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Leg 64 – to Brean via the Severn Bridge

A good days ride covering approximately 85 miles, and getting back into England.

04 July 2013

All too quickly it was time to get up after a very comfy night in a proper bed again; nice not to have to pack up my tent though, and nice to have another set of clean clothes post my washing drying.

Rachel had to leave for work fairly early, so I bid her goodbye, however handily Ian works from home as a Games developer so I had time to ease into the day. After having a leisurely breakfast and a chat with Ian I packed up and was ready to hit the road. Thanks for the stopover guys!

The weather looked acceptable if a little overcast as I pedalled off. Ian and Rachel had recommended a bike shop just down the road in Whitchurch, Damian Harris Cycles, so I made that my first stop. Unfortunately it started drizzling on my way there, but I had faith conditions were going to improve.

Damian Harris Cycles is another great bike shop, with a friendly and helpful bunch of guys who were good to chat to. I bought a new rear tyre, another Schwalbe Marathon Plus, which they fitted for me. It was gratifying to see I’m not the only one who struggles to get these tyres over the wheel rim, they’re very tough but hard to fit as a result. I also picked up a few more spokes, non drive side, as I’d run out of spares. I compared notes with one of the lads in the shop on the west coast of Wales and its hills. He agreed they can be pretty tough, with steep gradients. I reckoned they were as tough as anything else I’d tackled to date, just because of their frequency and steepness.

With my bike all rejuvenated I set off through Cardiff, targeting the Severn Bridge to get back into England. I rode past the castle, and stopped at a Greggs in the main shopping area to load up with bakery goods to keep me going, plus a second breakfast of a pizza slice. Cardiff’s another nice city I need to go back and visit properly another time.

Cardiff in the rain

There followed a slightly convoluted route to get out of Cardiff, via Splott, a cool name for a suburb. I eventually made it on to the coast road, after a couple of wrong turns, and pedalled up the Welsh coast alongside the Severn Estuary. The road was being turned into a dual carriageway, with large sections coned off. It was great to cycle on, being light on traffic and lovely and flat, with new tarmac. A rare tailwind helped be along, through various industrial areas to begin with, then some nice countryside all the way to Newport.

The rain stopped as I rode over the bridge into Newport, but then got a bit turned around in a maze of roads and confusing signposts. I stopped at a greengrocers to buy a few bananas and apples, and checked my map with the store owner to make sure I was on track. Thankfully I was still going roughly the right way and was soon on the road to Magor, then on to Caldicot via Undy. All the towns had their names in Welsh on the entry signs as usual, but I still didn’t have a chance of pronouncing them correctly most of the time.

I’d been following route 4 (CTC) on and off all day, and pedalled to Pwllmeyric just before Chepstow, having to tackle a steep hill before turning south to cross the River Severn. I was going to cross using the old Severn Bridge over which the M48 passes, as it’s open to bikes. Using the cycle path over the bridge saved me a long track inland to Gloucester, and back down again. I passed a moped going the other way, so they obviously don’t mind small motorbikes using it either.

There was a team painting the bridge as I crossed, which must be a pretty much permanent task. The bridge was vibrating from all the traffic zooming over it, just yards from the cycle path, a weird sensation.

Severn Bridge cycle path

I stopped for a quick break on the bridge, looking back towards Wales and then south to England. The clouds were breaking up and the sun coming out. After having to endure bad weather for much of my time in Wales it was apt timing that conditions were improving just as I was leaving.

Break on the bridge in the sunshine

Back in England

After the bridge and village of Aust I tried, somewhat unsuccessfully, to stick to the small roads and tracks next to the estuary – several were looking quite promising with helpful signposts. I passed through Severn Beach, but then ended up at a dead end and had to push my bike through a bit of a bush to get back to the road. This resulted in a few nettle stings but at least I was back on track, albeit with a few bits of vegetation sticking out from panniers. Either I’d missed a signpost or they’d done their usual trick of not being there when I really needed one. I blame Gremlins.

Promising track – resulted in a dead end

Severn Estuary – looking back to the bridge

Severn Estuary and Bridge again – takes a while to cycle across

The A403 and a couple of quieter side roads and cycle tracks took me down to Avonmouth. The riding wasn’t a lot of fun, with a lot of heavy traffic, factories, fumes and impatient drivers. The impatient folk weren’t the lorry drivers incidentally, more the car drivers, especially the smaller cars – small angry man syndrome most of the time. I definitely needed a wide load sign on the back of my bike.

Severn Estuary in the sunshine

I stopped in Avonmouth for a break and phoned Will, my brother, who was stuck up in Edinburgh waiting for a plane to be fixed. I sat in the sunshine chatting, eating a couple of bananas and a chocolate bar to replenish energy reserves, whilst watching a large number of heavily tattooed men and women go in and out of a shop. There isn’t a lot in Avonmouth, but body art seems to feature in a big way with the locals. A lot of it was pretty cool and got me wondering about a tattoo again, something I’ve been mulling over for a while. I’d quite like a small one of a similar design to the New Zealand green-stone necklace I wear, but think I’ll have to get a design done and put it up on my wall for 6 months to see if I get bored of it before making a final decision.

I had to ride towards and into the outskirts of Bristol next, to find a bridge over the River Avon. Thankfully most of the route was via cycle paths as the roads were very busy again.

Clifton Suspension Bridge

I pedalled up the A4 alongside the river, with cliffs on my left hand side at some points, and passed under the Clifton Suspension Bridge before crossing the Avon. The queues of traffic were pretty horrendous, but being on a bike I was able to keep to the cycle tracks and bypass them all for the most part.

Crossing the Avon

I took the B3128 back towards the coast and Clevedon, trying to avoid the busier roads, but encountering a big hill climb instead. It was lovely riding in the sunshine, which had stayed out since getting back into England. I could look back over the Severn Estuary into Wales and see a pall of clouds still hanging over the coastline there – that country does seem like a magnet for bad weather.

I quickly came to the conclusion that all the roads were going to be busy, so just got my head down and pedalled, yearning for the quieter trails of Scotland. There were quite a few other cyclists out to wave to, including a few tourers going the other way who had the tailwind at this stage.

After getting irritated by a succession of drivers coming too close to me in their haste to pass, I turned off the the B3128 and rode across to the A370, which although equally as busy was wider, and took me direct to Weston-super-Mare.

It took a long time to get into Weston-super-Mare from its outskirts, having crossed the town boundary several miles before I reached the town centre itself. The road just seemed to go on for ages but I eventually made it to the seafront, where a big biker rally was going on. They had a DJ playing some really classic tunes, including music from Therapy, The Cure, and even a bit of Type O Negative which I hadn’t listened to in ages.

Weston-super-Mare – biker rally

There were a lot of bikes and it looked like a lot of fun; I considered trying to sneak in with the Ridgeback but I’m not sure it would have measured up versus a Harley Davidson hog. Instead I paused on the promenade and had a cold can of fizzy pop from a stall that was just closing up for the evening, listening to the music and gazing out across the sands.

Weston-super-Mare pier

Weston-Super-Mare beach

Refreshed and buoyed by the music I pedalled along the promenade with the sun gradually getting lower in the clouds, watching a few kite surfers out for an evening session.

Weston-super-Mare – Kite Surfers 1

There was a stiff breeze so some of them were travelling along at quite a pace. I’m still not sure how they don’t decapitate one another with the lines to their kites. There were a few windsurfers out too, which seems like a safer option.

Weston-super-Mare – Kite Surfers 2

The on-shore wind they were enjoying was unfortunately whipping up a fair bit of sand and blowing it into my face and eyes, which stung a bit despite wearing sunglasses and pulling my buff up around my mouth.

Evening drawing on in Weston-super-Mare

I think that’s Steep Holm Island in the photo above, out in the Bristol Channel, although it might be Flat Holm Island.

Weston-super-Mare – Kite Surfers 3

Some rather wiggly roads came next as I made my way around to Brean and found a campsite, which turned out to be more of a holiday park, but only cost me £11. This was fine given it was now July and camping prices were going up.

I quickly pitched my tent which blew about a bit, due to the increasing westerly wind and exposed coastline, until I got it pegged down. Handily the Hilleburg Akto is easy to erect, having only one pole you need to slide in. I’d had lots of practice by now so it was up in five minutes, and I adjourned to the rather plush toilet block for a shower.

Plushest toilets of the tour!

Now I’m not in the habit of taking pictures in toilets, but the facilities at the Warren Farm Holiday Park were pretty impressive. I almost felt like I needed to have a wash before using them.

Me looking a but weather beaten in Brean

The Beachcomber Inn is just next door to the campsite, and part of the complex, doubling as the entertainment centre for the holiday park. With some trepidation I made my way there, deciding I’d eat out rather than cook something in the wind, but somewhat nervous about exactly what sort of entertainment they had lined up.

They were just finishing the bingo when I turned up. I ordered a surf and turf dinner, as a treat, to celebrate the good weather (despite the wind) and getting back into England. Then I settled down to write my journal and watch a few of the acts. An ex X -Factor singer there on holiday was called upon to do a couple of numbers, he wasn’t half a bad singer but I prefer real music with real musicians; pity he didn’t do a few of the songs being played down the road at the biker rally.

The highlight of the evening were a couple of comedians, one the straight guy, Tim, and the other the funny guy, Tony. Tony was impersonating an Albanian working at the holiday camp, ‘standing in’ for Tony who was ‘late’. They were really good and I genuinely laughed throughout the show, which also contained a few sing-alongs, and a bit of audience participation.

