This was the scene that greeted me the night before we were to take the train to Bath and start our tour of the west country, this mountain of chaos did resolve it self into my two bags in the end.

Too much stuff

So it was after months of planning I went on my first bicycle tour and it was ace! That’s not to say it was problem free, but it was all good fun and a learning experience and like most bike tourers I’ll be tweaking equipment and kit lists as I go along.

Looking at equipment first, I wasn’t able to get a handlebar bag due to time and money. I definitely could have used one, my SLR camera stayed at home for the lack of one and I spent the entire trip with maps stuffed up my jersey. Ib also need time to find a bag which doesn’t interfere with the Sti levers and I’ll need to get new gear cables as they are quite trim in length and wont allow a bag of any height.

The layout at the back didn’t entirely go to plan either. I’d bought a dry bag from Alpkit to sit behind my saddlebag on the rear rack, well once I had loaded up the saddlebag there just wasn’t the room to securely strap the dry bag down. So on my back it went and props to Alpkit I had no back issues for five days related to the bag, keeping the weight down by only packing clothes in it helped as well I think.

We planed to roughly follow the west country way. So it was at 5.30 on the Monday morning we took the train to Bath and took the bike path out of town along the canal.

Bath to Bristol Canal

It was a nice easy car free start to the day riding along the canal with the last of the days early morning commuters. Coming off the path at Saltford we headed west on quite roads via Pensford and Chew Manga before sweeping around the Chew Valley Lake. Our steady pace was then somewhat blunted as the roads kicked up into the Mendip hills, a combination of lack of fitness, luggage weight and the early start forced us into pushing up the +15% hills, the first of many occasion on this trip as it turns out. The road soon plateaued and we had a pleasant chat to an other cyclist who was just out for a morning spin as we made our way along the green lanes under the grey sky.

Green lanes on the Mendip Hills

After crossing the Mendip hills and a few miles of rocky bridle-path we dropped down a great descent that got the rims nice and hot into the village of Wookey Hole, from there it was a few easy miles to Wells were we stopped for lunch enjoying the views of the great cathedral.

Wells Cathedral

After lunch and getting lost coming out of Wells we headed south along back roads to Glastonbury were again new roads and roundabouts turned us round for a good while before good bearings were got and we headed across the flat plains of Somerset. The flat roads made for a somewhat more relaxed afternoon which allowed my mind to wander and start to relax for the first time in the holiday after a hectic morning of trains and getting lost. The dusty rough roads whose only traffic was muck covered tractors passed through agricultural land covered in the rough stubble of Autumn brought to my mind the farm lands of Flanders and Belgian hard-men. This fatigue induced fantasy was probably all that carried me over the last few miles and through industrial area of Bridwater to our first nights stay at Ash-Wembdon farm.

Somerset

After soaking our tired limbs in the bath we dragged our self out (via taxi) to the Malt Shovel Inn at Cannington for a great steak and a pint. The 62miles we had done after a 5.30 start meant we slept like logs and only dragged our selves out of bed as the smell of cooking bacon wafted up the stairs. Well fortified I repaired the only puncture of the trip, a slow leak I’d picked up of a hedge row thorn the previous afternoon that CO2 had been sufficient enough to abate over the last ten miles. I kept my distance from hedge row trimmings for the rest of the trip. Despite the B&B being near the top of the hill we started, like many of the days to follow with some hefty climbing for the first couple of hours. Knocking out our rhythm from the get go. After clearing the outskirts of Bridgwater and the M5 we picked up the tow path to Taunton.

Taunton Canal under the sunny blue skies

It was a glorious sunny day hot enough to blow away the early chill of Autumn and we made good time to Taunton were we headed to the shops to stock up. Unlike the first day we managed not to get lost heading through town, the shops being canal side helped. The route wound out of Taunton along the canal into the Devon countryside were it took occasional excursions away from the canal into the green lanes for a few hills. The Grand Western Canal did though makes its inevitable way to Tiverton we stopped for a bite to eat along side the Waytown Limekilns which once must have been a bustling industrial site.

