C2C And Back Day 4 – 22 August 2015

07/06/201622/08/2025 r1chmay

Back to the East Coast

The final day of my ride started brightly. I had a shower and then went down to the bar for breakfast before throwing my kit back in the bags and setting off at 8.45.

Alston, where I was staying, is not strictly on the C2C route though many people come this way as it has more amenities than Garrigill which also has, what I hear is, a particularly vicious climb. This was not to say however that riding out of Alston was easy. The pub was at the bottom of the town and so the day started with a tough ride. The main drag of Alston is a steep cobbled street and with tired legs that had not yet warmed up, the start of the day was more of a struggle than anticipated. I took the opportunity of taking some photos of the town as a ruse to keep stopping. (You’ll not see those pictures here – they aren’t very good; but the excuse to stop was still useful).

The climbing continued out of the town and the next few miles continued mostly uphill before a descent down into Nenthead. Fortunately, although this climbing was a hard start to the morning, it did get my legs warmed up. This was just as well for what I had to come.

In Nenthead I stopped to check directions and promptly got taunted by a young boy on a BMX who insisted on showing me the way and racing ahead of on the climb out of the village. As soon as the climb started getting properly steep he bottled out and rode home. The wimp!

Nenthead was another pretty tough climb. Most of it was OK – hard but doable. But every now and again it had some very sharp stretches and I ended up walking a short section. The landscape here was changing now and I was definitely into the North Pennines. This was also into old lead mining territory and the hillsides around Nenthead are covered in old mine works which really added to the atmosphere. The climb continued on up for a while until reaching the top of Black Hill; the highest point on the whole of the National Cycle Network. I stopped here where I met a couple of Dutch guys who were also riding the C2C. We had a quick chat and then both headed off – them first with my following a few minutes later after admiring the views.

The highest point of the National Cycle Network

From Black Hill there were some lovely descents across to Allenheads (there were a couple of climbs but nothing tough and the landscape was so beautiful I barely noticed them anyway). Allenheads is another old mining village with lots of industrial archaeology all over the place, from furnaces to the cobbled track way that gave access into the mines for the pit ponies.

Pit Pony Entrance, Allenheads

Kiln near Allenheads

There was another tough climb out of the village up a zig zag road. At the top of the hill an odd conical cairn marked the border into County Durham and the start of a nice downhill ride to Rookhope.

Following the Rookhope Burn this section is even deeper into lead mining country with the remains of much more recent mine heads still extant and, towards the bottom of the valley, the Lintgarth Arch. This one arch is all that remains of what was once a mile long horizontal chimney from the nearby smelting works. The chimney had been so built when the factory owners realised that they were losing lots of lead that was literally going up in smoke. By building the chimney horizontally they could send people in on a regular basis to scrape out any residues.

From the tiny village of Rookhope riders sometimes have the choice of routes, however one of the options depends on the landowner allowing access. As we were in the middle of Grouse hunting season, that route was closed when I got there. This left me with a ride into Stanhope and then the notorious climb up to Parkhead.

The hill profile on the map I had showed that at least I had a nice easy downhill ride into Stanhope to begin with. So I was rather surprised to find myself climbing out of the village. Whether it was actually a tough climb or maybe just felt tough as it was completely unexpected, I really struggled with it and the ride across to Stanhope – or at least most of it. There was an eventual steep and much welcome ride down to the village. It was along this section that I found myself shepherding a hedgehog off the road. Its always nice to be at one with nature when out on the road.

The excitement was too much and he needed some sleep

Again, expecting a tough climb I stopped on a bench in the village and had some lunch (and a belly full of jelly babies) before getting back on the saddle and heading on the road towards Parkhead. I had read on forums that the Crawleyside Bank climb was the worst part of the route and by God I wasn’t disappointed! This hill hurts. I mean really hurts. Its the last climb of the route and so by this time I was tired anyway. I admit I did end up pushing a fair bit on the worst climbs. I really tried not to and rode as much as I could but in some sections I just couldn’t avoid it. It wasn’t even worth (as I sometimes do) stopping to get my breath back before starting again. On this hill there were bits I just was not going to make.

I was pleased therefore to eventually find the hill start to flatten out. Not that it was really flat but compared to what had gone before it was at least rideable. And then finally I hit the top and crossed to the Parkhead Café. The café is an old station master’s house that has since been developed into a lovely café; ideally placed at the top of the final hill on the C2C route. I stopped for some more coffee and cake and to admire the views. It was a bit windy on the exposed tops but glorious nonetheless and I can see why the place is so popular with cyclists and walkers.

From here on I was on the home straight; albeit as there were another 30 miles to go that was quite a long straight. From here on in it would be all downhill (ok there is the occasional rise; but no more hills to speak of) to the coast. The route here joins the Waskerley Way – the former Stanhope and Tyne railway that carried limestone from the quarries on the hill tops here down to South Shields. It also carried passengers as well, though that was never a successful venture. Now however it forms a lovely gentle route downhill and despite a bit of rain in the air now the ride down to Consett was easy going and left me grinning like a Cheshire Cat again. If the whole of the route down to Sunderland would be like this I would be there before I knew it.

Coming into Consett the route diverted onto some regular cycle paths and back streets which slowed me down again. After getting through the town, I came to a rather magically weird section where the route passes through a large landscaped sculpture and back onto old railway lines through Annfield and Stanley. Along the next few miles a range of line side sculptures added to the quirkiness of the route and before long I had passed over the main East Coast Railway and A1(M) and came down into Washington.

From here on unfortunately the way become much slower and a bit less fun. The route passes through some lovely parks but also follows a number of side roads around industrial estates and takes a large number of weaves and turns, not all of them signposted clearly. The downhill was now largely over as I was following the lower reaches of the Wear valley. As such the remaining few miles felt as though they were taking a long to complete and I lost a bit of the joy as I was now feeling tired and was ready to see the sea.

As the route passed under the A19 and came onto the Wear riverside path I realised that I was almost in Sunderland, however the route diverted slightly inland through some more industrial estates and I got lost in one poorly signed area. I carried on though and soon could see the Stadium of Light on the river bank a short way ahead. Seeing that landmark I knew I was getting close to my goal.

I passed by the stadium; a match was taking place inside but there didn’t seem to be much atmosphere coming from inside and I had to weave my way around a large number of hot dog wagons parked up around the concourse before re-joining the riverside path and following the last section of the Wear down to the sea.

One final diversion around a small marina and some new housing and there was the sea and, a short way further along, the official end point of the route. Arms off the handlebar and high in the air I crossed the finish line and rode the bike down onto the beach for the customary photo of the bike with the front wheel in the sea – to mirror the picture I had taken previously at Workington. Just to make sure I also rode along the harbour arm for a few more pictures by the lighthouse at its end and then headed back to get properly off the saddle and finished up.

There was another bunch of about twenty people on bikes there also celebrating. They had just finished as well and some of the guys said that they had seen me yesterday at Hartside – they were just leaving the café as I was pulling in (they had continued on a fair way further that day so were less inclined to linger at the café). We shared stories of the hills, and I was certainly glad from what they said that I had ridden through Alston rather than Garrigill – apparently that climb was as bad as Crawleyside Bank. Then I bade them farewell – grabbed a burger from a little café across the road and got changed into civvies and waited for one of my old university friends Trixie to collect me. Now living in Durham, Trixie was putting me up for the night and we got through a few bottles of wine whilst I slowly fell comfortably and soundly asleep before waking the next day and getting the train back down South – with a rather marvellous adventure complete and a tremendous feeling of achievement.

Day Four Stats:

Distance: 62.12 Miles
Ride Time: 5 Hours, 21 minutes and 44 seconds
Maximum Speed: 36.0 mph
Average Speed: 11.5 mph
Average RPM: 54
Revolutions: 17,374
Ascent: 3,878 feet
Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/375334617

Overall Stats:

Distance: 266.35 Miles
Ride Time: 22 Hours, 59 minutes and 51 seconds
Maximum Speed: 38.3 mph
Average Speed: 11.59 mph
Revolutions: 78,746
Ascent: 14,546 feet

C2C And Back Day 3 – 21 August 2015

07/06/201623/08/2021 r1chmay

Stone Circles, Tweed and Hills

I woke to the sound of rain tapping loudly on my bedroom window. Peering through the curtains the weather looked set and the weather app on my phone also suggested that this was the case. Having woken up I started the day with a bath (real luxury having had one when I had arrived the evening before) before heading down for a marvellous Full English with the obligatory Cumberland Sausage. The food was good and the service charming and after plenty of coffee and orange juice I went back up to finish loading the paniers and climb into the wet riding gear.

I was ready to go on the dot of nine and as if by magic, as the hotel staff fetched my bike out of the lockup the rain stopped. The hill tops were still hidden in the clouds however as I climbed into the saddle and pulled out of Portinscale. The riding started slowly and easily; crossing the River Derwent and heading into Kewsick; stopping at a garage on the way into town to pick up some supplies for the day.

I had last been in Keswick about 18 years earlier and the little I saw from the bicycle did not look remotely familiar. However the last time had been whilst drinking after an end of season rugby match playing for Ormskirk RUFC and my memory of the evening is largely hazy and what I do remember is best forgotten. The town looks nice though….

At a set of lights I picked up three other cyclists on fancy road bikes. They were also doing the C2C but at what I suspect would be a rather different pace and with someone following along behind them with all of their luggage. What cheats! They were sure to be leaving behind fairly quickly anyway but not long after joining the old railway line that the route follows eastwards out of town I turned off anyway and left them to it.

I had made the decision to take a little detour to the south of the route and so rather than following the valley on the old railway line I instead headed up the steep climb out of town in the direction of Castlerigg Stone Circle. The climb up was tough going but a good leg stretcher and was definitely worth it as the views opened up from the top of the hill. The site itself is in a field immediately to the right of the side road I had taken. The site is absolutely stunning and the light and clouds gave it an incredible atmosphere. I could have sat there for ages but I had a lot of riding ahead and I could see rain coming back in so I headed back to the bike just as the rain did indeed start again. I put the wet weather gear back on and headed back down towards the main cycle track joining it at Threlkeld.

From here the route headed along some quiet tracks to the side of the main road, undulating as it headed along the side of the valley. The lane passed through some lovely farms and fields. The surface is good however the riding was a little stop start as there are a number of gates to pass through; normally just as you’d get some speed up on a down hill section. After a mile or two the lane turned slightly northwards towards Mungrisdale where the route crosses the river, and then immediately heads back down the other side of the valley before joining along the side of the A66.

Here I was to make my first overtaking of ‘Tweed Man’. More of him later. After a mile or two alongside the busy trunk road (not directly on it fortunately) the cycleway headed sideways onto some quiet country lanes which I would be following for most of the rest of the day.

After a couple of miles the road started dropping down into the village of Greystoke and I hunted out of the Cycle Cafe on the edge of the village. This tea shop is a truly remarkable establishment. It is open 10-6 for cyclists (and support drivers) but less frequently for other passers by. As well the glorious tea shop itself they have a barn full of equipment in case you need to give the bike a quick service and also a regular timetable of events occurring. There was a whittling workshop taking place as I arrived so I ordered a milkshake and a brownie and watched as the good folk whittled away. The only down side was the large number of wasps in the garden but this is certainly an absolute must stop site for anyone riding the sea to sea route.

