Sharon's Gone Cycling: June 2021 - My first cycle tour (Self propelled camp)

I’d done the research. Watched a tonne of You Tube videos.

Invested in kit.

But now it was time to put it all to the test and I was nervous.

Could I get everything on my bike?

Would I remember everything?

Could I pitch the tent?

What if it rained?

So so many questions.

Thankfully, I had a couple of friends who have ventured this way before and they were more than happy to give me advice, lend a hand and accompany me on my first trip.

So here we are, it’s Saturday morning after a crazy week at work. I’ve taken the easy way out and driven to Jo’s house to start - that’s a couple of hills avoided, I thought.

Jo, a seasoned pro decided that this trip would be perfect to trial using Dora, her trusty Explorer Brompton. Babs who joined us too on her fairly new gravel bike Xena and me - the one with the white knuckles grabbing my, then unnamed, bike by its pink handlebars hoping that it wouldn’t spin out of control as we were photographed.

I was nervous.

But, I was also excited.

I’d been looking forward to this day since I first spoke to Jo about her kit. That was the last time I visited here. Jo has kindly reloaded her bike so I could see, not only what she took, but how it packed too. Little did I know then that I would be back just a couple of months later - bike in hand.

We set off, leaving Kingsworthy on some relatively familiar roads and stopped to admire the view at Stoke Charity.

The bike was handling so much better than I expected. In fact, it was only on the hills that I could notice the weight behind me.

We discussed names for my, so far, untitled bike. Rosie? Pinky? Olivia? None were quite cutting the mustard.

We finished our short break and returned to cycling. There was plenty of hill practice on this route - though I'm pretty sure that what I was thinking were mountains, the others weren't even considering undulations.

It wasn’t long before we reached Whitchurch. And the entrance to The Bombay Safire Gin distillery. Though I’m not a Gin drinker, I hear there is a lovely coffee stop here. We didn’t stop on this occasion - we had other plans.

But the glasshouses built for the aromatics looked stunning as we cycled past and reminded me that I should return another day.

“Stop! Stop! Stopping.” came the shout from in front as we all came to an abrupt halt. Initially I thought Jo had dropped her glove, but as it started to move, I took a closer look. There in front of us was a real live mole. I’ve never seen one before and yes it looked as velvety as I would imagine, but a quarter of the size.

It’s barely existent eyes were useless in the daylight and it’s relatively huge paws and claws were hampering it’s progress down the road.

Knowing that it was unlikely to survive if we left it, Jo carefully guided it back up the bank - using a large leaf to protect them both.

We left it finding its way back into the hedgerow, hoping that it wouldn’t retrace its steps back into the path of a passing car/cyclist as we continued up the hill.

There are two great things about climbing. The first is the amazing view you often get when you reach the top. The second is the reward - a great downhill. I alway think of these as free miles.
In this case, the view was as stunning as the down.

Time was marching on and I was getting hungry. But no fear, Jo had it all in hand. We turned from the main road into The Hungry Strawberry, originally a ‘pick your own’ farm, but now with the addition of shop and cafe, the perfect place for lunch.

Once the cheese toastie was downed and the facilities used, we headed back out towards our next stop.

We paused to mark the crossing of a boarder and again enjoyed the views of our surroundings.

This time Dora made herself quite at home here.

We pedalled on, not stopping now until we reached the Kennet and Avon canal.

Bab’s and I enjoyed the view while Jo was hailed to assist a passing canalboat.

We stood for a while chatting to the owner - an inspirational 80 year old sailing her way back towards Bristol, raising money as she went. She was planning to run cruises once she reached home - again to raise money for her chosen charity - a home for girls in Ethiopia. All the time we were watched by her trusty four legged guardian who was never more than a few feet from his charge.

Once we finally pulled ourselves away from this fascinating lady, we continued on with our travels, loosely following the canal. Then all too quickly, we happened upon the sign to the campsite. The sign pointed toward a steep concrete covered incline. The blocks were indented, making cycling up them practically impossible. So walking the final few metres, we reached our home for the evening.

Noting the darkening clouds, we quickly pitched our tents and got on with cooking tea.

It never ceases to amaze me how different food always tastes when camping. I am pretty certain that this would not be a choice meal if I prepared it at home, yet here, sat on a sit mat in the middle of a field, it tasted amazing.

Rain stopped play as we all retired to our canvas rooms. The noise of the rain drowned out most sounds, so we resorted to social media to continue our conversations.

"Has the rain put you off Sharon?

Don't forget day one is always the worst"

"Put me off?" "No chance! I'm hooked!"

"I might need a chair for next time though" I said as I stretched out yet another cramp in my thigh. Very glad that I had brought my tiny hot water bottle.

We compared our tents ability to disperse water as the clouds provided the water. But that soon developed into an inkblot like test of the rain drop shapes - I am sure someone somewhere would be evaluating us on our answers to that one.