October 4, 2022
Day 28: Bridgnorth to Droitwich Spa
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In most hotels we usually would like to be getting going at an earlier hour than they would like to prepare breakfast, or even be around to release our bikes from their safe storage. We often find ourselves trying to negotiate earlier times, or annoying breakfast staff by starting to take stuff before the whole layout is laid out.
An oft repeated eerie experience is descending the stairs from the rooms above, carrying some of our bags, and finding the hotel dark and totally silent. Sometimes it feels like we are the only ones in the building.
The problem comes when this eerie experience comes just minutes before the declared or negotiated time for action. This can be a matter or problem of definition. For example, for today we were told that breakfast is from 8 to 10. 8 is already late for us, but ok. There was a special trick that made it ok. In the evening we were shown where, behind the bar, the key to the garage would be stored. So we thought that before 8 we could grab the key, bring down all the bags, free the bikes, and have them loaded and ready to go by 8. Then we could gobble the breakfast and be off.
At 7:59 the place was still a morgue. I came to realize that the definition of 8 o'clock was that at 8 o'clock someone would turn on the lights and ask us what we would like to eat. Then they would fire up the kitchen, and sometime later bring out the food. Even that could have been ok, except that they had a cage to wall off the bar, presumably to protect the valuable bottles of liquor, but also to keep us from that key!
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Last night, as every night, we looked ahead on our track and calculated the distance to various likely stopping spots. We ask ourselves which we are likely to be able to reach, and then we make a booking. If we are feeling brave, we will project this forward a few days as well.
As we have already explained, our average speed in England is half our already modest rate, and we know we can not reach places at distances that otherwise would have been no problem. But lately we have been doing fairly well, and maybe we are getting the feeling that we are getting the hang of this. Given this, we chose Droitwich Spa, which we knew to be 60 km away. We were smart enough not to try for Worcester, which would have been 75 km.
So we set off in good order (I have written this before!), armed with some experience of the roads and a fairly sane daily objective. Of course, we had already slightly tripped on that breakfast impediment, so the actual departure was about an hour late, at 9 o'clock.
In the very early going, we were treated to some nice panoramas, some cows, and a lake. OK! But NCN was biding its time, and it then struck decisively, putting us on an extended goat track beside a railroad. (The railroad was an historic one, once employed in carrying coal in the Severn Valley. We did in fact see a train pass by. Like us, it seemed to be struggling.)
There was no way to cycle the track, so we walked. A crazy proportion of the day was spent walking! Not only was this track narrow and rough, but at first it went up, up, and then down, down. I was leery about the down, because the descent was so deep I figured there had to be water at the bottom, and maybe that would block our way.
Yes, there was water at the bottom, but fortunately we were able to pass. Later, as we left the track, we saw that NCN had posted a helpful warning about the water. "Caution, water hazard". Thanks!
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Aside from narrow gravel single tracks, NCN also had in store today quite a few hills. Lots of these were steep enough and long enough that even with the assist Dodie had to push up. Add to this the portion of roads where one needs to cling to the sidewalk, and it all added up (or subtracted down) to the devilishly slow average speed of 7.5 km per hour.
Fortunately this did not result in us trying again to reach our destination in the dark, with failing headlights, but it was close. Toward the end we switched from the NCN route to one that the Osmand app had cooked up, and our final 15 km or so ended up being on really nice laneways, that allowed us to make some progress. Perhaps the final 15 NCN km would also have been nice. But I can guarantee that we are not going back to check!
The route that we have been following since Shrewsbury is known to NCN as the Mercian Way.
Mercia was an old Anglo-Saxon kingdom before the unification of England. The website cycle.travel has these comments about the route:
"This could be the quintessential English cycle route. Four cathedrals, glimpses of Severn and Thames, the Cotswold countryside, the Ironbridge Gorge… all connected by canal towpaths, railway paths, and miles upon miles of quiet lanes.
The Mercian Way, aka route 45, is one of those National Cycle Network routes that’s never quite hit the headlines – a secret known only to those who lovingly maintain the little blue signs. Mention it in cycle-touring company and you’re more likely to receive a puzzled look than a smile of fraternal recognition."
Along the way there are a few signposts that represent a Mercian soldier. Not only do these look rather scary, as befits the route, but they have the route number, 45, carved into them, and they look like they have stood there for a long long time. That means that the deficiencies of the route have been there for a long long time, and I rather feel that the English are more proud than ashamed of them.
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You can see that this signpost stands 13 miles from Bewdley, which was about the only town where we took a little look, rather than just fighting with the route.
The core of the town seemed very dull. It's funny about brick - sometimes it can look shabby and sometimes great. Bewdley downtown looked shabby.
But then again, Bewdley's houses that faced the river were rather fine Georgian (early 1830's) structures. These were merchants' houses, as Bewdley was a significant port on the Severn.
Before we reached Bewdley we were in Upper Arley, and were already scanning our options for routes that would be shorter, and make the day end earlier. Just at the Severn we asked advice from a lady standing nearby, and though she did recommend one of the possible routes, she advised that all options were fairly rotten, featuring either washouts or stairs. When we told her we were heading for Droitwich Spa (17 miles away), she gasped, saying that she had only ever tried going three miles by bike from this town.
We did choose to cross the river at this point, affording a nice geometric shot of the small bridge at Upper Arley.
Our place in Droitwich Spa turned out to be a B&B, although with one B (the breakfast) missing. However the room, which is within a lady's house, is very nice and again, important to me, has a desk and good internet. Not only that, but she really knows how to fold a towel swan!
Today's ride: 60 km (37 miles)
Total: 1,020 km (633 miles)
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