Day 6: Clitheroe - Carlisle

Steve and Rob fly pass the window at Slaidburn, having already ridden from Clitheroe. The bus drops the rest of 'the B Team' back at Clitheroe after more than an hour's hanging around while the non-riding element breakfasts at leisure.......

It's climbing all the way to Clitheroe, and I find I have legs of jelly, a temperature and a cold sweat. Apparently, there's been a bug going round... Fortunately I also have a loo roll in my bike bag.....

I resort to pushing the bike as much as riding it in the beautiful but hilly terrain. In fact, I'm on and off more often than Katie Price's knickers.

Rod kindly stays with me, and I welcome the sanctuary of the stationary minibus, where I put on extra clothing to keep warm, and take Anadin and Diocalm, which looks and smells like a dishwasher tablet, but does the job of 'capping the well', as a BP spokesman would say. Our Leader suggests I join him in the bus for the rest of the day, which is meant well, but is all the motivation I need, and I'm back in the saddle seconds later.

It's great - and relatively unknown - countryside around Bowland Forest, and Rod gets many photos as I struggle up the inclines. Eventually we reach Kirkby Lonsdale, where the others lunch, but I can't face anything but the odd energy bar, concious of the need to re-fuel somehow.

With our schedule there's simply no time to take time out, so we agree on damage limitation, to see how far we can get during hours of daylight, even at reduced pace. Rod reminds me that the only feeling worse than riding in discomfort is the feeling of quitting.

At Kendal we pick up the A6 again and gradually I get back into it, happy to be going north and on a good road. I'm drinking plenty of fluid, and it seems to be doing the job of flushing out the system. I'm no longer thinking of Hughie and Ruth...

We climb over Spap, and reward ourselves with an alfresco fish & chips in Shap village, though I don't tempt fate, and avoid the curry sauce.

Feeling good now in the evening sun, and we press on through Penrith to Plumpton, where we call it a day as the light's fading, 10 miles short of Carlisle. Given the circumstances, 79 miles in 8 hours' riding represents a good recovery.

Day 5: Telford - Clitheroe

Another big day, so we're away at 7:30. Good, flat roads to Market Drayton, Nantwich and Church Minshull, where we meet the bus.

Rain comes as we cross Northwich, and pick our way through the lanes to cross the Manchester Ship Canal at Warburton toll bridge.

We meet the others at Leigh - another contender for the Crap Towns accolade - and find the A6 to take us north, through the Chorley rush hour and climb on the A59 towards Clitheroe.

Riding becomes hard work and I just want the day to end. I have a can of coke to stay sharp, and am shivering as we reach Clitheroe, where I dive into the bus and put on all the clothes I can find. The bus takes us to Slaidburn youth hostel, where we're made very welcome.

109 miles in 9.25 hours.

Day 4: Bristol - Telford

We set off at 8:15 heading north to the M5, where we pick up a cycle route that promises a route to the (northern) Severn Bridge. Like most cycle routes it leaves us clueless in the middle of nowhere, but the bridge is visible for miles, so we eventually get there, and are grateful for the smooth surface on the footpath/cycleway.

Welsh border control negotiated, it's up the A466 past Chepstow racecourse, and up the Wye Valley to Monmouth. The best part of the ride to date, I'm in the groove and the miles fly by, as does Tintern Abbey.

Resist the temptation to call in at the Kingstone Brewery and weave between England and Wales till Monmouth is reached, where I get lost in the town centre.

Pressing north to Hereford we refuel at ASDA and battle our way out of town through heavy traffic. Then it's the A4110 past Leominster and on to Craven Arms. Hitting the wall now, I plod on, travelling parallel to the Long Mynd, consoled by the thought that there are worse places to be.

We pick up Tach at Buildwas, cross the Severn and climb up into the new town of Telford. Not so new now, of course, there are still plenty of open spaces waiting for development. I'm reminded of Take Me Home, a 1989 BBC drama shot in Telford starring Keith Barron and Maggie O'Neill....

113 miles in 9.7 hours.

Ingrid and Jenny are at the Travelodge to meet us with supplies and Angus, who's now well enough to cycle. We explore the bright lights of Telford and find a McDonalds, then it's time to get some sleep.

