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Leg 67 – to Trevedra Farm, Sennen, via Padstow, St. Agnes and St. Just

07 July 2013

After a very chilled out evening at Sundowners I was somewhat reluctant to surface, however the heat eventually drove me from my tent into a cool northerly breeze. It looked like it was going to be another hot day for the pedal towards Land’s End.

Southwinds – another lovely day

I had a shower and packed up, loading up my bike and heading back to Sundowners for breakfast. I’d been reliably informed by Matt that it would be just what I needed to get over the Cornish hills today.

Packing up again

Me ready for another day, and loving the sunshine

Breakfast was large, very large. I chose the Sundowners special which consisted of 2 sausages, 2 poached eggs, bacon, beans, mushrooms, thick cut toast, and a pile of pancakes that follow a recipe Matt has perfected over a number of tasting session. The pancakes were delicious, as was the whole breakfast, although I could perhaps have squeezed in some black pudding too.

Sundowners breakfast of champions

I could have quite happily hung around the bar and Polzeath for the day, having a rest and eating more pancakes, however Land’s End was beckoning.

Perfect pile of pancakes

Sundowners

Bidding Matt and Sundowners adieu I rode down the hill to the village of Polzeath, which I still can’t pronounce right. It was very busy with beach goers, including a lot of surfers. It looked like a good day for surfing, with a decent swell.

Polzeath beach

From Polzeath I cycled down down country roads, past the turning to Rock which is allegedly quite posh. I had to squeeze past several expensive cars, including a number of Chelsea tractors who showed little in the way of consideration for a laden cycle tourer, meaning I had to get friendly with the hedgerow a few times. I have a deep suspicion that a lot of people owning these huge 4x4s can’t actually cope with their size or drive them very well. When it comes to manoeuvres such as reversing, or knowing where the edges of your vehicle are on narrow roads, they panic and just sit in the middle of the lane until the person coming the other way does something. It’s quite interesting when you get one coming from either direction, with neither willing or perhaps able to get out of the other’s way. In one such situation I quickly slipped by before the stand-off got ugly.

I crossed the River Camel into Wadebridge, then rode down the Camel Trail to Padstow. It’s about 5 miles on the trail to Padstow, or Padstein as it’s often called nowadays due to the influence of the famous local chef Rick Stein.

On the Camel Trail alongside the River Camel

The popular cycle track follows the course of another old railway line, alongside the river through some lovely scenery. It being Sunday and gorgeous weather there were loads of cyclists out. You can hire bikes at either end of the trail as Nadia and Simon had done, two of my friends from Norwich, just a couple of weeks earlier. They took their son Yared on his first cycle trip down the trail, although being a baby he was only a spectator and probably slept for most of it. It was Nadia’s first outing on a bike, or a trike in this case, in a long time, and she got a puncture; should have insisted on Marathon Plus’. Well done for getting out there though!

Camel Trail – old railway bridge

I think the Camel Trail was the only flat bit of the day’s ride, however it was so packed I got caught in traffic a few times and was glad to reach Padstow.

Camel Trail – approaching Padstow

Latterly I came across two kayakers out on the river having a rather tricky time of it. They’d obviously misjudged how deep the water was going to be, and with the tide out their kayaks were grounded. There was really nothing anyone could do to help them, they were just going to have to get out and push. I left them to it hoping there was no sinking sand about.

Arrival in Padstow – Stein’s fishmongers and fish and chips shop

Rick Stein has several restaurants in town, most beyond the budget of a humble cycle tourer. Lu and I had fish and chips from his shop when we visited, and whilst I was tempted to repeat the experience it was still a bit early, and I was still pretty full after my huge breakfast. Instead I had a stroll about and bought a cold drink and some flapjack, the latter for later, down by the harbour.

Padstow Harbour, nice boat

Padstow was really busy, thronged with holiday makers, however it was nice to pause and cool down a bit. A random passer-by stopped for a chat as I was sitting by the harbour, intrigued by what I was up to with all my panniers and slightly dishevelled appearance. We had a quick chat after which he offered me his garden to pitch up in, should I be passing at the right time of day. He lives near Exeter so it could’ve worked as I pedalled up the south coast.

Padstow Harbour

Padstow Harbour 2

I pedalled up out of Padstow and into the Cornish hills, then down the coast to Newquay. I didn’t stop in Newquay, not wanting to get embroiled in the town. As mentioned before it’s a bit grotty these days so I continued on my way.

My speed today was low, perhaps averaging only 10 miles an hour due to the hills and tired legs. I was however thoroughly enjoying the ride along the north coast of Cornwall, taking in some great views and feeling in holiday mode. I rode through Perranporth passing another gorgeous and packed beach.

Perranporth 1

I noticed there were lots of mini tents on the beach, presumably to give people somewhere to get changed, and for infants to get some shade from the sun. Are these a new thing as I can’t remember seeing so many before? The beach was packed beach goers, either laying in the sun, surfing, playing ball games or building sandcastles, all good fun.

Perranporth 2

From Perranporth I rode up a steep hill and down a bit of a windy road to St. Agnes, passing through the picturesque village before reaching the cove and beach, which funnily enough was also packed with holiday makers. It’s a lovely spot and somewhere I hadn’t been before, so I decided to have a break, it being about 15.00 and well past lunchtime. I found Breakers Cafe, as recommended by Matt, and consumed a tuna melt panini with a cold drink, whilst watching the surfers and body boarders enjoying the waves.

: St. Agnes 1

: St. Agnes 2

: St. Agnes 3

: St. Agnes 4

: St. Agnes 5 – surf’s up

: Breakers Cafe, St. Agnes

: Me in St. Agnes

The sea looked very tempting, however I still had miles to go and didn’t want to get sand in places sand didn’t need to be – not good when cycling. Whilst it was lovely today the cove is a completely different environment during a storm, as evidenced by a picture on the wall from a few years back, which showed huge waves crashing into the cove and the front of the building. Apparently the waves were so fierce buildings were damaged and anything not tied down washed away. In fact a load of surf boards that had been tied down weren’t there any more after the storm had passed.

After refilling my empty water bottles at the cafe I was ready to go again, setting off back up the hill through St. Agnes. It was so hot today I was going through water very quickly, so the refill was well timed. The melodic strains of folk music greeted me from outside the attractive village pub, where a live band was playing; what a lovely way to spend a Sunday afternoon. The experience was repeated several times during the course of the day, with lots of bands playing in pub gardens.

Portreath..I think

Sticking to the coast I pedalled on to Portreath, Gwithian, and then around St. Ives Bay to Hayle and St. Ives itself. My legs were really starting to ache from the constant climbs, which I seemed to spend the majority of my day tackling, the downwards stretches not taking very long.
With time ticking on I paused briefly in St. Ives to eat an energy bar (Bounce), and then set off on the B3306 to St. Just.

St. Ives

I really am going to have to get better at holding my phone straight when I’m taking pictures – another wonky horizon!

The coast road wound up and down hills along the beautiful Cornish coast, and through places familiar from childhood holidays and the more recent trip down here with Lucy. I passed a sign to Paradise Park, somewhere my brother and I had loved visiting as children. It’s a large wildlife sanctuary, with lots of tropical birds, although the we liked the birds of prey more than anything else. Good to see it’s still going strong.

Road to St. Just

I rode through Zennor and on to Pendeen, site of the famous Geevor tin mine. Tin has been mined here for thousands of years.

Pendeen – tin mine

Geevor Tin Mine

I passed a cow by the road side. They always make me slightly nervous due to their tendency to start following me as I cycle past. I still haven’t worked out why they do this, maybe it’s my red panniers. In any case this particular bovine was fairly docile and left me alone.

Cow on the road – always makes me slightly nervous

From Pendeen it was a short ride to St. Just, where I paused to buy a few supplies for dinner. Despite it only being a couple of miles to my destination I had to have a break to try and get some energy back, drinking some chocolate milk from the Co-op, and topping up with a banana for good measure.

I finally made it over the last few hills to Trevedra Farm campsite, arriving about 20.15. Reception was closed but I’d called earlier and they’d said just to pitch up and we’d sort out paying in the morning. I got my tent up as the sun started to disappear, then settled down to the serious business of eating.

Trevedra Farm campsite

Following a large pork pie, houmous and pitta bread, fruit and chocolate, I was feeling a lot better, especially after a couple of beers. I called my parents to report that I was almost at Land’s End, and learned Andy Murray had won Wimbledon, excellent news.

The campsite overlooks Whitesand Bay which runs around to Sennan, and I could see the Longships Lighthouse off the coast from Land’s End. I grabbed another beer and sat in the grass watching the sun go down. I was hoping to see the ‘Green Flash’, which is allegedly more visible from here. Mr Worth, the father of one of my Mum’s friends from University, fished the waters off the Cornish coast for many a year, and reported seeing it one several occasions. It’s a phenomenon only visible for a few seconds at most, as the sun sets. I didn’t see it this time around, however the sunset over the Atlantic Ocean was glorious in its own right.