Tim and Tony Strange at the Warren Farm Holiday Park

All in all it was a great evening, and made me realise not all holiday camp cabaret experiences are awful. I also chatted to a few of the holiday makers there, including Pauline who kindly donated £10 to the Big C, thanks Pauline. She’d been coming to the holiday park since 1975 and told me a few tales, and got me a ‘shout out’ from the compère for my tour which was nice.

Post a rendition of ‘Oh Mandy’ and ‘That’s Amore’, and the Albanian worker upstaging Tony, the show was over and it was time to retreat back to my tent. It was my birthday tomorrow, so I had my fingers crossed for good weather, and was looking forward to meeting up with my parents who were travelling down from East Sussex to visit – fingers crossed for some free food!

I’ll leave you with a bit of Tim and Tony Strange via Youtube if you fancy a laugh, classic comedy:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kYOCjyTuztc

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Leg 63 – to Cardiff

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03 July 2013

I woke up to quiet, this was significant, it wasn’t raining! I’d been dreading having to pack up in the rain when my kit was already wet. It also makes everything that little bit heavier, meaning more effort is required in the pedalling department. Most of my clothes had dried overnight, within the compact and cosy confines of my tent, however my shoes were still on the soggy side.

Caemawr Farm – weather significantly improved

The view this morning had significantly improved, mainly because I could see more that 10 metres in front of me. From the campsite I could look down over Llanelli and the River Loughor estuary, to the Gower Peninsula beyond.

After changing out my broken spoke followed by a bit of wheel straightening, I had quiche for breakfast. A tad on the unconventional side but I’d forgotten I’d bought it yesterday, and figured it was a bit like a breakfast omelette. I got ready to go whilst chatting to a caravaner about cycling. He used to cycle a lot but not so much these days, having let it gradually fall by the wayside. I hope he feels motivated to get back on two wheels now.

Whilst it wasn’t sunny it was nice to be cycling without any rain or spray. I left the campsite and rolled down the hill back to Llanelli, before crossing over the river to Gowerton. I thought about nipping into Llanelli to buy more spare spokes, but couldn’t find any promising bike shops on the Internet, so decided to restock in Cardiff instead.

I cycled around some of the Gower Peninsula but didn’t go right to the end, it being a dead end and thus acceptable to skip under my own rules. The countryside is pretty, as is the coastline, and there are several nature reserves to explore. The whole peninsula has been designated an Area if Outstanding Natural Beauty.

View back to Llanelli from near Three Crosses

From Bishopston I pedalled down the coast and past Swansea Airport, which is even smaller than Norwich airport, before tackling a couple of largish hills to reach Caswell Bay.

Swansea ‘Airport’

There was a lot of activity in Caswell, with surfers, kayakers, and general beach goers out enjoying the better weather. I always admire the enthusiasm of the British holidaymaker when it comes to braving our beaches, whatever the weather, and generally dressed as if it’s ten degrees warmer. Good on ’em.

Caswell Bay panorama

I contemplated buying a snack from the purveyor of finest hot dogs set up next to the beach, but managed to resist and had an apple instead, whilst watching a group head out for a surfing lesson. They were having enough trouble carrying their boards down to the sea so I wasn’t confident they’d cope too well when on the water. Maybe they’d be like seals, all clumsy and flopping along on land, but graceful and speedy in the sea. There wasn’t much in the way of surf today so they’d probably just end up floating about a bit.

There’s a big hill going east out of Caswell, which I was encouraged up by two elderly ladies who seemed to be making an easier job of walking up it than me on my bike. I was rewarded by a long downhill stretch to Swansea Bay and the Mumbles, the latter sounding like a place name Neil Gaiman should use in one of his books, with some kind of twist.

Swansea Bay

A long cycle track runs along the promenade past Swansea, and down through the docks and harbour, nicely avoiding the main road. I think it’s all part of the route 4 CTC cycle-way and there were certainly lots of cyclists using it, one of whom I ended up having a bit of an inadvertent race with. This wasn’t the fairest of competitions considering he didn’t have any panniers, but it was still fun, and we exchanged greetings before cycling our separate ways.

Cormorants preening in Swansea

I crossed over the River Tawe, after which it all got a bit busy and industrial. For the most part I was able to stick to the cycle path which runs parallel to the M4, however I took a wrong turning somewhere along the line, around Port Talbot, causing a slight detour.

Swansea Marina

With a favourable wind and mostly flat terrain I was making good time, and joined the A48 down to Pyle and Bridgend. I turned off the main road just before Bridgend, to Merthyr Mawr, and then on to Candleston. Candelston Castle is a dead end, but is somewhere I wanted to stop at having visited several times over the years for various events. It’s a lovely place, and fairly unique for the UK with forest and sand dunes.

Candleston Castle 1

Candleston Castle 2

The castle is actually classed as a fortified manor house, but looks like a castle to me, even if it’s mostly in ruins now. It was originally built in the 14th century, and has survived the encroaching sand dunes which have swallowed up other structures in the area.

Candleston Castle 3 – view from upstairs

The sand dunes near Merthyr Mawr are some of the biggest and tallest in Europe, which I can attest to having had to slog over them a few times in the past, once dressed as an Arabian explorer/CIA agent, and another time as an Orc, but those are stories for another day.

Sand dunes of Candleston

There was a pack of about of 12 dogs that turned up whilst I was eating another apple and a chocolate bar to recoup some energy. They all appeared from one van, that of a professional dog walker, and looked to be having an enormous amount of fun gallivanting around woods and dunes. However I wouldn’t have liked to have been the one to clean up after all those canines, that would be a lot of poop to scoop, if he even bothered. And what would you do if they all just decided they didn’t want to get back in the van?

After a lovely break in Candleston I backtracked to Merthyr Mawr and continued at-a-pace on B-roads round to St. Brides. In my second race of the day I took on a horse and trap, narrowly beating them thanks to a hill and a tailwind. Again it was an inadvertent race, and they started it, but it was good fun and I waved them goodbye as I sped off downhill.

Upon reaching Llantwit Major I suddenly felt very hungry, and realised I hadn’t really eaten anything substantial since my most excellent quiche breakfast. I found a Greggs bakery in town and had a sandwich, then visited a health food shop next door to see if they had a good alternative to Snickers Bars. I ended up buying a couple of pricey protein/carb ‘Bounce’ bars to try. They’re 100% ‘natural’, whatever that means. Aren’t most things natural really? I decided I’d give them a try anyway but didn’t think the Snickers or Ginger Nut market was in danger of collapse, given the price difference.

Continuing on the B4265 I cycled past the MOD base at St. Athan, and then on to Barry joining the A4266. The road grew steadily busier as I approached Cardiff, but the traffic wasn’t moving much faster than I was so was manageable. The sun even came out for a bit.

I passed Penarth and entered Cardiff via the docks, getting slightly turned around on the roads but making it to the city centre thanks to well signposted cycle paths.

Giant metal ball reflection

Cardiff is a great looking city, being compact like Norwich, with all the necessary shops and some good looking places to go out and eat/drink. Being on the coast it also has at least a couple of marinas for you yachting types. I paused at the Millennium Centre to check my route to Ian and Rachel’s, where I was staying the night.

Millenium Centre

I believe the inscription says ‘In these Stones Horizons Sing’, which was a song composed by Karl Jenkins for the opening of the Centre.

I rode past Cardiff Castle, at the very heart of the city, before making my way out to Whitchurch where Rachel and Ian live. I was a bit early due a quicker than anticipated day, so stopped for a pint at a local pub, before going round to meet up once they were back from work. Ah, that work thing, can’t say I’d been particularly missing it, but I only had one more month off.

After a conversation with a couple of tourists on their way back to Cornwall, about Bulldogs and how they can easily overheat – I sometimes have some bizarre conversations with random people – I met up with my hosts for the evening.

I hadn’t seen Rachel or Ian in a few years, and it was great to catch up, not to mention to get some washing done and dry out a few things. We went out for a nice bite to eat, and had a good froth about various things. They were also able to recommend a good local bike shop where I could pick up some new spokes, and perhaps a new rear tyre which was really starting to look bald now.

Still tired from the last few days, and having covered a rapid 80 miles today, I slept very well. With any luck I’d be back in England again tomorrow.

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Leg 62 – to Llanelli

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02 July 2013

I think today may have been wetter than the Campbeltown leg, and that’s saying something. The visibility was definitely worse, with low cloud hanging about for much of the day.

My tent was shaking when I woke up. The wind had changed direction in the night and was blasting the side, accompanied by the persistent drumming of rain. ‘Great,’ I thought, so much for the good weather of yesterday.

A grey morning at the Sandy Haven campsite

Determined to get a good leg in I breakfasted in my tent, then made a dash to the toilet block and showers. Thankfully the rain stopped whilst I packed up and I was on the road by 10.00. In hindsight I’m not really sure why I bothered with a shower.

From Herbranston I made my way to the town of Milford Haven, dodging through the traffic to join the B4325 to Honeyborough, where I knew there was a bike shop. There were some pretty big ships out on the water, Milford Haven having been used as a port since the Middle Ages.

Milford Haven

I stopped at Enterprise Cycles, a Ridgeback stockist, and bought some new brake pads (Aztecs). The shop staff were very helpful and obliging – they let me bring my bike in and change the pads in the shop, so I spent 10 minutes adjusting them to make sure they didn’t rub etc.

Enterprise Cycles, Honeyborough

I was doubly grateful when it started to throw it down outside, and prolonged my visit to have a good chat about my tour and cycling in general. The rain however didn’t look like it was going to stop, so I eventually bid Enterprise Cycles goodbye and pedalled off to the bridge over the Milford Haven.