Greystoke Cycle Cafe

Ring for Service

By now the sun was fully out (and it was to remain that way for the rest of the day) and beautifully refreshed and cheered I headed back on the side roads towards Penrith. The riding was pretty good and fast going with the exception of a very short sharp up hill in the village of Newton Rigg where a big screen by the side of the road loudly shouted out that I was climbing up it at a whole 6mph – yeah thanks for that.

A short section of off road track brought me into the edge of Penrith. Having stopped at Greystoke I had no need of the Penrith Tea Rooms and I wasn’t after the finest wines known to humanity anyway (not just yet anyway) so I merely collected some cash and filled up the water bottles before climbing out of town. The climb up Fell Lane onto Beacon Ridge is a tough steep ride but over soon enough and I was soon riding up and down some smaller hills before eventually dropping down into the pretty village of Langwathby, passing ‘Tweed Man’ for the second time on the way into the village (presumably he had passed me whilst I was resting in the cycle cafe – he should have stopped!).

In Langwathby I caught my first sign of the imminent arrival of the Tour of Britain which was due to be heading this in a few weeks from now. The village was already bedecked in signs and there was also a yellow spray painted bicycle by the road sign – these bikes were appearing all over the country in places that the tour was going to be passing through. It therefore seemed that this would be a good place to stop for lunch – especially as there were a few climbs ahead of me that I needed refuelling for and also as there was a village shop from which I could stock up on water and jelly babies.

Have I mentioned the jelly babies? Possibly the most wondrous invention when undertaking long rides or runs. I’d first come across their particular magic during training for the Great North Run some years earlier but had since found them to be even more amazing when spending a day in the saddle. Your Lucozade’s and SIS drinks and sachets of gunk are great; but still not a patch on the amazing energy giving jelly baby. I now would never imagine venturing out on a long day’s ride with a pack (or two) in the panniers. End of advertisement.

After a light lunch on a bench on Langwathby village green and a pop into the local shop to refill my water bottles I was ready for the next stage. Ahead of me from here was about another 10 miles of undulating hills (with a few steep climbs and drops on the way) before I would make it to the bottom of Hartside Hill.

Through Little Salkeld a fairly short but steep climb led me past Tweed Man for the third time today (we appeared to be doing the classic hare and tortoise riding – he was going slow and steady with few if any stops whilst I was shooting past him and then resting allowing him to head past me again). At the top of the hill I took a small diversion to head off to see Long Meg and her daughters. Not some family friends but another stone circle.

In many ways Long Meg is a more impressive site than Castlerigg which I had visited at the start of the day however, almost due to its much larger scale, it didn’t quite much the atmosphere. I was pleased to have visited the site though. Both here and Castlerigg are sites that I’d long had on my list of places to visit and so to do them both in the same day and entirely under my own steam felt really good.

Long Meg

To the Druids Circle

The next five miles were not particularly eventful, other than having the opportunity to pass Tweed Man for the fourth time on another steep incline but there was some tough riding with some short sharp hills that were starting to take effect in my legs. With Hartside ahead I was starting to fear how I would tackle the big one.

I didn’t have long to worry. Before long I came across the sign marking that I was at the bottom of the Hartside climb. Although not the worst climb on the C2C route, Hartside is probably the most famous. At about 1,000 feet over roughly four miles its the single biggest and longest climb on the route (though there are a couple of tougher climbs). I stopped at the bottom, fuelled up on water and jelly babies and got myself ready for the ride up. Just as I was preparing for the off Tweed Man came and joined me. He did at this point choose to have a break for once and joined me briefly. His break did not consist of jelly babies but rather a roll up cigarette instead – to which I have to doff my cap (bike helmet). To climb these hills with the extra weight he had on his bike and in the clothes that he was wearing was pretty good going as it is; but to do so on reduced lung capacity takes some doing.

I choose not to hang around with him whilst he finished his fag but instead said that I’d meet him in the cafe at the top and, both of us wishing the other luck, went on my way.

In the end Hartside didn’t turn out to be too awful; just a very long climb. I set myself off in a low gear at a steady cadence and slowly watched the altitude increasing on my bike computer, and the distance adding up on the phone GPS software strapped onto my arm. I passed a few young lads who I’m sure should have been in much better shape than an overweight 42 year old. This made me feel good at least; though I’m not sure that it did them any good as they all immediately stopped and started pushing up the hill instead. I did take a short breather after about two miles but was soon back on my slow and steady way.

I am writing this blog post up some months after the event and referring back to the diary I made on the day I wrote that “Riding up was tough on my nadgers. Also hands going numb”. This particular mix of sensations was not something that I now particularly recall but I have since noticed it whilst doing other long climbs . Odd…

I was also forced for a second stop where the side road that I had been riding along meets the main A686. This was due to traffic on the main road but the junction also has a particularly nasty corner that did mean that I had to push the bike around onto the main road – but I’ll forgive myself that. The main road section proved easier going than the side road as the incline was very regular. I had heard that riding this section can be a bit hairy due to drivers trying to audition for Top Gear (and generally driving like nobs) but fortunately I encountered no such issues and before too long I was rounding the final hairpin and headed straight for summit and the Hartside Cafe.

I gave myself a hearty cheer as I reached the summit; stopped to pose for some selfies at the top; and then road over the road to the cafe where I was greeted and cheered in by three gentlemen who were working for the Tour of Britiain. Hartside was to be the end of a day’s stage and these guys were making sure that the prep was done ready for when the circus rolled into town. They said that they had been watching me riding up and had been impressed – which was nice to hear. They did also tell me that they had seen a guy in Tweeds further down the hill also making good, if slow, progress.

I sat with them over a coffee and a slice of cake and chatted about their work on the tour. They left before me so I got another cup of coffee. I had finished my final climb for the day; I only had about 5 or 6 miles left for the day and they were downhill so I had no time worries and it lovely to sit and admire the view back over the land that I had ridden across to get here. It all felt rather magic. Just then Tweed Man entered the cafe so I waved him over and we sat and chatted properly for a while at last.

Rather stupidly although I did get his name I never noted in my diary and writing this up now I shamefully cannot recall it. I do recall however that he had been visiting friends in Cumbria and was now on his way home to Newcastle. He was also staying in Alston this evening so was also pretty much done for the day as well. He was camping somewhere in the village but I invited him to come and join me for a pint in the Cumberland Inn (where I was staying) if he fancied; though he never did and as I bade him farewell at the cafe (whilst he had another roll up) that would be the last I saw of him on the trip.

The ride down to Alston was as easy and glorious as I had hoped. The weather had fully cheered up again and once I had got the bike up to speed I let the wheels do all the work for me on the fast open road. Often on descents like this I am left thinking that any such easy ride normally has a big horrible climb at the end of it. This was indeed still true; however that climb would be for tomorrow.

The Cumberland Inn was right at the bottom of the hill not long after entering Alston and I almost overshot it. However before too long the bike was locked up in the cellar and I was soaking in the bath. After writing up my diary and uploading my GPS files I headed downstairs. I had booked bed, breakfast and an evening meal and soon found myself a comfortable perch for the evening. Cumberland Sausage, Mash, Onion Rings and Gravy were washed down with three or four excellent pints of local bitter and then before too long I was back in my room and snoring like a good ‘un.

Day Three Stats:

Distance: 48.95 Miles
Ride Time: 4 Hours, 27 minutes and 44 seconds
Maximum Speed: 38.3 mph
Average Speed: 10.9 mph
Average RPM: 61
Revolutions: 16,332
Ascent: 4,132 feet
Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/374155807

Next: Back to the East Coast

C2C And Back Day 2 – 20 August 2015

07/06/201623/08/2021 r1chmay

West, South and East

I woke fairly early although not as early as originally planned on account of needing to get the bike repaired. I tidied up my kit (some was still not quite dry), showered and went down for the joys of an Ibis hotel breakfast buffet. Collecting the bike from its storage place hiding behind a service lift at the rear of the hotel I wheeled it around to one of the two neighbouring bike shops (one did not open until 10am so they were ruled out by default). The shop were able to fix the chain and give me a replacement tyre – although the only one they had in stock was more for ‘city’ riding (its still on the bike quite happily several months and another thousand miles later). The work would take them about an hour so I wandered around a bit and then and back to the hotel to finish packing and to check out. Back at the bike shop my bike was made ready and, after also buying an extra couple of tubes and a bungee cord to keep the broken panier in place, I was back under way shortly after 10am.

Unfortunately I was not able to make up too much time straight away on account of my (apparently foolishly) choosing to follow the proper advertised cycle route out of Carlisle. Route 72 follows the River Eden out of the town and I was expecting and hoping for a nice riverside ride to start the day. Which to be fair I almost did. Unfortunately however having to lug the bike up and down several sets of steps and over a stile was not ideal. It took almost an hour to get out of the town and onto the cycle way proper.

The road to Bowness started off with some nice undulating terrain through some pretty villages before heading onto the very flat and low lying tidal plain from which I could look across to Scotland a short distance the other side of the Solway Firth. Bowness on Solway marked the end of Hadrians Wall and, just off a little side path, I found the shed that formally marks the western end of it. I wished a group of walkers well as they were starting to begin walking the route from west to east and then I set off again.

The shed that Hadrian built to mark the end of his wall

From Bowness I had reached the end of the wall and as I was not planning on completing the whole of the Hadrians Cycleway as it continues another 70 miles down the west Cumbria coast I allowed myself a couple of short cuts from the advertised route, cutting off detours around Cardurnock and Silloth. After stopping to get some supplies and to chat with another couple of cyclists out on day rides in the pretty village of Abbeytown, I pointed the bike in the direction of the coast.

There was an ever increasing headwind as I headed south westwards and the going was quite tough but eventually I met the west coast proper just north of the village of Allonby.

The coastline here is quite open and exposed and the going remained difficult as I followed the coast southwards through Maryport and into Workington and the end of the first leg of my ride. From the centre of the town I rode out to the lighthouse at the end of the harbour arm which marks the western end of the Workington leg of the Sea to Sea (C2C) route.

After stopping for some lunch here I wheeled the bike down to dip the rear wheel into the sea to formally start the ride back east.

The first few miles out of Workington were along a very welcome stretch of disused railway although that ran out sooner than hoped and it was back on to some quiet, but undulating, country lanes up the Derwent Valley towards Cockermouth. I don’t really recall much of this stretch of the route to be honest, or of Cockermouth itself. At this point I was just trying to prepare myself for the big climb a few miles outside of Cockermouth up to Wythop Woods.

One of the benefits of starting at Workington rather Whitehaven was that the routes did not join until the final ride into Keswick. The route from Workington has a big enough climb but considerably less than the ride over the Whinlatter pass that riders from Whitehaven have to endure. You can therefore imagine just how pleased I was to find a sign a couple of miles outside of Cockermouth informing me that the Wythop Woods route was closed and that I would have to divert across several hilly miles just so that I could swap over onto the Whinlatter Pass route instead. Avoiding the diversion signs that tried to push me further back the way that I had come I cut across along a busy B road adding to the pleasure before eventually dropping into the hamlet of Low Lorton from where the climb would start.

I took a rest before starting the climb but it was still a hard climb. I was already 66 miles into the day at this point and now had an 800 foot climb stretching out in front of me. The climb properly started upon leaving the neighbouring village of High Lorton. This was quite a struggle that took a lot out of me and I wasn’t able to complete the climb without having to stop a couple of times for a breather.