Day 3: Barnstaple - Bristol

The first 'proper' day's riding, ie 100+ miles. With this in mind we agree to head down the A 361 trunk road rather than taking quieter lanes. Apart from the Fast Boys, who take the scenic route and still arrive a long time before us.

Riding in the reservation at the side of the road has its downside, and there are several punctures. Then Tach's pedal disintegrates and Alan is called into action again, whisking him and his bike to a cycle store in Taunton.

We plough on in full sunshine past Tiverton, across the M5 and pick up the A 38. It's hard work under the blazing sun, and I'm grateful when we happen across Morgan's transport cafe, south of Wellington. No Fancy Dan menu here, it's a reminder of a fast disappearing part of the travelling experience.

Past Taunton we leave the A 38 and head east across the Somerset Levels, willow trees and wicker much in evidence. Over the Polden Hills, now heading north towards Cheddar. Again. 'gorge' doesn't promise flat riding, and I suggest a diversion, but am overruled, so its another push for me. We then get confused by the road system, and lose Rod for half an hour. Getting tired now we agree to head into Bristol on the A38, past the airport. I'm struggling now, as it's very hilly and I'm running on empty.

Rod appears to be waiting for me at the top of a climb, but as a lycra-clad female cyclist comes past he's off like a greyhound out of the trap.

Under the Clifton suspension Bridge we have to push our bikes up into Clifton, and to James' flat, where one of the residents kindly lets us in and stores our bikes. For the only time in the ride we have the luxury of a room apiece, and celebrate our first 'ton' with a beer with pie & chips overlooking Clifton Downs.

105 miles in 8.25 hours.

Day 2: Rock - Barnstaple

The day starts with packing up the tents and taking a drive to Rock, for a hearty breakfast with friends of Our Leader at the Rock Sailing Club. Rock is famous fore being a holiday haunt of the over-privileged, including Wills and Harry (oops - there goes the Peerage...) and I'm tempted to boycott the whole thing on principle...but I'm getting hungry.

Despite all the arrangements, there's not a soul to be seen at the Sailing Club, so we troop across the sand to a local cafe, the Blue Tomato. Pretentious name, agreed, and the warning lights start flashing when I spot the trendy waiter writing in French on a blackboard. Nice position though.

To cut a long story short, I emerge a short time later £12 lighter, having had a not-very-full English breakfast. If you think it's just me, take a look at these reviews...

http://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/Restaurant_Review-g528872-d1166956-Reviews-Blue_Tomato_Cafe-Rock_Cornwall_England.html

We set out on the B3314, which runs parallel to the A39, but nearer the sea, giving fleeting views of spectacular coastal scenery. Sunny weather makes all the difference, and I'm enjoying riding for the first time. We make good progress, interrupted only by a herd of cows being herded down the lane. I'm worried about damage to the bike, and hole up behind a 4x4, but Tach is completely unfazed by the situation.

Eventually we cross the A39, and cut across Devonian lanes, not always sure where we are, but heading in the right direction.

We take a food break at the Waitrose in Holdsworthy, then up the A388. I'm learning to look out for place names that include 'beacon' and 'hill'...We turn off to Great Torrington, riding through spectacular scenery, deep wooded gorges with steep climbs. Progress is slow, as the descents sre often blind, I'm constantly on the brakes and can't carry any speed.

Riding with Tach, we have a good chat, and stop at Taddiport for a paddle in the river, which turns out to be rather dirtier than we'd imagined. Descending to the Travelodge on outskirts of Barnstaple I put the bike in the room, eat the remaining Waitrose pork and pickle pies (highly recommended) and meet up for a pint with Steve, Pan, Phil, Dave and Sue, who were on a weekend break nearby.

According to Rod's trip computer, 63 Miles in 5.6 hours.

Day 1: Barford - Land's End - Rock

Due to a hectic Friday at work I regretfully miss Our Leader's barbecue, throw my kit into a holdall and join the group at 3:00 on Saturday morning.

With my bike loaded we had two bikes inside the bus, three on a rack and three on a holder attached to the towbar. This solution removed the need for a trailer, which was a relief.

After an hour's fannying around in Barford, the drive to Lands End is uneventful, and we stop at a Tesco for a breakfast, and to pick up supplies - in my case milkshakes, much to everyone's amusement.

At Lands End we get changed in the blustery car park, then waste more time in the 'theme park' at Land's End. Disneyland it isn't.

