I’ve said it before and no doubt I’ll say it again, but what a difference a week makes. Last week was so hot that it was almost unbearable, and this weekend I’ve got absolutely soaked twice. Although the rain is still pleasantly warm, so getting wet isn’t the disaster it is in the middle of winter, when it’s icy cold and chills you to the bone in a matter of seconds.
How come I’ve got wet twice in one weekend then? Well, in an unusual turn of events for this year, I’ve done 2 Audax’s in as many days. Saturday was the End Of The Lines 130Km starting from Bristol to take in a loop into the Cotswolds, and whilst I was there, why not take advantage of the travel and do the Wye Gravel 120 Km on the Sunday too! Although it wasn’t a particularly early start on Saturday, in fact by Audax standards it was a positive lay in, I took the van down and found myself a nice out of the way spot for a relaxing evening on Friday night, leaving myself plenty of time for an extra brew on Saturday morning, before riding the mile or so to the start.
The normal pleasantries completed, it wasn’t long before we were off, heading for the day's first destination at Calne, via the Bristol and Bath Railway path. But not before having to stop within the first half mile to don my waterproof jacket, as first a few spots of rain brushed against my bare legs, and then the heavens opened into a torrential downpour. Oh well, it saves having a shower later I suppose.
Luckily the rain only lasted for an hour or so, although whilst it was coming down it was pretty heavy, but by the time we’d reached Chippenham and pushed on towards Calne it had stopped and the sun was making a valiant, if unsuccessful, attempt to make an appearance. A brief stop as we crossed the Wilts and Berks Canal to get the required information for proof of passage, provided the ideal opportunity for a quick sandwich and a quick look around at the canal. I’d never heard of the Wilts and Berks Canal before, so this was a nice diversion and to me is the beauty of these rides. No matter how well you think you know an area there’s always something new to see or learn about, and it’s always interesting when I come to write my little adventures up, to sit and have a read about the new places that I've been too. Canals and railways fascinate me at the best of times. I think it’s the sheer endeavour and labour that went into digging these impressive structures that triggers my imagination, so finding a new one is always a delight.
I can’t spend all day investigating canals though, so eventually I tear myself away and push on towards the next stop at Tetbury where I stop for a brew and a delicious slice of bread pudding at the Whistle Stop Cafe, which is housed in the old goods shed which served the Tetbury branch line before it fell victim to Mr Beechings cuts in the 1930's.
Refreshed and revitalised I pushed on through some glorious Cotswold countryside, making steady progress along secluded county lanes, puffing and panting up long steady climbs and for possibly the first time ever, dismounting to walk down what was one of the steepest paved roads I’ve ever come across at Waterley Bottom. Although I’ll admit that the potholed, uneven road surface and the hairpin bends on the way down did little to inspire my confidence to ride down it.
Back in the saddle all that remained was to push out the final few miles to take me back to Bristol, via some of the flatter parts of the Severn valley and Thornbury. In fact, I was back at the van having a brew and a late lunch by 15:00, just as the rain returned, not the torrential rain of the morning, but the make you wet and miserable type, that really gets you down, so I suppose I should count my lucky stars that the majority of the day’s fun had been dry.
And what fun it had been. New roads, new places, new hills, climbs and descents, and a generally lovely route with a nice mix of well surfaced tracks and trails and quiet country roads with plenty to see and investigate on the way round and certainly one to come back and do again if the opportunity arises.
But wait, there’s still more cycling fun to follow, because I got to do it all again on Sunday.
After a comfortable night in the van, Sunday dawned overcast, dull and damp, with the distinct feel of Autumn in the air and the forecast of heavy rain for later in the day. A forecast for a bit of rain wasn’t going to put me off though, you never know it might not happen! So I pulled on my shoes, which were still wet from yesterday's fun, packed my still damp rain jacket, and set out for the start with a smile on my face at the joy of riding through the deserted early morning streets of Bristol for the second time in as many days.