: Trevedra Farm Sunset 1

: Trevedra Farm Sunset 2

: Trevedra Farm Sunset 3

: Trevedra Farm Sunset 4

: Trevedra Farm Sunset 5

: Trevedra Farm Sunset 6

It had been a good day’s ride, covering around 82 miles and bringing my total close to 4,500. The route tomorrow would take me to Land’s End, another milestone, and on to the Lizard, the most southerly point on the UK mainland. It might even be a bit flatter after today’s hills, however I wasn’t convinced. I’d got a bit sunburnt today due to sun-cream just sweating off in the heat, so would have to keep an eye on that lest I end up looking like Rudolf.

After the sun had gone down I gazed up at the stars for a bit. The sky was amazingly clear, and with little in the way of light pollution I could quite clearly see the milky way. It’s times like these when you can end up feeling remarkably small against the backdrop of the Universe.

Feeling pensive I retreated out of the north wind, which was chilling things off. I was very tired after the day’s exertions, and somewhat emotionally drained too. I kept falling asleep as I tried to write up my journal, so gave up in the end, drifting quickly off into a deep slumber.

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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.

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Leg 65 – to Ilfracombe

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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?!

Leg 61 – to Herbrandston, via Cardigan & St. David’s

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I originally wrote this, in it’s non-electronic format, from inside my tent at a small campsite near Herbrandston, overlooking the Milford Haven waterway. There was only one other camper on site, with an equally small tent, and I think they were already a asleep by the time I pitched up. During the course of writing up the day’s events I managed to consume a whole packet of ginger nuts. I think I was becoming addicted to these simple yet scrumptious biscuits. Scrumptious is another word that should be used more often.

01 July 2013

Two months into the tour and 3,951 miles done to date, with at least another 1,000 left to go before I was back to Norwich, although I reckoned it would be more like 1,500 by the time I was all done. If I averaged around 70 miles a day I’d make it to Latitude fine, but that depended on the weather, the hills, and whether anything went awry during the final month of Bike around Britain.

Morning at Treddafydd Campsite

Today was a much better day than the two or three previous. For a start the sun came out properly, and I also finally got to turn east, albeit only for a little while.

I woke up a bit later than normal due to my late finish the previous evening, and got the normal morning routine done and dusted quickly, keen to get back on the road. The owner and his son came over for a quick chat, interested in where I was heading today. I told them Milford Haven. They just laughed, perhaps they knew something I didn’t. I imagine their knowledge probably involved hills. I also said hello to the friendly farm dog, a golden retriever. I wouldn’t say golden retrievers are the top of the pile when it comes to intelligence, but they’re very friendly, and I was suitably slobbered on.

Treddafydd campsite – still quite cloudy at this stage

I was packed up and on the road by 10.15, although I still wasn’t entirely sure where I was. I cycled south west and discovered Penbryn village about half a mile away, good stuff, I was in roughly the right place, or roughly where I thought I was anyway. Knowing roughly where I was didn’t particularly help when it came to navigating my way through the mass of small country roads to Cardigan. There were definitely more than were on my map, which had lost its accuracy since entering this part of Wales. I eventually hit the A487 and stayed on it to Cardigan, passing a cycle tourer going the other way complete with flowing beard. He looked like he’d been on the road for some time, having that weather stained and slightly mad look about him that I was beginning to recognise in myself; waves and smiles were duly exchanged.

I stopped for a break in Cardigan and decided it was second breakfast time, finding a promising looking cafe. Full English, or Welsh, consumed, the day was definitely off to a better start, and it was only a fiver for that and a decaf coffee. Breakfast done I rode over the Afon Teifi and turned on to the B4546 towards Poppit Sands following the river back to the coast.

Riding towards Poppit Sands from Cardigan

From St Dogmaels it started to get seriously hilly again, however the sun came out and stayed out, which gave me a much needed boost up some of the climbs.

Poppit Sands – beautiful sunshine

On my way to Moylgrove I stopped for 20 minutes at a picnic table above the village, and lay down in the sunshine. It was lovely just to stop and relax, taking some time out from pedalling up and down hills, not to mention the south westerly wind which couldn’t get at me in this sheltered spot. I could have very easily dozed off for an hour or two in the grass, with bees buzzing around me and a real sense that summer was definitely here.

The hills above Moylgrove

There’s a spot near Moylgrove called the Liar’s Circle, where traditionally folk apparently gathered to tell tales. There’s also the Witches Cauldron, a famous natural rock bowl on the coast fed by the tide rushing through an underground passage, and lots of Iron Age forts, so plenty to see. Good fishing around here too, and there used to be quite a bit of smuggling which no doubt supplemented incomes.

Moylgrove

Before I completely nodded off I got back on my bike, and set off to Newport, tackling plenty more hills. The trouble with sticking to the coast road is that it goes up and down to every cove, whilst the main road a few miles inland is a lot flatter. It was however good practice for Devon and Cornwall, both of which I’d been slightly dreading due to their renowned and unforgiving gradients. The scenery was also fantastic thanks to the sunshine.

Pedalling over Welsh hills to Newport – few clouds on the horizon but sunny at present

Some of the towns and villages around this part of Wales have Irish rather than Welsh names, a testament to a chequered history with groups from Ireland settling in the area.

I made it to Newport and stopped for a pint of Thwaite’s Wainwright Ale, a very pleasant beverage. I raised a toast to the sunshine, which was warming me up both physically and mentally. With all this stopping for breaks today was going to be a long one, but it was just so nice to have better weather.

Next up the road took me over the hills to and through Fishguard, where I didn’t stop figuring I should get some miles done. Saying that one of the hills up out of Fishguard nearly forced me to stop and push it was so steep, but I made it up having to stand on the pedals for the last bit.

Fishguard

I took the main road for a bit, before turning off at Mathry and heading to Abercastle through more lovely countryside. I was back closer to the coast, but as a result the hills were getting more frequent again, and the road insisted on exploring each nook and cranny.

Abercastle

Me in Abercastle – spiky hair

Undeterred I pedalled on to St. David’s, Britain’s smallest city, arriving on aching legs at about 17.00 after a long stretch during which I passed several tourers going the other way. I also spotted a couple of Red Kites, my first of the tour, and easy to identify because of their forked tales.

Welsh coastline on way to St. David’s, beautiful

I had a look around St. David’s Cathedral, with the ruined Bishop’s Palace just next door. It’s a really peaceful cathedral, and interesting to look around, there having been a Christian site here since around 500AD. The treasure room in the cathedral has a few interesting artefacts, including several ornate and golden ends to bishop’s staffs – the shepherd’s crook shape, and beautiful chalices used for serving communion.

St. David’s Cathedral 1

After walking around the quiet cathedral, in a contemplative state, I left a donation and lit one of their votive candles to remember Lu by. I’m not particularly religious, and neither was Lu, but it just seemed like the right thing to do.

The ruined Bishop’s Palace

St. David’s Cathedral 2

St. David’s Cathedral 3

St David’s town wall

I stopped at the Bishop’s Inn on the way out of St. David’s, for some physical sustenance post spiritual nourishment. It was about 18.00 so the excellent fish pie was well timed. It really was a good fish pie too, with salmon, white fish, mussels, prawns and clams. The chips and a pint of ale weren’t bad either.

The Bishop’s Inn, St. David’s

At this point I turned East and South East, so the wind was finally mostly behind me, a big relief after it having been in my face for several days. I passed through more lovely countryside as afternoon turned into evening, and paused at a few beaches to admire the view.

A487 along the coast from St. David’s

Hills above Newgale

Newgale beach was especially nice, and there were several kite surfers out enjoying the conditions.

Newgale Beach looking west

Newgale Beach looking east

Newgale Beach panorama

From Newgale I took the minor road around St. Brides Bay, passing through Norton Haven, Broad Haven and Little Haven. This proved to take quite a while as again the road dipped and twisted down into every cove, and there were a lot of coves. I reckoned my legs must be getting really fit by now, they really ached to prove it.

Via a roundabout route I rode down to Marloes, where apparently I used to eat sand as a toddler. I used to drop my half eaten and rather soggy biscuit into the sand, then eat it. I reckon it made them more crunchy.

One of the Havens

I can’t actually remember where the above photo was taken, I think it was one of the Haven’s, but can’t recall which one. Anyone know?

Something stingy flew into my cycling helmet near St. Ishmael’s, and either stung or bit my forehead. It was a bit of a shock and I swerved around the road, desperately trying to get my helmet off in a hurry to extricate the wee beastie. It could have been nasty had there been traffic on the road, but luckily it was a quiet evening. By the time I’d stopped and whipped off my helmet it had made its escape, so I never found out what it was, but I rode helmet-less for a bit after that.