Waytown Limekilns

As is their want the canal took us into what was the industrial area of Tiverton and finally deposited us in a town centre park. The warmth of the day had started to fade as the sun got lower in the sky as we steeled our selves for Exmoor. Leaving Tiverton to the north we were very quickly back in the countryside and just as quickly heading up into the dreaded hills as we passed through the grounds of Knightshayes Court.

Knightshayes Court

The route disappeared into a dark wood behind the grand house which acted as a premature sunset, it also kicked up to 20% so it was a struggle for us to push let alone ride. We came out of the woods only to be faced with more hills going up. Through Bampton and Morebath the ultra steep hills continued which made the last ten miles go very slow going. As we climbed into the hills of Exmoor it got colder and the grey skyies lowered, the sunny day we’d had seemed along time ago. Passing Wimbleball Lake the sun sunk below the hills leaving my fatigue raddled brain struggling to read the map by bicycle light. So it was in pitch dark we evaded the best of Exmoor and found our B&B a place which grinding up the last few hills in the dark and cold I’d thought I would never see. An other pub for the evening meal was very welcome and we enjoyed a couple of pints while listening to the rattle and clatter of the local skittles team in the next room.

We got away at a decent time on the morning of day three after I’d quickly changed some worn out front brake pads, as I had the feeling I was going to need them today. We headed, up hill of course out of town for a few miles before dropping down to Dulverton were we promptly got lost again, after the map digressed somewhat from the reality. A half hour diversion latter we pushed our bikes up a leaf covered 20% hill out of Dulverton, I would dread to be coming the other way in a wet winter. The route continued to climb into Exmoor for an other hour before the last of the steep climbs abated. We only had sheep for company as we continued across the rolling hills, luckily we didn’t get any wind to speak of on the exposed roads atop the moors.

Exmoor

The pace we kept across Exmoor was steady but hampered by the 120miles we had in our legs from the first two days. This fatigue was as much in our heads as legs and it made the moors seem very bleak and desolate, the situation was not improved once we’d drained the last of our water. Luckily Cliff bars and Haribo gave us the energy to continue on our scenic way as there was not a surfeit of cafes in Exmoor. After the best part of four hours of riding we came out of Exmoor back into civilization. And we guzzled coke at this little shop which had seen the Tour of Britain pass a few weeks earlier.

No chaffing for us.

At a slight lower pace than the ToB riders we descended for what seemed like hours down into Barnstable for lunch. After lunch we followed the Tarka trail which hugs the southern side of the Estuary following the path of an old railway line.

View back to Barnstable along the Tarka trail.

We mixed it up with the kids coming home from school along the trail for a few miles as it wound it’s way out of town. The trail follows the water all the way around to Bideford and we enjoyed the flat route after the mornings hills. From Bideford the estuary becomes river and the trail follows a straighter course through the woods crossing the river over old railway bridges and ducking through tunnels in the adjacent hills. It slowly climbs away from the river to take the more direct route south. We left the trail at Torrington to head across the hills of north Devon to our B&B the hills seem larger than they are due to the miles in our legs. We had an uninspiring boil in the bag curry at the local pub but were too tired to care.

Day four we managed to get away at a decent time without any delays or repairs to slow us down. I did manage to get us lost again in the lanes which meant taking the long way (and hills) back to the Tarka trail. Unusually for a rail trail it then chugged up hill for a good 5 miles as it headed south through the woods. Feeling somewhat weary we had a welcome cafe stop after an hour at the Yarde Orchard Cafe it was a real shame we’d had breakfast as they had some great looking food on offer. Fully caffeinated we headed off somewhat faster, the route leaves the rail trail after an other five miles and heads of into the hills of north Devon. As great as the NCN trails are in using quite roads, in a rural area like this they leave you with somewhat limited feeding opportunities, so it was well after one o’clock before we came upon somewhere to buy some food. Fortified we continued on to Bude.