At the top of the first section of tough climb I had one of the oddest feelings I’ve ever had whilst cycling. The road levelled out and though it was still climbing it was such a change from the previous section of road that my head actually thought I was going downhill and couldn’t understand why it was still a struggle to keep the bike moving. It actually got to getting off the bike to check that the wheels were moving freely and that the brakes were not rubbing. After establishing that they were all fine it was only when I took a step back that I realised that I was indeed still climbing and not going down at all. Confused, but relieved that the bike was ok, I got back on my way and it was not long anyway before any confusion was again out of the window as the climb began again in earnest.

This time the climb was still tough but not as relentless as the first section and I was able to keep my head down and just keep pedalling. Eventually I saw the sign for the Forestry Commission site that marked the top of the pass and was soon very able to prove that the bike was free wheeling happily as I started the sharp descent back towards Keswick. Other than a stop to admire the view down over Bassenthwaite Lake I let the bike run freely down to the bottom of the hill at Braithwaite from where a couple of miles of fairly easy riding eventually brought me into the village of Portinscale and the Rickerby Grange Hotel that was my base for the night.

On arriving the owner met me and took my bike to lock it away safely and then showed me to my room. I had a single room with an ‘off suite’ private bathroom with a good sized bath tub that I was soon making good use of. The late start, slow going out of Carlisle and the diversion over Whinlatter had meant I had arrived later than planned and by the time I got there the local pub had stopped serving food; although I did persuade them to do me a bowl of chips and, coupled with two welcome pints of bitter I was soon relaxed and refreshed and ready for my bed.

Day Two Stats:

Distance: 74.05 Miles
Ride Time: 6 Hours, 13 minutes and 14 seconds
Maximum Speed: 36.4 mph
Average Speed: 11.8 mph
Average RPM: 57
Revolutions: 21,274
Ascent: 3,215 feet
Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/373575672

Next: Stone Circles, Tweed, and Hills

C2C And Back Day 1 – 19 August 2015

26/04/201623/08/2021 r1chmay

Almost following in the cycle clips of Hadrian

I woke up well rested in the Britannia Guesthouse in South Shields and sorted my (now dried) gear and packed my bags before heading to the breakfast room. My guess at being the only guest in the house appeared to be confirmed as I had the place to myself (apart from the lovely lady serving me). A good full fry up set me up for the long day ahead and before too long the bike was loaded back up for the day and I was heading off.

A brief starter ride took me back to Arbeia Roman Fort which marked the start of the Hadrian’s Cycleway.

The Hadrian’s Cycleway is normally ridden in the opposite direction and actually starts quite a way down the Cumbrian Coast at Ravenglass from where it follows the coast north eventually meeting the the western end of the wall at Bowness on Solway before roughly following its route (though very little of the official cycle way follows the wall exactly) across county to where I was now standing. My plan for this trip was to follow the route along the length of the wall from east to west but then only stay with it as far along the coast as Workington from where I would head back east on the Sea 2 Sea (C2C) route to Sunderland.

Today was due to be the longest of my four days riding with roughly 85 miles planned to take me into Carlisle. As such I was pleased to be up and on my way early as this was going to be a long days riding. As it transpired things didn’t exactly go to plan as events would go awry a while east of Carlisle; but as I set off I wasn’t to know this!

The South Shields section is actually a bit of an added extra to the route which many people don’t bother with; choosing to finish instead on the north bank of the Tyne at the ruins of Tynemouth Priory. The reason being that from Arbeia fort it is only a very short ride to the South Shields Ferry which then takes you to the north bank of the river. This is a nice added extra though. I caught a sparsely populated 8:45 ferry which gave a lovely view up and down the Tyne before we docked at North Shields.

The first few miles were uneventful beyond having to nurse my GPS equipment which had chosen today to start playing up (it seemingly just didn’t like this part of town as by the time I hit Newcastle proper it was happily up and running). The ride into the city centre was good and easy going. Kudos to the council – the route was very well signposted and laid out – some of the best urban riding I have done. The route did travel slightly more inland away from the river (and slightly higher above its banks) than I had anticipated but that allowed for some excellent views when there was the occasional gap in the housing/industry.

Another ‘official’ start point was marked when I passed by Segendum Roman Fort at the aptly named Wallsend. Segendum is now a proper visitor attraction which I didn’t go into (I don’t think it was open at that time of the morning) but the route passes along its southern edge and the last remaining stretch of wall comes right down onto the cycle path; what would have been its final few yards down the river have since been obliterated by the (now derelict) Swan Hunter ship yard lying between the cycle path and the river.

From here the ride followed an old railway line for a distance before diverting off and diving back down to the riverside and into Newcastle City Centre. The Millennium and Tyne bridges were looking much more welcoming in the bright sunshine today and my sprits were well and truly raised.

A glorious morning in Newcastle and Gateshead

I would now be following the Tyne west for the next few hours. Having passed under the iconic Tyne Bridge the route varied between some lovely riverside paths and occasional forays slightly inland; normally on old railway tracks. The city slowly faded away and by the time I had reached Newburn the day was in full majesty. I stopped in a lovely riverside park; removed an unnecessary extra layer of clothing; applied some sun cream and had a quick bite to eat and a short rest.

Back on the bike the route soon turned slightly away from the river in order to join the line of the old ‘Wylam Waggonway’. The waggonway played a vital role in the development of steam locomotion. Wylam was the birthplace of George Stephenson as were other steam pioneers Hackworth and Hedley; the latter of whom, in 1813, built the ‘Puffing Billy’ steam locomotive that carried coal from Wylam colliery into Newcastle. Nowadays the waggonway serves as a lovely cycle way and path up the Tyne valley (passing directly past Stephenson’s birthplace); occasionally crossing the river including at the magnificent shell of the Haggs Bank bridge before eventually petering out in the village of Ovingham.

From Ovingham the route leaves the sanctuary of the dedicated cycle paths and instead onto small country lanes. The roads were all very quiet and there were certainly more cyclists on them than cars. However they also marked the end of the largely flat river side routes and the start of some more undulating countryside. I was still going well and enjoying the day as I rode into Corbridge; a lovely little rural market town nestling on the north bank of the Tyne and just south of the line of the wall. I had my first proper break here; taking on some food and plenty of water. I was happy with progress. I knew that I had my first big climb not too far ahead of me but was confident enough. I was nicely warmed up but not too tired. This climb should be fairly easy compared to some of those I knew were ahead of me in the next three days.

Leaving Corbridge the route continues following country lanes with the occasional section along the riverside paths until arriving into Hexham. I had my first slight route deviation here; I must have missed a sign and ended up cycling over a golf course. I don’t think that would have been a popular route alteration but I managed to avoid being spotted and soon found myself back where I should have been following the railway line next to the river. Cutting back onto some country lanes (and by taking a sneaky short cut along a slightly busier B road) I soon found myself in the excellently named ‘Fourstones’. A quick drinks break and map check later I was ready for what was coming; the climb out of Newborough and up onto the hills proper.

The climb, of roughtly 500-600 feet ascent was long but largely steady and it went well and as planned. I made it up without a break and before too long the hills opened out onto glorious open countryside. The day was going great and I happily rode along singing loudly to any passing wildlife and generally enjoying everything that Northumberland had to offer me here. At this stage the route is on one of its sections closer to the wall but actually rides parallel to it on the next hill across. Along this section it would be possible to follow the wall much more closely but the road alongside it is much busier and I guess that is why the smaller lanes are chosen instead. It’s a bit of shame that you don’t get closer to the wall; but the riding is certainly more pleasant for it. What’s more the wall is visible along this section and I could soon make out the distinctive remains of Housesteads Roman Fort on the hill opposite.

Not long after Housesteads the route started to drop back down off the hills and there were soon a couple of very steep descents as it drops down to Vindolanda fort. One of the main attractions directly on the wall I had taken the decision to stop here. 85 miles riding wasn’t going to leave me with too much time to stop on route but at the same time I didn’t want to be just heads down cycling and not getting to see anything.

I parked up at the visitor centre, paid my way in (leaving my paniers with the friendly staff) and went for a good wander around the site. Ignoring some of the romanticised displays near the tea shop, the site was indeed well worth the visit. The scale of the excavations is impressive and the location equally so. After a good walk around i retired back to the tea shop and sat sheltering from the still bright sun under a parasol having tea and cake.

…and then the day started to turn (and from this point in the day I noticed afterwards that I failed to take a single picture)…

First a big line of clouds started to roll over and the parasol was no longer needed. Taking the hint I gathered my paniers, and got myself ready to get back on the road.

As I pulled out and worked up through the gears I noticed that the chain was slipping in the higher cogs. There had been no such problems up until that point so this was unexpected and unwanted. I had a few fairly easy, mostly downhill miles into Haltwhistle so took the decision to ride easily into the town there and take a look where I could find somewhere safer to stop.

The first rain drops started just on the very edge of Haltwhistle. By the time I rolled into the high street it was raining properly. I pulled into a bus shelter and took a look at the chain. I soon found the troublesome link that had stiffened up. I didnt have the tools to fix it but a quick check on my phone pointed me to a nearby bike shop. A quick ride across town proved it to be long gone. At this point I had around twenty miles remaining into Carlisle so the best bet was to continue on at an easy pace avoiding the higher gears where the slipping was most noticeable.

Before setting off again I sent a quick message to my friend Jules. An old University friend who I had not seen for many years, she lives now in Brampton, way between Haltwhistle and Carlisle. I had arranged to pop in for a cuppa and a catch up so I let her know that i had been delayed but was now a little under an hour away.

I headed out of Haltwhistle avoiding the top three gears on my casette. This wasn’t a problem to start with as the route took a steady climb back up onto the hills. Although this was along a smaller road out of the town there was still quite a number of trucks passing a little close for comfort. Combined with the wind and rain in my face this wasn’t the most fun. At the top of the hill the cycle way joined the Roman military road for a short stretch. This was the first time since Newcastle that I’d actually been on the route of the wall – not that you cold actually tell. Peering from under the brim of my helmet which was still angled down to keep the rain out of my face I saw a sign pointing to a quiet lane to the right and I gladly headed off along it.

After a couple of minutes I thought that I should have been heading steeply downhill but instead every downhill was followed by a sharp climb as I rode along the crest of the hills. It was still raining but I was back on some glorious open countryside which, a scattering of sheep apart, I had entirely to myself. There were no route signs but I wasn’t concerned. This was a very quiet road with no turnings – there was no need for any road signs. After a little over three miles since leaving the military road I rounded a corner and saw a farm house a short way off. This was the first sign of habitation along this stretch. I got closer and eventually up to the farm house itself. Where the road completely stopped. This was not right. I had reached an end. And it wasn’t in the right place.

Getting off the bike I reached back into the panniers and pulled out my maps. On previous rides I had learned the hard way that not stopping to check maps in the event of an uncertain junction can lead to trouble. Thanks to the rain I had ignored these lessons and now I was learning it all over again. I should never have turned right. The whole of this road was wrong. It was three miles of ups and downs that I should never have taken and there were no short cuts back. I sent a message to Jules to let her know my mishap but that I was back on track and now a little under an hour away.

I decided to put my head down and clear the three miles back to the main road as quickly as possible. I’d done less than one of them when I had that tell tale feeling from my front tyre after riding over some gravel. A flat. Bloody typical. Never mind. I had all the kit with me.