Post more ups and downs I made it across to Herbrandston, and the campsite I was aiming for at Sandy Haven, right on the shores of the Milford Haven waterway. The owners weren’t there but had delegated control to a couple who have a permanent caravan on site, spending more time there than at home by the sounds of it. They were very pleasant, inviting me in for a cup of tea and supplying a key to the shower block.

I hadn’t arrived until about 21.00, so another long day with the hills making it slow going, although I had taken a lot of breaks. I’d covered about 72 miles, which was fine considering the longer legs I’d been putting in, and I felt a lot better than I had done yesterday.

Herbrandston campsite – only one other camper, and they were already abed

After a phone call to my parents, and a wash, I retreated to my tent as it got dark, with the wind starting to make it quite chilly now the sun was gone. I was going to try for an early start tomorrow, and needed to visit a bike shop to get some new front brake pads, my current ones having just about worn out. I’m happy to report my PowerMonkey device was charging well in the sunshine; I was really hoping the good weather would stick around for a bit, but suspected a storm might be brewing.

I nodded off with the wind blowing my tent about, and my legs aching not insignificantly despite trying to stretch them off. Roll on tomorrow. Was that rain I heard?!

Ships lights on the Milford Haven waterway

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Leg 60 – to somewhere near Penbryn, via Aberystwyth

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Although I’ve completed my tour now I’ve still got around 20 blog posts to write up from it, so if you’re enjoying it or finding it useful for planning your own tour please consider making a donation to the Big C, either directly or via my charity page:

http://www.virginmoneygiving.com/james

The following was one of the toughest days of the tour so far, just down to the conditions and hills, but satisfying to cover around 100 miles, and good to meet a few friendly folk.

30 June 2013

I was up in good time, keen to cover a good distance and get ahead of the game in my quest to get to Latitude by 18 July. Unfortunately it was another overcast and windy day, the prevailing south westerly having strengthened overnight which was going to prove tough. Why couldn’t there just be no wind for a day or two? Perhaps I’d angered those Norse gods again.

Post a check over the Ridgeback I received a bacon roll from my next door neighbours, a bonus I wasn’t going to turn down. It was their last day camping before driving back to the Midlands so they had food to use up, and I was perfectly placed to oblige in ensuring nothing went to waste! Perhaps some of those Norse gods were in fact on my side.

Suitably loaded with calories, and with my bike loaded with luggage, I was on the road by 09.30 pedalling off towards Harlech.

Bike loaded and read for another day’s riding

Harlech has an impressive castle, overlooking Tremadog Bay. Unsurprisingly it’s another castle that was originally built by Edward I, and was also the stronghold of Henry Tudor. The Welsh ruler Owain Glyndwr captured the castle, along with large parts of Wales during the revolt against the English which started in 1400, and lasted through to 1409 when he disappeared; the English never caught him though.

Harlech Castle 1

The castle lies atop a crag, about a half a mile from the sea, although when it was first built the coastline was a lot closer.

Harlech Castle 2

Pedalling on down the A496 I had the song ‘Men of Harlech’ going around my head for a good hour. It’s a good stirring tune, perfect for a grey day, and I was soon humming it quite loudly. I like it when they sing it in the film Zulu. The road follows the coast down to Barmouth, a once popular tourist destination, taking in several quite big hills on the way.

Hills above Harlech, looking back North toward the Lleyn Peninsula

A random picture of my leg, note tan line

A random accidental picture of my leg, note tan line.

I made it to Barmouth in good time, where the Great Western used to deliver droves of holiday makers for their once a year seaside break from up north. By the looks of it tourists are still visiting in significant numbers.

River (Afon) Mawddach, Barmouth

I was able to take the toll bridge over the Afon Mawddach, which is open to pedestrians and cyclists and saved me a long trek inland. As with the previous day’s toll bridge there was no-one to pay a toll to, so I happily trundled over the somewhat bumpy wooden boards across the river.

Toll bridge looking back towards Barmouth

There are rail tracks across the bridge, and I believe a train still runs across it, but it didn’t make an appearance whilst I was there.

Toll bridge looking towards opposite shore from Barmouth

On the other side I continued around to Rhoslefain, getting a bit blasted by the wind. I felt a bit better about it as at least there were more cyclists out today, getting equally blasted and thus sharing the pain. Greetings and mutterings about the weather were exchanged with several, and I was joined by one near Bryncrug. Eddy stayed with me until Tywyn, which was really nice as I was able to slipstream him slightly, taking the edge off the wind. I hadn’t ridden with anyone in a while and it was good to chat as we pedalled along. I think he’d recognised I was struggling slightly with my heavier load, and I certainly made better time for the next stretch.

We both stopped at a cafe in Tywyn, in need of sustenance. I opted for the full Sunday roast and Rhubard crumble, Eddy for just the crumble. I figured my bike was a lot heavier so I could justify the extra calories, plus I still had a long way to go. Eddy bought me a coffee which was nice, and it was good to chat over lunch with a fellow cyclist. Having had quite a hard morning with the weather and hills, riding with someone else, followed by a very decent lunch break, was a great morale boost. Eddy is from Worcester and regularly comes up to the Welsh coast to cycle. He’s a member of a road cycling club, but also gets in some mountain biking; sometimes it’s a case of never the twain will meet however I think it’s good to get in a bit of both. Speeding downhill on a mountain bike, almost expecting to be thrown off at some point, can be very exhilarating. It was good to share experiences, the good, bad and ugly, and my theory on hills being honest and the wind dishonest.

Thanks for the drink and for the slipstreaming Eddy, much appreciated, and good luck on your Lejog!

Eddy had to leave so I finished dessert, which had an ample amount of custard, and called my brother to say hello before getting going again.

It didn’t take me long to get to Aberdyfi, or Aberdovey, where the windsurfers were out in force, along with kite surfers a bit further up the coast. The beach was really busy and it was perfect conditions if you were using the wind to power your transit, rather than it being a pain in the proverbial.

Aberdyfi beach panorama

According to my brother, a keen windsurfer himself now he doesn’t spend most of the time in the sea rather than on the board, the coast around here is very popular with windsurfers. I could see why, and there seemed to be a competition or at least gathering of surfers going on.

Aberdyfi windsurfers 1

Several of them were ripping along, with good planes going, and some quick carve gybes that if I’d attempted would have resulted in being catapulted off the front of the board, and the sale mast landing on my head.

Boards on the beach

Aberdyfi windsurfers 2

I’m quite tempted to have a go again myself when I get back to Norfolk, perhaps going up to Hunstanton with Will (brother) at some point, although it’s been a few years so I’ll probably spend most of my time in the water.

Flags flying in Aberdyfi

Leaving the windsurfers behind there followed a long stint inland alongside the Afon Dyfi (River Dovey), which doesn’t have a handy toll bridge over it. It was nice to have a bit of a tailwind down to Machynlleth, but then I had to turn back south west towards Aberystwyth. I passed an Osprey centre just before Furnace, but couldn’t spot any of these great birds of prey as I rode along, through quite a bit of forest alongside the river.

There’s an old iron smelting site in Furnace, from whence the town’s name is derived. The building has a great waterwheel, and was obviously quite an important industrial spot from the 1750’s through to the 19th century.

Waterfall next to Furnace

Iron smelting building and waterwheel

Waterfall and enthusiastic springer spaniels

At Tre’r-Ddol I turned on to the B4353 to follow the coast, over some flatter terrain to Borth, although the lack of hills meant it was more exposed and I was getting knocked about by the wind again. Borth was a childhood holiday spot for my Mum, which was just a smattering of years ago of course, and she remembers it being just as windy when she used to visit.

A blustery day in Borth – big hill coming up

Borth beach – not too popular today

Borth beach – looking south

Out of Borth I had to tackle a very long and very steep hill climb, with a few 25% sections that really pushed the limits of my ascending ability. I had to stop to rest a couple of times, but made it up the hill without having to push which was pretty satisfying. I don’t think I could have done that when I’d started a couple of months back.

Top of the hill looking back towards Borth

The road continued to be challenging as I pedalled over to Aberystwyth, with lots of long, steep and continuous hills. Any cyclist up for a challenge should consider the B4572 from Borth to Aberystwyth, very satisfying once you’ve made it. Do it on a fully loaded touring bike for the extra challenge. A random passing car even gave me a cheer on the final ascent before the long downhill section into town, all encouragement was gratefully received.

I had a quick cycle around Aberystwyth, considered stopping for a quick pub break, but didn’t find anywhere inspiring so decided to push on.

Aberystwyth seafront

Aberystwyth University building

Aberystwyth Harbour – choppy sea

Cardigan Castle is another one built by Edward I, who replaced the original Norman built fortress. The castle was razed by parliamentary forces during the English Civil War, so is now mostly in ruins.