Bridge over the Milford Haven – Pembroke Dock

The busy bridge crosses at Neyland over to Pembroke Dock, and thankfully there’s a cycle path that runs over it. There were a lot of heavy trucks out on the road and kicking up a lot of spray, something of a feature for the day, so I didn’t take that many photos.

Another view from the bridge – a very rainy day

Once over the bridge I stopped for lunch in Pembroke, next to the castle, wolfing down a coronation chicken baguette. Pembroke Castle is another that’s seen a lot of action, most recently in the English Civil War when Cromwell laid siege to it. Henry VII was also born there.

Pembroke Castle

Post lunch and a chat to my Dad to check on the weather forecast, which didn’t sound hopeful, I got under-way again. I’d intended to ride from Pembroke to Castlemartin, then back east, however due to a combination of poor visibility and bad map reading I took a more direct route to Stackpole. I wasn’t overly upset as I couldn’t see a great deal anyway, and the weather was deteriorating further as the day went on.

A succession of feisty hills, including a few 16%’ers, left my legs aching after yesterday’s efforts, however at least the roads were much quieter as I pedalled along the coast towards Tenby. It’s an interesting town, built on a hill, so I stopped for a quick look around.

Tenby Five Arches Gate

Tenby, which in Welsh means something like little fortress of the fish, is a walled town, the walls having been built to keep out a succession of Welsh attackers. It was originally a hill fort, which the Norman’s converted into a stone castle, with extensive town walls built in later centuries. The strong defensive position meant a busy seaport sprang up, and Henry Tudor had a brief stay there before sailing into exile in France, during the Wars of the Roses.

It was an impressive town despite the weather, with the harbour down below, and a nice old-town.

Tenby Harbour

I stopped for a coffee (decaf as usual, although I was sorely tempted with some caffeine today) at the Vista Cafe, which has great views across Camarthen Bay. Chatting to one of the guys serving I learnt he’d kayaked across Scotland, which is no mean feat given you have to do quite a bit of portaging. He did however manage to break his kayak in doing so, which was on loan from Uni, oops; now he absolutely has to finish writing up his experience as payback. I wonder if he’s finished yet. It’s amazing who you randomly meet, and how many people have had some pretty awesome adventures.

Tenby Beach, not many people sunbathing today

Post coffee I walked my bike around the last bit of Tenby in the rain, and heard a child say, ‘Look Mum it’s snowing.’ I almost wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been snowing given all the other weather Wales had been experiencing, but it was just lights from a car reflecting in the raindrops that made it look a bit like snow.

Next up was a long and pretty unremarkable stretch up to Carmarthen, via St. Clears to get over the River Taf, during which I benefited from a tailwind. I couldn’t see a lot and wanted to press on, so stuck to the main roads for a bit. With low visibility and lots of traffic I was getting a bit concerned about a lorry not seeing me, so I attached just about every light I had to the back of my bike, lighting it up like a Christmas Tree.

Grim riding on the A477

One high point was a lovely long descent from Red Roses that seemed to go on for miles. Despite my waterproof I was pretty drenched by this stage, from the rain, mist and spray, so was quite enjoying splashing through all the puddles at high speed; I couldn’t get any wetter! I love Ortlieb Panniers incidentally, they don’t leak.

Rather wet on the A477, with a wonky helmet

Ridgeback holding up in the wet

I managed to avoid most of the busy A40 by taking a minor road that ran almost parallel to it, and made it to Carmarthen where I stopped for a burger to refuel, before crossing the River Towy. I shared a moment or two with a motorcyclist at the services. We were both equally drenched, and got further drenched when water suddenly ran off roof onto our heads whilst we were parking our bikes up. It was just funny by this stage.

Crossing the River Towy, Carmarthen

Riding through low cloud and unrelenting rain I pedalled onwards down the A484, stopping to phone a campsite in Llanelli to let them know I was coming. I was doubtful they’d be filling up with enthusiastic campers but you never know, and didn’t want to have to find somewhere else.

I’ve been told the countryside and coastline is wonderful around this part of Wales, but I really couldn’t tell you if it was or not; there were certainly a few good hills and nice descents, but I couldn’t see a lot.

I passed by Kidwelly, and noticed a sign to ‘Pinged’. I don’t know if it was the village name that made me glance down at my rear wheel, or if I herd a ‘Ping’ at the same time, but in any case my back wheel had developed a buckle as another spoke had gone. It wasn’t too bad so I decided to leave off replacing it until I got to the campsite. It made me laugh though, and a strange coincidence – I might have been going a bit strange by this point in the day.

I pedalled on through Pembrey, and round to Burry Port, before arriving in Llanelli in a dry patch. I stopped to buy some biscuits, ginger nuts of course, as well as a few beers, dripping water on to the floor of the convenience store as I waited to pay. It was one of those moments when you’re in a hurry to get somewhere, but no-one else is. The person in front of me, who was slightly inebriated and irritating the shopkeeper, spent a good 5 minutes chatting and getting his change out to pay, whilst a puddle slowly formed around me. I tried to help and we got there eventually, the man staggering off with his trusty bottle of dubious cider (White Lightning I think) and a half dozen eggs; a good balanced diet.

Supplies successfully purchased, and with the convenience store’s floor inadvertently washed, I climbed out of Llanelli to Furnace, and to the Caemawr Farm Camping and Caravanning site. The farm dog, a springer spaniel, came out to great me enthusiastically and the owner showed me up through the mist to the camping field. It’s a nice site, I think, I couldn’t really tell, but the owner was very nice. There were a few other indistinct shapes in the mist which were either herds of vengeful sheep out to get me, or other campers, I hoped the latter.

I got my tent up quick, which was fortunate considering it hammered down with rain about 20 minutes later. It was only 21.00, but I retreated inside for the rest of the evening, the rain not showing any signs of stopping. Handily, and for the first time in ages, I could pick up a 3G signal so had entertainment for the evening thanks to my iPad, which I can hotspot to the Internet via my mobile phone.

Caemawr Campsite

Caemawr Campsite – you can just about see my tent

One issue of being in a small tent is that it’s quite tricky to dry stuff. Body heat is effective but uncomfortable, and I knew I’d be putting on wet stuff tomorrow. Still, the weather forecast looked like it was going to be a better day tomorrow, and I was aiming for Cardiff where I’d be staying with friends, so could dry stuff there.

I’d covered around 75 miles today, a respectable distance considering the conditions – I was still on schedule.

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Bike around Britain – Gallery 1

Leg 58 – to Anglesey

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Before I start a quick congratulations to Will and Louisa, my brother and sister-in-law, on the birth of their daughter Anna Constance on 02 August, which is easy to remember because it was Lucy and I’s wedding anniversary. Being an Uncle to a niece as well as nephew is pretty exciting!

Anna post a trip out to the park – she’d mostly been asleep until we got back

Nephew Seb tackling an ice cream, clever boy

28 June 2013

The not unusual sound of rain hitting my tent greeted me when I awoke, so I decided to have breakfast in bed and hoped it would stop. It did eventually so I clambered out, receiving my first shower of the morning as cold rain water ran off the canvas and down my neck. Now thoroughly awake I checked my bike and discovered another broken spoke I hadn’t noticed the day before. Luckily I had spares so I swapped in a new one. This was the first time I’d changed a spoke without assistance, and I followed Simon from Topmark’s advice; the bike shop I’d stopped at in Barrow-in-Furness.

I was able to remove the old spoke, leaving the nipple in the rim, and then thread in a new spoke and join it up, so I didn’t have to disassemble the entire wheel, bonus! I had to bend things around a bit but it worked fine, and after about 20 minutes of adjustments I was satisfied the wheel was straight and nothing was going to rub.

The rain and bike maintenance, followed by a shower and packing up, meant I didn’t leave the campsite until 10.30ish, bidding goodbye to the only other campers post a quick chat. The little girl wanted to know if I’d been woken up by the police sirens in the night, or the drumming, I hadn’t, having a tendency to sleep quite deeply once wrapped up in my tent. I hoped the weather improved for them.

Henllys – packed up and ready for another day, grey skies again

I rode towards Abergele, joining the A547 along the coast. I wanted to avoid the busy and potentially dangerous A55 after yesterday’s experiences on dual carriageways. Just outside Abergele lies an impressive looking castle, which I subsequently learned is Gwrych Castle. It was built between 1812 and 1822, and is currently undergoing restoration with a view to converting it into a hotel – not sure how that work is going. Unfortunately I didn’t get any decent photos of it from the road, due the high curtain wall, so the one below is from google.

Gwrych Castle

It fell into a bit of a derelict state after a succession of owners, then being vandalised, lived in by travellers, and suffering from collapsed floors, ceilings and the odd fire, so it obviously needs a lot of work. It could look like a fairy tale castle, with its follys and extensive grounds, so hopefully something good will happen. If I won the lottery, or earned loads of money somehow, I’d consider buying it if it wasn’t so far away from everywhere.

Continuing on my way I pedalled around to Colwyn Bay, having to negotiate at least one hill in the process.

Colwyn Bay

Colwyn Bay – wild flowers, or probably weeds but I thought they looked pretty

I rode along the promenade to Rhos-on-Sea, before rejoining the road to Llandudno.

Colwyn Bay – promenade, sun even threatening to come out

Up until Llandudno there’d been few hills to contend with, and the rain had mostly held off aside from the odd patch of drizzle, so things were looking promising. Llandudno itself seemed a pleasant place, with a wide promenade you can cycle along to Great Orme’s Head, which looms over the town.

Llandudno and Great Orme’s Head

The Mad Hatter – always been a bit of an Alice in Wonderland fan

I stopped in Llandudno for a bite to eat, and took advantage of some wifi to check my route and schedule. I reckoned I had around 1,300 miles left to get around to London, as long as I didn’t throw in any more islands or detours, which was just about doable by 17 July. As usual I’d make up my route as I went along, and stop when I found somewhere nice, that’s about as far as my advanced planning goes really. I only needed to keep the coast on my right, and ensure I averaged around 75 miles a day.

Unfortunately the rain set in post post Llandudno, coming down pretty hard, and I was quickly drenched – not that my shoes had had chance to dry out anyway. My waterproof had definitely seen better days and was leaking in several places, serving only to trap a layer of warmish water close to my skin, which I guess was better than being cold.

I rode over the bridge to Conwy and Conwy Castle, and opted to take the old suspension bridge into town.

Conwy Suspension Bridge

The bridge is run by the National Trust, having originally been built by Thomas Telford in the early 19th century as part of the large scale road improvements between Chester and Bangor.

Bridge and Conwy Castle

River Conwy – view under the road bridge

On the suspension bridge

I enjoy looking at old feats of engineering and majestic buildings such as Conwy Castle, and often wish we put as much effort into elegant construction these days as our forebears did in past centuries.

The bridge again – are you bored of bridge photos yet?

The castle was built in the late 13th century, by that old favourite Edward I, during his conquest of Wales; he certainly liked his wars. It saw fairly active service over the years, before being partially slighted after the English Civil war and subsequently falling into ruin. It’s been restored since, and stands proud above the River Conwy as a World Heritage Site.

Conwy Castle

It has massive defensive walls, which explains how it withstood sieges successfully. Must have been daunting to assault those walls with the defenders hurling things at you.

Conwy Castle tower

Conwy itself is a nice looking town, with its own wall, and with lots of holiday makers wandering about its attractive streets.

Conwy town with castle in background – sky looks threatening

Conwy town and wall

Conwy – raining again

Avoiding the A55 I was able to ride along a cycle path for the next stage, which was handy given the road was very busy, with a lot of spray being kicked up by the traffic. Even off the main road it was a hard ride down the coast, with a fierce headwind at times, and the continuing rain soaking me further.

Looking back toward Great Orme’s Head and Llandudno

The cycle path had a few exciting sections as it tracked the coast road, which itself passed through tunnels through the hills. I road up over cycle bridges, crossing the A55 on suspended walk/cycle ways that felt a little exposed in the wind. The track wound around, up and over the hills, rather than going through them like the road. This meant a few significant but fun climbs, despite the rain, and wind which when gusting nearly stopped me dead a couple of times. I had my head down as I was fighting into the wind, and nearly ran into a cyclist coming the other way at one point. Luckily he shouted a warning and I moved over; I think we were both pretty surprised to see someone else out in these conditions.

Cycle track following the busy A55

Continuing along the coast, thoroughly drenched again, I took shelter out of the wind and rain for a bit in a roofed seating area. It was a relief not to have the wind blasting me for a few minutes, and I had a few biscuits to top up energy levels.

A stop out of the wind near Llanfairfechan

Riding on along a bit of promenade I approached a group of mallard ducks, sitting stoically in the rain by the side of the road. They looked quite content, until suddenly alarmed they took flight as a couple of terriers emerged from the bushes behind them, barking and dashing about in an animated fashion. The dogs obviously thought it was great fun, however the ducks were less than impressed as was evident from their disdainful quacking. They also flew directly into my path, and due to their low trajectory I was subject to a few wing buffets and close encounters with beaks. A high velocity duck quacking in your face can be quite alarming, however they were soon out of my way, and landed 50 yards away keeping an eye on the dogs who’d been hastily summoned by their owners.

The dog owners were somewhat apologetic, although they were laughing – it was quite funny. Given the abundance of signs on British roads I was surprised there wasn’t one warning of low flying ducks. On the subject of road signs, I do get rather irritated by how many there are. Do you really need signs warning that there aren’t any road markings. If you can’t see that there aren’t any road markings you probably shouldn’t be driving. Even more disturbing are the ones that tell you that cat’s eyes have been removed, I mean what kind of sicko goes around doing that. There are just so many signs you end up getting sign overload and start ignoring all of them, which defeats the purpose of the whole thing. Is there a bureaucrat somewhere trying to use up their sign budget or something, in case it gets slashed next year? Anyway, enough of slipping into grumpy old man mode, I’m still relatively young dammit.

The next section took me down a few country roads as I looped inland to avoid the main road, on my way to Bangor.

Wet country roads near Abergwyngregyn

The route would have been lovely on a different day, with nicer weather, but it was just too wet and windy to enjoy today. I still however took satisfaction from the fact I was making good progress despite the conditions, and pressed on to Bangor.

I eventually made it to Bangor, which is a bit confusing road wise. I somehow completely missed the city centre, but decided not to loop back, and rode on to Anglesey which I’d opted to include despite my earlier thoughts on not doing any more islands. I reckoned I could just about include Anglesey, or Ynys Mon in Welsh, and still make it round in time for Latitude. I might just need to add on a few miles to some other legs.

I wanted to see the fabled island of the Druids, which was attacked by the Romans back in AD60 who wanted to break their hold over the Celtic tribes. General Gaius Suetonius Paulinus and his amphibious Batavian contingent were apparently successfully in vanquishing them, putting many to the sword and destroying shrines and sacred groves. These Romans obviously had no intention of preserving sites of archaeological interest for future generations. Still, General Paulinus had to retreat before he could consolidate his victory due to Boudica and the Iceni revolting in the east (good old boys (and girls) as they say in Norfolk), just down the road from where I live, so I kind of hope some of the Druids survived to pass on their culture and history to future generations. It’s nice to think that maybe a little bit of magic and wonder of a different kind existed back then, however I suspect the Druids were pretty terrifying in their own right, and relied on superstition, rituals and fear to keep control. I could draw certain parallels with some modern religious institutions at this stage, but I won’t.

The Menai Straits from the Menai Bridge – Britannia Bridge in the distance

I rode over the Menai Bridge to the Isle, stopping to take in the view as the rain began to stop.

The Ridgeback on the Menai Bridge

My dad was apparently stationed on or near Anglesey when he was in the RAF, and many antics were got up to, some of which involved the bridge. I believe at least one of my god fathers was also involved, but probably shouldn’t go into any more detail in case warrants are still outstanding.

Me on the Menai Bridge – helmet wonky as usual

I wasn’t going to do the whole coast of the island, but wanted to do a circuit to see what it was like, so rode up the A5025 towards Amlwch. There are lots of campsites on Anglesey so I wasn’t worried about finding a place to pitch up later, and if the worst came to the worst I was sure there’d be a quiet spot off the beaten track I could stop at for the night.

The rain stopped as I rode on, finally, and it turned into a lovely ride despite the initial heavy traffic on the road. Anglesey is by no means flat, but neither is it very hilly, the road just undulates a lot.

Travelling up the A5025 on Anglesey – could this have once been a sacred grove?

I stopped in Benllech to pick up a few supplies at a small supermarket, stuffing down a doughnut to get some energy back, followed by a banana for good measure, and a chocolate bar to be sure. The road continued on to Amlwch, which is lacking in any vowels, but that isn’t unusual in Wales. I didn’t know how you pronounced it, but tried rolling the word around my mouth a few times. I don’t know how you pronounce a lot of place names in Welsh so I’d be useless if anyone asked for directions. It was nice to hear people speaking Welsh though, which has a musical quality to it.

Amlwch – twinned with Sankwia in The Gambia, which I thought was a little odd

With the evening stretching on, but the sun making an appearance for the first time in a while, I pedalled along the coast from Amlwch to Cemaes Bay before turning south down towards Holyhead.

Anglesey has it fair share of wind farms

I passed a signpost to Church Bay where my dad used to go on holiday as a child, which potentially would have been a good place to stop for the night, but I decided to get a few more miles done.

Anglesey countryside – looking towards the centre of the island

I didn’t go all the way to Holyhead, it basically being a sprawling ferry port where boats go to and from Ireland. Instead I turned back towards the Menai Bridge on the A5. I’d found a promising looking campsite via the web earlier, but was having trouble locating it on my map, and I didn’t have enough reception to use my phone. This meant I ended up riding slightly later than anticipated, via a more convoluted route.

A random standing stone

Looking south west towards Holyhead

Looking towards Church Bay

I pedalled through more very Welsh sounding villages, although I guess they may well have Irish origins, the Irish having invaded in the early 5th century before being defeated in 470 by some Scots who popped down for a rumble.

Sun going down over some cows

It was quite an impressive sunset

After passing through Bryngwran, Gwalchmai and Llanrhyddlad I arrived at the Tally Ho campsite just off the B4422, not far from Bodorgan. It’s a nice small Camping and Caravaning site, with friendly owners and a quiet camping field. You can order breakfast from them for the morning too, but I’d just bought a load of supplies which I needed to eat, regrettably. A bacon roll or two would have been most welcome. The campsite was £10 a night so averagely priced, with a decent but small toilet and shower block.

I’d arrived about 21.30, so was quite hungry, and set up my tent quickly before settling down to a meal of bread, cheese and BBQ’d chicken I’d bought earlier, accompanied by crisps, tomatoes and fruit. I saved some of the bread and a pork pie or two for the morning, before a dessert of chocolate buttons and a can of cider for good measure.