Tourist trap photos are unavoidable, but I really don't see the point in signing a book at the nearby hotel. All of which means we eventually ease ourselves into the narrow Cornish lanes at 13:45, nearly two hours behind schedule.

We ride together today, but usually in single file. The heavens open as we ride along the front at Penzance - fitting for the first day of the summer holidays. St Michael's mount is hardly visible through the drizzle, then we head inland to Redruth, which doesn't feature on many postcards. Unaccountably we get lost trying to exit Redruth - mainly because all roads are signed to Truro - where we didn't want to go.

We pick up the A392 towards Newquay, as we needed to make quicker progress than through the lanes. It's a good road, with swooping descents, then onto the A39 'Atlantic Highway' and across the River Camel at Wadebridge.

We head up the other side of the estuary towards Rock, stopping at our campsite at Dinham Farm, which had been organised with friends of Our Leader (http://www.dinhamfarm.co.uk).

67 miles in 5.25 hours.

We put the bikes in newly-built washrooms for security. As I close the door on mine I hear it topple over - resulting in two bikes being trapped in a washroom with no access apart from the four inches I can open the door.

Using a mirror from the bus I see the bikes' position, and Rod eventually manages to create enough of an opening to squeeze in and complete the rescue.

Everyone else drives off to a local restaurant. Although it's been a deliberately short day, I'm physically and mentally exhausted, having had a long week with too little sleep. It's all I can do to put up my tent, blow up the airbed and eat my sandwiches sat in the middle of a field, before turning in. During the night I'm sure I hear warthogs nearby...

Back to the Future

As forecast, I didn't get time to blog during the time away.... In fact, I hardly has time to get a text away....

So, with a cunning time shift I'll run through the high(?)lights from each day from my notes.

Did I make it the whole way? Did I take the bus? Did I crash? Was I ill?

Read on to find out....

But first an introduction to the other members of the LE-JOG group:

Scott Wilson (68), civil engineer.

Our Leader, Scott was the driving force behind the venture, and organiser.

Surprisingly fit for his age, Scott unfortunately failed to de-cleat when coming to a stop early one morning, and fractured his arm in the resulting tumble.

He did, however, bring his bike, and managed some impressive riding cameos along the route.


Alan Fletcher (driver).

Originally known for planning purposes as 'Captain Birdseye', because Our Leader knew he has been in the Royal Navy, but not his name or phone number.

Alan was a former coach driver, owned a minibus and was more than happy to accompany the group on its mission. A real trooper, without whom we would not have been able to undertake the ride.

Angus Wilson (15).

Son of Our Leader, Angus joined us at Telford, and rode most days from then on. Good road sense, the experience will stand Angus in good stead for riding a full LE-JOG.





Rod Scott (62), village postmaster.

'Retired' engineer Rod is busier than ever, being involved in most aspects of village life, from dispensing postage stamps to assuming his alter ego Marvo the Illusionist ('mainly involves sawing women in half...').

Lighter and fitter than me, because Rod's bike is made from recycled girders, we tend to arrive at the same time, as if joined by a giant elastic band. Rod's better at hill climbing, using his special 'granny gear', while I move ahead on descents and on the flat.


Tachbele Adam (39), housing association worker.

Older than he looks, Tach joined us after hearing of the group at his bike shop in Birmingham.

Possessing great sprinting ability, 'The Black Arrow' earned his cycling spurs commuting across Birmingham rather than in his native Addis Ababa.






John Quigley (38), marketing manager.

We first met John at a cafe in Kineton, on a Sunday training ride. Our Leader introduced himself and told him all about our expedition. Despite which, John asked to join us...

Renowned for his liking for fine dining and (not unconnected) late starts, John always caught up with the group, despite starting up to an hour later.




Steve Peoples (35), civil engineer.

Native of Tewkesbury, with accent to match, Steve was one of the 'Fast Boys' who did their own thing, but always arrived way before anyone else.

A genuine guy, and a pleasure to ride with . If you can keep up...



Rob Davis (29), civil engineer.

The other half of the Fast Boys, Rob rides a cool-looking carbon fibre Bianchi, and is seriously quick, riding as fast up hills as on the flat. An Iron Man competitor, Rob has also ridden L'Etape du Tour in France.

Despite which he's a really nice bloke. Sickening....