Aberystwyth Castle

With lots of miles to do but doubtful of reaching Cardigan, my original target for the day, I rode south from Aberystwyth, joining the A487. The next set of hills weren’t small, so I settled into a slow but steady pace, taking them one after the other and refusing to stop for a rest. Up, then down, and repeat. The constant hills were stopping me from getting into any real rhythm, and with the day drawing on I was beginning to think I’d be wild camping if I didn’t stumble upon a campsite. I stopped at a handy garage to buy a few snacks to keep me going – you can never go far wrong with an emergency pork pie break, bag of crisps to replace salt, and perhaps a bottle of chocolate milk.

I eventually made it to Aberaeron, pushing on past at least two campsites whilst I still had a few hours of daylight left. Despite being tired I was keen to get a few more miles done. Sometimes I just can’t decide when to stop, and defer making a decision for ‘just a few more miles’ to see what’s around the next corner.

The big hills continued as I pedalled to Llanarth, where I turned off the main road on to the B4342 to New Quay, not to be confused with the Newquay down in Cornwall. Earlier I’d checked the Internet on my phone and seen there were lots of campsites around New Quay, so thought it would be a good place to stop. Unfortunately despite being given directions by a helpful local, and following what I thought was a signpost to a campsite, I couldn’t find one, and didn’t have enough signal on my phone to check the web again. I have absolutely no doubt I passed with a few hundred metres of several, but one of my other flaws when cycling is I don’t like to turn around and retrace my route, so I just kept on going out of New Quay, tackling more hills, but enjoying the fine evening. Oh, and more snacks were duly consumed to keep up energy levels.

Verdant Welsh Countryside near Llangrannog

With the sun starting to get seriously low I followed the signposts to Llangrannog, sure I’d find a campsite somewhere. I didn’t, the road just continued to go up and down, but was very pretty. I passed through Nanternis, continuing to ride parallel to the coast as much as possible, and after wiggling around a bit made it to Llangrannog.

Llangrannog Beach

According to local legend one of the rocks sticking up in the bay is actually the tooth from a giant named Bica, who spat it out when he got toothache.

Llangrannog panorama

The village and beach looked beautiful with the sun going down, and there’s a nice looking pub, but no campsite I could find.

Llangrannog pub

I had to cycle up another steep hill to get out of the Llangrannog, something that was definitely becoming a feature of this part of the Wales with the road following the coastline and dipping down into all the valleys and coves.

Me looking a bit wild in Llangrannog

Llangrannog – silhouette of the statue of St Caranog

The statue definitely has a nice view.

St Caranog, Llangrannog

Llangrannog looking North

Llangrannog Village

I rode down country lanes continuing to look for a place to camp (on reflection I should have pitched up next to the saint). It was still light, vaguely, but very dark where the trees formed tunnels over the road, and I had to get my lights out. The road continued to be very pretty, but I was starting to get very tired due to the incessant hills, and I was passing lots of farms, with lots of sheep who were looking at me balefully as usual.

On one particularly wriggly bit of road I rounded a corner to come face-to-face with a frisky bullock. This wasn’t the first annoyed bovine I’d met on this tour, but it was definitely more aggressive than it’s Scottish cousin, having become a bit panicked by a car horn. It’s fine beeping your car horn to try and encourage a cow off the road when you’re safely ensconced within a metal body, however I didn’t have that luxury on my bike. Thankfully after about a minute of it pacing about, and me slowly backing off, the farmer turned up with a couple of helpers. Two of them did have to jump back into their Landrover at one point when the bullock charged them, but eventually they got it back into a field and I pedalled on unmolested.

My close encounters with Welsh farm animals continued as I rode through another farm, where three dogs bounded out to greet me, barking manically. I was a bit nervous they were going to bite me or my panniers, but they calmed down once I said hello and left me alone thankfully.

Finally, with the light almost gone and post more hills, I found a campsite somewhere between Morfa and Penbryn, near Sarnau, although I wasn’t really sure where I was by this stage, I just knew the coast wasn’t that far away. I arrived about 22.15 and checked in at the farmhouse, the farmer and his son looking a little surprised to have such a late visitor turn up on a bike. It cost me £12 but they were friendly, and a warm shower was most welcome after the hard day.

That was one of, if not the hardest day of the tour so far, due to the bad weather throughout most of it, and leg/lung busting hills. I was however very satisfied to have covered nearly dead on 100 miles, even if it had taken me about 12.5 hours; my average speed had dropped somewhat. I was a bit concerned as to what the state of my legs would be in the morning, and my morale had taken a bit of a beating at times, but thanks to lunch with Eddy, a phone call to my brother, and some nice Welsh countryside I was feeling alright again.

I got my tent up as darkness fell, and it wasn’t long before I was soundly asleep.

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Bike around Britain – Gallery 1

Leg 54 – to Flookburgh via Barrow-in-Furness

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Before starting to recount Leg 54, here’s a link to the latest fun sketch from It’s A Trap:

It’s A Trap are a Norwich based group of friends who create entertaining film and audio shorts, check out our YouTube channel. I wasn’t involved in this one, so it was a nice surprise!

24 June 2013

I woke up in good time, keen to get down to Barrow-in-Furness where there’s a good bike shop I’d found on the net the evening before. The wind had dropped a bit but was still blowing, however it was a nice bright day.

Morning in St Bees

Breakfast consisted of sausage rolls due to a slight lack of other supplies, although I wasn’t complaining, beats cornflakes. I had a quick check of the bike ably assisted by Lobster; my temporary spoke fix was holding up well, although my carapaced friend was somewhat dubious as to its potential longevity.

Post a shower I was ready to hit the road by 09.00, and got on my way after bidding goodbye to the lads starting their coast to coast, as well as Dave the dog walker, who donated a quid to the Big C – thanks Dave, it all helps!

I stopped just outside the campsite to take another look at the bay and beach in the daylight.

St Bees bay

I quite fancied spending a day on the beach, however bike mending was required.

St Bees beach

St Bees beach looking south

St Bees village looked nice, with several promising pubs.

St Bees village, I crossed the level crossing with care, nervous of more spokes going

I pedalled along the wriggly country roads out of St Bees, the scenery proving to be a lot more entertaining than yesterday, with dramatic hills, and the wind being mostly behind me making for easier riding. It was a great ride down past Sellafield, near Seascale, where I was hoping I might benefit from a gamma ray or two to give my legs some Hulk like power, sadly it appears the plant is too well shielded for such things.

Sellafield – the nuclear reprocessing site

Next up was Ravenglass, another village which sounds like it should be in a science fiction or fantasy novel, with it’s Roman Baths and the castle of Muncaster just next door. By the looks of it there’s lots to do in the area, and I’d have to add it to my list of places to come back to, along with a visit to the Lake District which I was mostly missing by sticking to the coast. Sticking to the coast did have some benefits in that I missed the steepest of the hills, however I still had to deal with my fair share on the way down to Barrow-in-Furness.

Looking East into the Lake District – ominous clouds

I was slightly concerned about the numerous dark clouds lurking over the a Lake District, making it look a bit Mordor like, however the coast looked mostly clear. I stopped at a garage in Holmrook and bought a chicken and leak pie for second breakfast, just in case the weather turned and I needed the extra energy – that was my excuse anyway. It was homemade and tasted excellent, so I bought another one for later, then phoned the bike shop to let them know I was coming and to make sure they could fit a quick wheel repair in. I ended up having quite a long chat with Simon, their wheel builder, who gave me a few pointers on my route down to Barrow. I was looking forward to meeting the guys at Topmark (108 Greengate Street, Barrow-in-Furness).

Riding down the A595

The hills looked impressive, and of course were called Fells now, rather the Braes or Munros of Scotland. Scarfell Pike lurked in their somewhere, which I’d climbed one early morning several years ago, starting when it was dark and reaching the top as the dawn broke. We were doing the 3 peaks challenge at the time, and I remember leading our group up a rather dubious looking path, using my head torch to pick out the stone cairns that marked the route. Thankfully we avoided any steep drops and saw the sun rise, before charging back down for bacon rolls at the minibus, happy days.

Muncaster Castle

The signs said Muncaster Castle was allegedly haunted, however in the sunshine it didn’t look very spooky. I had fun whizzing down the hill through the trees from it, and then across the flood plain towards Bootle.

The great countryside continued, accompanied by a few significant hills which got my legs and lungs going, as I looped around through Millon and down to Barrow-in-Furness. The last bit alongside the Duddon Channel and through Askam seemed to take an age, with lots of ups and downs, however I made it to Barrow at about 13.00, after a good session having covered around 50 miles.

I headed straight for Topmark, sort of, via a slightly roundabout route really, and met up with Simon who quickly got to work replacing my two broken spokes, and straightening out my wheel. This was a bit of a tricky task as I’d had to make a lot of tweaks to make it here (I’d done a bodge job really), and essentially involved slackening all the spokes off and starting again.

