The story so far. An old codger and his wife set out from Sussex to ride round as many rural Hastoe housing schemes as they could manage. One of them fell twice and continued wounded. She's nearly better today - she can reach her mouth with her her left hand, a decided breakthrough. We got to North Norfolk and then to West Devon and we are now on our way back to Sussex. Yesterday we suffered an exploding tyre. We had descended one of Devon's remarkable hills, brakes on all the way. Evidently this warmed up the tyre to an unacceptable degree. We stopped for a bite to eat and the tyre burst while the bike was parked. Harriet's niece - who lives nearby, came to the rescue with a spare inner tube and we were on our way again. Our longest day so far, starting at 9.15 and arriving at 6.45.A Hastoe tenant kindly gave us a cup of tea at one stop, so perhaps that accounts for the time it took. We did about 39 miles which in Norfolk would have been light work but here in the west country it included 3619 feet of elevation gain. Today we had a soft day and arrived at Sidling St Nicholas, which may be in Somerset or Dorset, via Dorchester which is definitely in Dorset. Tomorrow we hope to be in Wiltshire.
If you want to sponsor us, look at the links blog earlier and you can see what to do.
Riding for Ruhanga
Thursday, 5 September 2013
Tuesday, 3 September 2013
West Devon at last - Exmoor to Dartmoor
Having reached North Norfolk, our next objective was West Devon and we got there. Now let the west wind blow - we're aiming for Sussex.
A quick summary of the last two days:
Monday 2nd. Left Oakford (with its terrible Hangman's Hill). Like the three kings, we left by a different route. Gigi would have taken us back to those double arrows on the map. On the way to South Tawton, we found we would pass close to Black Dog, where Harry's niece, Hen, farms organically with her husband Olly. So we called there for lunch. Thus refuelled, we set off again going south. But these Devonians don't think to mention hills. We used up most of the remaining brake blocks going down their drive and on the way back up my front wheel simply left the ground and I nearly went over backwards. It was quite a job even to walk up. They cheerily explained that that bit of the farm track was one-in-four. Harry put her bike on maximum assist and simply rode up it. How disloyal, eh? Even Olly, who has cycled the entire length of Italy and Sicily, doesn't think of trying it. I should mention that we picked up our first puncture of the trip on the way down that farm track - luckily a front wheel and not too much trouble to repair. Bad news for Annie, who sponsored us per puncture.
We got to South Tawton without incident and found Hastoe's houses, Connomede Cottages and a chap who expressed enthusiasm about living there. This village is high up on Dartmoor, just inside the National Park, and the most westerly point on our journey. I feel we are now on our way home. It is not much less westerly than Plymouth, which is only separated from Cornwall by the Tamar. Olly came and collected us to stay the night back at Black Dog.
Tuesday 3rd. We decided to set off from there rather than return to S Tawton as it did not materially change the length of our journey. To avoid the steep drive we took a footpath instead which turned out to be half a mile pushing the bikes through undergrowth. Fun. Next stop Crediton, where the Bike Shed could not have been more helpful and we came away with new or refurbished brake blocks. Many thanks, Bike Shed. They also had unicycles for sale. I restrained myself. Then on to Newton St Cyres (rhymes with wires or lyres) where we found not only Hastoe's scheme but also the Beer Engine, a most excellent pub for lunch with a micro brewery in the basement. Ended the day riding through Exeter and down the river to Exton, where Harry's godson, Tom where we are spending tonight.
A quick summary of the last two days:
Monday 2nd. Left Oakford (with its terrible Hangman's Hill). Like the three kings, we left by a different route. Gigi would have taken us back to those double arrows on the map. On the way to South Tawton, we found we would pass close to Black Dog, where Harry's niece, Hen, farms organically with her husband Olly. So we called there for lunch. Thus refuelled, we set off again going south. But these Devonians don't think to mention hills. We used up most of the remaining brake blocks going down their drive and on the way back up my front wheel simply left the ground and I nearly went over backwards. It was quite a job even to walk up. They cheerily explained that that bit of the farm track was one-in-four. Harry put her bike on maximum assist and simply rode up it. How disloyal, eh? Even Olly, who has cycled the entire length of Italy and Sicily, doesn't think of trying it. I should mention that we picked up our first puncture of the trip on the way down that farm track - luckily a front wheel and not too much trouble to repair. Bad news for Annie, who sponsored us per puncture.