Leaving Bude we started on what was to be a familiar pattern as we rode down the coast to Boscastle twenty odd miles away, climb/push up a 15 to 20% hill then scream down the other side to an other little sea-side village.

North Devon Seaside

With close to two hundred miles in our legs at this point after three and a half days  we were both suffering. Pushing a loaded bike up a hill you can barely walk up saps your moral and losing the strength in your tired hands to brake down the other side is just downright scary. Completely worn out the long fast descent into Boscastle was a great way to finish the day, especially as at sunset the village was very atmospheric and rugged. I had booked our only youth hostel in Boscastle and it did not disappoint. The YHA had been flooded like much of the town so had been fully renovated and well looked after since. You couldn’t get any closer to the water either.

YHA Boscastle last on the right.

After a great power shower we lugged our tired bodies up to the Cobweb for some great food and beer, although we both had trouble even picking up a pint we had such tired hands from lot’s of braking. It’s worth mentioning my favourite beer of the trip Sharp’s Doom Bar which is a cracking pint.

We slept like logs what with the sea air playing on our lungs and we were up bright and early for our last day on the road. Glad to be almost finished but wary of more steep steep hills like the previous day. It was a hard start as we had neglected to prepare for self cateering and there was no where open for breakfast in Boscastle for a couple of hours. So we hit the newsagent and breakfasted on pork pies, chocolate and coke. of course leaving Boscastle was up a 20% hill a great warm up for the day. We took a couple of hours to get away from the steep coast line in the cold grey weather. Further inland the weather didn’t improve much but we were past the steepest of the hills for awhile anyway. I didn’t take any photo’s this last day due in some part to the dirty grey clouds and to large part to my shear exhaustion. We rode across RAF Davidstow moor airfield which was replete with atmosphere and wonderfully photographic but I was to tired and decaffeinated at that point. Heading south past the Crowdy Reservoir we caught the Camel trail leading to Bodmin. The flat rail trail was very pleasant after the last day of hills and we caught up time lost in the morning and grabbed a snack at an other trail-side cafe. We never got to see Bodmin moor which was a little disappointing but it probably involved hills so best saved for an other time I think anyway. From Bodmin we headed west to Wadebridge were the trail hugs the coast all the way to Padstow and picks up all the holiday makers on day trips. We missed Rick’s fish and Chips but had a nice cream tea in a local hotel, our dirty Lycra in stark contrast to the blue rinse set dominating the dining room.

Out of Padstow we were back on the 20%ers for a few miles till we wended inland again heading for St Columb Major by far my favourite village on the trip, the grey sky and chill autumn air gave it the feel of a Gothic mountain village in eastern Europe. The next few hours were an ordeal as we seemed like a good Audax route to turn uphill at every opportunity. Eight miles from the end Martinez pulled a hamstring to slow our exhausted bodies down even more. In the growing gloom as dusk descended we missed our turn of the trail and made our misguided way into the outskirts of Newquay. Having redirected our battered bodies we had to endure the afternoon commuter traffic on a local A road to get us headed in the right direction. Once passed Kestle Mill we were riding in the dark again. Creaking past Trerice Manor House was spooky as the Elizabethan mansion loomed out the darkness. A few miles of dark lanes later we came to our final destination Degembris Farm. We had ridden eleven hours that day so after a shower and a cup of tea we couldn’t even stagger to the pub and collapsed into bed. We did enjoy waking up to see this great view though.

View from Degembris to St Newlyns East

That day we had a peaceful time having cream tea on the lawn and reflecting on our trip followed by a pub dinner watching the rain that had held of all week batter the windows. Sunday was spent on the train back to the city and home feeling somewhat shell shocked to return to the the traffic and noise.

In all it was a great trip and I have learnt a lot about the art of touring and I can’t wait for the next one.