Day Eight – Bucknell to Ratlinghope

Today was billed as an easy day, only twenty one miles to Ratlinghope on the edge of the Long Mynd.  It didn’t work out quite like that.  Ten minutes after leaving the Baron of Beef we realised we were on the wrong road, heading West instead of North.  Rather than turn around straightaway (mistake), we continued to the interestingly named New Invention.  We made enquiries as to how the place got its name but all we could discover was that it was “something to do with a waterwheel”.  From here it was a steep climb all the way to Clun.  At Clun we headed back East, parallel with the road we had travelled an hour earlier.  Things looked up when we found the Hundred House, an excellent pub where we spent an enjoyable hour, before heading on to Bishop’s Castle and two more excellent pubs both with micro-breweries, the Six Bells and the Three Tuns. 


Near Ratlinghope we got hopelessly lost and for the second time that day found ourselves toiling up a hill which we should have cycled around.  We were still tetchy when we arrived at Ratlinhope Youth Hostel, hours later than originally planned.  Mood did not improve when we repaired to the pub next door, the only one for miles around, only to discover that there was a very loud Dire Straits tribute band playing.  We drank a beer then back to our little tent in the grounds of the Youth Hostel. 
Stats
Miles: 29
Beers drunk: 4 pints each

Route here

Day Seven - Grosmont to Bucknell

It took us longer than we thought to pack off the tent but by nine we had got everything stuffed back into the panniers, had a quick look around the castle and then set off.






We cycled through Golden Valley which was lovely cycling country, not too many hills and unbelievably the weather was still fine. We had a little detour into Dorstone to find a loo so Mick could reapply Sudocream (the ride was taking its toll). We found another community coffee lounge, which the locals had opened after they lost their post office. When they heard what we were doing they refused to let us pay for the tea and biscuits we had enjoyed and wished us well.



Up thorough Eardisly and then through the lanes to Brampton Bryan and the A4113. Soon after we turned up to Bucknell as we knew there was a pub there. We hoped they would be able to tell us whether there was any camping or bed and breakfast nearby. Eureka! The pub had a camping field at the back, an excellent pint of Twisted Spire from the Hobson's Brewery, good food and WIFI. A result!





Stats
Miles: 52
Beers drunk: Four

Route here

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

Day Five – Cheddar to Bristol

This was an easy and familiar ride. We took the road to Axbridge and stopped there to stock up on scotch eggs.We have been to Axbridge quite often on training rides, it’s a lovely little town.

Up the lovely Strawberry Line again to Yatton, passing Thatcher's cider orchards on the way.



At Yatton we had a brief argument about nothing in particular (we were both very tired) before heading down the A370 back to Bristol.

At 2pm we were sat outside the Knights Templar pub at Temple Quay enjoyin a pint of Ruddles, exactly 96 hours after we set off from Land's End. We thought we had done rather well.

Home then to do the laundry and meet some friends to bask in the glory of our achievement so far before the off on Thursday morning.

Stats

Miles: 28

Beers Drunk: 2 each

Hills pushed: 0 (no excuse for getting off on this run)

Route here

Day Four – Silverton to Cheddar

We opted for the A396 to Tiverton which was pretty flat all the way. At Tiverton we got onto the towpath of the Great Western Canal. We were a bit horrified to find that the canal was at the top of a hill but when we got there it was fabulous and a lovely flat ride to the Somerset border.




Not particularly fast, but then, we are on the scenic  route to John O’Groats, so who cares.




By the time we crossed the Levels we were starting to feel quite weary and I realised that we had foolishly not had a proper meal today. At Wedmore Mick got lots of brownie points for thinking to look round the corner in search of a pub and found the New Inn, a traditional pub where we sank a couple of pints of Summerset from the Exmoor Brewery. On to Cheddar and the Youth Hostel for the night.

Stats
Miles: 66
Pints of beer drunk: 3 each
Canals: 2
Hills pushed: 0 (woohoo!!)

Route here

Day Three – Launceston to Silverton

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”


The hills in Devon are different to the ones in Cornwall.  Short sharp shocks are replaced by long sweeping climbs up and long rallies down.  The climbs are hard work.  Unlike the Cornish hills, these were too long to get off and push so there was nothing for it but to switch into  low gear and just keep peddling. We had been well set up with an enormous breakfast at the bed and breakfast in Launceston, and the first run, from Launceston to Okehampton went well.  We were going up the old A30 which was now pretty quiet.  Mick found a balloon to decorate his bike with in the hedge.