As the rain came more steadily down I took the front wheel off and started the replacement. As I was doing three ladies appeared on the road walking towards me. I recognised the look on their faces. They were lost as well. Did I know where the Roman Army Museum was? This one I could answer. It was on this track but right at the very start – just yards from the main road. I had managed to spot that earlier but they had missed it – probably also down to not looking around in the rain. I assured them that from harsh experience that there was nothing further down the track in the direction they were presently headed. Deflated they turned back and left me to my tyre.

I got the new tube in and the wheel back on; gathered up my kit and loaded the bags back onto the rack. I sent a text to Jules. I had had a flat but was back underway and was now a little under an hour away….

All enthusiasm fading fast I got back on my way. I caught up with the ladies still heading back to the Museum and wished them luck. They were not too far away from it now but looking despondent. I carried on and not much further saw the entrance to the museum so I rode back and pointed them to the woods in which it sat and which they could see were not too far away at all. They did seem relieved and I felt better for having helped them a little at least.

I made it back to the main road and looked to see where I had gone wrong. I found the sign I had followed. It did exist, it was labelled route 72 (the Hadrians Cycleway route number) and it did point the way I had travelled. However it did also say ‘Museum’ and next to it there was another sign pointing straight ahead which was the main route. Bugger.

Still. I was back on the right track now. I was soon on a very steep descent down into Greenhead. Something didn’t feel right on the descent but I wasn’t sure what. At the bottom of the hill the route turned onto a bridleway and across a river and then I noticed a bulge in the front tyre. I immediately realised what was happening. In the wet I had been in such a haste to replace the tube that I hadn’t checked it was in correctly. Something had gone horribly wrong with the repair and I needed to sort it quickly. I jumped off the bike and whipped the paniers off ready to turn the bike over. As I did so the rail on one panier that holds it securely onto the rack snapped clean off. Great. I turned the bike over and was just about to take a look when BANG.

And there my day essentially ended. In not fixing the tube properly I had forced it against the tyre which was under undue pressure and both it, and my replacement tube, exploded! There was a huge tear in the side of the tyre. I took one look and knew I was in tears or laughter territory.

The young couple walking their dog who I had already spoted flinching when the tyre exploded quietly skirted around the loon who was at this point in hysterical laughter waving a bike wheel in the air in a vaguely Basil Fawlty fashion. There was no getting back from this. The day was done. All I could do was walk the bike back to Haltwhistle (without the six mile detour) and get a train to Carlisle. I rang Jules to cancel our meet up.

Twenty minutes later, my bike was loaded into the back of my guardian angel Jules’ people carrier and we were headed to hers in Brampton. Not only had she come to pick me up even though I was wet through and caked in mud and oil but she insisted on feeding me before driving me on to Carlisle. This is what friends are. And once again I say huge, huge thanks to her and Frank for taking me in that day; letting me freshen up (of sorts) and making me feel human again. After a lovely evening Jules drove me into Carlisle and dropped me at my hotel. The day was done and I had failed to ride the final 15-20 miles of the day (though I had done 6 unplanned additional miles!).

Showered and changed I sorted out my kit and taking a very short walk along the road that the hotel was on I passed two bike shops. I might just be able to recover the rest of this ride yet…

Day One Stats:

Distance: 66.3 Miles
Ride Time: 5 Hours, 31 minutes and 26 seconds
Maximum Speed: 37.4 mph
Average Speed: 11.9 mph
Average RPM: 59
Revolutions: 19,555
Ascent: 2,825 feet
Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/372906681

Next: West, South, and East

C2C And Back – 18 August 2015

26/04/201623/08/2021 r1chmay1 Comment

Prologue

Not long after completing my first bike tour on the Avenue Verte last summer I was starting to contemplate my next challenge. Doing some more riding in Europe was my first thought with a few possible routes coming to mind. However after a bit more consideration it struck me that maybe I should find a good ride within the UK instead and give myself more of a challenge in terms of hills. My regular commuting rides are mostly along the flat coastline between Eastbourne and Hastings and as such I should try and gear myself up for some climbs instead.

I picked up a set of the Sustrans guides to three of the main coast to coast rides (Hadrian’s Cycleway, Way of the Roses and Sea to Sea). I quickly decided that each route was a little shorter than I was hoping to achieve and after a fair bit of study decided on a combination of two routes.

I would start by following the Hadrian’s route in reverse from South Shields. I would follow it to the end of the wall at Bowness on Solway and continue riding it as it headed down the west coast as far as Workington. Despite having no connection with the wall here the Hadrian Cycleway route actually continues South to Ravenglass. However from Workington I’d abandon that route and instead swap onto the Sea to Sea ride back across country to Sunderland (it might have given some symmetry to return to Tyne Mouth but I quite liked the idea of keeping the start and finish a bit more separate).

This would have given me a total ride of about 250 miles (similar to the Avenue Verte) but I chose to give myself one less day (4 rather than 5) for the ride.

One of these days I will try my hand at cycle camping but until I’m a bit more used to cycle touring in general I think I’ll stick with some home comforts. Also I had some longer days planned at the start of the ride and didn’t really want to add too much more weight on to the bike. With that in mind I fully planned my stops and booked in some B&Bs at South Shields (I will be travelling up the day before staying overnight and heading off first thing on day one), Carlisle, Portinscale (near Keswick) and Alston. Trains were also booked (with cycle space – an easy enough process with the East Coast route) and then it was a matter of getting myself in shape for the hills and then waiting for the off.

As things got close I did some final trial rides; a 100+ mile ride across the Kent and Sussex Weald (lots of ups and downs) and a 25 mile ride deliberately planned to give me a few of the biggest climbs on the East Sussex part of the South Downs. These rides went well. I was as ready as I was going to be and after getting the bike a good clean and a service, so was she.

The night before the ride I made sure that everything was packed and ready for an easy getaway. I’d primed the young lad next door to keep an eye on the house and water the tomatoes and I went to bed ready.

The first day was actually mostly travelling with only a small ‘Prologue’ ride. So I had a leisurely breakfast, walked up to the allotment to give it a good soak, made the final adjustments to my bags, loaded them onto the bike and rode down the hill to Hastings station.

PANIC!! After pushing my bike into the station building I walked to the ticket machine to collect my ticket for the first trains up to London (via Ashford). I had packed light and was not taking my wallet; just cash and the essential bank cards. I’d packed the wrong credit card; not the one I’d used when booking the tickets. I had 20 minutes until the train. If I missed it I’d miss all the connections. Quickly locking the bike up I jumped into a cab with my panniers and explained my predicament to the driver. He shot back up the hill at record speed and waited whilst I dived into the house . The credit card was fortunately where I thought it should be (a miracle) and I soon ran out of the house (remembering to lock it!), dived back into the taxi and we headed back down the hill. We might just make it. The traffic near the station however had other ideas and the line of traffic at the lights was too much. Throwing a tenner at the driver I jumped out and ran lugging my laden panniers the last couple of hundred yards to the station. Grabbing my bike I had no time to actually collect my ticket but instead ran straight to the platform. I made the train. Just!

I explained my situation to the guard who kindly let me continue and confirmed that I should be able to pick up my tickets at Ashford. And so the journey was underway. I was considerably more sweaty and on edge than planned; but I was going!

After that the journey was uneventful. I was indeed able to get my tickets at Ashford and continued on to St Pancras and then to Kings Cross and the train to Newcastle. Getting the bike onto the luggage carriage was easily done and though I wondered why my seat had to be at the opposite end of the train from the luggage car I was soon settled in and headed north. Somewhere between Stevenage and Peterborough the rain started, but not to worry. Finally at around 4pm the train pulled into Newcastle.

The rain was chucking down in Newcastle now. This was not exactly a part of the plan but I had to be prepared for any weather so putting on my wet gear I set off out of the station, down to the riverside and over the Millennium Bridge onto the Gateshead side of the Tyne next to the Baltic Gallery. From here the ‘Prologue’ ride would be to simply follow National Cycle Network Route 14 towards the coast at South Shields.

The rain kept steady throughout most of the ride (though it did slowly start to ease off) and I took things nice and steady. This would be a total of 15 miles riding, a distance that I might normally look to knock off at quite a pace; however today was just about taking it easy. So avoiding breaking into a sweat I followed the (mostly) riverside path eastwards.

The route here is quite a mix of river path riding interspersed with some inland sections where (mostly closed down) industry sits on the water front. One such section took me into Hebburn around the old Hawthorn Leslie ship works and the rather magnificent Presbyterian church built by Leslie for the ship workers. From here on the route was less scenic, passing the ‘Bede Industrial Estate’ (I’m sure that he would have appreciated it) before heading into South Shields where the route finally re-joins the river next to the South Shields Ferry.

I found my way to the Roman fort (Arbeia) which was to be my starting point in the morning for the Hadrian’s Cycleway part of my grand adventure. From there it was a matter of metres to my B&B for the night. The owner was not yet in when I arrived (I was a little earlier than I had said that I would be there) so I rode a little further to take a look over the mouth of the Tyne from the a park overlooking the coast and on my return the owner was in and showed me to my room.

The Britannia Guesthouse is a fairly traditional bed and breakfast but I appeared to have it to myself. I showered and sorted my gear out, filling the radiators with my wet clothes, and then headed into the town for a drink and some food.

It was quite odd to see South Shields on a wet weekday evening. I have been here on a few occasions before and it was always, to say the least, a little more busy than today. South Shields is at the end of the Great North Run course, an event which I have completed four times (indeed developing ankle problems training for the last time I ran it in 2013 was what had driven me back onto the bike as my primary form of exercise). I was now walking down a deserted street that I had only ever seen packed full of runners and supporters heading from the finish line to the Metro station back into the city. It felt like a very different town this evening.

I popped into Morrison’s to gather some food supplies for the next day’s ride and then settled into a comfortable chair in the Kirkpatrick pub for a couple of excellent pints (and at only £1.95 a pint – welcome to the North). That was followed by a good curry in the ‘Asha’ before heading back to the guesthouse and to bed in preparation of a long day to come.

Prologue Stats:

Distance: 14.93 Miles
Ride Time: 1 Hour 25 minutes and 57 seconds
Average Speed: 10.4 mph
Average RPM: 49
Revolutions: 4,211
Ascent: 496 feet
Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/371981858

Next: Almost Following in the Cycle Clips of Hadrian

Avenue Verte Day 5 – 30 July 2014

18/02/201504/10/2018 r1chmay2 Comments

The Bells are Calling

Despite being shattered after a long day in the saddle yesterday I still managed to wake myself up at 6.30 so I got up, showered, packed the panniers and went downstairs to breakfast. The Mercure was offering a good buffet range (always interesting to see how better the fare is in the continental hotels than in their UK branches) and I probably ending up overloading on the pastries before checking out.

Getting on the bike my legs felt like lead. The short climb on to the ridge turned out to be considerably harder going than it should have been as my body slowly woke up to the idea of going for it again. Fortunately today was due to be the wind down day with less than 30 miles to cover into the centre of the city. This meant that I could take it easy but I still didn’t want to run the risk of missing my Eurostar and I knew that city centre riding was going to be a lot slower than the open road.

Therefore I let myself ease into the day and up to the top of the hill. After that the next three miles was a joy of blissful freewheeling back down to the Seine. How on earth had I managed to ride up that hill yesterday at the end of a long days ride? It was no wonder I was feeling the effects.

Once at the bottom of the hill it was time to re-join the riverside path for the next ten miles or so; starting on the north bank before crossing to the South side for a lovely long open section often through parkland. The legs had warmed back up by now but I was finding myself riding along at a fairly leisurely pace.