Wheel straightened and reattached I picked up some spare spokes in case any more broke, and Simon gave me a few tips on wheel maintenance, and on my route over the next couple of days. I could only deal with non-drive side spokes, as the drive side are harder to get at and you need a tool I wasn’t carrying with me, so I was hoping it would only be non-drive side that broke, if any. It wasn’t surprising I was encountering spoke breakages, the rear wheel wasn’t exactly right for the bike, and I was carrying a lot of weight over some pretty rigorous terrain. My worry was that now they’d started to break they might all go, a bit like Velcro undoing. I also got my chain checked – it was still well within limits, so I hoped it would get me back to Norwich.

Full marks to Topmark for friendly and efficient service, and going that extra mile to help me out and offer advice. I was getting to really enjoy dropping into bike shops along the way, you learn a lot as things break! Here’s a link to the Topmark website – http://www.topmarkonline.com/ (they also do lots of water sports equipment)

Post bike repairs I grabbed a quick cheeseburger from a McDonalds, because sometimes it’s just nice to eat dirty food, and they have free wifi, then had a quick look around Barrow-in-Furness.

Barrow-in-Furness – statue commemorating engineering that goes on it the city

It’s a quite a big town, and not very touristy being quite industrial. I had a look at where they build submarines from the bridge over to the Isle of Walney (BAE Systems).

Submarine building sheds – they were huge

Post Walney Island, which is essentially a large sand spit that been built on over the years, I followed Simon’s suggested route which took me along the cycle track from behind Morrisons, around the bay to Rampside. I passed a few frigates on the way.

Cycle path along bay

Frigates 1 – Barrow-in-Furness

I was a bit confused as to which navy the frigates belonged to, however the mystery has been solved by the Interweb! Apparently the 3 frigates have been moored there since 2007, after BAE built them for the navy of the Sultan of Brunei. Although the Sultan paid for them, he decided he didn’t want them anymore and was looking for someone else to sell them to. It doesn’t look like he’s had any luck, despite them being ‘lovely little runners’, with only one previous owner who has effectively left them boxed. At least the port is benefitting from harbour fees whist they’re moored there.

Frigates 2 – Barrow-in-Furness

Cycle path through the mudflats

I had to dodge around a group of kids drinking beer, who thought it would be fun to throw empty beer cans at me, and then met some police trying to find another group of kids who were running amok, nice area. Despite the local flora and fauna I made it around to Rampside and to the end of the road where a ferry runs over to Piel Castle.

Piel Island and Castle

A nice couple offered to take my photo, so here’s a rare shot of me and my bike in totality.

Jetty to ferry to Piel Island – me and my trusty steed

Of course then Lobster wanted to be in the photo too.

Me and Lobster – Piel Island

I decided against taking the ferry over to the island, it being a little windy out on the water, as demonstrated by my hair.

Ship ‘moored’ off causeway to Roa Island – not sure it was going anywhere in a hurry

A lovely ride along the western side of Morcambe Bay followed, up to Ulvertson, past the big sand flats which are so dangerous to the unwary, with people getting trapped on them by the tides and sinking sand.

Morecambe Bay

In 2004 twenty one Chinese immigrants were unfortunately drowned whilst collecting cockles out in the bay, when the tide came in. They were here illegally, and being paid £5 for a 25kg bag of cockles. They should have never been out on the sands, where they got cut off by the incoming tide despite a group of British workers trying to warn them. I guess desperate people will go to ay lengths to earn a crust, and unfortunately there are always people around who will take advantage. No one ended up getting prosecuted for any wrongdoing, which seems an injustice. I’d have thought those organising and paying the work gangs should be held accountable in some regard.

Morecambe Bay 2

In Ulvertson I rode past the Hoad monument, which commemorates Sir John Barrow, a founder member of the Royal Geographic Society.

Hoad Monument, Ulvertson

Again following Simon’s directions, and with my bike performing well, I rode around the top of the bay and down to Flookburgh, via a cycle path that avoided the worst bit of the A590. The cycle path took me over a footbridge traversing the River Leven, which flows from Lake Windemere into Morecambe Bay.

River Leven

The slightly bumpy cycle track eventually deposited me on the B5278, for a very pleasant final stretch through woodland.

Country road down to Flookburgh

I stopped at a local shop to buy a few provisions before heading to campsite; I’d decided to try a Haven Holiday Park, how bad could it be? The shop owner let me know the holiday park shop was a lot more expensive, he having worked there, so I stocked up on essentials, and enjoyed a cold bottle of banana milk before going any further.

It turned out to be an ‘interesting’ choice for a stop-over, but I thought I should at least experience the holiday park sensation once. I probably should have chanced it and found a spot to wild camp but the lure of a hot shower trapped me. The holiday park is massive, with it’s own small supermarket, restaurants, bars, and swimming pools, as well as of course the entertainment complex. There were lots of caravaners and campers there for a holiday, but after 30 minutes in the live lounge I realised it wasn’t exactly my sort of place. Agadoo and Road to Amarillo aren’t my favourite choices of music, but seemed quite popular amongst some of the punters. I had a chat with one of the bar staff with whom I sympathised for having to listen to the same music night after night. He said the worse thing was when he found himself singing along without realising it.

I retreated to a quieter bar where I could use the wifi, charge stuff, and write up my journal and blog in peace, over a pint. It had been a good days ride, with excellent progress made covering 87.5 miles, so I was keeping up my average. I wandered back to my tent at about 23.00, humming the Spice Girls and Ace of Base; if you can’t beat them join them.

Full moon again – maybe that explained things

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Leg 46 – to Otter Ferry via Inveraray

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Just to confirm I’m not actually in Scotland anymore, my blog is just really behind due to more exciting stuff taking precedence. I will catch up, but no doubt I’ll still be doing so from home post tour end! Check out my twitter feed (@jam_har) if you want more up-to-date info.

16 June 2013

I woke up feeling a little woozy after the excesses of the previous night at the Argyll Inn, however I feel it’s important to immerse oneself in the local culture. It was a pretty dull day outside my tent, with no wind, and closer inspection revealed clouds of midges still buzzing around. I grabbed some breakfast from my panniers and retreated back inside for another hour or so, swatting at any midges that made it in.

Post a bit of writing, and some route planning (will wonders never cease), I spread out wet stuff to dry as the sun came out, and had a shower. I still had quite a bit of damp kit from the last few days, and didn’t want to wear wet kit again, or pack it away like that. My shoes were also still quite soggy, however after a bit of bike maintenance, packing up, and a call to my parents to wish Dad a happy Father’s Day they were at least comfortable to wear again, and on the road to being merely moist.

It turned in to a bit of a late start after deciding to FaceTime my brother and his family too. Still, it was Sunday and I was enjoying catching up with people. It was good to see my nephew Seb dashing about on his tricycle. He’ll be on a bike and challenging for the yellow jersey in no time, although he is only 1 and 3/4, so maybe a little bit of training required; no performance enhancing drugs though so I’d better hide the Haribos.

Lochgilphead campsite – sunshine!

Leaving Lochgilphead in the sunshine, I stopped at a supermarket for a few supplies and to get some lunch, expecting to have to wild camp for a night or two. I try to avoid going to supermarkets when I’m hungry, which is a bit of a challenge on this tour, so I ended up buying far more than I intended, mostly from the bakery section – pastries, fresh bread, and cookies.

Lochgilphead – low tide

I pedalled down the A83 round to Loch Fyne, following the relatively flat road along the coast through Lochgair, Tullochgarm, and past the gardens at Crarae, advertised as Scotland’s own Himalayan experience which sounded intriguing.

Alongside Loch Fyne

Alongside Loch Fyne 2

Post Furnace there’s a reasonably long climb up past the Aachindrain Township, before a nice long descent to Inveraray. The A83, thus far, was proving to be a pleasant road, being smooth, and passing through forest and farmland. I noticed quite a bit of logging going on again, leaving stark patches on hillsides, and piles of timber waiting for a lorry beside the roadside.

Lush vegetation next to mountain stream

The hills before Inveraray

One of the benefits of hills plus a high level of annual rainfall is Scotland can generate quite a bit of power from hydroelectric facilities, and I passed quite a few along the way.

Logging activity in evidence

More sunshine makes a nice change

After an altogether different sort of ride to yesterday morning’s, and feeling in holiday mode quite randomly, I stopped at the Loch Fyne Hotel on the way into Inveraray for a break. The hotel in run by a friend of a friend’s brother, and had been recommended (thanks Vikki) via Twitter due to good food, and spa facilities should I require them. I was sorely tempted to have a sauna and massage, but opted for a pint and food instead, sitting outside in the sunshine and chatting to a few other tourists. The tuna melt panini and wedges didn’t last long, and it was lovely feeling warm for a change, although with clouds in the sky and it being Scotland I was prepared for the weather to change at any given moment.

Bike having a break at Loch Fyne Hotel

The sign said the hotel couldn’t be held responsible for any damage to parked vehicles – I hoped my bananas were going to be alright.

Post the hotel I rode on into Inveraray, and had a look around. Even though it was Sunday everything was open, it being a tourist destination, and I nipped into the whisky shop as recommended by Dad. I could have spent a lot of money in there, but thankfully didn’t have room in my panniers, so instead chatted with the owner about some of the distilleries I’d passed. He, of course, had whisky from all of them. The shop smelt marvellous.