To be honest I wasn’t too sure about Sunday’s ride, and the other bikes at the start did little to dispel those uncertainties. The ride name of Wye Gravel should give the game away, and the majority of steeds on view were indeed fully equipped for a day off road. Big chunky tyres, no mudguards, 1x12 chain sets and all the other trendy “Gravel” accessories that accompany the latest trend. In fact, my 32mm tyres and mudguards looked positively out of place, but at the same time, people were riding on paths and tracks long before “gravel bikes” were invented and I’m sure they managed perfectly well, so let’s see how we get on, and at the end of the day, if off road isn’t working, then the roads just there! There was no problem or need for Gravel bikes as we set off in the opposite direction to Saturdays ride for some easy road miles to take us to the Severn Bridge, where we crossed over to Chepstow to dip our toes into Wales, and almost immediately left the safety of the local roads to pick up the Wye Valley Greenway.
Those first few miles along the Wye Valley Greenway were a real treat. Smooth gravel surfaces made for comfortable miles and the journey through the Tidenham tunnel was brilliant. At a 1000m long and deep underground the tunnel is the perfect roosting spot for a number of bat species and as such it’s only opened at certain times of the year and even when it is open is barely lit with a strict no lights policy to protect the bats.
In the dark and gloom, it’s easy to imagine the toil of the Navvies that hacked the rock apart to build the tunnel, and the hard graft that went into building it, and it was almost a shame as the small pin prick of light that marked the end of the tunnel grew gradually larger, until we were spat back out into the daylight and a return to normality.
A few more easy miles along the Greenway eventually led to the first of the day's numerous crossings of the River Wye, which, still tidal at this point, was flowing strongly upstream. A change of terrain here saw the smooth Greenway and tarmacked roads replaced by a rough bridleway along the riverbank.
Beautiful scenery following the river upstream, but hell on the wrists, as we plodded slowly along the rough grass track. Eventually though the bridleway petered out to be replaced by more gravel paths with sections of road in between, and the painfully slow progress picked up slightly.
With the morning progressing, and the forecast rain holding off for the time being, it was approaching 10:30 when the first checkpoint at Biblins campsite and tea room hove into view.
This is another hidden gem of a place, accessible from the opposite riverbank via a suspension bridge which sways and bounces worryingly as you cross, it’s nestled deep in the shadow of the Wye valley with steep wooded hillsides to other side, and it is a sheltered, tranquil, jewel of a place, and does an excellent line in cake, including some lovely Bara Brith.
With the day advertised as having 2000m of ascent over the 120 Km, at some point the easy miles were going to have to be replaced by some pretty big ascents, the first of which came immediately after the first control where the track went steeply uphill, to climb the valley side, and remained resolutely uphill for what seemed like forever.
Just before I reached the cloud base, the climb eased off and we re-joined the road for a few easy downhill miles of tarmac. Shortly after starting the descent, I noticed my chain jumping between gears, occasionally at first, and then with a growing frequency. Adjusting the rear derailleur cable made no difference, and it took a while of trying to catch glimpses of what was happening between my legs, whilst still paying attention to the road ahead, to work out that one of the chain link side plates had snapped, resulting in the chain being unshipped from the cog every time it went through the derailleur. Pulling in at the first convenient stop, a proper visual inspection confirmed that indeed the side plate had totally separated on one side, and the chain was only held together by half the link. That’s not a problem though. I’ve been lugging the tool for this exact eventuality around for the last 10 years and 50k miles, and in fact I’ve often looked at it and though “Why am I lugging that around with me”? Well todays why! 10 minutes later and I’d unpacked the tool kit, removed the damaged link, replaced it with a quick link that I’d been lugging around for the same length of time, repacked everything, eaten a sandwich from my saddlebag with dirty greasy fingers, and was back on my way. There’s no doubt that when you're miles from home, it pays to be prepared, and the slight weight penalty from carrying a decent set of tools and a few spare parts to get you out of a pickle, certainly pays dividends on the odd occasion that you actually need it.