We got to South Tawton without incident and found Hastoe's houses, Connomede Cottages and a chap who expressed enthusiasm about living there. This village is high up on Dartmoor, just inside the National Park, and the most westerly point on our journey. I feel we are now on our way home. It is not much less westerly than Plymouth, which is only separated from Cornwall by the Tamar. Olly came and collected us to stay the night back at Black Dog.
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| The short cut out of Black Dog |
Sunday, 1 September 2013
Another "day off" - Culmstock to Oakford.
Sunday, 1st September. Started the day with communion at All Saints, Culmstock, where we were pleased to be among the younger members of the congregation. To be fair, there were also five or six children and a couple of young mums. A yew tree grows at the top of the tower and has been there for forty years or more. Such a thing would normally have the church authorities sleepless until the thing was removed but in Culmstock they revere the yew and water it whenever there is a drought.
Culmstock to Uffculme is a mere 3 miles and we did it at an average speed of 10.7mph. Get that. In Devon. the remainder of our day's journey, 19.59 miles, was recorded as an average speed of 7.5 mph. It included a considerable spell along a canal towpath, somewhat slowed down by fishermen and walkers with dogs etc., during which we were overtaken by a runner. Well, it was supposed to be the rest of our day off, wasn't it? And in the remaining bit an unlooked-for elevation gain of 1,798 feet. For the first time in the best part of two weeks I had to get off and walk on two occasions. We thought we had seen some hills already but this was something else. If ever you come to this part of the world and find yourself in the vicinity of Hangmans Hill, go another way.
I forgot to say how nice it was yesterday to meet a chap in the pub where we ate our evening meal, who enquired about our exploits and kept expressing disbelief. He wandered off and emptied another pint or two and some time later returned to slip me a £10 note "for your charity".
Looking for the Hastoe scheme in Uffculme, we spotted a gent wearing shorts. He'll be a holiday maker, I decided. We asked him anyway and it turned out he had done nine years on the parish council and knew all about Hastoe and was able to tell us where to go.
Hastoe people please note about Halberton, the lovely people in no.5 are to be congratulated on allowing a house martin to nest on their house. the third brood are still being fed. The tree in the front garden at no 19 could maybe do with pollarding. There, that proves we've been there.
Gigi the Garmin Gadget did not excel today. She denied knowledge of two streets in Halberton, feigned complete ignorance of the canal towpath to Tiverton and led us up - and possibly more scarily down - Ash Hill and Hangman's Hill, two of the twistiest, steepest and gravelliest highways you could hope to find.
Culmstock to Uffculme is a mere 3 miles and we did it at an average speed of 10.7mph. Get that. In Devon. the remainder of our day's journey, 19.59 miles, was recorded as an average speed of 7.5 mph. It included a considerable spell along a canal towpath, somewhat slowed down by fishermen and walkers with dogs etc., during which we were overtaken by a runner. Well, it was supposed to be the rest of our day off, wasn't it? And in the remaining bit an unlooked-for elevation gain of 1,798 feet. For the first time in the best part of two weeks I had to get off and walk on two occasions. We thought we had seen some hills already but this was something else. If ever you come to this part of the world and find yourself in the vicinity of Hangmans Hill, go another way.
I forgot to say how nice it was yesterday to meet a chap in the pub where we ate our evening meal, who enquired about our exploits and kept expressing disbelief. He wandered off and emptied another pint or two and some time later returned to slip me a £10 note "for your charity".
Looking for the Hastoe scheme in Uffculme, we spotted a gent wearing shorts. He'll be a holiday maker, I decided. We asked him anyway and it turned out he had done nine years on the parish council and knew all about Hastoe and was able to tell us where to go.