Inveraray Whisky Shop – Loch Fyne Whiskies

Inveraray Whisky Shop 2

I stopped for a look at the famous jail, and castle, but didn’t go into either. They were a bit pricey for the time I’d be visiting them for.

Inveraray Jail – thought about dropping lobster off for a stay given his lack of cycling effort

Inveraray Castle 1

Inveraray Castle 2

Inveraray high street

Inveraray is a nice little town and worth a visit. I joined the throngs in having an ice cream and relaxed on the green next to the loch for a bit, watching a bloke toss a cocktail bottle around pretty professionally (that sentence could have gone wrong). I think he was trying to impress a group of nearby girls so I was quite amused when he hit himself in the head, causing much giggling.

Inveraray waterfront

Inveraray Castle from bridge

I rode out of town over the bridge, continuing on the A83 alongside Loch Fyne. Everything was very green, with the road passing through forest and fern, and some lovely scenery. I passed a group of veteran cycle tourers going the other way, powering up the hill I was coasting down, all looking very fit and lean and probably in their 70’s, good stuff. Cycling obviously has massive health benefits, and must add several years on to your expected life span.

The Loch Fyne Oyster Bar/Deli/Restaurant was my next destination. This is the original restaurant of the Loch Fyne chain. I’ve been to the one in Norwich several times and really like their seafood, although I need to check if they use wild or farmed salmon now.

Loch Fyne Oyster Bar

I was tempted to grab a meal, however you no doubt need to book, and it wasn’t long since I’d last eaten (not that that seems to make much difference on this tour, mange tout) so I just had a browse around their shop looking at all their goodies, a lot of which I have ordered online in the past as gifts for people, vey handy. Unfortunately none of the produce would keep very well in my panniers, but I did recommend the Bradan Rost pâté to one indecisive shopper.

I finally made it around the top of Loch Fyne and rode down into Cairndow, and past the Ardkinglas Woodland Garden which claims to have the tallest tree in the UK; I wonder who goes around measuring them all. The village is ‘quaint’ and gas some pretty roads around it.

Verdant roads near Cairndow

More verdant roads near Cairndow

With it starting to get late, and still wanting to cover a decent number of miles, I pedalled on down the A815 to Strachur and past the apparently award winning Creggans Inn. There must be a lot of people and organisations giving out awards these days, having passed a lot of establishments that have won one award or another, but to be fair the Inn did look nice. Steeling myself I pressed on down the B8000 coastal route, passing through a few small villages, and hearing the distant strains of the pipes from down the road somewhere. It was a bit bizarre cycling down the quiet road with the sound of bagpipes gradually getting louder. I eventually passed their source – a man playing outside his caravan in a small caravan park. I wonder what his neighbours think.

I rode past the Kilmore Chapel where the Lachlan Clan chiefs are buried, according to the sign.

Loch Fyne – clouds suddenly made things go dark

Loch Fyne from on high

The road alongside the loch is really lovely, with just the occasional hill, dip and turn, and great scenery. I think I hit it at the right time of day with the light conditions making things look dramatic.

I made it to Otter Ferry at about 19.30, and stopped for a pint in the pub whilst considering where to camp. The owner advised there was a good spot just back up the road, next to the loch, that would hopefully not be too midgey. With that sorted I got chatting to the only other people in the pub, who turned out to be from Norwich too, living just down the road from me near Elm Hill; it’s a small world sometimes.

Me at Otter Ferry, shores of Loch Fyne

Kay and Peter Bemble were up on the West Coast of Scotland on hols, with Peter recovering from bowel cancer surgery and chemotherapy. We chatted for a while about my trip, and what they were up to, agreeing that when something like cancer happens to you, or someone close to you, it doesn’t half give you the motivation to try and live life to the max, and get out there and do stuff you’ve always wanted to but perhaps put off due to work etc. You never really know what’s going to happen so don’t put your dreams on hold for too long! Peter talked about having a fresh perspective on life, and appreciating things more such as Springtime arriving, blossom appearing on trees etc. Lu was the same, having had a big lust for life post her treatment. Thanks for the donation to the Big C, and congrats on your daughter making the Olympic fencing team! Good luck with your next scan Peter, and maybe see you back in Norwich. Lovely people, like a a lot of the folks I’ve bumped into on this tour.

Post a pint, and another courtesy of Kay and Peter, I rode back along the loch locating the spot next to the shoreline the publican had recommended. It was a great little patch and I pitched up next to the beach, quickly lighting a fire to try and discourage the midges, which duly arrived in numbers. I used the quick fire lighting method in this instance, rather than flint and steel, opting for fuel for my stove over driftwood. Needs must when midges attack.

Anti midge fire – sort of worked

Nice camping spot

I applied Avon skin so soft to try and further deter the midges but it didn’t seem to be discouraging them much, so I got the tent up quick, whilst watching a cormorant fish in the loch.

Wild camp on the shores of Loch Fyne

Tent up and fire smoking nicely

The light kept changing because of the clouds, but it led to a wonderful sunset which I watched from my tent, before turning in early with a big day planned for tomorrow.

Loch Fyne sunset 1

Sunset beach panorama

Loch Fyne sunset 2

Loch Fyne sunset 3

The colours just kept getting better and better.

Loch Fyne sunset 4

As I was shutting the tent door a grey heron stalked by at the water’s edge, obviously not quite sleepy enough to retire yet, unlike me. I keep meaning to do a count on grey herons, I’ve seen loads in Scotland.

Quick mileage update – with 60 odd miles done today, my total was standing at around 2720.

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Leg 38 – to Arisaig

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I’m writing this whilst wild camping down near Campbeltown, with the rain lashing down and wind gusting outside my warm and cosy tent. Currently wondering if any of the clothes I wore today will be dry by the morning, but not to worry, I have ginger nuts. Now back to nearly a week ago on Skye.

08 June 2013

I woke up early (for me) at 06.30, with an urge on get back on the road after a day’s rest. I had breakfast and showered before packing up quick. The weather looked good in Uig, with mostly clear skies, sunshine, and very little wind.

Packing up – quick wheel check

Hitting the road about 08.30, I was off to a good start, having a long leg ahead of me. I cycled out past the Bakur Bar, bidding it a fond farewell, and past lines of traffic queuing for the morning ferry. Lots of people with bikes or kayaks attached to their vehicles but no cycle tourers I could see.

Beautiful day in Uig

Bollards again – and clouds, making me wonder what it was like on the other side of the island

I rode North out of Uig, up the hill on the A855 which would take me around the top of Skye and back down to Portree.

Looking back down towards Uig

Unfortunately as soon as I got over the top the clouds started to draw in from the North, along with a moderate and chill wind. I decided to speed up and try and get this section done quickly, hoping the weather would improve again down in Portree, with the clouds breaking up against the mountains. I rode through some fairly wet and at times foggy landscape around to Staffin, passing several small villages and small islands just off the coast, as well as the usual multitude of sheep.

Road around the North of Skye

Staffin Bay

Staffin wasn’t very exciting, especially given the weather. It has a store, cafe and candle shop, but I didn’t need any artfully created scented wax illuminations at the time, so carried on. From Staffin I pedalled on down the coast, up and down a couple of big hills, to the Old Man of Storr, where the sun was just starting to burn off some of the cloud and fog, revealing the spectacular Storr mountain, and lochs on the other side of the road.

Storr Mountain and Old Man of Storr

Still clouds hanging over the lochs

I stopped for a double banana break by the roadside, feeling a bit drained post the cold ride around the top if the island, before continuing on to Portree. There were quite a few motorbike tourers out on the road again, making easy work of the hills, along with the obligatory camper vans from all around Europe.

Portree Bay

The sun came out properly in Portree, and remained out for the rest of the day. I stopped to buy a few supplies from the Co-op, then ate lunch in the town square, munching my way through most of a baguette, with cheese, ham, tomatoes, an apple, and a couple of cakes from the local bakery for good measure. There were lots of tourists and associated coaches in Portree again, and I heard then saw at least one bagpipe busker taking advantage of the holiday season influx.

Looking own on Portree old town

I left Portree passing the finish of the half marathon being run at the same time. It must be a challenging course around the town, and I passed a few very tired looking individuals. I pedalled down the same road I’d cycled up two days previously, over some fairly big hills, and with Raasay and Scalpay just off the coast.

The road to Sligachan

I passed dozens of cyclists going the other way over the next couple of hours, in small groups, ranging from those looking fairly professional to those who were huffing and puffing along slightly. There must have been some kind of charity ride on. It was nice to wave and shout hello, and they all waved back or shouted greetings, so was quite fun.