Another long steep climb followed my unscheduled stop, taking us away from the river again to re-ascend the steep valley side, from where we picked up yet more narrow off-road sections and fire tracks, which clung precariously to the valley side.
Somehow, in the hour or so that followed, I managed to get off track a couple of times, resulting in having to retrace my steps, and by this time the novelty of off-road riding was definitely starting to wear off. The constant having to pick my way around obstacles, watch for stray rocks and tree routes, mind the muddy sections and bits of loose gravel, and the constant feeling of only moving through a narrow tree lined path, with no views to either side and nothing to look at, but more of the same, was wearing thin. So, when it started to rain, I really wasn’t having much fun off road. A few minutes later, as the rain started to fall in earnest, I realised that yet again I was off route, and by this time I’d really lost interest. Looking at the map there was a road intersection ahead, and if I took that, I could roll down to the valley floor and pick up the road which runs alongside the river Wye, which would take me directly back to Chepstow.
The second my wheels hit that tarmac, my mood lifted. Yes, it was still raining, in fact it was even heavier now I’d left the tree cover behind. Yes, I was back to mixing it with the traffic and impatient car drivers. Yes, it was still just as hilly. But it was back on familiar territory for me, and it would appear from recent off-road excursions, back where I seem to be happiest.
My speed lifted as soon as the road smoothed out, I had time to look around again without worrying about falling off the edge of the path, and on the road, I know what I’m doing, it was like coming home after a long trip away. Heading back towards Chepstow along the valley floor in the pouring rain, I had some decisions to make. If I headed straight back to Bristol my day would be a DNF (Did Not Finish) or with it being an advisory route, I could just find a road route to take me to the next checkpoint, get the required information and then head back to Bristol with a validated Brevet card. Being back on the tarmac I had plenty of time to study the map as I made my way towards Chepstow, and it didn’t take long to identify a route that would take me back to the next checkpoint after my little road diversion. The only question now was “Did I actually want to extend my day in the lashing rain with an uphill slog to the next checkpoint, or should I just call it quits and head for home”?
As is often the case, that conundrum answered itself. As when the time came to make the decision I just turned off the main road and headed uphill towards Shirenewton without even thinking twice about it. That was obviously meant to be or I would have had to think about it!
The ride up to Shirenewton from Chepstow in the rain was nowhere near as steep, or long, as I’d thought it would be, and in fact I suspect that my diversion may actually have been faster than staying on the supplied, more direct route. Either way, within a few minutes I’d got the required answer to the “Info control” and was back on route, heading back to Bristol and ultimately home. The wind, as I crossed the Severn Bridge for the second time that day, had picked up since the mornings crossing and was now throwing the rain straight into my face, where it dripped from my helmet, ran down my legs and filled my shoes, and tried to find its way through any gap in my jacket, no matter how small. However, once back over the bridge, the wind was more behind than in my face, and the rain gradually eased off, leaving just a few short miles to push out before the “Arrivée” hove into sight, signifying the end of another day out. Despite the rain and my apparent dislike for off road cycling, it had been a great day out too. As with Saturdays ride, I’d been to some places that I’d never been to before, I’d seen some stunning scenery, crossed a suspension bridge, crossed the Severn Bridge twice, been through the Tidenham tunnel that I’d never even have known existed if it wasn’t for this ride. I’d fixed my bike en-route, further reinforcing my ability to cope with any situation, and remain self sufficient whilst I’m at it, and chatted to some jolly nice people on my way round. And what’s not to like about that?
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Paul PerrattOld enough to know better, young enough to still feel invincible, stupid enough to keep on trying the same thing again and again. Cyclist, Gardener, Runner, Hiker, Cook, Woodworker, Engineer, Jack of all trades and master of none, Anti social old git and all round miserable bugger. Archives
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