From: Thorverton
To: Bristol
Miles - today: 83
Miles - Running total: 221
Local tipple: N/A
Fare thee well Devon and Cornwall. Hail Somerset. We love your ‘Levels’. We love your ‘Marches’. We love the warm sunshine, gentle breezes and the opportunity to eat up a few miles. Cornwall may boast the most rugged coast and dramatic tors and around every corner in Devon there are hills clad in oak, with fields below carved up by hedgerows, villages in between and distant church spires. In fact around every turn is a view that looks like something out of a butter advertisement. But Jeez it’s hard work for a bunch of old farts on bikes.
We left our pub this morning, secure in the knowledge that there would fewer hills today, although we had a greater distance to cycle. Soon enough we hit our first wave of hills and the lactic acid in our legs reminded us that this was the third day and fatigue had set in.
We upped and down, went along and pedalled hard. Finally, we came to the Blackdown Hills. We started climbing. It may not have as steep as Devon but it was probably longer. By the time we hit the top we were craving flatter ground, but the lanes were confusing and our muddled middle aged brains led us to make a wrong turn and cycle a mile downhill in the wrong direction. God that’s annoying. We turned round, cycled back uphill again and then stayed along the ridge which marked the border between Devon and Somerset.
Soon after I got my second puncture. We changed the inner tube, continued on our way and then I got another one. Punctures are likes buses, you cycle across Cornwall, most of Devon and then get three in a row. This delayed us but we pressed on determined to get to Wedlock for lunch. As we came down off the Blackdown Hills we hit the Somerset Levels, an area of flat ground. Oh the joy. We sped along at 17mph, eating up the miles, until we hit another set of hills which we had to climb to get our lunch. By this time we were starving hungry and it was three in the afternoon. We were well behind schedule.
After eating an awful lot of food in a delicatessen, we set off once more headed for Bristol. Only 28 miles but we were running out of daylight. Our first port of call was Cheddar, which has its own set of mountains separating us from Bristol. With heavy hearts we started climbing and climbed and climbed. We were exhausted, but took it steady and made it to the top. From there we cycled down to Congresbury and on to Bristol. Before we got there another set of hills confronted us and when we realised what lay ahead, despair set in. Up we went again, grinding out another major ascent. Once we had peaked, we had an undulating ride into Clifton on the edge of Bristol. We found new energy from somewhere, we had another ten miles and not much light so it was heads down and hard pursuit cycling, racing the traffic, other cyclists and the onset of darkness. We arrived at the Clifton suspension bridge after 6pm, another eight hour day. Somerset is now behind us, tomorrow we head into Wales and then back into England. Another 80+ miles awaits and this is meant to be a holiday.
And for those wondering about the lack of tipple on the KPIs above, tonight instead of staying in some dodgy pub we are being sumptuously fed and accommodated at Alastair’s in-laws in Wales. So no local ale, just a bucket of red instead. I need my bed.
To: Bristol
Miles - today: 83
Miles - Running total: 221
Local tipple: N/A
Fare thee well Devon and Cornwall. Hail Somerset. We love your ‘Levels’. We love your ‘Marches’. We love the warm sunshine, gentle breezes and the opportunity to eat up a few miles. Cornwall may boast the most rugged coast and dramatic tors and around every corner in Devon there are hills clad in oak, with fields below carved up by hedgerows, villages in between and distant church spires. In fact around every turn is a view that looks like something out of a butter advertisement. But Jeez it’s hard work for a bunch of old farts on bikes.
We left our pub this morning, secure in the knowledge that there would fewer hills today, although we had a greater distance to cycle. Soon enough we hit our first wave of hills and the lactic acid in our legs reminded us that this was the third day and fatigue had set in.
We upped and down, went along and pedalled hard. Finally, we came to the Blackdown Hills. We started climbing. It may not have as steep as Devon but it was probably longer. By the time we hit the top we were craving flatter ground, but the lanes were confusing and our muddled middle aged brains led us to make a wrong turn and cycle a mile downhill in the wrong direction. God that’s annoying. We turned round, cycled back uphill again and then stayed along the ridge which marked the border between Devon and Somerset.
Soon after I got my second puncture. We changed the inner tube, continued on our way and then I got another one. Punctures are likes buses, you cycle across Cornwall, most of Devon and then get three in a row. This delayed us but we pressed on determined to get to Wedlock for lunch. As we came down off the Blackdown Hills we hit the Somerset Levels, an area of flat ground. Oh the joy. We sped along at 17mph, eating up the miles, until we hit another set of hills which we had to climb to get our lunch. By this time we were starving hungry and it was three in the afternoon. We were well behind schedule.
After eating an awful lot of food in a delicatessen, we set off once more headed for Bristol. Only 28 miles but we were running out of daylight. Our first port of call was Cheddar, which has its own set of mountains separating us from Bristol. With heavy hearts we started climbing and climbed and climbed. We were exhausted, but took it steady and made it to the top. From there we cycled down to Congresbury and on to Bristol. Before we got there another set of hills confronted us and when we realised what lay ahead, despair set in. Up we went again, grinding out another major ascent. Once we had peaked, we had an undulating ride into Clifton on the edge of Bristol. We found new energy from somewhere, we had another ten miles and not much light so it was heads down and hard pursuit cycling, racing the traffic, other cyclists and the onset of darkness. We arrived at the Clifton suspension bridge after 6pm, another eight hour day. Somerset is now behind us, tomorrow we head into Wales and then back into England. Another 80+ miles awaits and this is meant to be a holiday.
And for those wondering about the lack of tipple on the KPIs above, tonight instead of staying in some dodgy pub we are being sumptuously fed and accommodated at Alastair’s in-laws in Wales. So no local ale, just a bucket of red instead. I need my bed.
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