Hastoe people please note about Halberton, the lovely people in no.5 are to be congratulated on allowing a house martin to nest on their house. the third brood are still being fed. The tree in the front garden at no 19 could maybe do with pollarding. There, that proves we've been there.
Gigi the Garmin Gadget did not excel today. She denied knowledge of two streets in Halberton, feigned complete ignorance of the canal towpath to Tiverton and led us up - and possibly more scarily down - Ash Hill and Hangman's Hill, two of the twistiest, steepest and gravelliest highways you could hope to find.
Saturday, 31 August 2013
A rest day
Today we took it easy. Kind of. We were staying at Horton near Ilminster and meant to take the whole day off but changed our minds when our hosts, Chris and Rose, went off to a wedding. We sorted out a b&b at Culmstock, some 3 miles beyond Hemyock and set out about one-thirty. We had only about 14 miles to go - a doddle you might think. Chris and Rose supported Harry against Gigi and we took what appeared to be the direct route. We soon understood why Gigi had recommended a more roundabout route. We climbed and climbed and climbed. Sadly Gigi took umbrage and turned herself off for no reason. She has never played this particular trick and I am at a loss to know the real reason but the details of that particular section of our journey appear to be irrevocably lost. A pity because i am convinced the record would have been stratling for the change in elevation. In this part of the world hills are so normal that the roads have normal names like Uffculme Road when they should have names like Horrible Hill, Horrendous Hill, Humungous Hill, Hairy-as-a-very-hairy-indeed-thing Hill and so on. It took about half an hour to get up the first one, which rose from Horton and went on and on. Then we went down the other side (the hairy one) and started thinking about finding a bike shop to get new brake pads. Eventually when I was at breaking point we found a most excellent pub which I whole-heartedly recommend called the Candlelight Inn which fed and restored us even though it was after two thirty. "The best sandwiches I have ever tasted" Harry said. Plus they had a little garden with lots of butterflies. And very good cider. The young (about 40) publican encouraged us saying the hill ahead was the last serious one on our journey and his personal best doing it on his bike was 7 minutes. It took us 15.
I should mention finding the Hastoe scheme at Hemyock. I had no post code nor address so I Googled it and got an idea that Hastoe's houses were on the site of the old St Ivel milk processing factory. We tracked this down eventually and then on the way out of the town I spotted a development which looked the sort of thing Hastoe does and sure enough it was so. I'm inclined to claim that as two schemes if my sponsors will put up with that.
Tomorrow we expect to have another half day and that will make up our full day off, spread over two days.
I should mention finding the Hastoe scheme at Hemyock. I had no post code nor address so I Googled it and got an idea that Hastoe's houses were on the site of the old St Ivel milk processing factory. We tracked this down eventually and then on the way out of the town I spotted a development which looked the sort of thing Hastoe does and sure enough it was so. I'm inclined to claim that as two schemes if my sponsors will put up with that.
Tomorrow we expect to have another half day and that will make up our full day off, spread over two days.
From Corn to Cattle
I am in big trouble from various members of the family for not posting photos of Harry's wounds. The swelling in the arm goes up and down but it seems to be getting better on the whole. To tell the truth, they are not very photogenic but I've added some random ones and will try harder in future.
For ten days now we have been riding through fields of wheat. In Norfolk we saw two fields which together must have amounted to 600 acres. Harry remarked how we never saw any cows, only a few sheep here and there. Suddenly yesterday (Friday) this all changed and we were in cattle country, with smells to match. We did 48 miles through Somerset with plenty of ups and downs and arrived here (near Ilminster) rather tired. It was lovely to be met at Whitelackington by Mandella from Hastoe. This was one of Hastoe's early schemes, built in 1991 as a result of enthusiasm by Ewan Cameron, the big landowner around here. And as it happens we are staying with his estate manager, Chris and Rose who used to manage a farm in Barcombe many years ago - which is how we know them.
