Wednesday 1 April 2009

Friday 22nd August – JOGLE Day 12: Lower Langford to Lashbrook House, Jacobstowe. 82 miles travelled.




Where Our Narrator And His Partner In Crime Find That The A3072 From Tiverton To Crediton Is Memorably Steep, And They Cycle Further Than They Had Ever Done Before.

Day 12 dawned sunny and bright, and it occurred to me as I was pushing my grumbling legs into action that it was Friday and, knee allowing, that we were due to finish on Sunday. It didn’t quite seem real, but we still had a couple of hundred miles left to go and they weren’t going to be easy. Hannah was due to come down the next day and be with us for Saturday and Sunday, and I was really looking forward to this.

Breakfast was a pleasant affair served to us by Colin, and we discussed our route with him as we ate, prompting him to mention a couple of big hills coming up along the A38. I silently pooh-poohed this as we were by now quite proficient at slogging to the top of small mountains, and went back to forcing as much fuel into the tank as possible.

Our gear had been washed overnight and was a tad damp but smelling fresh and we donned this and stepped out into the sunshine to rescue the steeds from their confinement in the garage. We bid Colin farewell, turned left onto the A38, and then took an immediate right into the petrol station to stock up on food and drink for the day: cue much hunting for Lucozade Sport and Snickers bars. Ray didn’t want popcorn, but I added some Malt Loaf to the pile to spice up the selection of chocolate bars.

Once remounted, we cycled on into some pleasant sunny weather and soon hit the first of Colin’s hills which wasn’t as bad as he had made out. This achieved, we pedalled along the A38 passing through numerous small towns and villages and stopping after about 12 miles in a pub car park for a break, at which point Ray availed himself of the facilities while I relaxed for 10 minutes on a sunny bank and tried to wish the pain away. My efforts at tonsuring my chafed areas the night before seemed to be working and although it wasn’t a lifestyle choice I had previously considered, I must say that I can now see the benefits.

We passed over the M5 just after Rooksbridge and carried on through Highbridge on our way down towards Bridgewater. The scenery was by turns rural farmland and towns, with miles of greenery between the built up areas. We reached Bridgewater after a long-seeming slog of about 20 miles, passing through it on the A38 and following signs to Taunton. Once through the town it was back into the open farmland once more and about 10 miles to Taunton which passed fairly quickly. The sun shone the whole way, and it seemed to be altogether a much more cheery day than we had had for a long time. We ate the miles up in patient 10-mile spells, stopping for a manly stretch on the side of the road whenever my right hamstring and knee felt in danger of getting too tight.

Taunton seemed to sprawl a fair way and we passed through only getting a little bit lost in the one-way system, and once back on the A38 we started to look for somewhere to eat lunch as we had been on the road for three and a half hours and I was getting hungry. We reached The World’s End pub after a few more miles, parked up and ordered some food from the bar with the usual coffee, water, and Coke. We added a sachet of the electrolyte replacement crystals that Ralph had given us the day before, and sat outside with the steeds watching the world go by and waiting for our food.

My burger with mash arrived, and Ray had ordered sausage and mash as well so we tucked in with gusto. I put in a call to Hannah to get her to find us a bed for the night either around or just after Tiverton, quite conveniently forgetting that we were at the start of the bank holiday weekend, and that we were now in the South West of the country. Many people flock to the coast on a bank holiday, and most of them seemed to be intent on preventing Ray and I from staying anywhere.

We finished our lunch, let it go down, and then packed our panniers once more. We remounted, turned left out onto the A38 again, and headed on. I was feeling a little heavy after all the food, and we took a slow 10 miles over rolling countryside before I started feeling comfortable again. We passed through numerous small villages with interesting names like White Ball and Red Ball (I could identify with the latter, although the antiseptic cream was helping) before once more crossing over the M5.

We cycled up a reasonably long hill before Appledore, and my knee started complaining in a loud voice that it was beginning to have enough of cycling for the day. I tried to explain that this was all a character-building experience, but it was having none of it. We pulled into a busy service station at another junction with M5, and I took some time to stretch everything I could, eat some more chocolate, and have some Malt Loaf. The car park was packed with people travelling to the coast, and it dawned on me that we might have some problems getting a bed for the night.
The map shows the A38 running into the A361, but what we hadn’t figured on was that the new road was a hellishly fast dual carriageway. I was not at all keen to cycle along it, and we missed a turn-off because we dithered with checking the map. I decided that I was going to off-road, hoisted the Manly Steed onto my shoulder, hiked up a near-vertical embankment and through many-a stinging nettle and bramble to emerge on a back road into Sampford Peverell a few hundred metres from Tiverton Park railway station. With much swearing Ray emerged behind me, and we lifted the bikes over a fence and got back on our way.

My knee decided at this point that it had had enough. I stretched it out, and Ray once more took one for Team AllenRowe and put my pannier on his bike, agreeing that it would be for a 10 mile stint and no more. I was very pleased to be off the dual carriageway, and we navigated a quieter road in towards Tiverton through a pretty village called Halburton passing Tiverton Golf course on our right. We reached Tiverton at about 16:00 and called Hannah to see if there was any news on the accommodation. There was no room anywhere that she could find in Tiverton and the surrounding area, and we gave her our proposed route and asked her to spread the net as far as necessary.

We were aiming for Bude at some point in the next 24 hours, and so carried onwards picking up the A396 towards Bickleigh just south of Tiverton, reaching Bickleigh after about 10 miles or so, stopping in a pub car park. We knew that we had to turn right onto the A3072 to Crediton, and were worried that we had missed the turn off: cut to me pedalling back a mile or so to see if we had. We had not.

There was accommodation as part of the pub, and they had some vacancies. It was very tempting after 60 miles to book in and take a load off, but Hannah called us having got us some accommodation in a small village called Jacobstowe further along. It was a nice evening, we had food and water, and we decided to push on.

We turned right onto the A3072 a couple of hundred yards on, and cycled alongside a small river in some very pretty countryside.

“Mate.” I said. “I’m glad we came this way. It’s really nice!!”

Fate looked up, and put a 10% gradient hill in our way for 3.5 miles.

If you are unsure what a 10% gradient looks like, understand this: I was falling off the back of my saddle at one point.

We fought our way upwards for about 30 mins, taking the occasional breather for some photos as the light was changing as the sun descended in the sky. We were really in the middle of nowhere, and the hills went on and on and on, but once we had reached the top of them the downhill ride in Crediton was pleasant beyond belief. I was surprised at just how much my fitness had improved over the past few weeks: I was falling apart in many places, but aerobically I don’t think I had ever been stronger.

Crediton was quiet, and we cycled through the town centre on the A377 and back out into the countryside once more, rejoining the A3072 at Coppeltstone and heading up a long steep hill. We were at about the 70 mile mark for the day, and I had brought out the really big guns to get me through this: the Viper Bar. A Viper Bar is better than a Stinger. It has caffeine, guarana and rocket fuel in it, and provides a long, slow release of high levels of energy.

We fought our way along as the sun began to set, and we stopped for me to stretch everything again on the side of the road in front of a house called ‘By the Way’. As I was limbering up, the front door opened and a lady walked out.

As we were somewhat unkempt Ray and I looked immediately at each other, and then to see if she had a shotgun in her hand. She did not, and asked us if we were ok and if we needed help.
We explained our lunacy to her, and she was very impressed, offering us a drink which I accepted gratefully, asking if she had a tap I could fill up my Camelpak from. She went one better coming out with her Britta-filter jug and pouring it straight into the bladder, and we bade her good evening and headed onwards towards Exbourne and Jacobstowe. It was small unlooked for kindnesses like this which helped us along mightily, and we pedalled past the 80 mile mark as the sun set in a stunning blaze of glory in front of us, turning the sky a deep pink and red.

We reached Lashbrook House at 20:15 after 13 hours in the saddle and 82.5 miles travelled, and were met by the incredibly lovely Carol and John. We tethered the steeds outside and headed inside, and found that we had a room each with a king size bed. Some luxuries are worthy of weeping over, and I very nearly gave up there and then for the rest of the trip. Carol had called a local pub to ask them to keep the kitchen open, and John drove us down there so that we could eat something.

“Don’t worry what time you finish.” He said. “I’ve got nothing planned – I’ll pick you up whenever.”

Unlooked for kindnesses, people. I have learned a lot from the people we met along our way.
We ate dinner at The New Inn, and spoke to our loved ones. My parents were mightily impressed that we had passed the 80 mile mark, and I left them with our route for the next day. I spoke with Hannah and agreed to meet her outside Bude in the morning, and left her to get an early night as she would be up early.

We called John just after 22:00 and he drove us back to Lashbrook House, which is immensely lovely and I would strongly recommend that you go to. We said goodnight to our hosts (Yep – they too are going to heaven if I have any say in it) and I ran a bath and collapsed gratefully into it, letting the heat soak away some of the more unfriendly aches.

I got into bed at about 23:00 and stretched out in my kingsize bed. I opened the windows slightly, and felt the tight skin on my faintly sun-burned face crinkle into a smile.

I was seeing Hannah tomorrow, and I was still going forward. Sleep came for on silent wings, and darkness took me.

1 comment:

  1. Ha! Now you're riding close to my territory - I have a friend who lives spitting distance from Jacobstowe (whilst I'm about 25miles from there). I've cycle through that away myself... and its STILL April fool's Day.

    ReplyDelete