June 7, 2022
Washingborough to Scothern
a spin wth Dave
Dave and I have discussed going on a ride and visiting a church nearby. It's probably a mile or so as the crow flies and the stone structure is actually visible from his bedroom window, but it's one that neither of us have ever been to. That's basically because although it's only about 100 metres away from a road, it's totally hidden behind a farm.
The weather seems decent again today, with just a vague possibilty of a shower, and we eventually head out the door at gone 11:00 on what is the first time we've cycled together for many years. It's a bit humid and Dave tells me a few times that he's worried about his lack of fitness, but this is a flat loop, so he's really got nothing to fear. perhaps in a subconcious nod to his current state of mind, he opts to wear a T-shirt I got him from Taiwan thathas Do Not Want To Work printed across the front.
After riding down Ferry Lane to the riverside bicycle path, we head east, away from Lincoln. After a mile or more we get to the newish Five Mile Bridge which spans the Witham then it's a case of riding along a track with two ruts the width of a car that has grass growing between them before reaching a road that runs east-west along the southern edge of a village called Fiskerton.
The church is accessible from this road, just to the west, and that's the direction I ride until Dave says it'd be best to go north first and visit All Saints Church on our way back, so that's what we do, going up the last turning on the edge of Fiskerton called Plough Lane.
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The lane is deserted with just remote farms here and there and before we reach a village called Reepham, Dave sees a rudimenary storage building that he says he's been to before to buy trees. My guess is it was originally a farm, but it's not now and the elderly woman who unlocks the big steel gate uses it to run a nursery.
We look around and Dave decides he wants a fruit tree that he likes. It's a bit lopsided and obviously won't go in his saddlebag, but agrees to come back in the car to pick it up after agreeing a price.
Reepham is full of bungalows and the older properties have had most of their character moderised away. We don't see anyone walking around as there's little to encourage it, with no shops. There's a pub, but it looks a bit souless.
Within 10 minutes we've reached the busy A158 and ride along a footpath for a minute or so, then turn into a place called Cheery Tree Garden Centre. Dave is on a mission.
The familar plants are not cheap and while it has a cafe, it doesn't take us long to conclude that our time would be better spent elesewhere. While it's now well gone lunch time and my stomach is rumbling, Dave reckons we can find somewhere to get a bite to eat in Scothern - a village a bit further north. There's a nice pub there called The Bottle and Glass.
The Bottle and Glass Inn is open, but the barmaid says they no longer do food and blames Covid. It's not what I want to hear.
My Casio tells me it's 1:30 when we arrive at the garden centre on the other side of the village. This is a pretty big place and sells knicknacks and its indoor cafe - named Gardener's Retreat Tearoom - has over a dozen tables. We believe the balckboard menu which says the food is homecooked and order mincemeat pie and I get a treacle tart and custard for dessert as I'm famished.
The plants are pricey and after looking around without buying anyting, we start cycling southeast towards Nettleham, now heading back towards Dave's place and All Saints Church.
We enter Nettleham, which has a bit of character with various old houses in its centre nicely preserved, and I lead Dave down Watermill Lane, a spot I recall from my days as a boy, back when my friends and I would ride out this far from Lincoln on our three-speeds and splash through a ford. The shallow beck is still there, but it doesn't look quite the same for some reason. It hard for me to put my finger on it.
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Our route back takes us to the busy 158 and thankfully there's just a short section of smooth path to cycle along before we get on one running south beside the new Lincoln bypass. It becomes a farm track that's a bit rough, but it's safe and spits us onto the road close to where the church is.
The church is just a few hundred metres away, which is just as well as there are quite a few cars now and there's no shoulder. We ride past the farm house and reach a gate and walk into the church grounds. It's like entering a secret garden.
Like most churchs, it dates back almost a thouand years, but was renovated by the Victorians. The original pulpit and pews got replaced, new windows were installed and the floor relaid. We don't get to see much of that due to the hefty door being locked, so we try to satsfy our curisoity with a wander around the graveyard. Ten minutes is enough.
A track heads down from the church and farmhouse to the river. There are several gates to open and close, the last one being hard as it's wedged against a metal post and I have to use most of my stregth to lift it up and swing it open.
After scrambling up through long grass to get on the bank, it seems like we're in for a slog. It's not possible to ride and the bypass is the only bridge across the Witham and that's a good way off.
As we ponder our next move, I tell Dave about being in this exact spot when I was about 10 or so. Around that time, in the 1960s, I'd acquired a small playwood rowing boat from a young carpenter who lived in the next street - getting it in exchange for a pair of car fog lights that my dad had won in a golf tournament. The boat got painted blue and named Bluebottle.
One afternoon, a friend of mine helped me row Bluebottle down the Witham to this spot, within sight and earshot of the farmhouse. We both knew the gamekeeper who lived there from having crossed paths with him while walking on the land. He was a notorius man named Wardy who didn't mince words and would resort to hitting children if he felt the urge. We'd planend revenge.
After mooring the boat on the Witham's southern bank, we got into an adjacent field that had a metal drinking trough for cows. We began beating the thing with a stick and sure enough, Wardy heard it and was soon driving his Landrover down the track to confront us.
He must have thought he had us trapped, but we were back in Bluebottle in a flash and were halfway across the river by the time he appeared on top of the bank. I can still see the furious look on his face. Sweet.
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A man is coming along the bank, pushing a mountain bike, and we wait for him to reach us. he tells us he's not riding as he just fell off and hurt his face. His bulky tripod swun around off his shoulder and clouted him on teh cheek. We can see it's red. He says he's photgraphing birds.
He says there's no access onto the bypass, which is hard to believe, but he tells us he looked long and hard. With that Dave and I return along the track towards the church and farmhouse. The metal trough I banged wit a stick all those decades ago isn't here anymore.
Rather than go up to teh road, I head to a gate that is fastened and has a notice saying it's private land. Dave s unsure, but I reckon it's our best chance of getting to Lincoln on a quiet route and manage to open the gate.
The rough track goes past a wood that I used to explore when a boy, and where the gamekeeper once caught my friends andI - firing his shotgun into the trees above our heads to scare us off.
The track looks to end, but it's just a sharp bend and once around it the things heads towards and under the bylass. From there a path leads up to the new road and its cycle path. Bingo.
Our plan had been to ride back to Dave's house, but we've arranged to meet a few friends in the Morning Star and might as well ride directly there now. Carpenter Dennis and Nick, who's a bricklayer and has the nickname Nick The Brick, are already enjoy a pint when we arrive.
Dave and I both have four pints before heading into town to get a bite to eat at a Vietnamese place and it's dark by the time we start riding along the 5km of bike path back to Dave's.
Today's ride: 30 km (19 miles)
Total: 1,004 km (623 miles)
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The reason for never having visited that church was because it was right next to the farmhouse and it was a no-go area for us back then.
1 year ago