As we neared Okehampton we were pleased to have Phil Horsley’s little guide with us –instead of linking up with the busy main road into Okehampton we took a left turn towards Sourton and after a few yards joined the Grantite Way which was a fantastic cycle path into town, crossing the very impressive Meldon Viaduct.
I was hoping to upload this blog at Okehampton but none of the cafes appeared to have a wifi connection.  I asked in the library, and whilst the two old ladies behind the desk appeared impressed at the concept, they clearly had never heard of such a thing.
Coming out of Okehampton was far less pleasant.  We were heading for a village called Sticklepath and when we saw a sign for a cycle path to the village we foolishly took it.  Ten minutes later we were climbing up an enormously steep country lane which resulted in the first tears of the trip (mine unfortunately).




Rather than dip and dive through any more country lanes we stuck to busier (though not crazily so) roads until we got to Crediton.  After a pint at the Three Little Pigs, a very idiosyncratic decor!) we struggled back up country lanes through to Silverton.
I had marked the village as having a pub in Camra’s Good Beer Guide.  It turned out to have three and as I couldn’t remember which one was in the guide we decided to try all three.  The Silverton Inn offered accommodation but a local told us that the landlord had only that day flown off to Sharm el Sheik for a week so it was possible we would not be able to get a room.  As it was, we did a deal with the cover staff at the pub to let us stay without breakfast for a discount.  We then checked out The Lamb and the Three Tuns, both of which were also fine pubs.   We had an excellent meal at the Lamb for a price that was so reasdnable that I twice protested it was not enough.  The landlord assured me it was correct so I decided not to argue a third time!
All the beer was excellent
Silverton is very pretty, with thatched cottages and whitewashed walls, and everyone seemed very friendly.  There was a darts match going on in all three pubs, or perhaps we had unknowingly stumbled upon Silverton Darts Festival?  It turned out they were catching up on some matches missed during the icy weather earlier in the year.  We had an enjoyable evening before stumbling into bed at ten o’clock.

Stats
Miles: exactly 50
Pints of Beer Drunk: Mick 5, Ellie 4 and a quarter as I tipped the rest over in the Lamb

Blubs: 1 (Ellie)

Route here: 

Day Two- Perranporth to Launceston

Both the weather and the view from the hostel were both glorious when we awoke.  After a cuppa outside and a quick game of fetch the twig (couldn’t find a stick) with Roxy, the resident Jack Russell, we waved goodbye and headed off up the coast towards Newquay. 
Did I say it was hilly yesterday?  Yesterday’s hills were mere pimples compared to the ups and downs we encountered today between Newquay and Padstow.  The coast road was a rollercoaster of ups and downs or “curtseys” , tipping down to the sea and, invariably,  a lovely beach speckled with surfers, and then veering steeply up the other side.



Time and again we would wearily dismount and push the bikes up to the summit before starting the next big down. 
By the time we got to Padstow we were ready for a break and we took an hour here to recover. 



Cockles and whelks from the fish wagon and a wonderful pint of Proper Job (St Austell’s Brewery again) at The Shipwrights perked us up no end.  Feeling a need for respite from hills we decided to ride along the Camel Trail to Wadebridge and a good choice it proved to be.  The River Camel estuary sparkled in the sunshine alongside the cycle track and the cycling was flat and easy going 




Too soon we reached Wadebridge and a steep climb out of the town ensued.  We decided to head straight down the A39 to Camelford as the road followed the line of the River Allen and therefore was likely to be flatter than the minor roads on either side.  Although undulating there were no major shocks although before Camelford the road began the climb up onto Bodmin Moor. 
At Camelford we refuelled with another pint of Proper Job at the only premises in the village that was open.  Mick thought the pub was reminiscent of the one in An American Werewolf In London (“you made me miss my dart”), and I agreed it did feel like the Badlands.  Someone was eating a roast dinner with his bare hands and none of the patrons appeared to have any familiarity with Colgate.  We pressed on, hoping to find a country pub and B&B further along the road.  Neither appeared and we eventually found ourselves wearily peddling into Launceston.
By now it was seven o’clock and we began to wonder whether we would be able to find anywhere to stay.  Mick spotted a Salvation Army building – maybe they would take us in?  No need -  one of the Officers kindly walked us to to the top of the town where we booked into Glencoe Villa Bed and Breakfast.  (Why Glencoe I have no idea).  The owners were lovely, putting our bikes in the garage and carrying the bags to our room.  After a hot bath we hit the town.  Gangs of youth hung around or sped about in small fast cars. A police car was cruising the streets and an ambulance was sat on standby….we began to think Launceston in the evenings might not be a very good place to be..…after a Chinese takaway and a quick pint in a dreadful pub (as far as we could tell all the pubs in Launceston are dreadful) we headed back to the B&B and tucked in for the night. 
We were very pleased with our efforts today, tomorrow we would soon be over the border and into Devon.
Stats
Miles:  56
Pints of Beer Each:2
Hills pushed: More than I care to remember

Route here: