The messages are flying, the others are underway. I am all packed, but have a couple of things to do first.
First, collect some fancy provisions.
Then…
…complete a days work.
But, after a speedy ride through town, I’ve caught a ferry.
There was something very refreshing about sitting on that top deck, buffeted by the wind, but warmed by the evening sunshine. The stresses and strains of the week had melted away by the time the call came to return to our ‘vehicles’
Carefully making my way down the steep staircase, I was pleased that I no longer wear cleats on the bottom of my shoes and marvelled at the thought of my other cycle friends picking their way down only a few weeks ago for our Ninga challenge ride.
My bike had also been bathed in sun during the journey, and was parked up next to another with matching panniers. The owner of which arrived shortly after and we compared notes on our onward journey.
Next hurdle - crossing the river Medina. This was usually no bother. The chain ferry was just across the car ferry’s car park and ran every 15 mins. But not today, in fact not for ages. The ‘new ferry’ that had been in place for a number of years now has been dogged with problem after problem. It was now sat unceremoniously on its ramp out of the way of passing water traffic, yet looking very sorry for itself. It’s replacement - a small launch was ably carrying the foot passengers across, but car traffic had an extra 20 mins added to their journey as they were redirected through Newport. I desperately hoped they would be ok with my heavily laden vehicle. I was not keen to add to my ride at all. I needn’t have worried, they didn’t bat an eyelid when I payed for my ticket and after a little encouragement, the chap did help to lift her aboard.
The journey to the campsite was quicker than I remembered from my recci ride. Though I am sure the hills were steeper this time. I was very relieved when I reached the heavy gates of the campsite, knowing I still had plent of daylight left to pitch my tent. Next job, find the others!
This, of course, was easy. Who else was crazy enough to go camping at the end of September? The field had a couple of campervans liberally spaced around, but the only tents were in our little corall.
After remembering to take a photo of the contents of each pannier (which proved invaluable for next mornings pack down), I set about pitching my tent in the quickest time yet. The lure of dinner at the local pub spurring me on.
With little time to spare, we marched the two minute trek down the road, pausing only to chose the destination of our next adventure, we marched in, looking forward to a hearty meal and a good catch up. We weren’t disappointed with either.
We returned to our tents for a final hot drink and a little star gazing. Then retreated to the comfort of sleeping bags warmed by tiny hot water bottles. I had no trouble sleeping this time. 
Saturday morning and what’s this? The novelty of packing down a dry-ish tent. I was surprised with the quantity of condensation, though I had forgotten to open any vents in my haste to pitch and the ground was still damp from the previous weeks rain, so I guess that wasn’t surprising. It was soon dried by our handy Breeze towels and once breakfast was eaten, the big pack down commenced.
I love the fact that our evening living spaces pack away so small. Looking at the bikes, it was hard to imagine that we could had stopped there at all. With a final trip to the loo for some of us and a little foraging for others the spoils of said hunting was handed to me - if nothing else, I had an apple for my lunch.
Turning right out of the campsite, we soon found our first blue and white sign indicating our route. I had to keep reminding myself we were following the white on blue signs this time - I’d never ridden the route anti-clockwise before
Our next stop, the New Town, Old Town Hall. A label that makes me smile every time I cycle past it- especially as there is little indication of any town at all.
One day I will get there when it is open. I would love to see inside. I chatted to a chap who was walking the island on a similar route to us. We joked that he would probably take just as long as we would at our current speed.
A set of cyclists in matching Lycra arrived at the carpark next to the hall and like us grabbed for their waterproofs as the weather did its best to put us off. They were riding round the island for charity, but unlike us, they were planning to be done by the end of the day so that they could take Sunday to ride back to London. needless to say - they weren't carrying much gear and were followed by a handy minibus a short while later.
With the weather closing in and waterproofs donned, we decided not to investigate the nature reserves, but did stop to enjoy the view of the Newtown river.
We waited patiently while Jenny entertainingly practiced her selfie skills. We were all impressed with the final result. Then laughed with the walker that we had chatted to earlier as he momentarily overtook us.
Onward to Thorley, and a pause at St Swithin church. Inside stood a colleague of mine, Steve, the best man at his brothers wedding. We chatted to the church wardens and decided not to stick around for the brides arrival. Though we were more than welcome to attend, I am sure Steve was nervous enough without the feeling he was being observed. And anyway, it was time to find some lunch.
Having consulted the handy guide written for us by Paula, one of the IOW Breeze champions and a mine of local information, we searched for ‘Off the Rails’ a converted station at the start of one of the many bike trails formed where the original train network used to run. Though it was really busy, we managed to squeeze in and grab a rather tasty cheese scone and warm coffee.
Though the cafe was on route, we decided to take a quick detour into Yarmouth itself. Which turned out to be much busier than any of us expected. It was obviously the day for weddings as the one way system on the high street was being thwarted by a backing wedding bus as literally hundreds of high heals and smart suits pored out of the local church to throw confetti at the newly weds.
Jenny and I left our bikes with the others as we ‘nipped’ into the local store only to find we were behind a lady who had done a full weekly shop which was being rung through at a pace I have only ever seen matched in a shop in Cornwall. I think the others thought we had grabbed another sneaky cuppa, but no such luck!
But, reunited with our bikes, we went to find a pier, that I never knew existed. This is what touring is all about. Stopping and starting whenever you like. Going off course, if you fancy, just to see something new, the only time limit being the amount of sunlight needed to pitch up.
We headed back to our route, again following a disused railway track this time towards Freshwater. I am never a great fan of gravel, I avoid it whenever possible, but the bike was well balanced and actually handled better than I was expecting. And the views of the river were more than worth the nerves caused by the path surface.
Freshwater bay was just beautiful. The sun was trying so hard to join us. Jenny decided to encourage it a little, by taking a paddle. I politely declined the invite to join her, manning the camera instead. After all, someone needs to document these events, don’t they? ;)
The climb out of Freshwater was hard, but was easier than the hills ahead on the dreaded Military Road. We stopped at every viewpoint, not only to enjoy the view, but to give our bodies a chance to rest before attempting the next one.
And the next one was bad!!! It was tough to start out of the car park but it was continual climbing with an ever increasing gradient. As we rode past the entrance to Blackgang chine, it just got harder and harder. We had all gone ominously silent. I’m sure I was overtaken by a snail at one point.
By the time we reached the next car park, I was done. My ears thumping with blood, my cheeks redder than my helmet. I rolled up to the big bin in the carpark and lent against it, initially unable to even get off my bike for fear of passing out. This is as close to bonking as I’ve ever been. I felt awful!
This was what I had feared all along - I was just too unfit and wouldn’t be able to continue. My brain whirring with worst case scenarios. My body trying to stop me being sick. My friends, rallied alongside. Took the weight of my bike and helped me climb off. I sat on the bank, drinking from the water bottle I had just been handed and looking out at the beautiful view. Just as my head started to clear, I was handed the best ice cream I had ever tasted and was joined by the others on the bank. Laughter was proving to be the best antidote to everything (with ice cream a close second) so after a short stretching session, I was ready to attempt the next hill.
Our route now turned us inland as we vaguely headed towards the campsite. To my dismay, the hills matched those remaining on Military road, but knowing we had already conquered the worst one, our spirits were high as we picked off each one in turn.
We passed the chip shop recommended by Paula and decided that the trip down the thousands of stairs to the sea was just not doable today. We rode on to Appledurcombe. We arrived at site just as the duty warden was leaving. She kindly directed us to pitch anywhere we fancied as we were their last guests of the day.
We located the toilet block and the pool and quickly set up camp nearby. It wasn’t until everything was pitched that we discovered that the toilet block was no longer in use and we were as far away from the brand new block as we could possibly be. We decided the walk would do us more good than repitching.
Just as I settled into my chair, we were joined by a couple of rather chilly druids! Jo and Jenny had braved the outdoor pool and were trying out their new post swim wear. They rapidly headed down to the shower block and returned singing its praises.
I headed off for my shower just as the sky was turning a beautiful array of pink shades. And returned with just enough light to cook by. We cooked, ate and chatted our way into the evening until tiredness and a chill in the air pushed us towards our warm sleeping bags.
Our once peaceful evening came to an abrupt end - in the hands of our closest neighbours who had apparently forgotten that canvas isn’t quite as soundproof as their house and the whole site was filled with what sounded like the Last Night of the Proms, but the cheering and running commentary gave away that we were, in fact, all being made to listen to some prestigious televised boxing match.
I have never been more glad of my tiny earphones - I plugged myself into a podcast and willed myself to sleep. Only to be awoken again by the huge screams that I assume accompanied a knockout of some form. Eventually there was silence, followed by proper sleep. This was, all too quickly, replaced by the sound of burners and clanking kettles that heralded the new day.
