Day Six - Bristol to Grosmont

Well, we had been warned that going home might not be a good idea. And true enough, it was hard to leave this morning. We both felt weary and apprehensive of the miles ahead of us. So we had another row which cleared the air and then we set off.

We headed out through Hambrook and then to Olveston. We had, for this part, at least thought of writing on our cycling jackets our destination and the fact we were fundraising for BRACE. At Olveston we stopped for a coffee at the Olveston Stores (it has a community coffee morning from 10-12 every Thursday - fortuitous or what?) No sooner had we stopped than someone gave us a fiver to the cause, ad when we got inside were were positively feted and collected more sponsor money. We left half an hour later in fine mood for the ride over the old Severn Bridge.




We skipped Chepstow and cycled up the hill to St Arvans, then eschewing the high road, dropped back into the Wye Valley and the Tintern Abbey.

The ride along the Wye to Monmouth was amazing, bluebells and primroses adorned the hedgerows along the route and the weather was perfect for cycling, April sunshine glinting through the trees.

I was thoroughly enjoying myself.

We cruised into Monmouth and decided to stop for tea and cake at the Whole Earth Ce Bistro in the town.
I foolihly had thought we had left the hills behind when we left Devon. Not so, we were now skirting the edge of the Black Mountains and the terrain was getting hillier...

We stopped for a pint at The Bell at Skenfrith This was quite posh - there were proper towels rather than paper ones in the toilets, a sign of class, but we didn't feel inclined to stay. But it was getting late and we had no idea where we were going to stay for the night. On to Grosmont and a monster of a hill into the village. It accosted us just after a bend, and it felt like we were cycling into a brick wall. We could hardly walk up let alone cycle up. Mick as usual was miles ahead of me up the hill and as I gasped my way up, he appeared out of the doorway of the pub, beaming and with both thumbs up. There was no answer from the lady who owned the campsite at the bottom of the hill (which I was slightly relieved about, once up that hill was enough), but we had been offered the use of the village playing field to pitch our tent.

We repaired to The Angel and had a fantastic evening. The locals were really friendly and made us very welcome indeed. The food was good too and we wandered back to our little tent feeling extremely content.

Stats
Miles: 48
Pints of beer: not sure but at least 5 each
Hills pushed: 2

Route here