One of the housing schemes we visited yesterday was at Ditcheat (to rhyme with itch it). A delightful village full of race horses being taken up to the gallops and children playing in the streets. We passed through another village called something Beauchamp, which disappointingly was pronounced as you would expect, Beecham.
Harry has just told me I must stop as we are off again. This was to be our day off but our hosts are going out so we decided to move on. I suppose a start after 1.00pm must pretty well qualify as a rest day.
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| Arm, 20th Aug |
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| Knee, 20th |
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| Arm, 22nd |
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| One of the White Horses, 29th Aug |
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| The beard, 29th. |
Thursday, 29 August 2013
From Marlborough, Wilts to Nunney, Somerset
We have now done some 488 miles and we are perhaps half way through our trip. Rather exciting.
What had promised to be a long day turned out to be a mere 39.69 miles. Estimates made at home in good faith often turn out wrong. Mostly too low but in this case too high. We called at Hastoe schemes at Dilton Marsh and Nunney. At Nunney we were inspecting with interest some redoubtable Land Rovers in a back garden and the lady of the house came out to see what we were up to. As usual, I introduced myself and she remembered getting a letter from Hastoe about us so she didn't
set the dog on us. We found that she and her man spend their leisure time testing the capabilities of these awesome machines on Salisbury Plain and keeping the byways open.
According to Gigi, I used 2501 calories today. I have no idea if that's a lot. I have lost no weight nor gained any. Does she allow for the hills, I wonder? Those hills are not such a terrible thing as we had expected but they are not a bit crotch-friendly. Curiously the average speed doesn't seem to fall but crotch-wise one notices the difference. Max speed today was 34.3. With heavy panniers and steep hills it's not difficult to achieve but a little scary sometimes. We were directed up a narrow back street in Dilton Marsh which was steeper than anything we have met so far, probably only 400 yards but... UP, note. Very UP indeed. Using the bottom of all the gears I could just keep going. My wing man even found it a bit testing.
She is still nursing a sore knee and a sore elbow. Today an experimental spell without pain-killers proved premature. While we were in Buckingham the other day, the pharmacist would not sell Voltarol because she admitted to taking some blood pressure pills. She had to visit another chemist who omitted to assk the same question. While all this was going on, I found a charity shop where I was able to buy another shirt to replace the one I had brought with me - which turned out to be short of a button and out at the elbow. Oops. The wing man doesn't appreciate such slip-ups.
Nature report: Rat and badger have now joined the list, both dead on the road. A few more bird specie, including (where we are staying) a red-legged partridge which uncharacteristically came and sat on the roof for some time.
What had promised to be a long day turned out to be a mere 39.69 miles. Estimates made at home in good faith often turn out wrong. Mostly too low but in this case too high. We called at Hastoe schemes at Dilton Marsh and Nunney. At Nunney we were inspecting with interest some redoubtable Land Rovers in a back garden and the lady of the house came out to see what we were up to. As usual, I introduced myself and she remembered getting a letter from Hastoe about us so she didn't
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| I commandeered a smaller bike while at Pookfield Close, Nunney |
According to Gigi, I used 2501 calories today. I have no idea if that's a lot. I have lost no weight nor gained any. Does she allow for the hills, I wonder? Those hills are not such a terrible thing as we had expected but they are not a bit crotch-friendly. Curiously the average speed doesn't seem to fall but crotch-wise one notices the difference. Max speed today was 34.3. With heavy panniers and steep hills it's not difficult to achieve but a little scary sometimes. We were directed up a narrow back street in Dilton Marsh which was steeper than anything we have met so far, probably only 400 yards but... UP, note. Very UP indeed. Using the bottom of all the gears I could just keep going. My wing man even found it a bit testing.
She is still nursing a sore knee and a sore elbow. Today an experimental spell without pain-killers proved premature. While we were in Buckingham the other day, the pharmacist would not sell Voltarol because she admitted to taking some blood pressure pills. She had to visit another chemist who omitted to assk the same question. While all this was going on, I found a charity shop where I was able to buy another shirt to replace the one I had brought with me - which turned out to be short of a button and out at the elbow. Oops. The wing man doesn't appreciate such slip-ups.