Flowers across the Seine

Interesting cycle bridge

Eventually it was time to leave the river in order to avoid the docks and this signalled the start of six miles of fairly miserable riding. The route here was following busy roads and, although mostly on roadside cycle paths, was still less than pleasant. Along the main entrance to the docks there was a mile long stretch of cycle path roadworks which forced me onto the main carriageway, heavily populated by large lorries thundering in and out of the docks. At this point I just had to put the head down and get it over and done with as quickly as possible.

The cycle path was eventually reinstated but a couple of wrong turns kept my mood darkening. It turns out this part of Paris isn’t so nice to ride around. A brief respite did ensue as the route joined alongside a tram line but that did not last long. On the approach to St Denis the roads narrowed again and the cycle path came and went. On the approach to the river crossing at L’Ile Saint Denis the cycle way joined the shared road/tram line and I soon made the classic error of riding into the tram line with my wheels falling neatly into the trench. All I could do was curse as, with feet locked into pedals, I lost my balance and fell smack onto my side. I was very lucky. There were no trams or cars behind me and the wheels came out of the tram tracks without any damage. I dusted myself down and feeling increasingly pissed off chose to push the bike over the narrow roads across the island.

I was therefore pretty dejected by the time I reached the Canal de Saint Denis with still another 8-10 miles to go. Fortunately however the canal provided another lift as it was back to more cycle friendly riding. Just one mile of canal cycle path was enough to relax me again and a bench opposite the Stade de France gave me a nice chance to fully refresh and relax.

Another five mile easy riding, mostly on canal paths, was much more what I was expecting of today’s ride and I was soon able to feel and enjoy the Paris spirit.

Canal de Saint Denis

Paris

Eventually however the canal ran out and it was onto the main streets of central Paris for the final couple of miles. As you might expect this was a lot of stop start riding and the route wove around various side streets between the Pompidou Centre and the Louvre. Much of the route also followed pedestrian streets so in places I was using the skills I’d learned in Primary School as the Sutton Veny slow bicycle champion, 1982. Still, not to worry, I was getting close and it was nice to get the feel of actually being a part of Parisian life.

And then; there was the Seine again and the Ile de la Cite staring me in the face. Crossing onto the Ile at the Pont au Change the end was in sight and, knowing the route from here, I sped down to the other side of the island before hanging a left to make the final few yards to my destination.

And there it was – the end of the Avenue Verte route marked out by the Cathedrale Notre Dame. The plaza outside the cathedral was rammed on a hot summer day and I felt that with that many people around that someone should have been thrusting a champagne glass into my hand and lifting me on to their shoulders. Instead I was left to take some ‘with bike’ selfies and give myself a hearty slap on the back on completing my first ever cycle tour.

Day Five Stats:

Distance: 26.16 Miles
Ride Time: 2 Hours 19 minutes and 49 seconds
Maximum Speed: 32.8 mph
Average Speed: 11.1 mph
Average RPM: 53
Revolutions: 7,410
Ascent: 321 feet
Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/173207728

Overall Stats:

Distance: 276.46 Miles
Ride Time: 22 Hours 58 minutes and 15 seconds
Revolutions: 75,51
Ascent: 8,434 feet

Postscript

Well that was that – now I just had to head for home. After only about half an hour outside the Cathedral I headed back for the Gare du Nord. I opted for the main roads which worked out well as there was a good shared bike/bus/taxi lane and i was soon there. I took the bike to the luggage check in area at the back of the station which, should anyone be considering putting their unpacked bike on the Eurostar, was an absolute doddle. I headed back to the main station and got changed out of my riding gear in a filthy station toilet (there were signs up proclaiming that it was recently much improved – I’d have hated to imagine what it was like before) and then “treated” myself to a “Long Pig” sandwich at the “Quick Burger” bar opposite the station before checking in and boarding the Eurostar train.

Gare du Nord

Long Pig

It was somehow upsetting to see how quickly and easily the train glided back through some fairly familiar countryside before soon pulling in to St Pancras. Two and a half hours? But that journey in the opposite direction has just taken me four and a half days. The train must have had a tail wind! Getting the bike back was even easier as the luggage guys taking the trolley of bikes off the train saw me on the platform and stopped to let me take mine there and then.

Now all I had to do was get the train back to Hastings. It was therefore a shame that at this point South Eastern Railway wouldn’t let me leave St Pancras until gone 7 so I had to loiter in the station bar for two hours. That was hardly the worst hardship though and before I knew it I was home again and ready for a long deep sleep.

Fast train Home

Letting the bike put its feet up

Avenue Verte Day 4 – 29 July 2014

02/01/201504/10/2018 r1chmay

The Big Push towards the edge of the City

After a fantastic night’s sleep in the gorgeous surroundings of Les Chambres de l’Abbaye I woke up early, refreshed and raring to go – if a little nervous about the day ahead.

Heading downstairs the Italian party were up and about making final preparations so I took a look through Jean Francois’ art studio – an impressive addition at the end of the house stuffed floor to (high) ceiling with his various nudes (as was much of the rest of the house).

I had a spot of light breakfast on my own (the Italians had now finished and the others were not yet up) and then walked into the village to get some supplies for the day from the bakery. The choice was a bit limited but I got some bread and other sundry supplies then made my way back to the house. It only took a couple of minutes to pack up and load up and check the bike and was cycling out of the gates by 9am.

The Italians were taking a final look around the village so I stopped and said farewell (and pointed them in the right direction). As well as being beautiful, St Germer is also a key point on the Avenue Verte. At this point south the route splits. A longer, eastern, route takes riders on a seemingly busier journey through Beauvais and Chantilly but I was heading for the shorter, western route through a more rural landscape with few towns before hitting the outskirts of Paris where the town routes rejoin.

I had been considering the options of which route to take and had been undecided right up until my arrival in St Germer yesterday. Although I had been doing fine, the longer route would have added an extra 30 miles to the days ride and I was already having some concerns about the day ahead. Even with the shorter route I was already facing the longest day on the bike and knew there were a few hills ahead of me.

So at the sign where the route splits, and waving goodbye to the Italians who were heading the opposite way towards Dieppe, I started the process of getting lost leaving the village. A few short wrong turns later though I was on my way and approaching the next village of Neuf Marche. A fairly nondescript village it did however mark the start of the first big hill that had been concerning me. I needn’t have worried. The climb was steep enough but my legs must have strengthened up over the last few days. Compared to the climbs across the Weald on day two I actually found this easy going.

Roadside chapel at Amécourt

Dovecot at Neuf-Marché

The top of the hill opened out onto a big expanse of open rolling landscape that reminded me somewhat of the Salisbury Plain – a place where I will always feel at home. The next few happy miles were spent speeding across the landscape, waving a cheery Bonjour to the large number of other cyclists out and about. Although I knew this wouldn’t last all day I made excellent time as I sang may way along and eventually down from the hills and into the town centre at Gisors for a break.

I pulled into the castle grounds hoping to have a good look around. However beyond the grounds, the castle itself was open by appointment only (and then only later in the day). After a quick wander around the grounds and a freshen up I was back on the bike. I had been hoping to find a shop in the centre of the town to finish stocking up but didn’t see anything. Leaving the town I did spot an ‘Intermarche’ supermarket but chose to continue on my way as I didn’t fancy going into a large supermarket. This was a mistake that I was to regret a number of times later in the day.

Instead I made my way straight down to the former Epte Valley railway line where once again the route takes riders along the old track bed. 13-14 easy going miles followed along the old railway line. There were lots of kids and families out enjoying the track on bikes and scooters which was excellent to see. It wasn’t hard to see why they would choose to come out here as we followed the lovely Epte river and passed through some beautiful and light wooded landscapes. Once again this section was over quickly and we soon came to the end of the old line in the village of Bray-et-Lu. Despite the claims on the guidebook maps that Bray had shops it was soon clear that this was not the case. There was a supermarket. It looked like it had shut for lunch. Three years ago. And never reopened. I was still OK for supplies at this point but could have done with some more water and I was going to be having a lunch of snack items rather than a proper meal. Not to worry though – there would be another shop soon enough on the route; for now I’d park myself on a bench by the war memorial and have a make shift lunch.

Leaving Bray it was back onto the roads and back into the hills. This was another big hill on the maps but as was the case at Neuf Marche I found it fairly easy going. Heading into the hills I bumped into another English couple I had seen briefly the day before; they were riding through St Germer whilst I was relaxing with a beer! They had gone on to Gisor that afternoon and were taking things quite leisurely. I had stopped to speak to them as they were parked up on the roadside so wanted to check that they were OK. It turned out that they were just waiting to use the roadside ‘facilities’ and had been waiting for me to pass! So leaving them to their business we wished each other a good trip and I continued up out of the valley and up on to the ‘Vexin’.

This was another section of beautiful rolling landscape and some lovely cycling on mostly quiet lanes. There were a couple of sections that were off road which the guidebook had suggested might be worth bypassing; however the surfaces were fine and were some of the nicest parts of the ride. The route across the Vexin passes through several villages. The guidebook had mentioned that this was an under populated area and this was borne out as I did not see a soul. This of course also meant no shops. Fortunately at this point the day was quite cloudy so I wasn’t getting through as much water or I might have been starting to get into trouble.

Off road

Off the Beaten Track

However by the village of Sagy there were still no sign of shops and my water bottles were empty. The route into Sagy had taken a final bit of rough track and this had been tough going on a very loose rocky surface. The sun had also come back out and was beating down quite intensely. I was starting to feel dry and hot and tired and hungry but all supplies were now exhausted. The climb out of Sagy was steep and this time I felt it. The climb continues for a few miles at this stage and continues into the suburbs of Cergy – where the route effectively enters the outskirts of Paris. Furthermore the directions during some of this section were a little unclear – the maps I had were not so good for the urban streets.

I was hot, hungry, thirsty, tired and a bit pissed off by now. I needed a break and I needed something to eat and drink. Seeing a sign for Cergy station, just a few yards off the route, I diverted hoping to find some shops. I soon spotted a branch of Subway. Far from ideal but beggars can’t be choosers. Oh hang on. Yes they can. A small supermarket grabbed my attention just past the station and I was soon able to get fully supplied up. Returning to the square by the station I found somewhere to sit on the edge of a raised flower bed. I was so relieved to be finally able to get some food and water that I didn’t even care when I spotted I was surrounded by assorted piles of dog muck.

Finally refreshed, and with supplies to see me through the rest of the day I got back in the saddle and re-joined the route. From here on in I had left the countryside behind me and was now starting my way through the outer Parisian suburbs. From this point on the signs also became a little more intermittent and the scale of the maps in the guidebook was not very helpful. I was OK for the first mile or so after Cergy and up to the diversion to take me to see the ‘Axe Majeur’ monument which was a mile off route uphill along another disused rail line. I took a quick wander around some of the upper sections of this rather magnificent set of sculptures set along a couple of kilometres of parkland. Unfortunately by now a haze had set over Paris and so I wasn’t able to make out the Eiffel Tower which I’m assured can be visible on some clear days.

After taking in the views I headed back to the main route and promptly got lost; heading onto some busy roads through some built up areas however I managed to keep a vague idea of the direction I was due to be taking and without any great mishap made my back down towards the River Oise where I re-joined the Avenue Verte path. A fairly simple riverside pathway led, with only minor diversions around the occasional industrial unit, towards the river’s confluence with the Seine. Ah Paris. Seeing the Seine, which is laid out in front of the cyclist here as it takes a large bend, looks magnificent and it was good to feel as though I might be getting towards the final leg. However I still had some miles to do today.

