This can be for a number of reasons. Mechanical failures. Life events. Weather conditions. Or, more simply, that the individual doing the planning can't be arsed.
I have come to seek absolution. I fell into the latter category.
It's not that I didn't do the tours. It's more that, at the end of them, I found myself not quite getting round to writing them up. I think there's less motivation to do so when the places involved are all nearby, and relatively familiar, because there's less chance that I'm going to go back and review my journals at a later date. However, with another and far bigger tour now two days away, I kind of feel like I do need to upload a few pictures, if only to show what the off-season training regime looked like.
I've managed three more short tours this year, by way of training for my forthcoming adventure. This section of the journal has a lot of pictures from those tours, and far less writing, which is probably a benefit to all concerned. In total, three excursions, and 550 miles. You might find this entry worthwhile if you like countryside and coastal snaps. If on the other hand you prefer images of fast cars, topless models, or jet aircraft, then the diary won't be for you. That said, I think there are probably plenty of other corners of the web which will cater for your interests. So, in brief, here we go... what Raven and I got up to over the spring period.
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Tour one was a simple two-day out and back, from the south coast of Devon to the north. Specifically, to Lynton and Lynmouth, which lies in the middle of the bleak Exmoor national park, surrounded by very little indeed. When I say 'middle', I mean in east/west terms - there's nothing either side, and though you're right at the top of Exmoor, that's pretty immaterial unless you have a boat. The place feels almost as remote as you can get. That said, it's a thriving community, two tiny towns which tumble into each other. Lynmouth is at the base of a cliff, whilst Lynton sits above, the two connected by a water-powered funicular railway. If that sounds rather obscure, it is: apparently there are only three of them left in the world.
The route back was slightly longer, because I didn't want to take exactly the same roads. So day one (13/3) was 60 miles, day two (14/3), 64.
The River Exe, as I set out in the morning under blueish skies.
Cyclepath alongside the Exe. It's a great route in - very flat - and even if you're suffering from a bout of early morning lethargy, there's usually at least one jogger who you can overtake.
Mark M.To Mark BinghamI do find that it's important to pace oneself, particularly at the start of a ride. I've been known to draft grannies with zimmers for several miles before now. Reply to this comment 2 weeks ago
I'm not sure I'm going to get the locations right on all these pics. Let's call them 'Devon countryside', because that's definitely accurate, and if nothing else it gives a sense of the beauty of the county's scenery. There weren't too many settlements on the route because (a) that tends to be what Komoot does, in choosing safe routes, and (b) you'd be hard pressed to find big settlements up here if you tried.
I've just spotted the glimpse of horizontal wheel at the bottom right of this picture. To the best of my recollection, this was however a deliberate stop, rather than a fall. Raven was taking a breather.
My hotel for the night. Looks very grand, but I think I may have been almost the only person staying here off-season. Breakfast had to be ordered the night before if you wanted it. I thought I'd check out the many nearby cafes instead, and then discovered they were all shut until about 0930, because no-one else comes up here at this time of year.
Lynton. It's a lovely place with lots of independent shops and boutiques. I think they make their money in July and August though. There wasn't much going on when I arrived, and I ended up getting dinner (such as it was) from a local supermarket.
The water powered funicular. Because it was early evening by the time I arrived, it was closed, so I had to walk down. The trek back up to the hotel was not easy, particularly after the first hilly ride of the season!
So this was day two. I'd just bombed down the steep hill to Lynmouth. Half way up the following climb, I encountered this. Which necessitated about a further five miles of riding, and rather a lot more climbing than I'd planned.
Finally: I was reaching the top of my alternative hill out of Lynmouth. Having taken a different route, I'd now need to drop right back into the valley, and up the other side again as I headed back towards my original inland road.
Tour two took place a month or so later, from 3 to 5 April. It started and ended with a short train journey, because I wanted to vary the roads that we travelled. So - Axminster to Bristol (70 miles), Bristol to Witney, in the Cotswolds (75 miles) and Witney to Westbury, where I caught the train again for a final ride back home from Exeter station (78 miles).
This tour was notable particularly for our first proper mechanical breakdown, about five miles from Bourton in the Water, our planned lunch stop in the Cotswolds. I was cursing a little at Raven as we laboured up a hill, and her chain began to skip. She'd had a full service at the end of last year, with new cassette too, but it turned out that the skipping was a precursor to a full on chain snap. I sat folornly at the roadside with a bunch of tools and (fortunately) a quick link, preparing myself for an hour of trying to get things sorted. And then a knight in shining armour came past, seated in the smallest car you could imagine, but with a bicycle rack on the back. It transpired that he was a retired airline pilot who'd done about 25000 miles bike touring on the mainland from his base in the Isle of Man. He refused to let me struggle, and insisted on taking Raven and I to the nearest bike shop, in Bourton. Half an hour later, and thirty quid lighter, we were back on the road. Struck me as very good value, and a lot better than things might otherwise have turned out. Thank goodness for the kindness of strangers.
