August 23, 2007
Long Sutton - Ely
Where the wish of Mistress Poole to flee the mighty Winde is granted. Master Jennings confronts a Gaoler. Shelter is sought above the Marshe. Lodgings are taken in the Shadowe of the Cathedrale.
No miracles this morning, so after breakfast we took off, south, in the wrong direction. I was disappointed: No christening party, no photographs of my home turf with my new camera, and no ride over Blakey Rigg. This latter is a gorgeous ridge ride through the centre of the North Yorkshire Moors National Park. It's a tough climb to the top, but a fantastic switchback descent. The views across the moors, given good weather, [ha!] are superb. I last rode it when I was 15 years old.
There was sunshine. The wind was still blowing fiercely but would be at our backs for most of the day. It would have been a hard slog the other way. Again avoiding main roads, at first we chopped and changed direction on the dead-straight Fenland by-roads.
| Heart | 0 | Comment | 0 | Link |
| Heart | 1 | Comment | 0 | Link |
At Parson Drove, just into Cambridgeshire, we stopped for lunch supplies. We reached a major road junction at Guyhirn and were forced to take the main A141 road for a short distance. After turning east, we happened upon a cycle route following the course of an old railway line towards March.
| Heart | 0 | Comment | 0 | Link |
Just to the right of the track is Whitemoor maximum security prison, built on the site of the former freight yards. A sign warns cyclists and walkers that the path could be closed at any time if the prison authorities see fit. I presume in the event of an escape. I took a picture of the prison and coincidentally of a prison officer sitting in a car under the prison wall. He saw me and came running over and insisted that I was not allowed to take pictures.
'You can't take pictures here, this is Crown property,' he said.
'So is the Tower of London and Buckingham Palace for that matter. I've taken pictures of them.,' I answered.
I deleted the photograph for the sake of Barbara, who was getting jumpy, as was the man in uniform. More fallout from the London Underground bombings, I guess. Afterwards, I thought what a spineless course of action that was. The man was a prison officer, with no jurisdiction over anyone other than prisoners. I'm still annoyed with myself now.
More recently, I cycled over to the Olympic Games construction site, in East London to take pictures. At what is the current main gate, I was photographing a mural on the outside of the boundary fence, when a security guard came over to me and informed me that I was not permitted to take pictures. My response was on the lines of 'There's no law says I can't.'
'Well you're right, there's no law against it, but 'they' don't like it. We've been told to stop people taking photographs.'
He didn't elaborate on who 'they' might have been. 'You know what I'm going to do, don't you,' I said and took a couple more shots.
He walked back to his sentry box. I suspect the reasoning behind this may have a little to do with a potential terrorist threat, but also with the possibility of the site being more contaminated with industrial toxins than 'they' are letting on about.
After this aggravating brush with the forces of order, we rode round the perimeter and past the main gates of the prison and into the town of March. We followed another cycle path, which unfortunately took us in the wrong direction, so we turned back into town then out onto a minor road in the direction of Ely.
Not far out of March, in a quirk of Fenland by-ways, the road almost turned back on itself. I would guess this has something to do with field boundaries. It was still windy and the sky was darkening. I thought we would try a short cut across the Ouse Drain at Welches Dam. There was no road marked on the map as crossing the drain, but I reckoned there must be some kind of bridge. We turned eastwards towards the village of Manea, as the rain started to fall. Here was another squall of similar intensity to that in Kings Lynn the day before, hammering into us from our left. We rode on into the village, where we sheltered under a parasol in a pub garden, until the rain eased a little. At Welches Dam, sure enough, there was a bridge. On the other side of the bridge, there were tracks but the direction we should take was hard to ascertain. I asked a man from the Environment Agency, one of a crew who were working near the bridge, if it was possible to get across the Ouse Washes to Ely.
'On a bike?' he said. 'Only if it's got an outboard motor.'
He directed us onto the track that followed the drain, which would take us to the main A142 road. We'd have to ride round after all. We stopped to eat a little way down the track, taking refuge in one of the birdwatchers' hides that line the dike. There were no birds today though, well maybe two.
| Heart | 0 | Comment | 0 | Link |
| Heart | 1 | Comment | 0 | Link |
The track was rough going in places, I wouldn't recommend it. We turned off the A142 as soon as we could at Mepal and encountered the first hill of the day. We climbed up to Wardy Hill and Coveney , before dropping back down to reach the outskirts of Ely. We found a hotel in the city centre near the Cathedral.
Later we crossed the road to the friendly pub almost opposite the cathedral. I spoke to a local man, probably in his forties. I told him what we were up to and said we intended visiting the cathedral the next morning.
'Do you ever have a look in?' I asked.
'Last time I was in there,' he said 'was on a school trip.'
We ate in an Italian-style restaurant, one of a chain. The food was passable. A very pretty dark-haired girl served us. She was Slovakian. Slovakia might be worth a look.
Today's ride: 90 km (56 miles)
Total: 476 km (296 miles)
| Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 2 |
| Comment on this entry | Comment | 0 |