist whilst waiting for the chain ferry across to Plymouth, who advised on the protocol for boarding. The ferry is free for cyclists, and seems like a far better option than tackling the busy main road which runs further inland around the north side of Plymouth.

Torpoint 1

Chatting to the fellow cyclist on the way across I learned she worked for the Department of Fisheries, so I asked her what she thought of Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. She agreed that he’s done some great work in challenging the fish discard rules, but needs to be careful with some of his more recent Fish Fight campaigns which could just result in putting honest fishermen out of work; as always it’s important people follow expert advice and not just reckon one knows best. I feel quite passionately about giving the oceans a chance to recover, and banning irresponsible fishing techniques, but like everything you need to know the facts to make an informed argument.

Torpoint 2

She also recommended a good campsite, just on from Plymouth in Newton Ferrers. There was allegedly a very nice pub in the village, so I decided to take her advice and head there for the evening. Where a nice pub is concerned I don’t need a lot of convincing.

Bike on board the Plymouth chain ferry

Riding off the ferry at Devonport I successfully negotiated Plymouth and some pretty intense traffic, heading for the A379. There are several cycle paths running alongside the road which I was able to take advantage of. These are great aside from when cars decide to park in them.

I was cycling along minding my own business, well actually I was looking down at my map trying to work out where I was, when I looked up to see the rear end of a Volvo estate a couple of metres in front of me. Unable to stop in time, but taking the edge off my speed by slamming on my brakes, I smacked into the back of it. I didn’t go over the handlebars, but did end up on my cross bar, and my rear panniers came off in the impact. It would have been a lot worse if I hadn’t looked up. Unfortunately I bent my front forks in slightly, meaning my fuel bottle would no longer fit in its cage without interfering with the front mud guard. I think my front wheel was bit battered too, not to mention me. After relocating my fuel bottle and reattaching panniers I was able to continue. The Ridgeback proved its toughness by not being otherwise adversely affected, as far as I could tell anyway.

The Volvo was of course completely unharmed in the altercation. There was no-one in it at the time, and whilst it’s a bit annoying to have someone stopped in the cycle lane it wasn’t illegally parked, so it was completely my fault.

With a slight case of bruising in my nether regions I continued on out of Plymouth via Pomphey, taking the bridge over the River Plym on to the A379. I turned right at Yealmpton, on the B3186, down to Newton Ferrers and tackling the last hills of the day with my bike still running well despite the collision.

I arrived at Briar Farm campsite as afternoon turned into evening, quickly pitching my tent and heading down to the pub to find something to eat. Newton Ferrers is a pretty village, and evidently home to quite a few people with a lot of money, there being a yacht club and expensive looking houses. There’s one shop where I was able to buy a few supplies for the morning.

Newton Ferrers

I met the campsite owner in the Dolphin Inn where apparently he spends quite a bit of his time, so paid the £7.00 site fee, before enjoying the food that had been laid out for the pub quiz. I’d arrived a bit late to participate in the actual quiz, however they were quite happy for me to finish up some of the food, which I proceeded to do with some gusto over a couple of pints. It was a thoroughly enjoyable evening, listening to the quiz whilst chatting to Ed the bar manager. Newton Ferrers was the birthplace of the famous pirate Henry Every, who plied his trade in the late 17th century in the Atlantic and Indian oceans. He was never caught and retired very rich, somewhere unknown, inspiring others to take up the pirate way of life.

Dolphin Inn, Newton Ferrers

I was somewhat amused to hear one of the younger patrons talking to her friends about her busy day planned for tomorrow. She needed to visit the solicitor to sign the papers for the house daddy had bought her, alright for some.

Newton Ferrers Cross

After a great day encompassing 4 ferries and some beautiful coastline and countryside, a long with my fair share of hills, I retired to my tent ready for sleep. Tomorrow I planned to head for Torquay to stay with friends, Chris and Sam, which meant more ferry crossings and more steep climbs. Bring it on.

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Leg 66 – to Polzeath (near Padstow)

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– 4,352 miles covered by close of play today, with about a 1,000 to go.

06 July 2013

I was up early to another day of sunshine, so got breakfast, bike checks and a shower out of the way quickly, before packing up. I headed to reception to drop off my toilet block key and get my deposit back, and to do some planning via my iPad; they have free wifi around the reception building which is handy.

Polzeath looked like a good destination to head for today, and the Southwinds campsite, so I gave them a quick call to book in just in case they got busy. It was only £7.00 for the night so good value compared with some.

Before leaving the campsite I met up with Mum and Dad, who returned my phone fully charged, and donated some homemade cookies to the cause – all calories gratefully received. It had been great to see them and I waved them off as they departed for home in East Sussex. All being well I’d be seeing them again in a couple of weeks anyway.

I bid goodbye to the Hele Valley Holiday Park and their wonderful staff, who also made a donation to the Big C, thank you! Ilfracombe was my first destination, only a mile down road. It was pretty busy with a lot of traffic and holiday makers, so I cycled straight through and out the other side, only stopping to use a handy cash point, and to take a pretty uninspiring photo as I realised I’d forgotten to take one at the campsite.

$Ilfracombe$

Ilfracombe High Street

Next up was a steepish ascent, followed by a long descent down to Braunton. I was able to take the cycle path for some of it, arriving in Barnstaple after about an hour and a half of pedalling in perfect weather. I had a quick walk through the town before picking up the Tarka Trail down the coast. It’s a tarmac’d cycle path running, as so many do, along the route of an old railway line.

Tarka Trail out of Barnstaple

There were a lot of other cyclists and walkers out in the sunshine, including a large group of girls on a hen party. They looked like they were having a lot of fun, although they freely admitted they were making pretty slow progress due to stopping for frequent breaks. I’m not sure their dresses were best suited for cycling, very entertaining though.

Tarka Trail to Bideford

I bid the girls goodbye and sped off down the trail, before coming to a rather abrupt halt after I heard a distinctive pinging noise. The wheel destroying Spriggans were at work again, resulting in another broken spoke, and on the drive side this time which I couldn’t deal with; the cassette is in the way, I didn’t have the right tool, and I didn’t have any spokes of the correct length anyway. The wheel had immediately buckled, and pretty badly, so I pulled over to do what I could to temporarily fix it. Of course the hen party passed me shortly afterwards, which was slightly embarrassing after I’d zoomed off.

To fix the buckle in the wheel I had to tighten the spokes either side of the break, and slacken off a few on the other side. The rim had also developed a bit of a flat section which didn’t help matters. All in all it was looking like it was well and truly b*ggered, but I managed to get it into a state where I could continue, hoping there was a bike shop that could rectify matters in the next town along.

Limping to Bideford – still a lovely day though, that’s probably Appledore over the water

River Torridge estuary

I was reasonably concerned about how I was going to get this fixed as I limped to Bideford, crossing the old bridge over the River Torridge into the town. Using my phone I located a bike shop that stocked Ridgebacks, and was also a specialist. Fortune must have been smiling on me. Cycles Scuderia was completely on route on my way out of Bideford, and I quickly found it, interrupting Malcolm the owner and his wife as they were having lunch.

Cycles Scuderia – a lucky ‘break’

After discussing the symptoms and conducting a preliminary exam of the patient Malcolm reckoned he could fix it. The flat section in the rim, as well as some of the spokes being slightly different lengths (I’d been sold shoddy spokes somewhere) meant a complete rebuild was needed. Patching it up would have just meant more spokes breaking at any given moment, but the good news was the wheel could be saved. This was especially fortuitous as he didn’t have any spares in stock. The nearest alternative shop would probably have been in Wadebridge which was miles away.

It was a busy Saturday in the shop, and they had customers backing up with new patients arriving all the time, so I was a extremely grateful that Malcolm was able to fit me in. Whilst the operation was in progress I retreated over the road to a cafe in the park, to get out of the way and grab some lunch while I had the chance.

Lunch at Le Cafe du Parc

The Cafe du Parc is run by a group of French chefs, who did me a great cheese and pâté platter. After a hectic and worrying morning it was good just to sit down and relax for a while, waiting for the outcome of surgery. I sat in the sunshine for a bit talking to my brother on the phone, before heading back to the shop.