My local train station, as we set out for Axminter and the start of our first day's riding. The line's perpetually under threat from rising sea levels and storms, but it's not a bad place to start your commute.
The Bishop's Palace, at Wells. Not being a religious type myself, I don't understand how this materialism squares with looking after the poor, but I'm sure the bishop had occasional receptions or something.
That said, Cheddar Gorge is renowned as a long and testing climb. It's just over two and a half miles, averaging around 5%, and getting up to about 15% in places. I think if you're a cycle tourist, though, you get used to just plodding onwards. Didn't cause us any real difficulties, but I'd wanted to tick this one off as part of my route.
Lunch stop at Bourton on the Water, just after Raven's new chain had been fitted. This is one of two or three places where all the tourists come to take photos and pay through the nose for pastiche English food. To be honest, even out of season, it's best avoided. If on the other hand there's a future nuclear event, and you're the last person left standing, it's probably well worth a visit.
Back on the road for the final day, heading southwards through Wiltshire. I'd been a bit concerned that I might have been pushed to make it to my pre-booked train, but I'd forgotten exactly how flat things are around these parts. In the end, there was time to spare.
Bradford on Avon, where we pretty much ended the tour. This was about five miles away from our train station at Westbury, and I paused at this spot for lunch in the sun.
Tour three was another three day effort, this time schedule for early May. It took me back up to the North Devon coast - this time to Ilfracombe, which is to the west of Lynton. Next, I travelled eastwards along the coast, and finally back to the south coast of Dorset, to Lyme Regis, before heading back west and homewards. Mileage was: day one to Ilfracome - 63 miles; day two to Taunton - 67 miles; day three to home, via Dorset - 73 miles.
I think there were three notable things about this tour, which took place in the most fabulous sunshine. The first was the hosting, which was outstanding in North Devon (she wanted to take my water bottles so she could refrigerate them for me overnight) and dreadful in Taunton (she told me I was silly for wanting to lock my bike up, before calling me a liar for telling her that her rack rates were cheaper through an intermediary). Staying at independent places is always an adventure, and it turns out positively more often than not. The second thing was the countryside, with a number of beaches, but the north coast in particular being an unexpected delight. I don't know why I hadn't been along these roads before. And the third thing was the latest mechanical issue. I hit a huge and concealed pothole, immediately feeling my inner tube go. As I looked down, I at least thanked my stars that it was the front wheel, which is always easier to change. And then I pulled over, and saw that it was both. Ho hum. This is why we carry spares, no?
Morning coffee, Devon style, in the village stores at Kennerleigh. Apologies for the flash of flesh. The cake here was great and it certainly wasn't intentional that I seemed to have concealed it behind a plant pot.
Dropping down onto the North Devon coast. I think this looks a bit less clear than it was because - as with many of my photos - I find my lens gets steamed up from being kept in my cycling jersey back pocket!
A repurposed rail route heading down towards Ilfracombe. I often find that these are the best cycle paths anywhere, and I'd deliberately added a few short miles to travel along this one.
Part of the garden at my Ilfracombe B&B. It had a cinema room, firepit, outdoor spa bath, and the nicest hosts I think I've ever encountered anywhere. If you're ever there, I recommend them - the Devonian.
The Landmark Theatre in Ilfracombe. It's quite remote in these parts and I don't think many west end productions make it out this far. But the community has everything you need and is lovely out of season.
Day two, here: there were a few up and downs as I headed east along the coast, but again, the views were worth it. You can see a sign for the coastal path, which is very popular and runs right the way around the edge of Devon and Cornwall.
The sea front at Lyme Regis. I met a very friendly cyclist here as I stopped for lunch, and he asked me if I was doing 'the race' too. Transpires he was going from Lands End to Kent in about four days. There's always someone madder than you.
The seafront at Exmouth, uncharacteristically quiet out of season. I felt like I'd made it already, because from here it's about 15 miles of totally flat cyclepath.
A couple of miles from home, I'd run out of water. So I felt compelled to stop at this riverside pub for a pint of diet coke. Dehydration can be a serious issue. This shot, incidentally, was taken from one of their deckchairs. It's a tough life.