Before long the route takes it first crossing of the grand old river and then, to avoid a long dog leg around one of the rivers many big meanderings detoured ‘inland’. After a short section across some busy roads and along a path lined deep with nettles the track opened out into a nice track through the Foret St Germain.

The route here was pretty but, with loose surfaces, quite slow going until coming out the other side of the forest at Maisons Lafitte. Here the route re-joins some roads and cycle lanes to circumnavigate around the Chateau and back across the river and onto the riverside pathway once more.

The route from here was easy going but once again I was starting to get low on water and was getting tired now. I’d already done more miles than of the previous three days. The four days cycling was starting to take its toll and I still had a six or seven mile stretch along the river here before I could think about the final hill up to my hotel for the night. Despite the weariness the miles passed OK but I was tired and pretty much done for the day by the time I got to the bridge that would lead me back over the river away from the Avenue Verte route but towards my hotel for the night.

As I crossed the Seine for the third time I knew I was in for a climb, but blimey I had not realised how much of a climb. I had to follow a busy main road up towards Verseille. Therefore keeping on the pavement to the side I made my way up. And up.

And then up a bit more. In the end the hill turned out to be a three and a half mile solid climb and although not actually being a part of the actual Avenue Verte route, this was definitely the toughest climb of the tour being at least as tough as the climb up to Heathfield on day two but with the added difficulty of being at the end of the longest day’s ride.

Eventually however the hill plateaued out and indeed a short downhill stretch allowed me to largely free wheel my way to the Verseilles Mercure hotel where I checked in, showered and crashed out.

Versailles Mercure

Day Four Stubble

Day Four Stats:

Distance: 80.32 Miles
Ride Time: 6 Hours 10 minutes and 2 seconds
Maximum Speed: 32.3 mph
Average Speed: 12.9 mph
Average RPM: 54
Revolutions: 19,982
Ascent: 2,228 feet
Strava: http://www.strava.com/activities/173206463

Next: The Bells are Calling

Avenue Verte Day 3 – 28 July 2014

23/10/201404/10/2018 r1chmay

What to do in Dieppe at 4am?

There is no possibility of oversleeping on the cross channel ferry and winding up back in Newhaven. After what felt like mere seconds after going to sleep, the ungodly sound of some bizarre piped music is blasted into the cabins followed by a loud knocking on the door a mere 3 hours after leaving England (and still with about half an hour before we would actually dock in Dieppe).

Leaving it as late as possible before surfacing, I gathered my stuff together. Removing the toilet roll I had placed in my shoes overnight I placed my still damp shoes back on and climbed back into some dry, but not exactly clean, cycling shorts and shirts. Then, with the panniers packed up I made my way back down to the car deck, handing in the room key en route.

Part of me had initially hoped that the cyclists would be last off in order to gain as much rest as possible, however having now been awoken I was rather glad that we were off first. I was the second person off the ferry and onto French soil. The French customs team were friendly and wished me luck. Before setting course towards Paris I first tried doubling back towards the terminal building. On reading up before the route some people had suggested coming here for another couple of hours of shut eye, but a quick glance at uncomfortable bench seats and bright fluorescent lighting quickly put paid to that suggestion. Instead I headed for the back road that leads from the ferry terminal into the centre of Dieppe.

The central quay side area indicates quite a pretty French seaside town – although it’s not easy to tell at 4am (my body clock was reminding me it was only 3am UK time). I stopped to check my maps and ensure that I’d not forgotten anything in the half awake rush to disembark. Satisfied I looked to find the start of the Avenue Verte route somewhere near the station.

Returning from a short “detour” (yes – I got lost) past some industrial units I bumped into Pierre, with whom I had been chatting whilst waiting to board at Newhaven. Pierre had done the route a few times before and knew the way (he lives in Paris and his daughter currently lives in London so he cycles the route to see her a couple of times a year). Glad of some company we set off together, initially along roads to the first village out of Dieppe, Arques La Bataille.

At Arques we left the roads and joined the first part of proper ‘Green Way’. The initial stretch here winds around some lakes and housing estates. Pierre was equipped with only a tiny light so I was leading the way with my brighter light but trying to get directions from Pierre. I only fell off once! The mishap occurred when misreading the route at a section through some bollards. This was my first proper experience of the joy of having my feet locked in pedals and thus enable to put them down as I came to an unexpected stop! Dusting myself down and laughing it off (only my pride had suffered any damage) we soon joined the next section of disused railway line and a straight run through some glorious French countryside.

I know the countryside here is glorious as I have more recently driven back through it to get to the ferry on another trip (in the car). However at 4.30am I had no idea how nice it was (though I did suspect it was worth actually seeing). However the company with Pierre was pleasant so we carried on together. After a short distance we were jolted by the sight of some ghostly apparitions ahead of us. After our initial surprise we soon identified the figures as the two lads from Portsmouth who had also turned up on their bikes in Newhaven. They had made it this far without any lights but were now struggling as there is no street lighting along the old railway track. They gratefully pulled into line behind Pierre and I and so we carried our mini peloton southwards along the valley rising out from Dieppe; Pierre and I leading the way with the other lads (I did get their names but failed to write them down in my notebook and have no chance of recollection now) just behind.

I would have happily continued on with Pierre for some more miles but by now sunlight was starting to seep across the valley and I could tell I was missing some lovely countryside. We were now starting to see some wildlife alongside us (being startled by my lights) and though I’m sure he was charmed by my poor attempts to name them in French (“Renard!”. “Lapin!”) when we reached the village of St Vaast I informed Pierre that I was going to take a break here as I wanted to wait for the sun to fully rise and see the countryside properly.

Deciding to stay with my light the two lads stopped with me at the old village station as Pierre continued to ride on. The three of us settled down on some benches for a rest. After around 45 minutes the other two decided it was light enough and set off. I’d love to hear how they got on. They had made, to my mind, a rather odd choice to break their route. They were travelling light and were planning to do their whole journey in three days. After doing the 75 miles ride from Portsmouth to Newhaven they were only heading in total about 30 miles today. They would likely be at their hotel before 9am! Although giving them a proper chance to rest that meant they had then left themselves at least 120 miles for their final day and I’m not sure that they had found the 75 miles yesterday to be easy going. So wishing them luck as they rode on I gave myself another 20 minutes before heading off myself.

From this point on I could now properly see the landscape I was riding through and was glad of my decision to wait for sunlight. It was still early (I could hear the larks rising) but the day was opening up beautifully and the route was slowly winding its way up the valley along the old railway line through some beautiful villages. Stopping to look at the chateau at Mesniers-en-Bray (I was too early to visit and had to admire the Chateau through the gates) before long I had made my first proper stop at the market town of Neufchatel-en-Bray – a town apparently very proud of its heart shaped cheeses.

Taking a selfie at Mesniers Castle

Mesniers Castle

Leaving the route for a while I headed into the town centre and parked the bike up outside the church and headed for a recce around the town. I was still too early for most of the shops but managed to find a by now much needed, basic, public toilet (all praise my decision to steal some toilet roll from the ferry!) and then found a boulangerie open and a coffee shop across the road from it. Having my breakfast (café au lait, croissant, pain au chocolate et jus d’orange) on the bench by my bike I waited for 9am when the signs said the church would open. I thought it would be nice to take a look around but there was still no sign of activity by half past so I reluctantly gave up and got back underway.

On the Green Way

Neufchatel Church

Re-joining the old railway line I continued on my way up the valley passing through some more nice villages and gorgeous valley landscapes. Stopping briefly to look at the village of Beaubec-la-Rosiere I soon reached the end of the line (or possibly its start). After the old branch line met its junction with the main line the cycle route diverges from the trains and takes some side roads and other paths into the town of Forges Les Euax. Another typically pretty French town, Forges also lulled me into a false sense of security by having some great shops around the main square at which I was able to fully stock up on provisions for the rest of the day – something that was not going to prove quite so easy at other points over the next day and a half.

Saint-Saire Village

The old Railway Line

The next section of the route takes riders onto some quiet country lanes across glorious rolling hills. This section of fast down hills and some long, but not extreme climbs was one of the highlights of the route and another section where I would be cycling for about 20 miles with a big grin on my face and whistling my way along. At the highest point of the hills, and having done about 2/3 of the days miles I stopped at a junction for lunch. Ostensibly choosing to park up and sit on a roadside verge does not sound ideal but the views across the countryside from here more than made up for any lack of picnicking formality.

Stopping at the rather sorry church at Menerval I got chatting to another couple of British cyclists I met there. They were taking a more leisurely pace having arrived on the ferry the day before. We wandered around the church yard with its somewhat creepy graveyard and wondering how on earth the church was still standing with the size of some of the cracks in its tower. The three of us set off together briefly though my companions were taking a much slower pace. After a short distance we noticed some very dark clouds heading towards us and felt the first few big drops of rain. Making my apologies to my short lived companions I made the decision that I was still feeling fresh and wanted to see if I could outrun the storm before I got to the next town. I’m very proud to say that I made it. There was a lot of downhill but I made a fast 7 miles dash into Gournay keeping myself dry.

Grave at Ménerval

Pond at Cuy-Saint-Fiacre

Gournay itself was one of the disappointments of the ride. After the amusement of seeing the sign indicating the distance to its twin town of Hailsham (which I had cycled through yesterday) the town itself was lacking. It had suffered badly in the war and had been rebuilt to try and capture its glory albeit without any soul. Furthermore by this point I was low on water and was beginning to suffer some ‘saddle chafing’! I tried to find a super market to get some water and ointments(!) I succeeded but only after riding round and around some busy town centre roads. I was now beginning to feel fed up; tired, harassed by cars, and raw of bum! I still had 10 miles to go in the day which isn’t much but Gournay had really brought me down and the final few miles were suddenly far from appealing. Passing back through all the traffic and past a very smelly Danone yoghurt factory I climbed a long slow tired ride out of the town. I had enough and wanted the day over.

Eventually the hill plateaued out back to nicer rolling landscape and the roads were quiet again. Stopping for another small piece of bread and cheese and thus rejuvenated I made my way down to my finish point for the day in St Germer de Fly. Although I was still a bit tired now (I had already done more miles than the each of the previous two days by this point) the gloom couldn’t last now that I was back on open country roads.

Immediately on entering the village of St Germer any final frustrations vanished in an instant. I identified my hotel for the night easily enough as I dropped into the village. The guidebook said it was good for the route and indeed it is. As it is sited directly on the trail it couldn’t be better. For now though I continued on the handful of metres into the centre of the village. The centrepiece of the village is the enormous and beautiful abbey lining one whole side of the village square. Parking the bike and trusting to the villages tranquillity I left the bags on and crossed the road to look around the abbey. Unfortunately the interior of the main building was closed for refurbishment but it was still possible to get a good walk around the outside and to also look in the “small” chapel at one end (from where one could also sneak a brief peek around some hoarding to get a glimpse of the imposing abbey church).

St Germer Abbey

Having looked around I crossed back over the road to the village square and took a seat at the Auberge de l’abbaye. It looked shut but still had seats outside which were welcome. Even more welcome was the appearance after about 10 minutes of a waitress who soon brought me a simple but very welcome ham omelette and chips (et une petit Kronenbourg). Suitably refreshed I made my way back to the ‘B&B’ I had booked; Les Chambres de l’Abbaye (I name it so that you can find it – if you are planning a trip along the Avenue Verte ensure you add this stopover to your itinerary).