Fortunately the operation had been a success, Malcolm having been able to rebuild my wheel. The flat section had popped out during the procedure and I now had a hand built wheel with new spokes, which I shouldn’t have any further issues with on the tour. From now on it will be hand built wheels all the way, it’s just not worth getting factory built ones which won’t last with all the weight on the bike over a long distance. The cheaper spokes they use in the factory built versions will break after a while, and after one’s gone more are likely to follow, like a zip undoing. That was probably the best £47.00 I spent on the tour, thanks Malcolm and Cycles Scuderia.

Bike back to fully working order I was ready to go again, but stopped briefly to chat to another customer who was on his way from Land’s End to John o’ Groats on his new Dawes tourer. It was his first tour and his gears had seized up, so needed Malcolm’s expert ministrations. He advised the roads ahead were hilly but good. I advised the roads ahead were much the same, and to beware the wilds of Wales if he was passing that way. And sheep, always watch out for the sheep.

I pedalled out of Bideford feeling somewhat relieved, however having spent 3 hours getting my wheel fixed I needed to make up some time. To get some miles done I took the A39 around the coast, up and down the rolling hills of Devon, before passing into Cornwall and reaching Bude, where I took a slight detour.

The A39 to Cornwall

Welcome to Kernow

Bude was very busy with holidaymakers going to and from the beach and enjoying the various pubs, the river looked a bit manky though. I rode along the coast road, Marine Drive, to Widemouth Bay which was a lot nicer, and a big spot for surfers and body boarders.

Widemouth Bay 1

I stopped for an ice cream to celebrate everything being in working order, and still being on track despite mechanical failures.

Widemouth Bay 2

Widemouth Bay – surfers aplenty

Widemouth Bay 3 – photo needs straightening!

Post Widemouth Bay I rode around to Boscastle, ignoring Crackington Haven this time around as it was a dead end, with big hills that I didn’t really have time for after my sojourn at Cycles Scuderia. In any case there were plenty of hills to keep me entertained as I pedalled down the A39, then on to the B3263.

Boscastle

Boscastle is another picturesque village, and home to the museum of witchcraft which sounded intriguing was closed by the time I passed through. The village was badly flooded in 2004, and to a lesser extent in 2007. I remember seeing pictures on the news of people being rescued by helicopter, and of cars being washed down the river. Luckily no-one was killed but looking at the gorge you can see how the river gets funnelled down to the village, and how it could flood in extreme conditions. You can also see the high water mark from the floods, pretty scary.

Road out of Boscastle

There was another hen do out in Boscastle, all dressed in pink and sounding pretty raucous, also pretty scary so I gave them a wide birth.

Road to Tintagel – sun getting lower in the sky

I rode on to Tintagel, somewhere I’d explored thoroughly with Lu several years ago. I stopped at the top of the path going down to the castle, which we’d visited at the time. Looking out over the bay I remembered a great holiday, although Lu hadn’t been too keen on the camping side of things. I’d be passing through a lot of the places we’d stopped at back then, so there’d be a lot of happy memories to come.

King Arthur’s Arms – something for the tourists

Of course Tintagel Castle is also one of the places that could potentially be the site of King Arthur’s Camelot, if such a place ever existed, or is strongly associated with a lot of the stories anyway. There’s a lot of King Arthur based paraphanalia in the town, including the pub in the above photo, and Merlin’s Cyrstal Cave. One can well imagine how the countryside and coastline around here inspired some of the great tales associated with King Arthur and his knights.

I also stopped at the Old Post Office, a 14 Century stone building owned by the National Trust now.

The Old Post Office, Tintagel

I took the coast road out of Tintagel, having to deal with a massive and unexpected hill near Treknow where the road suddenly dips down into a gorge like cove. My heart dropped slightly when I saw the downwards slope appear around a corner, totally unexpected as it wasn’t marked on my map with the usual chevrons. I descended on squealing brakes, and had to push up the other side to Trebarwith Village, it was just too steep; my feet were spinning let alone my wheels.

With the sun starting to dip towards the horizon I pedalled on down the B3314 to Polzeath and the Southwinds campsite, a few final hills making my legs ache. It was great cycling through the countryside as the sun started to set, lighting up the sky with some wonderful colours. I arrived at the Southwinds at about 21.00, a late stop but I was feeling good after covering 85 miles, with the bike running well again.

Sun sets over Southwinds campsite

I booked in and set up quick, then had a shower to wash away the day’s grime. This was a particularly pleasant experience after getting very hot and sweaty in the gorgeous weather.

Tent up quick at Southwinds

There’s a bar/restaurant just next to the campsite, Sundowners at Carruan Farm. It’s owned and run by Matt and was a great find after a hard day. I arrived once they’d stopped serving food officially, however Matt was able to knock me up a hearty sandwich, which with a pint of cider was just what I needed anyway.

Sundowners is a lovely establishment, only having opened fairly recently. It’s a basically a big wooden barn structure, with a bar and restaurant area, and great views out over the coast. I spent a couple of hours winding down, chatting with Matt about various things. I’ve always had a slight yearning to run a bar or cafe/bar, with a theme to it, and Matt brought me up to speed with some of the challenges, such as what to do in winter time when business can fall off. Bad weather can also have a big impact, especially down in Cornwall, however it looked like the summer was starting to shape up so it should be a good one for Sundowners.

Matt is also a lifeboat man, for the boat based out of Padstow which is just across the River Camel from Polzeath. As expected most of the incidents the lifeboat is called out for are to rescue people that have got in trouble on runaway lilos, or after being trapped by the tide somewhere, rather than boats getting into difficulties. One of the big issues the lifeboat crew faces these days is land based, with a lot of the local houses being bought up as second homes. This means the crew can’t necessarily live close enough to the lifeboat station to provide a fast response. I’m not really sure what you can do about that. You can’t stop a local from selling their house to someone from London for well over the odds, but likewise it’s a shame that communities and services can suffer as a result.

Chatting through my route for the next few days Matt advised I skip Newquay, which has become a bit of a dive over recent years. I visited about 18 years ago when it was still relatively nice, but I think it’s gone a bit tacky since then. He recommended I drop in to St. Agnes. a village a bit further down the coast where there’s a cafe he owns, so I added that to the agenda for tomorrow. Tomorrow would also hopefully bring me to, or within throwing distance of, Land’s End.

After a very pleasant evening I retreated back to my tent, loaded with a complementary bottle of Scrumpy courtesy of Matt.

Scrumpy – could be dangerous

I’d meant to do some writing, however I couldn’t keep my eyes open and drifted off to sleep, hopeful of another day of good weather tomorrow.

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Leg 65 – to Ilfracombe

2 Replies

A great birthday, with fab weather and some lovely countryside.

05 July 2013

I had a few strange dreams overnight, no doubt due to the cabaret performances I’d born witness to at the Beachcomber Inn. Still, it had been a thoroughly enjoyable evening, if not always for the right reasons, and I’d got a tenner from Pauline for the Big C so all good.

I only just remembered it was my birthday, 38 today, so I had a lie in until 08.30 to celebrate. For some reason I’m more of a fan of odd numbers than even numbers, don’t know why, so I wasn’t particularly excited about being 38, I’m pretty much stuck at being 33 anyway.

Warren Farm Holiday Park – a lovely sunny day

I spent 30 minutes checking my bike over breakfast, then had a shower and packed up. I had to take advantage of that plush toilet block one more time. Somewhere in between finishing my bike checks and getting back from the shower another spoke had managed to go ping. It was the non-drive side again so I thought I had spares, however upon trying to fit a new one I discovered I’d been given the wrong length spokes; maybe that bike shop in Cardiff wasn’t so good after all. This was pretty annoying as the shop had measured them up, but I should have checked myself rather than just trust that they’d got it right.

Instead of fitting a replacement spoke I had to tighten those adjacent to the break to get rid of the slight buckle, and hope they held out until I could reach another bike shop.

As I loaded up my bike more punters were arriving for the weekend in an almost constant stream of cars, caravans and motor-homes. The good weather must have been encouraging more people to get out in the fresh air. Due to bike fixing I didn’t get away until 11.00, with someone else immediately taking my vacated pitch. It was a bit like a full car park with people driving around waiting for someone to leave, and made me realise I was going to have book sites in advance if I wanted to guarantee a space now.