Sun gone on Anglesey

It was pretty late by the time I was all fed and watered, so after a quick call to my parents I retreated into my tent to write my journal, although I kept falling asleep so had trouble finishing it. The bleating of many sheep helped keep me vaguely awake, a kind of fiendish evening chorus on their part. Aside from the livestock it was a fairly quiet site, with several groups camped up in either tents or caravans. The lack of wind and rain meant sleep came fairly quickly once I’d stopped trying to write, although I was a somewhat preoccupied with how I could dry my shoes which where in danger of giving me a case of trench foot.

Having done 84 miles today I was in a good place to finish Anglesey tomorrow, before continuing along the coast to Caernarfon, and then further west to the Lleyn Peninsula. I was aiming to be up early in the morning for another longish leg, to keep my average mileage at a respectable score. The sky was clear so it looked like the weather would be better tomorrow; some heat would be nice to dry off a few things.

Bonuit tout le monde 🙂

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Leg 57 – to Rhyl (Towyn) via the Wirral

3 Replies

Limited pics today due to inclement weather!

27 June 2013

After a solid night’s sleep at Matt and Jo’s I was reluctant to get up, but had a big day ahead of me so needed to get moving. Remembering the promise of the pie shop in the village was all it took to get me springing out of bed. My hosts had to leave for work but left me a key so I could let myself out and lock-up once I’d had breakfast and packed up. I was left alone in the company of three inquisitive cats who wanted to find out what I had in my panniers, or at least work out whether they were a suitable place to have a snooze.

I had a quick bowl of cornflakes, with one of the cats after the milk, then showered and packed up. It was nice not to have to pack up my tent and camping gear again, there’d be more than enough of that sort of activity over the next month! Glancing out of the window whilst I was getting ready to hit the road the weather looked suspicious. When you’re in a tent you can pretty much tell what the weather is going to be like before you get up, however in a house you’re cocooned away from it all. It looked sunny outside, but there were lots of clouds racing across the sky, and I feared the weather was destined to go rapidly downhill.

The key clunked down on to the doormat as I posted it back through the letter box, sealing me off from creature comforts once more. I mounted my trusty steed and coasted down the hill into Frodsham, stopping at the market and a few shops to buy supplies; pies featured prominently, as did fruit and chocolate.

I pedalled out of the delightful market town at about 10.30, post pie second breakfast, taking a rather convoluted route to Ellesmere Port, under and over a couple of motorways, and passing signs for Chester which would reoccur throughout the day. I have colleagues who live and/or work in and around Chester, and I’d visited several times on trips to MBNA which is based near the town. A day out at the Chester races is a lot of fun, but had somehow been omitted from my tour schedule.

It started raining in Ellesmere Port. Just a shower I hoped.

Paula lives in Ellesmere Port, and I could have stopped for tertiary breakfast, but I’d already had cornflakes, pie and a banana, and thought it would be gluttonous even by my standards, so pressed on through Bebington to Birkenhead via a slightly complicated route. I had to check where I was on my phone several times, to make sure I as going the right way. I hate it when you’re following a route, but the road signs either stop signposting where you were heading, or you miss one.

Birkenhead itself was pretty complicated. There are two tunnels over to Liverpool which I had to avoid getting funnelled to, lots of roundabouts, plenty of traffic to keep me distracted from reading signposts, and junctions to the motorway to avoid. Ignoring the Mersey tunnels I rode over the docks and down to the coast, arriving in New Brighton with the wind strengthening and rain continuing. Cycling along the promenade I was pretty much alone aside from a few determined fishermen crouching down behind the sea wall.

Grim day on the Mersey

I passed a couple of other cyclists who were attempting to ride the other way. At this point the wind had increased in strength and the rain was unrelenting. The two young ladies, on hired bikes, were berating the fact they’d chosen today to go out cycling. I guess it had been sunny when they’d set out, judging from their choice of clothing which was now thoroughly soaked. We looked at each other and just laughed. What else can you do?! I wished them good luck and advised they find a cafe, or better still a pub.

A very wet and empty promenade

In the wind and rain I rode along the promenade, on the Wirral Way cycle route around Wallasey, before going astray in a golf course and nature reserve, forcing me to loop inland slightly.

Wet and windy on the Wirral Way

I’m pretty sure you can stick to the coast all the way from New Brighton round to Neston, I just must have missed a sign. I didn’t however miss another activity evident in one of the lay-bys in the nature reserve. I’d stopped for an apple, and to drip dry a bit, when a car pulled up joining one already there, flashing its lights as it pulled up behind it. Funny I thought, is this a rendezvous for spies. They must have seen me standing there under a tree with my bike, but obviously judged me not to be a threat. In any event they turned out not to be engaged in espionage, but rather in dogging, and I saw rather more than I’d bargained for as I quickly made an exit stage left. Each to their own, however the two people in question could have had the decency to wait until I’d left, or conduct such activity inside somewhere. I thought that’s what motels are for, however evidently they were into exhibitionism. Urrrgh, thankfully secondary breakfast did not make a reappearance.

After getting a bit lost in an estate I rejoined the Wirral Way in Hoylake, following an old railway track down the side of the River Dee. The cycle track passes through West Kirby and the Wirral Country Park, and on a nicer day would have been a lovely ride, however it was really raining hard now.

The Wirral Way near West Kirby

I pedalled on, with mud being kicked up and my bike and parts of me turning a grey brown colour, past Heswall and on to Neston.

The Wirral Way – a pleasant route despite the weather

I stopped for a breather next to the coast near Heswall. I should have been able to see over to Wales easily, but the rain and low cloud were obscuring the coast opposite to a great extent, a sign of things to come perhaps.

Marshes near Heswall

The Wirral Way – I could just about see Wales

Feeling a bit cold and wet I stopped in Neston and had a bite to eat in a cafe. The bacon and egg roll was exceedingly welcome, and very tasty. It was also nice to chat with the shop keeper and get a few route tips, although to be honest my main motivation was avoiding the rain for a while.

Neston Food Hall – a welcome break from the weather

Somehow over the next hour I also managed to eat a whole bag of midget gems and three bananas. I was beginning to worry I might have worms due my un-abating appetite and sugar cravings.

Cycling ever onwards, and getting closer to North Wales which I was pretty excited about, I joined the A550. I’d been hoping to avoid this and link up with a cycle route, but I think Sustrans route 568 was/is still under construction. It will be nice when it’s finished, passing from Neston through an RSPB reserve and MOD range, and would have saved me a somewhat hazardous stretch on the main road. I’d checked the map but there really didn’t seem to be another way into Wales without cycling a long distance out of my way, via Chester. Having researched further I suspect there is a sneaky way in for cyclists, but I just couldn’t find it on the day.

I stopped on the slip road down onto the A494 to take a photo of the border, having had to join the very busy main road for the last stretch into Wales. I’d been able to cycle on a less busy road alongside the A494 for a bit, but unfortunately it doesn’t go all the way to Queensferry and Deeside, or didn’t as far as I could tell. Again I suspect there’s a route in if you know where to look.

Welcome to Wales! Croeso i Gymru

Whilst I was stopped a traffic cop pulled up to check I was alright, which was nice of him. Whilst it’s not illegal to cycle on a dual carriageway he was worried due to bad weather and traffic, advising that I stick to the hard shoulder. He didn’t know another way around either, and I wholeheartedly agreed with his advice.

The busy dual carriageway turned into three lanes at one point, and was a little dangerous with all the spray being kicked up by the heavy traffic. Thankfully I was safe on the hard shoulder, until it ran out!

There followed a fast, furious and adrenaline fuelled stretch to Queensferry, with traffic thundering by and me wishing I’d cycled the 50 or so miles out of my way. I think this was probably the scariest bit of road on the tour, and not one I wish to repeat, or would advise any cyclist to take unless it’s very early in the morning and nice weather. Thinking about it gives me the shivers and has resulted in a medicinal whisky as I write. It was also the only time on the tour I started thinking about the last time I spoke to friends or family, wondering if perhaps that had been the last time ever, and had I said all that I wanted to say? You get some strange thoughts running through your head at moments like this.

Thankfully I made it to Queensferry unscathed, with drivers being careful and considerate, where I got off that horrible road. The next 20 miles in Wales seemed to pass pretty quickly, especially with terrain still being pretty flat. I just got my head down and pedalled, ignoring the rain, and putting some distance between me and the dreaded A494. The wind had dropped which improved matters, but I couldn’t see much due to the weather, with low cloud and rain obscuring any nice scenery there might have been.

I rode up the other side of the River Dee, through Flint and Greenfield, and Ffynnongroyw which I didn’t try to pronounce. It was taking longer to read road signs as they’re in English and Welsh, and the Welsh names take some getting used to, however luckily my route was very straightforward so I didn’t really need my map.

The sands off Prestatyn

Prestatyn and Rhyl came and went, both fairly typical and dreary looking seaside towns with not a lot of people about due to the weather. Maybe I’m doing them a disservice and they’d have been a lot more attractive in nicer conditions, I suspect not. Unfortunately although once very popular tourist destinations, they’ve gone the way of a lot of other British seaside resorts and are now rather run down, with social and economic problems. They’ve still got nice long and clean beaches though, and plenty of cheap accommodation. They just need a bit of regeneration of the sort that has occurred in other parts of Britain, with better planning decisions being made, and efforts to keep antisocial behaviour under control or to address the root causes.

I pedalled on along the coast, past ranks of caravan parks, looking for a campsite to pitch up at. I knew there were several about after an earlier Internet search, but didn’t have enough reception to check again. I eventually found one at about 19.00, near Towyn. Henllys proved to be a friendly and well appointed campsite, with plenty of room to pitch my tent, there being only one other in the camping field. I had a quick chat with the owner before setting up, noticing people speaking Welsh for the first time. She’d speak English to me, and Welsh to her family in the room behind her.

The rain had just about stopped as I finished setting up. I thought it amazing that it was nearly July, but there was only one other tent in the field; the weather was really keeping people at home. I wandered over to say hello anyway, doing the normal British thing of talking about the weather. They were slightly jealous of how quickly I’d put up my tent, however they’d have struggled to fit two adults and two children inside it.

Feeling a bit cold post a wash I put on another layer then retreated around the corner to a pub I’d spotted earlier, grabbing a sandwich from a Spar on the way. The pub was very quiet, and somewhat sparse in its choice of beverages, but it gave me a place to warm up and dry off, and I joined the few locals and caravaners present in watching the football; the Confederations Cup was on – Italy versus Spain, Spain won.

It was also nice and cheap so I wasn’t complaining, and spent the evening watching some very entertaining football, as well as writing up my blog and planning the next few days as best I could without the Internet, or decent mobile reception. The barman reminded me a bit of Al Murray, ‘the Landlord’, and I kept expecting him to come out with quotes such as ‘If we had no rules where would we be? France!’, which I sometimes think has a ring of truth about it given we seem to stick to rules laid down by Brussels far more than they do; very sensible of them if you ask me.

Feeling a lot warmer I retreated back to my tent post a few pints, hoping that the weather improved by morning. I’d covered just over 82 miles, so a good days riding despite the conditions and unexpected encounters during the course of the day. I was on track for Latitude still.

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Leg 43 – to Kilberry via Melfort and Kilmartin

2 Replies

Great days ride covering 69 miles, with some tough hills but beautiful scenery.

13 June 2013

It was a bit bit weird waking up in a bed, and I was momentarily confused as to where I was without the familiar tent canvas not far for my head. I’m calling it canvas, but I suppose it’s not really, some kind of synthetic material that I’m very thankful keeps the wind and rain out – Akto working very well so far and I’d be back in it this evening.

I had breakfast downstairs, including several rounds of toast which was delicious, before packing up and heading off. I enjoyed one last shower before leaving, as I knew I had some wild camping coming up and wasn’t sure if I’d have a campsite that evening or not; depended on how far I got.

After dropping off my key at the backpackers plus reception, getting back my £10 deposit, I headed to Nevis Cycles which I’d found yesterday, and had already contacted via their sister shop in Fort William. I dropped my bike in with Darren to get the rear cassette changed, and a few things tightened and tweaked. I needed to get the cassette changed as it was looking pretty worn after so many miles, which was causing the chain to slip about a bit. Darren noticed my rear wheel hub was slightly the wrong size (130mm rather that 135mm), but said it should be fine given the steel frame – a bit of a relief as I really didn’t want to have to buy another new rear wheel so soon.

Leaving my bike in the operating theatre for a bit I walked down to the harbour front and enjoyed a hot chocolate before having another wander about. Thankfully there were no bagpipes this morning, just quite a few interesting shops and nice places to eat – I was half tempted to spend another day in Oban.

Oban harbour front

Oban Harbour

I headed back to Nevis Cycles about 11.30, and had a good chat with Darren who definitely knows his stuff, and gave me a few tips. He’d also replaced a dodgy cable and toed my rear brake in a bit to stop it squealing which was a bit a of a win. We talked about touring for a while, and potential other plans for routes. I’d really recommend to anyone capable, which is most people, to get on your bike and head out into the countryside, whether it be for a few hours or for several months. You see, smell and hear so much more than in a car, as well as meet more fantastic people. It’s also great to stop in at bike shops and have a chat with like minded individuals as you pass through.

Nevis Cycles – Oban

Bidding Oban a fond farewell, or should that be ‘au revoir’ as I intend to return, I pedalled off on the revitalised Ridgeback, up a long hill on the road to Campbeltown, although that was still a long way off. After a few ups an downs on the A816, I turned on to the B844 at Kilninver, and cycled to the Bridge over the Atlantic where I stopped at the Tigh-An-Truish Inn, on Seil Island, for lunch.

Loch Feochan

Loch Feochan 2

Bridge over the Atlantic

I’d been to the Tigh-An-Truish Inn a few years before, with my parents, and wanted to go again despite it being a 10 mile dead end detour. It was well worth it with a great vegetarian lasagne and garlic bread consumed vigorously. Nice to have a chat with the owner and say hello to the pub dog too.

Tigh-An-Truish Inn

Great lasagne

Lobster checking the map

When I left the pub there were a couple of French camper van tourers inspecting my bike, which seems to be a common theme. I had a brief chat with a local who wished me well, liking the fact I was losing track of time and space slightly. May also be losing my sanity at some points too.

The area around the bridge is really pretty, especially in the sunshine, with some lovely flowers and a small anchorage area amongst the surrounding hills. Apparently locals used to change back into their kilts at the bridge and Inn as they crossed back to the island, when kilts where outlawed on the mainland. Another place to come back to at some point.

I rode back up the big hill to the main road from Seil Island, over the bridge, and turned south towards Loch Melfort. I am familiar with the area anyway, having been on holiday with my parents up there a couple of times; they have a lovely timeshare in Melfort Village.

On my way to Melfort

Road twists and turns through mountains and past lochs

Reservoir before Melfort, and dam

After quite a long climb, and a lovely descent through pine forest which smelt gorgeous, I arrived in Kilmelfort and stopped at the general store to buy a few supplies, including bread, chocolate and smoked sausage! I remembered it was father’s day coming up, so bought a card and posted it from the store, which as is the case with a lot of village stores in Scotland doubles as a post office; don’t see that so much in England anymore.

I took a quick detour down the road to Melfort Village, to remind myself what it looked like. I’d forgotten how bumpy the road is though. Passed a lovely garden that I remembered from previous visits.

Melfort garden amongst the pines

I cycled around the village and past the Shower of Herring Inn, which looked like it was still going strong. There was quite a lot of activity in the village, with lawn mowing and gardening going on. I’ve noticed a lot of lawn mowing and strimming as I’ve passed through Scotland, must help keep the midges down a bit.

Melfort Village

Next up I followed the A816 around the coast and up a couple of really big hills, which were thankfully followed by lovely long descents. I arrived in Kilmartin and stopped for a break. The village is at the top of a hill and overlooks a valley where you can see prehistoric cairns. The sun came out and brought everything to life, so was a great view.

View down valley from Kilmartin

I had a look around the medieval church, and carved stones in the graveyard which are worth visiting.

Kilmartin – Medieval carved gravestones

Kilmartin – Medieval carved gravestones 2

I stopped in at the hotel for a pint, and had a chat with the barman who new of a few campsites in the area. I wasn’t sure where I’d stop, but decided to head towards Kilberry. If I didn’t make it that far I could always wild camp somewhere. Also had a chat with a Canadian lady just off the plane, and on a tour of Scotland for a few weeks. She was a bit jet lagged and not quite at home on the roads as yet, but I gave her a few tips on Skye.

Near Kilmartin – Cairns and standing stones abound

Kilmartin must have been an important place for centuries, judging from the number of cairns around, and the medieval artefacts.

Under patchy cloud I rode south, turning on to the B8025 down to the Crinan Canal, which I rode alongside for a bit counting at least 13 lochs. The canal provides a short cut for boats going from one side of the long peninsula to the other, rather than having to go all the way around the Mull of Kintyre. It’s also a very pleasant ride, and there’s a cycle path you can use.

Crinan Canal 1

Crinan Canal 2 – loch gate

Crinan Canal 3

After a nice ride alongside the canal I turned back on to the A816 and cycled past Lochgilphead, somewhere I’d be returning to in a couple of days time, all being well. I passed through Ardrishaig, which was bigger than I expected, before turning on to the B8024 to get to Kilberry.

Lochgilphead

The B8024 road surface is a bit shoddy, to say the least, which made the longest ascent of the day pretty demanding on tired legs and aching wrists. I was keeping my fingers crossed that there was still a campsite in Kilberry, as the barman’s advice from the Kilmartin Hotel was based on 20 year old knowledge. If the worst came to the worst I could wild camp, but it’s nice to get a hot shower. I finally made it up and over the top, passing a loch, before beginning a long and winding descent.

Lonely loch

The road down to the West coast

Forest panorama

Wind farm – I was to see this particular wind farm a lot over the next few days, from lots of different angles

With a South Westerly wind gathering in strength I was keen to get to the campsite sooner rather that later, so I pedalled on past Achaheish feeling a bit chilly despite the sunshine. A group of photogenic highland cattle didn’t look very cold.

Highland cattle

Highland cattle 2

I rode alongside Loch Callisport, which it’s small sandy beaches looking quite inviting. If it had been a bit warmer, actually scratch that a lot warmer, I’d have been tempted to have a swim.

Loch Callisport beaches

Loch Callisport beaches 2

At Ormsary I passed Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs sitting in a garden, a little odd. It was quite a long way around to Kilberry, and I lost track slightly of where I was on the map. I passed the Port Ban campsite thinking I was still some way from the town, so I rode on expecting there to be another site in Kilberry. I reached Kilberry about a mile later, passing a sign to some sculpted stones which I’d visit the following day. With more pressing matters on hand I popped into the village inn to check where the nearest campsite was; it had been the one at Port Ban. So as not to appear impolite I stopped for a beer in the Inn, a brew from Orkney, and chatted to the owner for a bit. It’s more of a restaurant than a pub, and the food smelt delicious. I was sorely tempted to eat there, but it was a little pricey and I had stuff in my panniers anyway, plus I really needed to get to the campsite and get my tent set up.

More blooming flowers

Ominous grey skies off the coast

Coastline near Kilberry

On aching legs I rode back to Port Ban, thankfully not having to contend with any more hills – the bike was beginning to feel very heavy. I arrived at the big site about 21.00, and pitched up post finding the manager Tom who was out running. I bumped into him on the road but declined the invite to join him for a run this instance. The site is good, having it’s own cafe that is open during the day, but was closed when arrived, and wifi around reception. The camping field is right down the far end of the site though, and a long walk for the toilet block, although they’re in the process of building a new toilet block right next to the field. You can pitch your tent right next to the beach which is nice, and have a fire on the beach itself. It being a little late, and a bit windy still, I pitched the Akto further back, and was soon inside it.

Luckily I’d just managed to get all my stuff inside my tent as the heavens opened to a heavy shower, the first serious rain of the day. I felt very cosy in my tent, and it was very peaceful with just a few buzzards circling overhead, and no other campers aside from me this evening. There were no midges around either, it being a little too windy and right next to the sea.

I consumed a dinner of bread, cheese, smoked sausage, yoghurt and fruit, before accidentally accidentally falling asleep for an hour and a half. I think I was more tired than I realised, despite only having done 69 miles; there had been a lot of hills. I’d noticed my rear brake starting to rub a bit so I’d need to adjust that, and check my wheels, but that could it until the morning. I don’t think the bumpy roads, or track down to the campsite, had done anything for my wheel straightness today!

It was quite a chilly evening so I was happy to stay in my tent and get warm in my sleeping bag, mulling over today’s leg, and writing up my journal. I recalled that I’d started to make up my own language, inventing motivational words to utter when powering up hills. Must sound a bit odd if there was anyone around but they help. The air had been lovely and fresh and clean smelling today, and a I felt quite invigorated before falling asleep again, this time until morning.

Empty campsite

View from campsite beach – to Islay and Jura?

Port Ban – View from campsite

Smoked sausage dinner, doesn’t look that appealing but tastes good

Port Ban – nighttime

It would be on to Campbell Town tomorrow, and the Mull of Kintyre, before turning around and heading back up the peninsula. I was half tempted to consider getting the ferry over to Glasgow and cut out some of the convoluted route, but I knew I’d regret it later if I did that. Fingers crossed for good weather.

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Leg 42 – to Oban

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I’ve started to write this from inside my tent, on a rainy and blustery evening in Annan, which is a few miles from the border with England. I’m a bit behind on my blog, having been busy putting in some long legs, or meeting people, or finding other more interesting things to do which I’ll write about later. Figure it’s more important to see and do as much as possible, over blog writing. So even though I’ll be in England soon I suspect my blog will remain in Scotland for at least two more weeks.

12 June 2013

I awoke feeling itchy again. Either the midge bites from Kilchoan were still playing up or I’d got new ones last night. I suspected the latter. I had a quick breakfast and shower, before a rapid pack up due to rain. Shaking the water off my tent gave me my second shower of the day.

Packing up – a wet day with Ben Nevis opposite

Leaving the campsite post paying up and checking the weather forecast, which wasn’t brilliant, I cycled down the road to the car park where one of the trails up Ben Nevis starts. The mountain was shrouded in cloud but there were still several groups of brave, or perhaps foolhardy walkers about to begin making their way up. I’d climbed Ben Nevis several years before doing the Three Peaks Challenge, in better weather, and it had still been below freezing at the top. You wouldn’t have been able to see much today, and whilst the trail is very well marked there a few bits you could go wrong on. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any mountain rescue interventions required.

After reminding myself of at least what the bottom of Ben Nevis looks like, I rode around to Neptune’s Staircase, with the sun starting to come out, a bit anyway. I counted 13 lochs, although there may have been more. A couple of boats were making their way down from the Caledonian Canal, a process which must take a few hours by the looks of it.

Top of the Staircase

Boat in transit

Loch gates

Leaving the lochs behind, and studiously avoiding cycle paths, I made my way down the road to Inverlochy, where I knew there was a decent bike shop. Nevis Cycles didn’t have a suitable replacement wheel, but reckoned their sister shop in Oban might, and they’d be able to replace my rear cassette which was getting pretty worn and causing my chain to skip. You need to replace your rear cassette every 2000 miles or so really, and the chain more often than that as it stretches. I’d need to get another new chain before I got back to Norwich, but hoped one more cassette would see me through.

On my way south I stopped in Fort William again, and dropped in to Alpine Bikes who did have a new wheel that would fit. I found our later it was a 130mm hub rather than a 135mm which my bike fits, but the steel frame can accommodate a smaller size without any problems. The rim was far more suitable, even if it was a Mavic again, having 32 spokes and being a lot stronger. Cost me £80.00 but figured it was worth it, and I bid adios to the current incumbent, which looked in a bit of a sorry state. Wheel number 3 fitted I was ready to go. Hopefully that would be the last one I’d need to buy on this tour!

Whilst I was waiting for the wheel to be be changed over I had a wander about Fort William. I dropped into Cotswolds first to see if they had a replacement cable for my Power Monkey, however unfortunately they don’t sell just the cable and would need to send the whole unit back. This just wouldn’t have been practical given I was still very much using the rechargeable battery pack, and wouldn’t be in the area to pick up a new unit. Irritating however I’d survive, and maybe order just the cable off the Internet and get it delivered somewhere on route. After perusing a few outdoor shops and deciding their stuff was mostly overpriced and not that good, I dropped into a bakery and picked up a venison pie, which was pretty scrumptious. Scrumptious is a good word.

Fort William high street

Fort William – random statue of someone sitting down…

Wheel changed and panniers reloaded, I pedalled south from Fort William as the rain started, around midday. The weather being a bit grim I just kept my head down and got on with it, riding down the A82. It’s a busy road and wasn’t very pleasant with lorries kicking up spray everywhere, leaving me somewhat grimy and wetter. I stopped in Corran for a loo break and looked across to where I’d been yesterday; the other side of the Loch had been a lot pleasanter at the time, but the weather had closed in now.

View across from Corran to Ardgar

Not really concentrating, thinking about cycling somewhere dry and warm, I crossed the bridge at Ballachulish only realising about a mile later, after glancing at the map, that I’d intended on cycling around Loch Leven. Oh well, I’d only missed out a few miles, and it was touch and go whether that was true coast or semi coast anyway. Given the weather I wasn’t overly concerned, especially as my legs were felling tired post yesterday’s efforts.

I rode on down the A828, again just mostly keeping my head down, before reaching Appin and turning off the main road to do the loop through Port Appin and North Shian. I passed Castle Stalker which looked pretty impressive, standing alone out on the rocks.

Castle Stalker 1

The castle was built when there weren’t any connecting roads in the area, in the 1400s by Clan Macdougal, and most traffic and travellers came in by sea. It therefore commanded quite a strategic position at the time.

Castle Stalker 2

Castle Stalker 3

Castle Stalker 4

James IV used to visit the castle frequently on hunting trips, having connections with the Stewart family. The castle was in the Stewart family until Mac Ian Stewart gave it away in a moment of drunken folly, swapping it for a boat. Oops, I wonder how he felt the morning. I’ve woken up before thinking, ‘oh no, I didn’t did I?’, but nothing that bad. Reckon he never lived that one down.

The weather improved slightly with the rain easing off. I was feeling a bit drained after the Appin loop, which had a few unexpected hills, so I stopped at the well known Creegan Inn for a bite to eat and to dry off a bit. Great plate of chilli beef and bean stew, which warmed me up nicely for the next session. I pressed on to Barcaldine and down to Connel, over the bridge again as there’s no road around Loch Etive.

From there it was only a short ride down to Oban, although I foolishly took a couple of cycle paths which led me somewhat astray, and meant I had to negotiate a couple of swing gates with my heavy bike again. The scenery had been good today, despite the rain, with lots of Rhodedendrons which as mentioned before are evil but look nice. They need to be be cut back significantly, if not removed completely really.

Bridge to Connel

Altnacraig – my brakes really squealed on the hill down, adjustments required

I arrived in Oban about 18.00 and stumbled upon a backpackers plus hostel. I had been intending to camp just south of Oban, but as I had a lot of damp kit, needed to recharge stuff, and felt like avoiding midges, I thought why not? It was only just over £20 for my own room, or £17 to bunk in the dorm; I opted for my own room which felt a bit extravagant but after several weeks under canvas I thought I’d earned it. Breakfast included in the price. They also have a large lounge area you can just chill out in, and chat to other travellers stopping by, with free wifi which is always a bonus.

Cloudy skies off Oban, ferry outgoing

Road around to Oban

View from Oban seafront, across to Kerrera

Backpackers plus hostel

I washed some clothes, that really needed washing; they were about to run off to pastures new. The shower was bliss, best I’d had in ages, and there was a real bed! I nearly fell asleep there and then but hunger drove me downstairs. There was a large group of Italian girls in residence, and I felt obliged to assist them with the washing machine, and translating its various functions. They were most appreciative of my help, but didn’t offer dinner, so I was forced to head out onto the mean streets of Oban. I ‘hoped’ I’d told them the right programme and hadn’t shrunk all their clothes.

Walking around Oban I heard the distant drone of bagpipers getting closer, discovering at least 3 pipe bands down by the harbour entertaining tourists. I think they were school bands, and they were quite good, but I’d almost had enough of the pipes by this stage – they are in every even vaguely tourist place in Scotland.