I had decided to ‘treat’ myself on this evening. In actuality the room was only actually the same price as the B&B I had stayed at in East Grinstead on the first night – it just sounded more expensive being paid for in Euros. Treating myself turned out to be something of an understatement though. Chloe, the hostess, helped me lock my bike up (the comprehensive bike shed showed that the introduction of the formal Avenue Verte route has been good for business). I was shown to my rooms. I was given a two room suite with the most beautiful bedroom and huge bathroom with a centrepiece slipper bath. I was going to like this. It didn’t take me long to get the bath running and I then spent a glorious amount of time wallowing in the luxury.

Feeling fresh and relaxed I got myself ready for supper and headed downstairs. The evening meal was an optional extra that I’m glad I took. There were twelve of us arranged around the table. As well as myself there were two Dutch, one Swiss, another English and five Italian guests; all cyclists and all doing the Avenue Verte in one direction or the other and all at various speeds. Making up the final two seats were Chloe and Jean Francois, our hosts. The next few hours were a marvellous combination of excellent home cooked food (all local produce – most of the veg picked by Chloe from the garden that day) and lovely company. The conversation mostly revolved around cycling but also veered onto all manner of other interesting alleys as you would hope for in such varied company. It was interesting to see the differing approaches being taken to the route. The Italians – who were all very experienced in longer touring – were doing the ride in reverse to me but making a similar approach. The Dutch (who were also fairly experienced and had done a number of rides across the far east) were taking a laid back approach(!) and were actually spending the night camping in the garden and were not yet sure how they might approach for following day’s ride. The English and Swiss pairing (who were going at the slowest pace) were only planning a day or two ahead and booking things only when needed – otherwise hoping to be able to turn up and get in to places. They were a newlywed couple (this was their honeymoon) . She was the same age as me and had undertaken a few tours before. He, 20 years her senior, was new to the concept and this was his first cycle tour also. He seemed to be enjoying it.

In all it was a marvellous evening and a perfect end to what had been an excellent, quiet birthday. I’d kept that to myself during the day and didn’t tell anyone during the evening (I didn’t want any fuss and certainly didn’t want Chloe to feel that she might have to suddenly conjure something up). Well-fed and rehydrated with sufficient local wine we all eventually bade each other good night and I retreated up to my lovely chamber and straight off to sleep.

Day Three Stats:

Distance: 64.25 Miles
Ride Time: 5 Hours 17 minutes and 20 seconds
Maximum Speed: 41.2 mph
Average Speed: 12.1 mph
Average RPM: 52
Revolutions: 16,501
Ascent: 1,835 feet
Strava: http://www.strava.com/activities/173202993

Next: The Big Push Towards the Edge of the City

Avenue Verte Day 2 – 27 July 2014

20/10/201404/10/2018 r1chmay

To the Coast!

My alarm woke me up in the darkness of the well curtained room in the Cranston House B&B. Bleary eyed I got up, showered, repacked my bags and headed downstairs for a Full English. I’m not normally one to turn down such an opportunity anyway but the possibility to get properly fuelled up for the day outweighed the rather disappointing quality of the fare.

I set off with a quick ride through East Grinstead town centre which still looked nice in the morning light, and then headed for the start of the Forest Way cycle path at the edge of the town.

The second section of disused railway line on the route, the Forest Way runs direct from East Grinstead to Groombridge over a distance of roughly 10 miles. Knowing that the easy gradients on this section were going to give way to a much more hilly ride across the Weald later in the morning I made the most of the largely easy going and beautiful (hint: the clue is in the name) route. The weight on the bike (not just me) and an easterly headwind made the ride a little bit harder than hoped for but the route was still fairly easy and before I knew it the track had petered out just outside of Groombridge where the old train line had diverged from the remaining London – Uckfield line.

This signalled the start of a stretch of riding on roads. It was all to be on quiet country lanes but I knew from the maps that I was going to find some hard going sections before long. However the first section of road was easy enough and the train line associations of the route continued briefly when I pulled into Eridge station for a quick breather. A main line station on the Uckfield line it is also the southern terminus of the Spa Valley Heritage Railway line running to Tunbridge Wells. I was lucky enough to time my arrival with that of a steam train into the station before heading back underway.

The main A26 road passes close to the station and in order to avoid it the Avenue Verte at this stage takes an off road, un surfaced turn through some dense and overgrown woodland up a steep hill. On the whole the route is excellent but damn, every now and again they throw in some awful sections and, though quite short, this one was no fun at all.

I think the plan might have been to prepare riders for the climb up and across the Weald. I was soon off the rough track and onto the next section of country lanes which started with a gorgeously fast downhill stretch. Any joy was tempered with knowledge of what was coming next. I faced two big climbs from this point up towards, and through, Rotherfield. The second climb was another of the top six climbs of the whole route and took some work to get up. I’ll confess to not doing it all in one uninterrupted climb. However, although I stopped once for a breather, I managed to resist the temptation to get off and push. Subsequently I soon enough found myself on the outskirts of Rotherfield village where I knew that there was a village shop and a bench waiting for me where I could stop for a glug of Lucozade and Mars Bar and a quick wander around the pretty churchyard.

Rotherfield Church

Rotherfield Tree

Another few miles of undulating country roads led me around the outskirts of Mayfield and to the bottom of the hills beneath Heathfield. At this point the formal route heads through unsurfaced footpaths up the hillside but the combination of heavily laden bike, hills and surface led me to take heed my guidebook’s advice to remain on the road instead. The climb up to Heathfield is the toughest climb of the official route (although only the second toughest I was going to face – more about that on day four)! The climb was tough going and lasted about three miles. I had to stop at one point to take my shades off as I could no longer see through them thanks to the sweat dripping across the lenses! It was one of those climbs that would never seem to stop. Every time I thought I must be at the top as the road levelled out, I’d find another steep section around the next bend.

Eventually it was over though and I made Heathfield and into much more familiar territory of its town centre. I rode down the high street to where I knew the Co-op was to gather supplies for the rest of the day and then headed back to look for the Heathfield Tunnel. I knew of the existence of a tunnel under the high street that was a part of the old ‘Cuckoo’ Railway Line but hadn’t realised how big and long and rather impressive it is. Although not a part of the route (in fact it heads in the opposite direction back towards Mayfield) I was keen to take a diversion to see it and was not disappointed. Furthermore, some picnic benches at the far end of the tunnel provided a good place to stop for lunch.

A nice break was slightly curtailed by a short shower so I packed back up and headed back through the tunnel to re-join the Avenue Verte route as it follows disused railway line no 3, The Cuckoo Trail, which was to be an absolute joy for the next 10 miles or so as it heads towards Polegate. Furthermore the whole section in this direction is downhill from the top of the Weald towards the almost sea level marshlands around Polegate and Eastbourne. At the top end of the trail, at the edge of Heathfield the route passes by a house of one of those marvellous English suburban eccentrics. The garden of the house backs on to the old train line and is absolutely rammed full of old railway memorabilia. The garden shed is a signal box; the fence is made of level crossing gates. The owner has even installed an old mechanical signal which passers-by can operate by pressing a button on the nose of Thomas the Tank Engine! Not only does the signal change but it is accompanied by some steam train sound effects and after the train has ‘passed’ the signal changes back again. I do not know the owner of this house but Sir or Madam (I suspect Sir) I salute you.

The Cuckoo Trail really is a delight (though I should imagine that heading the opposite direction up the hill might be slightly less so) passing through some lovely countryside on a peaceful track which it was lovely to see being used by various different groups of people. As if not beautiful enough the route is also lined with a large amount of various bits of trackside art and sculptures. Most seem to have been beautifully crafted from anything left lying around that part of the line; tree trunks or bit of old train carriage; many of the trackside artwork pieces are marked with yellow lines across the road so that speeding cyclists can spot them in advance and ensure that they get a proper look at them – a very thoughtful idea!

On passing the main road at Horsebridge (a road I know well as its on my commuting route on days when I need to drive to work in Lewes) and crossing into Hailsham all of a sudden there was a cloudburst. The rain was torrential and after a nice sunny start to the day it looked like it could be like this for a while. I took shelter under a bridge and dug my waterproofs out of the panniers to try and keep myself (and the bags) dry. As time was still well on my side I thought I’d try and let it pass but after 20 minutes it was showing no signs of stopping so, not wanting to start having to rush later on, I climbed back into the saddle and started on again – getting completely drenched within minutes. I entertained myself squeezing the water from my gloves and watching the water gurgle out of my shoes any time that I clenched my toes. After a couple of miles I took shelter again under an ornamental sculpture cum shelter near a road crossing south of Hailsham and then eventually, with the rain finally starting to ease, continued on until the point at which I was to leave the Cuckoo trail just to the north of the Polegate bypass.

For the next couple of miles I knew that I was in for another off road section; however it was also a familiar one as between Polegate and Berwick I would be on the cycle route that I take between County Hall and home. Almost as soon as I turned off the Cuckoo Trail (National Cycle Route 21) and onto National Cycle Route 2 (Dover to Lands End) the rain not only stopped completely but the sun came out stronger than ever and the track showed absolutely no sign of having rained at all. This made the uphill slog on dirt track around the edge of the woodland easier going; further aided by a tail wind, and before I knew it (but after having to make my way past a group of grumpy horse riders) I was back onto the roads and heading towards Berwick at which point I would again by turning South – this time remaining in that direction until making the coast.

From Berwick a glorious ride awaited along the Cuckmere valley skirting around Alfriston and through Littlington. With the Alfriston White Horse clearly visible on the opposite side of the valley and seeing almost no vehicles or people the ride felt completely timeless until coming back with a bump as the route joins the A259 within a few hundred metres of the sea at the beautiful Cuckmere Haven.

I’d cycled the road from the Haven up into Seaford once before. In 2001 when, whilst living in Tooting, I had taken a day off to travel on the train to Hastings from where I cycled across to Brighton. On that day I hated the climb out from the valley up to the town and had really struggled, so I was pleased that even with all the extra weight on the bike I flew up the hill today and was on Seaford prom and within touching distance of Newhaven Harbour in no time at all.

Seaford prom was busy and has no designated cycle path so I took what would have been a nice leisurely ride had I not had to dodge around people changing tack on the prom every few yards. I’m sure I must have added some distance along that stretch of prom just from having to change course so often. Not that I was complaining – it’s nice to see so many people out enjoying the sea front and I still had several hours before the ferry was due to depart.

With so much time in hand I diverted slightly off course between Seaford and Newhaven to pay a visit to the Tidemills which I had never previously visited. They were a large collection of tidal powered mill buildings that had built up from the 1760s to become a self-contained village with its own train station. The mill had closed by the start of the 20th century and the village deemed unfit for habitation in the 1930s. It was finally abandoned at the start of the second world war during which it was bombed both by German planes heading for home with but also by allied troops who used it as target practice. Access to the ruins today is down a track leading from the Seaford to Newhaven road and across the train line at one end of the abandoned station platforms. Traversing the (still in use) train line is done by the old fashioned look before you walk approach – there are gates that you need to open but I saw no sign of warning or other security equipment. Resisting the temptation once on the rail line to wander onto the platforms, I crossed over and walked around the rest of the mill complex and village. A couple of neglected information boards were hard to read and many of the remains were completely overgrown which added to the sense of melancholy surrounding them. Despite that, or probably because of it, there is certainly a good sense of the past here and I’ll be looking forward to making a return visit at some time.