With breakfast out of the way, we once again set about striking camp. Our Breeze towels are the perfect size and weight to dry off a damp tent. And we couldn’t resist the photo opportunity.
A little time was given to some bike maintenance before we were once again packed and ready to roll. I have to say, I was really tired by now and was more than happy to divert the route away from the coast line, shaving off a hill or two. The campsite was right on the NCN route, so we chose to follow that for a while.
We soon stopped, attracted by a beautiful field of Sunflowers. My thoughts went immediately to a dear family member who would have loved to be standing in that field. I’m sure she would have been grinning ear to ear as she witnessed our enjoyment of one of her favourite flowers. We took plenty of photos before we returned to our ride.
A chance meeting with some Brompton tourists tweaked our route once again as they highly recommended the nearby Pedlars Cafe that was ‘just up this track’ the chance for a second breakfast was too good an offer to turn down. We unanimously chose to redirect. And what a great decision that was. The Brompton guys had underestimated the distance a tad, but as soon as we arrived, we knew we had made a great choice. There was ample bike parking, though until the electrics arrived, we definitely had the heaviest bikes in the bike park.
We found a large table in the shade and relaxed while making our choices on the vast food menu. I, of course, headed straight for the rocker and leaned back taking in all the surrounding memorabilia. This was exactly how I imagined a cycle themed cafe should be.
The food arrived and was consumed before anyone even considered photographing it. It was delicious and set us up for the rest of the day. Once rested, and chosen a new route, we readied ourselves to leave. Jenny applied enough suncream on her face to protect us all. Thankfully for Jenny, the toilet block accepted all sorts, so even those practicing for halloween.
Rather than doubling back on ourselves, we decided to continue on the Red squirrel trail - another disused railway line that would take us all the way to Newport. The first section was very easygoing, though there were sections of gravel too, but as with all good railway lines - not too much climbing!
We couldn't resist a second field of flowers, and spent a little time enjoying the atmosphere and basking in the sun along with the butterflies on flowers that take its name. We did confuse another group of cyclists at this point, who thought we were following the cycle path and quickly retreated when they realised they were off course.
We continued on the Squirrel trail right up to Newport. Thankfully the others had already been through this area and knew exactly how to get through the showground which was still in the process of being cleaned up after the IOW festival. Considering it had finished a week ago, I couldn’t believe how much rubbish was still there.
The road from the showground was crazily busy and some cars were not the most polite. We were very glad to get back onto a cycle path.
We stopped off at St Mildreds Church, Whippingham. The church is just up the road from Osborne house and was used regularly by Queen Victoria when she stayed on the island. We were hoping for a look inside, but even though it was a Sunday, the church was very much closed - as was the cafe and toilets. We sat on a bench at the back of the church eating the last of Jo’s amazing savoury flapjacks and appreciating the great view overlooking the Medina. A couple joined us and we chatted for a while about cycle touring and even gave away a Breeze card in the hopes it would encourage the wife to join others on a ride.
We checked the time and figured it was about time we headed to the ferry terminal. We were closer than we thought with the route taking us past the lovely Lifeboat pub which features on all the Ninja rides. Then to the terminal to check in. While I went to find the nearest toilet, Babs went in search of ice creams. The ferry terminal was not selling despite the advertising board still being displayed. So she headed in the direction of the Waitrose up the road. As there were only multipacks available, she returned with 6. Even I couldn’t manage two, so she offered them to some fellow cyclists who eagerly accepted. No sooner had we finished ours, we were invited to board and as we were practically first on, had the pick of the seats. As always, when distracted with conversation, the crossing felt way shorter than an hour. And we were soon back in Southampton.
We rode together along the NCN23 and parted company at the top of the boardwalk. I waved them off and stayed till I couldn’t see them any longer.
I was home, showered and somewhat unpacked by the time the others reached their bases. I readied myself for the week ahead and marvelled in the knowledge that I would be returning to work after what felt like a month while everyone else would only have had a weekend, such is the magic of cycle touring with a wonderful set of friends.
Thank you to Paula for your excellent ‘guide book’ when I checked back to the mail you sent to us, I realised that apart from the mega staircase down to the sea, we had actually visited every suggestion you had given us.
And a huge thank you to Jo, Babs and Jenny for inviting me along for the ride, and changing your plans to enable me to join you after work on Friday. Your wonderful company kept me laughing all the way, especially when I was struggling.
I can’t wait till our next adventure.