From Brean I rode along to Burnham-on-Sea and stopped at a small bike/car accessories shop, but they didn’t sell spokes and claimed I was unlikely to be able to buy them individually. To be honest I’m not sure he was the world’s foremost expert on bicycles, however he was able to recommend a good shop in Bridgwater where they build their own bikes, so were bound to have spokes for sale.

Burnham-on-Sea – seagull

I rode down the seafront in Burnham before heading off towards Bridgwater, which was en-route anyway. I needed to swing inland slightly to find a crossing over the River Parrett.

Burnham Pier

Burnham seafront

I passed through Highbridge and pedalled on to Bridgwater, which has a slightly confusing one way system. I eventually found the bicycle shop, SJS Cycles, on St. John’s Road. They’re also the home of Thorn Cycles, who manufacture touring and tandem bikes. Each bike is assembled specifically to an individual’s requirements, and they carry a massive stock of frames, brakes, gears etc. and more importantly spare spokes. I had a chat with one of their engineers who noticed the majority of the spokes on my rear wheel, aside from those I’d replaced, were pretty poor quality meaning they’d probably break as well. I need DT spokes apparently, which are much less likely to break down at the elbow as the angle is better, and they’re just stronger. I bought half a dozen new spokes, all of the correct length, for a few quid, and replaced the broken one in the shop.

After straightening my wheel I was ready to set off, having learned more about wheel maintenance again. I stopped briefly for a lunchtime snack and then rode west from Bridgwater, fighting through the busy traffic and confusing roads to the A39. There followed a long stretch back down to the coast and Watchet, through pleasant Somerset countryside, and then along to Blue Anchor, followed by Minehead. I think there’s supposed to be a cycle track from Blue Anchor to Minehead but I couldn’t find it, so had to rejoin the A39. It was great to be cycling in good weather for a change, and I felt my morale rise accordingly after the hard slog through Wales.

I entered the Exmoor National Park after Minehead, and things got hilly. I was pretty certain the easy cycling since the Severn Bridge was now coming to and end, with the steep gradients of Devon and Cornwall in front of me. I’d been pondering these hills for a while now, surely they couldn’t be any worse than those I’d tackled along the west coast of Wales…surely…

Pausing in Porlock, a picturesque village in the heart of the national park, I refuelled on bananas and crisps in preparation for the Porlock hill climb. There are two ways you can tackle the hill out of Porlock, which is somewhat renowned amongst cycling circles. You can either take the A39 which has a really steep start to it (25%), followed by a long climb that isn’t for the feint hearted, or you can take the toll road which is longer but less steep. The main road was absolutely jammed with traffic so I opted for the toll road.

Porlock Toll Road 1

I really enjoyed the toll road, which although a very long hill climb was kind of cuddly, never being too steep, and passing through some gorgeous woodland with great views down to the coast. Consequently I seem to have taken a lot of photos.

Porlock Toll Road 2

Porlock Toll Road 3

The advantage of this road is the lack of traffic, compared to the A39, and I revelled in the quiet countryside, free of car fumes, and with birds singing all around me.

Porlock Toll Road 4

The toll road rises just over 4 miles before rejoining the A39, and overlooks Porlock Bay which you can often glimpse through the trees.

Porlock Toll Road 5

I loved the way the sunshine was coming through the trees, showing off the forest at its best, with lots of different shades of green.

Porlock Toll Road 6 – Porlock Bay

The toll house is about half way up, and cost me a quid for my bike – good value. I had a nice chat with the toll collector, feeling very relaxed. Shortly afterwards I passed a cyclist going the other way, travelling downhill at a rapid pace. I hoped his brakes were good as there are a few hairpins you have to contend with.

Porlock Toll Road 7

The gradient on the toll road never goes above about 1 in 14, which is mild compared with the main road.

Porlock Toll Road 8

I finally made it out of the trees and was afforded with some fantastic views down to the sea, and across the moor.

Porlock Toll Road 9

I paused for a few minutes at the top, just to take it all in, before carrying on across Exmoor. I later learnt I’d cycled up the toll road at about the same time my parents had been driving down the main road. They said I’d made the right choice, the main road being very busy. Drivers can be little impatient when they get stuck behind a cyclist on a steep hill for ages.