Tidemills

Tidemills Station

However for now, even though I still had another 5-6 hours before sailing time, I was tired and wanted to get to the end of the day so crossed back over the railway and onto the cycle path down into Newhaven Harbour where I parked and locked my bike up at the ferry port terminal.

Having changed in the truckers toilets (during which I had a lengthy conversation with a west country trucker about riding in France whilst I was getting dressed) and ensuring that I was OK to leave my bike for a couple of hours I put the carry straps on my panniers and made my way to the station to get a train into Lewes. At one stage of the planning I was going to be doing this leg of the journey on the Friday and part of that plan had been to dive into the office for a shower and freshen up there! Being Sunday however that was not possible so I used the extra time to have a well-earned pint at the Lansdowne pub opposite Lewes station before heading for some food in another functional but uninspiring chained Italian restaurant in Lewes. The staff there did kindly charge my phone for me whilst I ate and in case you are wondering, although nothing special, this was much better than anything that Newhaven might have had to offer. Furthermore my annual rail season ticket allowed me to do this short train ride into Lewes and back at no cost.

Feeling more human for some food, and having had another beer on my way back past the Lansdowne I headed back to the station and on to Newhaven. After collecting the bike and easily clearing customs I joined up with a number of other cyclists and spent a while chatting with a friendly Frenchman named Phillipe whilst waiting to board the boat; along with brief conversations with a party of Italians and a couple of young lads from Portsmouth who turned up a bit later. Although the ferry company dedicate an area of the loading/waiting area to cyclists there are no facilities easily to hand there so it was lucky that the evening was still fairly warm and was remaining dry.

Eventually it was time to board the boat. I had expected the bike storage area to be a properly setup corner of the ferry but instead we were all left to try and secure out bikes as best we could using just the chains that we had with us. Fortunately though, the sea was looking calm so the bikes should be fine during the crossing. Once locked up and in place I made my way up onto deck, checked in to pick up the key to the cabin I had booked, and made my way straight to it.

I was warned that my cabin was directly under the bridge and that I should keep my curtains shut as the light from my room could cause problems to the captain! I soon confirmed I was indeed right at the front of the ship as the front of the ferry was still open for loading and as such the prow was directly in front of my window. After showering, hanging up my cycling gear to ‘air’ and stuffing my still soggy cycle shoes with half a roll of toilet paper I turned the lights out and risked opening the curtain so that I could watch as the prow closed and then we slowly slipped out of Newhaven harbour before I started to try to get some sleep. It came easily enough once we were properly out to sea.

Day Two Stats:

Distance: 55.05 Miles
Ride Time: 4 Hours 37 minutes and 2 seconds
Maximum Speed: 42.2mph
Average Speed: 11.9mph
Average RPM: 58
Revolutions: 16,068
Ascent: 2,169 feet
Strava: http://www.strava.com/activities/173201201

Next: What to do in Dieppe at 4am?

Avenue Verte Day 1 – 26 July 2014

16/10/201404/10/2018 r1chmay

To France – and don’t spare the pedals

Back at the end of July, after getting the idea after seeing a guidebook advertised on the Sustrans website, and after a fair bit of planing and looking at maps, I had made my plans and was ready to set off on the Avenue Verte London to Paris cycle route.

Having already done 95% of my packing on the night before, and having left a couple of panniers and some cycle gear laid out in the spare room before I had gone to bed, I got up early on the first day (Saturday 26th) and had breakfast. After doing some final packing and making my final checks on the bags and bike I cycled the short downhill ride to Hastings Station to get the 07:50 train into London (I didn’t count that mile as a part of the ride).

The train journey was blissfully uneventful and I spent it reading the Saturday newspapers in order to avoid wasting much needed phone battery. I was using my Lumia 1020 phone to record my route via GPS and also to monitor my heart rate throughout the ride as well as using it’s excellent camera for making a photo record as well as the GPS one. I had packed a couple of spare battery packs but with the GPS tracking running throughout the day I was likely to need them. We got into London Waterloo East at about 9:30 and then I had the more awkward task of navigating the bike through Waterloo station and down the steps by the Shell building towards the start of the route.

The starting point of the official Avenue Verte route is at the London Eye so I rocked up close to it and took my ‘starting point’ photos before getting ready for the off. The actual starting point itself is a rather random bit of road about 100 yards back from the Eye. That means you don’t get the chance to be waved off by thousands of cheerful tourists(!) but I did set off pretty much dead on 10:00 under the watchful eye of a couple of policemen in an unmarked car next to me.

The ride started fairly easily but slowly through central London. The first section follows the Thames, crossing the river twice at Westminster and then Chelsea Bridges. Crossing past the power station the cycle path becomes a little less friendly through Battersea and Clapham but the riding was uneventful and before long it climbed slowly upwards onto and across Clapham Common, which gave a nice bit of open land after the more oppressive stretch along Queenstown Road. On the other side of the Common I got my first of many minor queries about the route leading to a minor detour and double back. On the whole the cycle route is well signed, although there are not many Avenue Verte signs on the English side (mostly relying on you knowing which of the ‘NCN’ routes you need to follow instead). These are mostly clear and frequent but it only takes one missing sign at the wrong place, or for some wag to have turned one around (there were a few of those along the route) to get led astray. However I also soon realised that some guerrilla cyclists had also been along putting up a series of stickers on posts pointing the correct way and these often turned out to be more useful than the official signs in some key places.

After that short diversion I was soon back on track and into familiar territory as I passed Wandsworth Prison and down onto my old stamping ground along Magdalen Road and into Earlsfield (where I played rugby for several years for Bec Old Boys) whilst living down the road in Tooting. One quick crossing of Garratt Lane and I was soon onto the Wandle Trail.

The Wandle Trail runs alongside the River Wandle on various qualities of path for the next few miles. The mix of surfaces and regular road crossings along with a number of other cyclists and dog walkers kept the pace fairly slow but it was easy going. After passing the back of Merton Abbey, the Wimbledon dog track and the rather bland looking flats that have finally taken over the derelict space that previously housed Wimbledon FC’s old Plough Lane ground, we opened out into the rather lovely Morden Hall Park. With the first 10 plus miles done and a nice open space I choose to have my first break here. Although lovely it wasn’t actually the most comfortable (no benches) and I managed to mess up my GPS recorder and lose the tracking up to this point which was a bit of an irritation; after a handful of crisps and a couple of squares of chocolate I saddled up and got back on my way.

At the top of the Wandle Trail there were a few more moments of confusion, map gazing, and doubling back as the route heads through a range of residential back streets and inter joining cycle paths to Carshalton, before heading into the first patch of real open country leading up onto the first stretch of downland. This really did feel like being out in the country, if only for a couple of miles, before dropping back towards suburban London and then back up into the busy and rather lovely Three Oaks park which had the first vaguely serious climb of the day. At the top of the climb though was a nice rewarding café with benches. I bought a bottle of 7up (and got the staff to kindly refill my water bottles) to wash down some of my provisions and I took another short rest.

After Three Oaks the route was again a bit more on road and less pleasant (though with some off road sections to break things up) but it did pass by a rather magnificent Lavender field before dropping down into Coulsdon where we had to follow some one way streets through the town and negotiate some cycle lanes around a couple of busy roundabouts before the next big climb.

This really was the first climb proper and in the top six climbs of the whole tour. What’s more by the now the day was hot. I was liberally applying sun cream to the outside of the body and water to the inside as I began the long and hot but gorgeous slog onto Farthing Down. It is remarkable to think that not only is Farthing Down still within London, but that its actually under the care and management of the City of London Corporation. The landscape is a mix of open grazing land interspersed with some lovely patches of woodland and a couple of quiet villages. It really couldn’t feel further from the City that owns it. At one of the villages, Chaldon, I took another short diversion and had a break at the church. A very pretty, small and squarish church; as well as being lovely from the outside and with a nice bench to rest up and refresh on, it also houses a remarkable 11th – 12th century mural occupying almost one whole wall. Depicting purgatory and hell the mural is reportedly the earliest English wall painting and one of the finest in Europe. Why it is not more widely known amazes me. More information can be found at: http://www.surreycommunity.info/chaldonpc/history-of-chaldon-church/

Chaldon Church

Purgatory and Hell

Whilst taking a break at the church I took the opportunity to call an old friend living in Redhill, and whose house I would be passing very close by, to check that he was in and to make him the very generous offer of having the opportunity to make me a cup of tea. Chris confirmed that they were (and would remain) in and so I got back onto the bike and made the final exit out of London. It was easy to mark leaving the Greater London area as I shot down off the North Downs and across the M25 into Surrey.

From here the first real sequence of cycle paths and country lanes lead me past village pubs with quaint duck ponds, and village greens with cricket matches being played (surely placed there especially for any French cyclists coming the other direction) before coming into Redhill and making the short (but very hilly) diversion to Chris and Gill’s house where I whiled away a lovely hour with a cup of tea sitting in the garden getting occasionally showered by their children who had taken control of a hosepipe. Refreshed, and cheery, and with water bottles filled I was back on my way.

The route now varied between residential streets and some surprisingly hidden little cycle tracks; small industrial estates and farms; through Horley and Crawley passing by Gatwick Airport. The route passes right by the end of the runway and so I took another short break there for some silly photos and then carried on through the Crawley suburbs before joining up with the first really excellent piece of the route – the Worth Way from Crawley to East Grinstead.

The Worth Way follows the route of the old railway line linking the two towns and, with the exception of a couple of minor diversions where housing now sits on the route, took me all the way into East Grinstead. The line does mostly climb up out of the Aran Valley and as such I found the section lovely but slow going. By now the legs were weary and I was beginning to really feel the additional weight in my panniers. Whilst I am fairly used to using panniers I had never done such a distance with them so fully loaded. However, other than a small stop to break into the grounds of the disused Rowfant station, I soon found myself on the edge of East Grinstead and after a quick check of the map soon found my way to the Cranston House B&B which was to be my base for the night.

A proper old style English B&B, it provided comfortable and functional if not remarkable accommodation and the owner was used to accommodating Avenue Verte cyclists and was very friendly and helpful. After freshening up, the evening took me into the town centre, which was surprisingly nice – a proper English market town (although there did appear to be too many vacant office block buildings hinting that it was experiencing a bit of a downturn). Dinner was in the glamerous surroundings of the local Pizza Express and consisted of a large meaty pizza, with desert and a large beer before I wandered back to the B&B and going easily to sleep in a big comfortable bed.

Day One Statistics:

Distance: 50.68 Miles
Ride Time: 4 Hours, 34 minutes and 3 seconds
Maximum Speed: 35.3 mph
Average Speed: 11.0 mph
Average RPM: 57
Revolutions: 15,620
Ascent: 1,881 feet
Strava: http://www.strava.com/activities/173197637

Next: To the Coast

Back to the East Coast

Share this:

Stone Circles, Tweed and Hills

Share this:

West, South and East

Share this:

Almost following in the cycle clips of Hadrian

Share this:

Prologue

Share this:

The Bells are Calling

Share this:

The Big Push towards the edge of the City

Share this:

What to do in Dieppe at 4am?

Share this:

To the Coast!

Share this:

To France – and don’t spare the pedals

Share this: