Wednesday 1 April 2009

Saturday 23rd August – JOGLE Day 13: Jacobstowe to St. Columb Major. 61 miles travelled.




Where Our Narrator And His Partner In Crime Get Back Their Road Support, And Find That Mike Was Wrong About The A39.

Saturday dawned, and I was somewhat surprised that I was still able to move after our long ride the day before. I stretched in bed as the alarm went off, and then got up to kick Ray out of bed and go down for breakfast which was served in a bright and sunny dining room. We talked with our fellow guests and they had been to our Mecca: Land’s End. “What’s it like?” I asked. “It has a Dr. Who museum.” they said, unimpressed.

I could see their point.

We finished a delicious breakfast, and then went up to get changed and start our penultimate day. I stuffed my few possessions in the pannier, and was very excited at the prospective of dumping some of it with Han later that day. Small things, and all that.

We retrieved the steeds and stood with John watching the largest cat I have ever seen pouncing on things: apparently it was only a kitten. I would have called it a lion cub, but apparently it was a special kind of giant normal cat. The Manly Steed was unimpressed with it, and as I checked over its tyres it studiously ignored the feline leaping about a couple of inches away. Some people are just dog-people I guess, even Manly Steeds.

As we left, John pulled Ray aside.

“If you get into trouble today before you meet with Will’s wife, call me. I’ll come get you.”
We sadly left Carol and John, and headed back to the main road, picking up the B3216 to Hatherleigh. My legs felt very tired today, and Ray echoed my sentiments of a slower start to let everything warm up. We got to Hatherleigh, and hooked a left onto the A3072 once more, praying that it wouldn’t be quite so challenging as yesterday; John had said that is was fairly flat, but then followed this up with a comment that has stuck with me ever since: “It’s always flat in a car”.

We reached Highampton and took a quick break to stretch and take some photos of a road sign to a place called Sheepwash, and then got back into harness once more heading for Holsworthy and points west. We passed through a mix of farmland and woodland and soon reached Holsworthy and stopped at a petrol station on the far side of the town to pick up snacks and to use to the toilet. I called Hannah and she was in Bideford heading south for Bude: we agreed that she would call me when she reached the town.

We set off and I was hard pressed to keep my mind on the job at hand: so much of endurance cycling is being in the right frame of mind, and if you aren’t then the miles go past very slowly indeed. We cycled up a long slope dodging tractor debris, and at the top were greeted by a view of the distant blue ocean. I stopped to take a photo, and we realised that it was the first time we had seen the sea since Inverness on Day 2. A little further on we crossed from Devon into Cornwall, and I got a call from Hannah telling us that she was just outside Bude. We agreed to meet her in Stratton, a small town next to the A39, and fifteen minutes later we pulled up next to our Ford Focus, and Hannah got out.

I would like to say that it was an emotional meeting with tears and some sort of orchestra playing in the background while Ray stood awkwardly watching. Instead, I hugged her, and then had to stop myself from getting in the car and locking all the doors till I was allowed to go home. We stowed the non-essentials in the boot, and then discussed where we might want to stop for lunch and despatched Hannah to scout out a roadside pub. She called back ten minutes later and we headed down the A39 for Saint Gennys.

Mike Stringer is pretty much from this neck of the woods, and it was his idea that we follow the A39 as it was ‘pretty flat’. Michael was, is, and always will be, wrong about this. The A39 has some steep hills interspersed with some pleasant downhill stretches, and we were glad to see the pub hove into view on our left as it was nearing lunchtime. The A39 is definitely not ‘pretty flat’, although Mike has never cycled the route and everything is flat when you are in a car.

Lunch was had in a quiet pub in Saint Gennys, and I was smiling a great deal partly at having been reunited with Hannah, and partly because the Manly Steed was considerably lighter now that we had dumped our gear. We ate indoors as the weather turned from bright and sunny to overcast and windy, and the first rain of the day swept in from the south.

Hannah was put in charge of finding accommodation, and we discussed where we might be able to get to and where she should concentrate her search, little realising how difficult it would be to find a B&B for three people on the Saturday of the August bank holiday. After lunch we remounted, and headed southwards again on the A39, aiming to get to Wadebridge at the least.
We pedalled onwards, passing through open farmlands and fields on our left, and fields leading towards the sea on our right. The wind rose and Ray switched to take the lead on the ascents of the hills to help me up, while I pummelled my way through the gusting on the flats and downhill stretches. It was tiring, and I felt like my legs still weren’t properly firing on all cylinders, while my knee was complaining again.

We reached Camelford after about an hour and I was surprised to find that there was not a camel in sight, although I did see a Ford Mondeo. The road did narrow down to single track up a particularly steep hill as we left the town centre, which was exciting as lorries were trying to overtake us. We stopped at a petrol station at the side of the road and stocked up on GoGo Juice and snacks, and then got back on the road southwards.

A couple of miles further on we descended into a forested valley at Knights Mill and were soon riding through pleasant woodlands along a relatively flat road, allowing us to get out of the wind. It started to rain a little, and we changed into our full waterproofs before we got too wet. We climbed out of the valley and found ourselves on the Saint Kew Highway which led us down towards Wadebridge and the surrounding area. We stopped at a large roundabout overlooking the town and called Hannah to find if she had had any luck getting us a bed.

It turned out that she had drawn a blank, her parents had drawn a blank, as indeed had Mike, and that they had all been calling B&Bs all afternoon to no avail. We decided to get past Wadebridge and see if they had found anything by the next time we called.

We followed the road downwards from the roundabout and it led us out over an estuary which was full of lead black water reflecting the sky above us, and we fought our way up the other side as large drops of rain fell from the heavens. We carried onwards through periodic showers and gusts of wind until we were just past a place called Whitecross before pulling into a side road and basically climbing into a large-leafed bush to escape the wind and rain for a break. The Manly Steed and its counterpart fitted in next to us, and we called Hannah again to find that she had had no joy in getting us a place to stay. We agreed to meet in St. Columb Major and see what our options were.

I called Mike and asked him if he might prevail upon his mother for a room for the night. She lives in Bude and it would mean that we had to get in the car and go back there, but it really was a case of a port in a storm. Mike said he would check, and we got back on the bikes and pedalled onwards towards our meeting place with Hannah, turning left off the A39 after a few more miles of gusty wind and rain.

We met Hannah just off the A39 on a small grassy knoll, and took advantage of the chance to get out of the rain and wind. Mike called and said that his mother, Gill, was fine putting us up for the night, and we decided to break the bikes down and drive back to Bude as we were unable to find anything else.

It was slightly surreal after a long day’s cycling having had the rain and wind blast your brains out to be sat in the passenger seat of a comfortable car with heating, driving back over the ground that you have just fought your way across. It puts in perspective as well just what you have achieved as it took us 40 minutes of ups and downs to get back to Bude, where we found our way to Mike’s mother’s house.

Mama Stringer met us with her two crazy Springer Spaniels, and we went inside to have a quick wash and then head out again to get some food inside us. We went to one of the local pubs and fought our way in to a table, and gratefully rested our bones while we ordered from the menu.
We discussed the route for the next day, and realised that it was going to be about 50 miles before we reached Land’s End and the conclusion of our journey. It was going to be the shortest day of the trip, and I was looking forward to seeing the signpost and touching it with my hand.
We made our way back to Casa del Stringer and turned in for the night, agreeing to get an early start and be out the door by 08:00 at the latest.

I collapsed into bed with Hannah at about 10:30, and fell asleep fairly quickly. The alarm went off at 06:30, and I opened my eyes feeling strange.
The last day was here.

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