Porlock Toll Road 10 – panorama

After Porlock I rode across the top of the moor, on a fairly flat section through more great scenery.

Exmoor National Park 1

There were a few sheep hiding on the moor though, so not everything was quite as tranquil as it might appear. They can ambush you at any time so I had to keep on my toes, or on my pedals as it were.

Exmoor National Park 2

Exmoor National Park 3 – the A39 wasn’t as quiet as the toll road had been

After a few miles I rode down Countisbury Hill into Lynmouth, where the road travels right next to the coastline, affording more lovely views.

Coast at Countisbury Hill

There was a slight haze in the air, which the sheep were using for cover to hide their movements.

Descent down to Lynmouth – bit hazy

Lynmouth is another pretty village, having had to be rebuilt after the huge flood in 1952 which destroyed over 100 buildings, most of the bridges, washed cars out to sea, and killed 34 people. The river has been diverted around the village now to avoid a repetition.

Lynmouth Village

The river has a huge catchment area so it’s not surprising there’s a flood risk. In 1952 the flood waters backed up behind a natural damn of river debris, including lots of trees washed into the swelling waters. When this eventually broke it sent a huge wave of water and debris down the valley, straight through the village.

Lynmouth Village – Lyn River looking calm today

The hill out of Lynmouth was a leg killer, being 25% in several places and going on for at least a couple of miles. I chose to take Lynbridge Road (B3234), the more direct route alongside West Lyn River, rather than go the long way round on the A39. With the benefit of hindsight I should have gone for the longer and less steep route, however I missed the turning. I had to stop and rest 3 times up the climb, which was probably the hardest I’d had to tackle gradient wise to date, and I admit I did have to push for 10 metres or so just because it was so steep I couldn’t get going again without sliding backwards. I needed to get to a flatter bit just to start pedalling again.

I finally made it to the top and continued on the A39, which I’d rejoined, through more of Exmoor and then down a lovely long descent on the A399 towards Ilfracombe.

Exmoor post Lymouth

Exmoor – evening drawing on

It was a great ride down to the coast as the light started to fade, past various good looking pubs which I was sorely tempted to stop at, and a nice little harbour at Combe Martin. My parents had already arrived at their B&B in Hele, where my campsite for the night was also located, so I needed to get a move on. It had been slow going today with all the hills, and a few stops for bike repairs.

I passed the castle at Watermouth, then pedalled slowly up the last hill before Hele and free-wheeling down to the campsite.

Watermouth Castle

Top of the last hill before Hele Bay – gorgeous view

After having a nice chat with Sandra who was on warden duty at Hele Valley Holiday Park, I pitched my tent at about 20.30. Sandra and all the staff at the holiday park were really welcoming, and interested in my cycle ride. I’d recommend the campsite for anyone passing through.

I called my parents to let them know I’d arrived, and they promptly turned up to collect me so we could go forth and feast; although they did omit to bring me a beer, but I’d forgive them despite it having been a very thirst inducing day.

We went for dinner at the Hele Billy Pub/Restuarant, just managing to get in and order before the kitchen closed thanks to an understanding chef. It was great to see my parents and catch up, and even better as they were paying. I duly consumed a huge mixed grill, as well as most of my mother’s potatoes, and the cheesecake for dessert before I finally felt full. Unfortunately my Dad didn’t leave any morsel unfinished on his plate, but I probably couldn’t have eaten anything else after all that, as well as a few pints of very welcome Devonshire cider.

Hele Billy mixed grill – a must for the serious cycle tourer

All in all it was a great birthday celebration, in a cool pub, and lovely to spend it with my parents. Thinking about it I probably hadn’t spent my birthday with Mum and Dad for a number of years.

Dad tucking in to duck if I recall correctly – look at the concentration

Mum consuming food at a more leisurely pace - I'd already finished

Mum consuming food at a more leisurely pace – of course I’d already finished

After a great day, during which I’d covered about 77 miles and some serious hills, I slept very well after being dropped back at the campsite. I was slightly worried about my rear wheel still, but had spare spokes, things couldn’t go that wrong could they?!

Bike Around Britain

Blog on cycling around the coast of Britain