Lobster sun bathing in Sligachan – Cuillin Hills in background

Cuillin Hills again

Loch Ainot

I rode on and just after Broadford turned right, on to the A851 that would take me to Armadale. It was a lovely ride in the sunshine, through some great scenery alongside the Sound of Sleat. The road was comparatively flat, with just a few leg testers in the final miles before Armadale. In places there was lots of wild garlic out long side the roadside, giving the air a pleasant scent, with bluebells and plenty of bird life to keep me occupied. At times sparrows and tits would dart out in front of my bike, then fly off down the road in front of me before careering off into the bushes.

Down to the Sound of Sleat

Sound of Sleat coastline

View across to Armadale

Passing Armadale Castle, which I couldn’t see from the road, I reached Armadale about 16.00 having covered in the region of 75 miles. I’d originally planned to camp there, but was still feeling pretty fresh, and the ferry across to Mallaig was still running. I had a quick look around the Eco Woodland campsite anyway, which turned out to be a bit different, with several curiosities to look around and set in a fantastic location. There were herb and vegetable beds everywhere, all labelled with what they could be used for, from natural anti-midge concoctions, to treatments for chafing, and recipes for various dishes. The whole set up had the feeling of a hippy commune, with water butts, ramshackle but well kept looking wooden buildings, and compost loos; there just didn’t seem to be anyone about. I had a quick walk around the woodland camping area anyway.

View to Seal Bay from woodland campsite

The one drawback of the camping area was that come dusk it would be absolutely infested by hordes of midges, given all the trees and lush vegetation. Given I was still feeling pretty good, and it wasn’t late, I decided to avoid the midges and get the ferry over to Mallaig, which at £4.00 was a bargain – bikes go free. I wanted to get the ferry, rather than go back over the Skye Bridge, as it avoided a long ride inland to get around to the coast again, and actually meant I’d see more of the coast.

Armadale harbour

Whilst waiting for the ferry my bike became the subject of interest for a group of French tourists travelling by coach. On this trip it seems to often be the French who have wanted to know how far I’ve cycled and about my bike; they must be in to their cycling in France. I chatted to a few of them for a while, practicing my rusty French again. They were amazed at how heavy my bike was, with various expressions of surprise uttered as they tried to lift it. After posing for a few photos the ferry arrived, and they had to get back on their coach, saving me from trying to explain anything further to them.

I boarded the ferry, cycling down the gangplank and tying my bike to a designated railing, which I was still finding pretty exciting. It’s only a 30 minute voyage over to Mallaig, but that was enough time to eat the rest of my baguette with some cheese, whilst admiring the view.

Looking back to Armadale

Ferry to Mallaig – sun still shining

Across to Mallaig we go

Arriving in Mallaig

Upon arrival in Mallaig we disembarked in a mostly orderly fashion, aside from a few groups of foreign tourists who weren’t sure if they were supposed to walk off the boat or get back on their coach there and then, resulting in a minor amount of chaos on the vehicle deck. Whilst this was going on I took my opportunity and quickly cycled off, jumping ahead of the traffic. Mallaig looked like a nice place, the end of the A830 going north, with several shops, fish and chips and hotels, as well as a train station.

I took the road signposted to Fort William and Arisaig, hoping to find a campsite within the next 10 or so miles, or at least a good spot to wild camp. I took a brief detour through Morar, looking across to Loch Morar, before continuing down the coast road towards Arisaig through some stunning scenery.

Road to Arisaig 1

Road to Arisaig 2

Road to Arisaig 3

Along the flatter coastal stretch I passed three potential campsites, two of which were sporting site full signs, the first time I’d encountered such a problem on this tour. This must be a popular bit of coastline, especially for kayakers, and with the good weather people had flocked out to spend their weekend here.

Coastline down to Arisaig

I arrived in Arisaig and bumped into a fellow tourer, doing Land’s End to John o’ Groats the long way round on a small wheeled but fully loaded bike. We chatted for a bit about our experiences to date, and he confirmed there were no campsites in the immediate area going south. He gave me a few tips on my route, and what to see on Mull if I went that way, and I vice versa on Skye, although he’d been in the area before having holidayed on Eigg with his family in the past – no cars on Eigg, just bikes. It was really pleasant sitting in the sunshine in Arisaig, with the Isles of Eigg and Rum just off the coast.

Post a pint in the village hotel, and buying a couple of dinner bits from the Spar, I cycled back to the Silver Sands campsite I’d passed earlier. It was the only one without a site full sign, and was in a lovely location. I stopped at the owner’s house on my way in and had a brief shouted conversation from where he was up in the garden, ascertaining it was fine to go and pitch my tent and we’d settle up in the morning. I found a great spot next to a mother and daughter having a weekend break, and a family of kayakers doing the same.

Camping spot at Silver Sands

Camping spot at Silver Sands 2

Post around an 85 mile ride I consumed a large dinner of more baguette, pork pie, cheese and fruit, in the peaceful setting, waiting for the sun to go down and watching oystercatchers and gulls wheel and dive over the sea. The oystercatchers seemed to be behaving a bit like starlings, flocking together at dusk and flying about in a noisy fashion before finding a spot to roost.

The only drawback to the site was the arrival of the midges, however the Avon lady seemed to keep them at bay before I retreated to my tent. The sunset was spectacular, only slightly spoiled by the arrival of some noisy, beer swilling Jordies who insisted on standing in everyone else’s view until this was pointed out to them. To give them credit they did move to one side and quietened a bit after that.

Lobster at sunset

Sunset panorama

Sunset 1

Sunset 2

Sunset 3

Sunset 4

I have far too many pictures of his sunset.

Sun just about gone

On that note I’ll finish with some words of wisdom. When fumbling around in the dark in your tent, don’t try and use a pork pie as a torch !

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Leg 36 – to Skye via Bealach-Na-Ba

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Time to take on the highest pass in Britain, going to be a tough ride. Here’s he route showing the 2000 foot ascent – http://connect.garmin.com/course/3799903

05 June 2013

Post a late night trying not altogether successfully to catch up on my blog, I had a lie in until 08.30 – felt pretty decadent. I still wasn’t sure if I was going to have a rest day or not, but post a breakfast of two baguette batons, ham, cheese, tomatoes and a banana I felt raring to go, so I packed up my stuff and prepared to tackle to tackle Bealach-Na-Ba, which translates to ‘Pass of the Cattle’, or ‘Cow Pass’, over Beinn Bhan. I had a decaf coffee at the restaurant first, just to warm up, and spent a while chilling out in the sunshine which felt wonderful. It really smelt like summer had arrived, with the birds engaged in large amounts of vocal activity, and bees buzzing about. Unfortunately the pollen count was also on the up so I broke out the hay fever tablets for the first time.

I was about to leave when Ewan and Ian appeared (sorry if i’ve spelt your names wrong guys), who I’d met briefly the night before. About my age, probably younger, they’re both keen cyclists, and Ewan was looking to tackle the Pass today too. Ian unfortunately couldn’t due to having broken his hand mountain biking recently. We agreed that most injuries of a sporting nature usually happen when you’re doing something slightly stupid! He did offer to carry my panniers over for me however I declined, figuring that would be tantamount to cheating.

My fully laden Ridgeback was going to be a lot slower than Ewan’s much lighter Condor road bike, so I set off whilst he got ready, and agreed to meet up en-route or at the top, depending on how things went.

I’ll have to give Applecross a return visit at some point as it’s a lovely spot, and the campsite with its on-site restaurant is ideal. It has good facilities, friendly staff, and I could charge stuff which would be a key consideration until I could get a replacement cable for my Power Monkey solar panel. The village has some lovely walks signposted, and a garden you can visit, as well as an Inn down in the village itself.

About to leave Applecross, great weather

Having built myself up for the climb I set off in a fairly low gear, intending to pace myself, and started easing my way up the hill. It’s another single track road, but with lots of passing places. I had to pull over a few times to let vehicles pass, but could generally just keep pedalling, and pedalling, and then some. There were quite a few posses of motorbikes tackling the pass, mostly German again by the looks of it, as well as a few classic cars – several Caterhams and one a Rolls Royce, and the odd camper van which was a bit naughty as there was a sign at the bottom of the hill saying the road wasn’t suitable for them. I also had a bit of a shock to encounter a couple of coaches, however apparently they’re local drivers who know what they’re doing, even of the road is pretty narrow and precarious in places.

Going up Bealach-Na-Ba – ominous clouds gathering

Bealach-Na-Ba – ascent looking back towards Applecross

The climb took me about an hour I think, but can’t be sure as I’d forgotten to check what time I set off which was a bit of an oversight on my part. I stopped a couple of times to take photos, which gave me time to get my breath back, but generally just kept pedalling, amazed at how well my legs were coping. Obviously the previous weeks of hill climbing around the country to date had paid off.