I opted for a Chinese meal, craving something different, and had some excellent steamed dumplings, followed by crispy shredded chilli beef. Yum. Post a pint in an Irish bar I headed back to the hostel feeling rather full. Unfortunately none of the Italian girls were in, so no massages were on offer, dammit, so I opted for an early night instead. I tried to type a blog post but kept falling asleep, and then the app crashed and I lost two draft posts. Calling it a night I dozed off. The bed felt a bit weird, I preferred a more natural substrate by this stage.

My room at Backpackers Plus

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Day 38 – rest day in Uig

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Total distance cycled= 0 miles 🙂

07 June 2013

With the decision having been made to have my first complete rest day of the tour, I had a lie in, managing to stay in my tent until at least 09.00, whereupon it just got too warm and I needed the loo so had to get up.

I paid up for another day’s stay, £6 being very reasonable, and set about some chores, catching up on washing and sorting out my pannier contents a bit. This all took place during pretty much constant grazing, as I consumed cheese, pitta bread, biscuits, fruit and anything else that came to hand. By 11.00 I felt a bit sleepy so had a nap for an hour, thoroughly enjoying this day off business.

Uig – nice day for a day off

Whilst chatting to a fellow camper, whose car had broken down up the hill, I spotted a large bird of prey flying overhead getting mobbed by crows. I thought it might be a buzzard, but it looked slightly too big and the wrong colour. My erstwhile companion, who it turned out was an expert on everything, reckoned it was an eagle. It might have been a juvenile Golden Eagle, as they were present in the area and it was the right colours and had the right wing shape, but it definitely wasn’t a Sea Eagle.

After extricating myself from the rather random and ongoing conversation with the world’s expert on everything, I got changed and made my way to the Bakur Bar for lunch. I pretty much stayed here for the rest of the day, it being comfortable, with good food and ale, and allowing me to catch up on my blog a bit. I had a brief excursion to the brewery, and was very tempted to buy some Red Cuillin ale, but decided the bottles really wouldn’t work in my panniers.

By evening, and post an excellent curry, I thought I’d better move a bit so I had a walk down to the end of the pier, past moored up fishing boats and a few other walkers out for a stroll. The ferry arrives and departs from the pier, so it had been very busy at certain points during the day but was quiet now.

Uig - walk to he nod of the pier, windswept look

Uig – walk to the end of the pier, windswept look

The clouds rolling in over the hills, and the stronger wind, didn’t bode particularly well for tomorrow, however the weather can change so quickly in the area I wasn’t overly concerned.

Uig pier – clouds rolling over hill again

Uig pier 2

Uig pier 3 – bollards

Feeling recharged, and given a boost by some more donations to the Big C on my charity page, I thought I’d have an earlyish night wanting to get off in good time the following day to cycle back down the length of the island to Armadale, about 75 miles. If the weather was bad I could always stop in Portree, however I was thinking about trying to get to Fort William for the Mountain Bike World Championship so wanted to get on, we’d see in the morning.

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Leg 19 – to Gordon Castle Highland Games

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Well I say leg, I only did about 2 miles…

19 May 2013

Gordon Castle is just outside Fochabers, and wasn’t tricky to find seeing as I’d passed it yesterday on the way in. Thankfully it was a dry day so I packed up post a lazy morning, and made it to the Highland Games for its opening at 11.00. Amazingly I wasn’t hungover, which was pretty fortunate considering the previous nights excesses; must be all the cycling and fresh air.

I joined a short queue of traffic before locking my bike up to a fence just outside the entrance, where a Scout leader on duty offered to keep an eye on it and my panniers. The event was being run by a host of volunteers, including scouts and cadets marshalling traffic and visitors, selling tickets and programmes etc, it must be quite an enterprise to organise.

First up was a hot chocolate, followed by the Massed Pipes and Drums of Elgin & District, Dufftown & District, Strathisla, Buckie & District, and RAF Lossiemouth. They sounded very impressive marching into the main arena, and getting everything going for the day. They played a few times during the day and I took a bit of video I’ll try and upload, but can’t find a way of doing it on this app.

Massed Pipes and Drums

The Games were then officially opened by the owners of the estate, Angus and Zara Gordon Lennox, and compered by Hamish who somehow kept going throughout the day. There were a plethora of stalls to look around, from the informative to those selling various Scottish themed wares you’d be hard pressed to find in your local mall. One stall was warning of the dangers of ticks and Lyme’s disease, which I’ll need to watch out for as I generally wear shorts and will be passing through and camping in a lot of countryside. I immediately felt itchy but didn’t find any ticks, thought I had enough to worry about with the midges! Will buy a tick removal kit if I find one.

Throughout the day there were loads of events to watch and get involved in, from archery, shooting (laser and clays), and fly casting, to watching the actual Games, Highland Dancing, Dogs, and lots of other attractions.

Highland Games – hammer throwing

The first event of the actual games was the hammer throwing, where Hamish repeatedly warned that the hammer could go anywhere so we’d better keep an eye out, despite the safety net which was a new addition to comply with health and safety regs. The competitors were all Scottish heavy weights and huge blokes, and the Games are taken pretty seriously. These are serious athletes, all competing in several events during the course of the day. Think there were 10 of Scotland’s top competitors vying against each other in the hammer, shot putt, weight for distance, weight over bar, caber toss, stones of density, and stone putt. Jeff Capes eat your heart out.

Scottish Heavies – part of castle in background

I watched a few of the events over the course of the day, the weight over bar looked extremely challenging; a new record was set at over 16 feet I believe.

I hadn’t seen highland dancing before, and was intrigued to see what it was all about, with several different dances from the Flora to the Sword Dance. Mostly girls from the age of about 7 into their teens, and equal in competitiveness to the Highland Games. Don’t quite know how they kept bouncing on the balls of their feet for so long, but must take a lot of practice and stamina.

Highland Dancing 1

Highland Dancing 2

Accompanying the dancing were more bagpipes, in fact I don’t think there was a single point during the day when I didn’t hear the skirl of the pipes coming from somewhere, there being a solo bagpipe competition going on too. The constant piping can get a little draining after a while!

There were various animals in abundance at the Games, including ferrets, terriers, birds of prey, and Gordon Setters which were originally bred here. There was a Gordon Setter dog show but I skipped it, dog shows not really being my thing unless they’re jumping through fiery hoops or something, but I did see the terrier racing, which was fun.

Terrier racing 1 – lined up at the start and raring to go

The terriers get very excited at this point, they can see the lure and start barking and clawing in their eagerness to get at it.

Terrier racing 2 – and they’re off

Terrier racing 3 – and they’re on their way back

There was also audience participation on this, with several of the spectators wanting to get involved, of a canine persuasion that is. A few did quite well, chasing the lure and finishing, in fact I think the organisers would have quite liked to take them on permanently. Several however got distracted, made it halfway and then saw something else interesting or that smelt nice, or didn’t really start at all and went in the wrong direction. Great fun all round and the dogs obviously love it.

Birds of prey flying display

Several different birds of prey were flown including a European Eagle Owl, Harris Hawk, and a Saker falcon I think. From a young age I’ve always love to watch birds of prey, so great to see and would love to give falconry a go some day. Will add it to the list!

Fly casting demo from bloke on stilts

Re-enactors in traditional garb

Foxhounds

The Foxhounds only drag hunt these days I think, not sure if the law is different in Scotland. The master huntsman was with them and put them through some moves a but later in the day.

There were several vintage cars present, I liked this Jag

Nimrod cockpit

Phantom cockpit

Cockpits courtesy of the Morayvia organisation.

By this point it was about 16.00 and I’d begun to feel a little odd, a combination of tiredness, a bit of dehydration and some rather rich and sickly food in the form of chocolate brownies, on top of hog roast and pancakes. Bagpipes may have been taking their toll by then too. I should have recognised the warning signs from earlier on with the slightly blurry vision and being off balance. The migraine came on pretty swiftly and I had to exit stage right, missing the caber tossing, although I saw a caber sail through the air from a distance during my retreat. Great show from the Scottish heavies.

I’d intended to head down to Aberlour that afternoon, to my godfather’s, but instead had to call a rain-check and made my way back to the Fochabers campsite; tricky trying to ride and control a heavy bike whilst wanting to vomit and feeling decidedly off-centre! I quickly re-pitched my tent and disappeared into it for a few hours. Unfortunately migraines can make me quite sick so I lost most of the days carb loading, but after a few hours lying down felt a lot better. Whilst migraines make me sick I fortunately rarely suffer from the bad headaches, just have to shut out noise and too much light for a while.

The late evening was quite nice by the time I’d emerged and had a shower and lots of water, but no food – wasn’t ready to risk that quite yet. The sun had even come out for the first time in days.

Evening sunshine at Fochabers campsite

So a very short leg today, but lots of fun despite the migraine, and I had made very good progress to date so could afford a bit of an extra time off the saddle. I’d head down to Aberlour tomorrow instead.

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Bike Around Britain

Blog on cycling around the coast of Britain

Tag Archives: fundraising

Leg 64 – to Brean via the Severn Bridge

Leg 63 – to Cardiff

Leg 62 – to Llanelli

Bike around Britain – Gallery 1

Leg 58 – to Anglesey

Leg 57 – to Rhyl (Towyn) via the Wirral

Leg 43 – to Kilberry via Melfort and Kilmartin

Leg 42 – to Oban

Day 38 – rest day in Uig

Leg 19 – to Gordon Castle Highland Games