265 miles (of mud)
Colchester - Peterborough - Nottingham - Sheffield - York
Our first long (ish) journey with fully-loaded Kit, Jubilee Long weekend
The Short of it (the Long follows, for more avid readers aka our mums)
Day 1: Colchester to Peterborough, 98 miles, rain, rain, rain
Day 2: Peterborough to Nottingham, 45 miles, rain, hail, hills
Day 3: Nottingham to Sheffield, 49 miles, rain & hills
Day 4: Sheffield to York, 72 miles, rain, mud, puncture, some sun
Pics
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| B.O.B (It's Dynamite...) |
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| Looking like a fairy compared to Matts' trailer carriage |
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| a Right Royal Mud Fest |
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| Where's my slice? Pie-stop. |
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| Truckin' |
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| Chance of Showers... |
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| Dunc & Maria - we failed to get pics of you. I'm sorry. We were having too much fun. Here's the Minster instead. |
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| Cats in the Hood (the grey cat was normal-sized) |
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| King Kitteh shrine in the B&B |
The Long of it...
We set out on the Queens' Diamond Jubilee Sunday; up and down the country there were street parties, bunting and torrential downpours. God didn't save the Queens' party. While we pitied the organisers of the sodden village fetes we cycled by, we had to admire the stoic English spirit... In one village, a brolly-decked, orderly que formed around an ice-cream truck (although it didn't rival the crowd by the sausage stand. Or pub.)
I can't wax lyrical on the 98 miles that passed below our wheels (a personal day-mileage record.) The rain was so relentless that we focussed on the few meters of road in front of us; the map; and the occasional choccy break. That said, I fondly recall a scenic stretch out of Cambridge; parallel to the guided bus route. We finally rolled into our Peterborough campsite at 7:30pm. The owner was surprised by our arrival. Already 4 families had pulled up stakes due to the dismal weather; she didn't expect any cycle tourers to turn up. (She hadn't contended with my tight-fisted reluctance to walk away from a 12quid booking!) Shivering, we pitched our tent in the rain, then rewarded ourselves with a coin-operated toilet block shower. The showers were cold. Blue-lipped, we redressed and retreated to the tent. Having passed an inviting pub about 2 miles before the camp site, we intended to return there for some deeply fried dinner. For the first time in personal memory, the promise of a pub was not enough to lure me from where I lay. I was knackered, freezing, and cold lunch leftovers seemed a preferable alternative to a beer 2 miles away. The Horror.
Jubilee Monday; still raining. Cooked up some porridge and tea on our tiny gas stove, dragged on our soggy cycling gear and hit the road; bound for Nottingham. Less than two hours later, Matt was baying for 'second breakfast'. He stopped at a village store for a sandwich, emerging instead with a family-sized apple pie. I took a few pics as he tucked in with the reckless abandon of a pie-eating comp contestant; mocking his premature need for sustenance. Matt got the last laugh about an hour later, when I started to see pink elephants while climbing another hill. I weakly begged for a pit-stop, and happily accepted the apple pie leftovers (note to self: don't mock the pie; fight for some crust!) More uphill, downhill, rain and a spot of hail! Also some beautiful views when you paused to contemplate them. A few hours later we rolled into our Nottingham campsite. It was only 3pm, so we had plenty of time to shower up and meet the locals before meeting our local(ish) mates, Chris and Emma at the nearby pub. Good company, beer, and the sun was shining! It was great to catch up with those guys, eat, drink and be merry.
Jubilee Tuesday; Woke and revelled in the absence of rain. Enjoyed some porridge in our plastic lunchboxes moonlighting as bowls, then hit the road for Sheffield. Lots of ups, lots of downs followed by more ups. We skirted around Sherwood Forrest, passing some men in tights (well, lycra). We passed grandiose Hardwick Hall, rolling fields and long-lashed cows; stopping only at a homogenous Morrisons superstore (for sandwiches in the car park). Carbo-loaded, Matt peddled with extra enthusiasm towards his sister, Rachel, with whom we were happily reunited by 2pm.
The following two days passed swiftly and enjoyably. It had been 'too long between drinks' with Rachel, Tom and their gorgeous 1 year old, Leo. Somehow, 4 years had passed since Matt lived in Sheffield. It was lovely to return to the hilly city and catch up properly with the 'fam.
Thursday; Inspired by Leo's early-bird ethic, we set out before 8am! This was particularly advantageous, as the rain set in by 10am. An off-road cycle path dragged us down muddy hills and flicked us by nettle bushes and canals. There is a cheap thrill, as enjoyable as it is immature, in getting splattered in mud. After hitting the canal, we were able to cruise* across airfields, through gypsy encampments, over rail tracks and finally into York.
Arrived in York by 4pm. Matt was sweating, but not for the 72 mile trek. We had not only been cycling towards York, but also towards his Chartership examination results. The culmination of 3 years of preparation (ish- Matt had his gruelling 'professional qualification' interview on the 22nd May. Since then, we had been hanging out for the result...Mainly due to our zaney resolution to cycle across the USA if Matt passed. (The things you pledge when you're drunk/the future seems far-fetched...) Meanwhile, back at York: Matt had barely showered the mud off before he was online, trawling the Landscape Institute 'passers' list. Much to his gobsmackery, he found his name! To top off the good fortune; Duncan and Maria were visiting York that very afternoon... An evening of beers & laughs with those guys ensued. The following morning featured a hangover-busting fry-up, and an encounter with the fattest cat we've ever seen in a B&B (or anywhere). We Love Old York.
Test ride completed and exam passed; 'all' we need to do now is give notice with our employees and landlord; pack up all our possessions; find a stash for them (a skip?), book some flights; pack our cycling gear and bike out!
*mid-cruise, we encountered our first flat tyre of the trip. A disappointment given we had invested in Schwalbe Marathon Terminator Tyres. I consider this an exception to the rule, and reinstate my faith in German tyre-technology.