Bealach-Na-Ba – panorama of ascent

There are some pretty steep and long bits to the climb, with no real flat sections to speak of, just 2000 feet up to the top. There were a couple of those moments when you think you’ve reached the top, but you turn around the corner and there’s an even longer and steeper section to go, which can be a bit dispiriting. You just have to grit your teeth and push on. I found it easier if I broke it up into sections, setting myself goals of making it to that post, or the bush another 200m on, or focussing on counting pedal strokes. Not far from the top a few groups of cyclists passed me whizzing down the other way on their sleek and unladen machines, going at quite a pace – I’d have hit the brakes by now, however I had a far longer stopping distance to contend with. As they passed, over the course of a couple of minutes, I received shouts of encouragement, or promising comments about it not being far to the top now, which spurred me on somewhat. Mostly I didn’t want to be seen to be pushing my touring bike up a mountain in front of them, which gave me a boost.

I felt a great sense of achievement on reaching the top of the pass, having not had to get off and push at all. Scotland still hadn’t defeated me, unlike Yorkshire, however the gradients were steeper in Yorkshire and my legs weren’t as strong back then; I might be able to take the hill up from Boulby now. I’d made it up the highest pass in Britain, wahey!

Bealach-Na-Ba - at he top, a bit on the warm side

Bealach-Na-Ba – at the top, a bit on the warm side

Bealach-Na-Ba – view from the top 1

Bealach-Na-Ba – view from the top 2

I stopped for a rest at the top, and to admire the view which wasn’t all that bad. Even though the mountain goes up a bit further, to a communications mast, it felt like the top of the world after that climb.

The top of Beinn Bhan

I didn’t see any Golden Eagles soaring about which was a little disappointing – Dad had seen some here when he visited many years ago, and there were still eagles in the area apparently. Whilst waiting for Ewan I gave my parents a quick call to let them know I’d made it up, and that my bike and I were in one piece still; I needed to share the moment. To be honest if anything I was more worried about the descent anyway, and my brakes and wheels holding out all the way down.

Feeling a bit low on energy I ate a couple of bananas and some Haribos, whilst chatting to a couple of local cyclists from Lairg. They’d come up the other side which has some even steeper sections; ‘Oh good’, I thought, this was going to be interesting on a bike weighing over 100 pounds. They’d done the pass several times, it being her favourite route, and were in training for their forthcoming tour in the Pyrenees and France which sounded like it was going to be fantastic – 3 weeks in pretty much guaranteed good weather, and great landscape to cycle through. This got me thinking about other potential tours again, and how cool it would be to cycle around the Mediterranean. Admittedly some of the a North African coast could be challenging, but I’ll have to add it the list of possibilities – from the souks of Morocco all the way around to Spain and Portugal. It could take a while, especially if you go all the way around Italy. My list of possible adventures by bike is starting to grow now, with the New Zealand idea, as well as Cape Wrath to Sicily.

Wishing them well they zoomed off down the hill as Ewan arrived at the top, having taken around 53 minutes to make it up. He was slightly annoyed with himself for having to put a foot down due to a close encounter with a car, but wasn’t up for giving it another go today! He’ll come back and do it again with Ian, once his hand is mended, and no doubt succeed in a flawless ascent. Flawless for me was just not having to push, I didn’t mind that I’d stopped for a breather a couple of times. We chatted for a while before I put on another layer and set off down the other side of the pass, after arranging to meet up in Kishorn at a bar for a beer.

The descent was dramatic to say the least, with lots of hairpins to start off with, and a really steep section that left my brakes practically smoking. I could smell the pads getting hot, that slightly acrid smell of burning rubber, or whatever compound Aztec brake pads are made out of. In any case they held out thankfully, and didn’t fall off. A nice group of tourists took my photo for me just at the start of the descent.

Bealach-Na-Ba – about to start the descent

Bealach-Na-Ba – hairpins

Bealach-Na-Ba – impressive cliffs

Bealach-Na-Ba – looking back up

Bealach-Na-Ba – a lot of down to go yet

I plummeted down the pass, in a mostly controlled fashion, brakes screeching and trying to force myself to relax. A one point I realised my teeth were clenched tightly shut which was beginning to hurt. Mind you quite a few things were tightly clenched as I hurtled down, really not wanting to lose control of the heavy bike, but also enjoying the rush of the speed, and the adrenalin pumping winding road.

Eventually I reached the bottom section, turning slightly north into a cold headwind which helped slow me down so much I actually had to start pedalling again. I was very glad I’d put on the extra layer at the top as it was suddenly pretty cold. There was a sign at the bottom suggesting the pass may be impassable in wintry conditions; I can well believe it and wouldn’t like to tackle it in snow, ice or high wind.

I made it around to Kishorn on somewhat tired legs, with the Seafood Bar appearing just in the nick of time. Ian turned up in the car, shortly followed by Ewan on his bike, and we ordered a couple of beers and some food to celebrate making it over Bealach-Na-Ba. Their seafood platter was slightly more impressive than my smoked salmon baguette, so I ordered a steakwich to follow up, still being hungry. We chatted for a bit, them telling me about their Lands End to John o’Groats ride which sounded like a lot of fun, covering over 1000 miles in 10 days, with some interesting antics along the way. Not something I have a great urge to do, although I’m effectively doing a Jogle at the moment, just the long way.

With 30 miles left to do I had to head off, bidding goodbye it Ewan and Ian. I expect I’ll bump into them again at some point. I pedalled off to Loch Carron, dealing with another big climb. For some reason I’d got it into my head that the rest of the day was going to be flat, I was wrong. I stopped in Loch Carron to buy some chocolate, feeling a bit low on energy. The first bit of the ride around the loch was fairly flat and enjoyable, getting some quick miles it to Achintee. I passed through a tunnel and then had to deal with a steep ascent before Attadale, where there are some nice gardens apparently.

Road alongside Loch Carron

There followed another flat section, before what felt like an endless climb up to Stromferry, on tired legs. I made it to the viewpoint at the top and stopped for a rest, chatting to a group of German tourers in their motor home, rather than a motorbikes this time. More Caterhams roared past, they seemed to be everywhere today but I still hadn’t seen ay rally signs, maybe they were just lost.

Loch Carron

At Stromferry I turned off the A890 and took the minor road to Plocton. It’s a lovely road, especially in the sunshine, passing through woodland and rhododendrons, even the hills seemed mellower. I did nearly lose control at one point when rapidly descending one hill, where there were loose stones and gravel in the middle of the road which I wasn’t expected. A few tense moments as I bounced through, not daring to brake.

Road to Plocton 1

Road to Plocton 2

Road to Plocton 3

I made it to Plocton by about 18.00, and found it to be a picture postcard of a village, perfect for break. Packed with tourists I stopped to talk to French group who wanted to know how heavy my bike was and how far I’d cycled. I hadn’t come particularly far today, but they seemed impressed, and it was good to practice some French again – I’m very rusty.

Plocton – castle across the bay

Plocton panorama

Plocton front

Plocton front 2

Plocton panorama 2

I decided to stop for dinner in Plocton, at the Plocton Inn, and had grilled chicken with a pesto and chilli sauce, very nice. There isn’t a campsite in the village so had to press on pretty quickly, pedalling back out of the village and down the coast to Drumbuie, and on to Kyle of Lochalsh, a small town just before the bridge over to Skye. It felt weird with the countryside getting gradually more populated, and more villages and shops appearing. There was even a roundabout in the town – I hadn’t seen one for a while! I stopped to buy a few supplies in Kyle of Lochalsh, from the Co-op, before taking the Skye Bridge over to the Island, quite a steep bridge incidentally.

Skye Bridge 1

Skye Bridge 2

Skye Bridge 3

From the bridge I rode along the mostly flat coast road towards Broadford, stopping at a campsite next to Breakish – Ashaig Campsite, which is fairly basic (has a compost loo, as well as more modern facilities) but allows campfires, and had everything I needed. I found the warden Mel, who showed me around and suggested a pitch which would be mostly midge free. It’s only £5 a night and has a caravan you can retreat to for a sit down, and where you can recharge stuff, very handy for journal writing. I was tempted to stay another night, but the site only has that crappy Highland wifi and I needed to get to the bike shop in Portree anyway.

Ashaig Campsite

Ashaig Campsite 2

I finished the day with a beer and a few snacks, and had a quick chat to a motorbike tourer who was English rather than German! It had been a great day covering 49 miles, having met far more cyclists out on the road, including a few I’d met before. The bike had held out well too, with no more loose spokes I could find. Roll on the rest of Skye.

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Bike Around Britain

Blog on cycling around the coast of Britain

Tag Archives: photos

Leg 67 – to Trevedra Farm, Sennen, via Padstow, St. Agnes and St. Just

Leg 66 – to Polzeath (near Padstow)

Leg 65 – to Ilfracombe

Leg 61 – to Herbrandston, via Cardigan & St. David’s

Leg 60 – to somewhere near Penbryn, via Aberystwyth

Bike around Britain – Gallery 1

Leg 54 – to Flookburgh via Barrow-in-Furness

Leg 46 – to Otter Ferry via Inveraray

Leg 38 – to Arisaig

Leg 36 – to Skye via Bealach-Na-Ba