Nature report: Rat and badger have now joined the list, both dead on the road. A few more bird specie, including (where we are staying) a red-legged partridge which uncharacteristically came and sat on the roof for some time.
Wednesday, 28 August 2013
The Vale of the White Horse
If there's one thing I've learned from watching Top Gun it's that you never leave your wing man. Well despite serious damage, my wing man, Harriet, has not let me down and we have stuck together. I'm glad of it. Alone, I would have got lost and forgotten to have lunch and generally floundered. She is well on the mend though her elbow is somewhat compromised and will probably need attention when we get home.
For two nights we have been put up by very good friends and in each case the couple includes one character with very forceful views on the meaning of life and how it should be. They know each other and have very different, very forceful views. So H and I came away wonderfully refreshed with alternative and contradictory world views. Of course I have a world view also, very different again. And Harriet has her strong opinions on almost everything. So you can see we have had a quite invigorating time. And that's without the cycling.
Today we had a shorter day in miles but no mean ride as it turned out. We started at Bladon on the Blenheim Estate and headed south for Chilton Foliat. Oxfordshire gave way to Berkshire and then Wiltshire. It seems only a couple of days since we were hearing the distinctive Norfolk burr and suddenly we are in the West Country.
Gigi the Garmin Gadget puts up the name of the street or road as we go along and the word "hill" occurred rather a lot today. Of particular note was the hill up towards Lambourn, seemingly without a name but let's call it One-in-ten Hill because that is what the sign said at the bottom. We had passed a notice telling us that Lambourn was seven miles away. The first three of those miles was occupied by One-in-ten Hill. It took us some time. Suffice to say we never got off. And Gigi never once decided to put us on pause. It's also fair to mention that the next four miles down to Lambourn took about ten minutes. Hungerford Hill followed and I am not sure which was the most demanding.
Hastoe's little housing scheme at Chilton Foliat is a delight. The six brick-built houses are - as so often - on the edge of the village. They have been constructed in the local vernacular with dark headers and standard stretchers. That's the short ends of the bricks and the long sides. Rather striking.
Tomorrow will be a long day. And free of hills - I DON'T think. then we aim to have a day off.
Good night.
Nick
For two nights we have been put up by very good friends and in each case the couple includes one character with very forceful views on the meaning of life and how it should be. They know each other and have very different, very forceful views. So H and I came away wonderfully refreshed with alternative and contradictory world views. Of course I have a world view also, very different again. And Harriet has her strong opinions on almost everything. So you can see we have had a quite invigorating time. And that's without the cycling.
Today we had a shorter day in miles but no mean ride as it turned out. We started at Bladon on the Blenheim Estate and headed south for Chilton Foliat. Oxfordshire gave way to Berkshire and then Wiltshire. It seems only a couple of days since we were hearing the distinctive Norfolk burr and suddenly we are in the West Country.
Gigi the Garmin Gadget puts up the name of the street or road as we go along and the word "hill" occurred rather a lot today. Of particular note was the hill up towards Lambourn, seemingly without a name but let's call it One-in-ten Hill because that is what the sign said at the bottom. We had passed a notice telling us that Lambourn was seven miles away. The first three of those miles was occupied by One-in-ten Hill. It took us some time. Suffice to say we never got off. And Gigi never once decided to put us on pause. It's also fair to mention that the next four miles down to Lambourn took about ten minutes. Hungerford Hill followed and I am not sure which was the most demanding.
Hastoe's little housing scheme at Chilton Foliat is a delight. The six brick-built houses are - as so often - on the edge of the village. They have been constructed in the local vernacular with dark headers and standard stretchers. That's the short ends of the bricks and the long sides. Rather striking.
Tomorrow will be a long day. And free of hills - I DON'T think. then we aim to have a day off.
Good night.
Nick
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