Earlier this year, I signed up to help with a Sustrans survey of the Millennium mileposts. I once again fired up the interactive map to see all their locations.
It has always surprised me that there are so few near here, but other areas have lots posted together. Our closest ones are in Poole to the West and Basingstoke to the North, but the nearest one sits all alone on our bit of coastline and is hidden in the depths of a Portsmouth housing estate, quite close to the birthplace of Charles Dickens no less. I have to say that in all the time I lived in Portsmouth, I had no idea of this Milepost's existence.
It was this milepost that, in February 2022, I chose to be the first one I ticked off in my quest to visit as many as possible - documenting each with a dodgy selfie to prove the visit to myself. I dragged the ever-patient Jo and Babs along for the ride
So when the Sustrans survey email arrived, I was a little disappointed to see that this post had already been allocated - someone else would be filling in its details on the new Sustrans app.
Undeterred, Jo, Jenny and I signed up for the ones in Poole instead and incorporated them into our summer touring adventure - check out the blog post here for more details - A door to door adventure.
Anyway, wind forward a month or two, and I find myself back at the Portsmouth Milepost. The survey hadn't been completed after all, and Sustrans were once again asking for volunteers. I popped my bike in the van and headed down the motorway to Porstsmouths Park and Ride. I took the ride option literally and headed down Route 22. The survey was quick, and the post is well-kept, nicely painted and easy to access.
With the task complete, I took a gentle (post-covid) ride to the shoreline and then back to my van.
That evening I was inspired to check my notes to see how many posts I have visited. I realised that my records were not up to date in the slightest. I asked on a Facebook group how others record their visits - yes, I am not the only milepost bagger around - and was given a way to record on a Google map. So here it is - My Google map
I'm hoping that it won't take too long to get it up to date; it may even be done by the time you get to it.
The ones I have got to already have a red cycle icon. There are quite a few that haven't - yet!
If you are interested in following my progress, check out the dedicated page at the side of the blog.
If you are a milepost bagger, too, I'd love to know how you record yours.
It’s 815, the van is loaded with bikes and bags, and it’s raining. This can only mean one thing. We are off on another adventure. Kate has joined me for this one; day one involves another long drive up-country. I was very relieved when Kate explained that she had remembered her arms and legs.
Charge one was busy but pleasant. Charge two was so annoying I didn’t even take a photo. Charge three was utterly different; I felt like I was a Tesla driver - a choice of chargers - even if most of them were the other type.
And once we’d finished our charge, Kate found a large geocache.
Finally, we made it to our destination. Though both tired from the journey, we opted for a walk to find tea. It was lovely to look over the Tyne towards the Sage once more. Kate sat down on the bench; I thought she must be tired, so I joined her - but no, she’d found geocache #2.
Spurred on by this ability to find things, Kate led us to a source of carb loading. We partook before returning to the hotel for showers and an early night.
End of day one.
Day two -
Having met with our Saddle Skedaddle rep and handed over our bags, we helped ourselves to breakfast and planned our day. Then, bikes at the ready, we left the van where it was and headed down to the quayside.
Kate very kindly agreed to elongate our ride very slightly so that I could bag a couple of mileposts that I missed when last this way (Hadrian’s cycleway)
We also witnessed a couple of folk zip wire from the high bridge down to the quayside, raising money as they went. We then watched the millennium bridge turn to its elevated position so that an ex-lifeboat could fit under as it left the City.
Kate got a chance to cycle through Hadrian’s arch. And in no time, we were enjoying the sights of Tynemouth. This was the greyest day I’ve ever been there, yet it was still so pretty. We both commented how nice it was to be cycling so close to the sea that we could hear the waves gently lap against the shore.
We decided against a visit to the priory as it was threatening rain, so we carried on along the shoreline. But as always with the British weather, the sun came out just as we rounded the next headland. From here, you could just make out the priory and the lighthouse at the end of the pier.
Two cyclists drew our attention to the sea less than 5 minutes later. They were off their bikes and staring out into the northern stretch of Whitley bay. At first, I thought it was some rocks. Then maybe a seal or two. But the froth was from none of these. It was instead four very playful dolphins. We stood mesmerised for ages.
The local council had made quite an effort with banks of wildflowers though the grass had obviously struggled in the drought-like conditions. You can see St Mary’s lighthouse in the distance.
Our route had primarily been off-road, mainly utilising the promenade and wide pavements beside the sea. But as we got closer to St Mary’s lighthouse, NCN1 and thus our route diverted onto a long gravel track. We were pretty surprised by this as we’d opted for the road route as we are both on relatively thin tyres. If they hadn’t been the more puncture-proof verity, we would have been even less confident than we were. Having said that, we had barely encountered any cars, which was very pleasant. We commented that this was only the second time we’d seen any cyclists of note as a small group went past us on the track.
We cycled on but paused to enjoy the Seaton sluice view, which was much more picturesque than its name had conjured in my mind.
Ready for a break and a chance to look at the map, we stopped for some lunch at a cafe on Blythe beach. We chatted with a couple who had done the same route a few years ago. They eased our minds about some of the upcoming hills.
Leaving Blythe, we were excited to spot our first ‘Coast and Castles’ specific signs.
Our route was more winding than the main road would have taken us; we crossed under this bridge in both directions as we were taken around an inlet.
And the crossings for the big roundabouts were all a way down each side Road, adding distance. I thought we’d done all the mileposts for the day, but I’d obviously missed a couple on the map. So we bagged them as we went through. Thank you, Kate, for tolerating my passion for milepost bagging.
Kate spotted a mouse and a stoat as they tried kamikaze dives in front of her wheels. I didn’t see them at all. I didn’t even spot the Emu till Kate pointed them out. Maybe I should have made that optician’s appointment after all.
I could, however, spot mileposts from quite a distance.
We paused at a beautiful viewpoint before falling into the drift cafe. It would have been rude not to drink a coffee while we were there.
One more milepost. More gravel track and through an encampment of van lifers playing live music, and we were nearly at our home for the night.
So at the end of 48 miles of stunning scenery, we arrived at our hotel. We were invited to take our bikes to our room, which was very welcome, and we were able to eat on-site after a very refreshing shower.
Day two complete.
Day three-
We ambled out of the Amble Inn just after 9. The sky was a beautiful blue, but the air slightly fresher than on day 2. Unfortunately, the weather forecast a few showers, so we were prepared to get a little damp.
A left turn out of Amble, and we were hit by the most beautiful scenery looking out towards the coast.
And minutes later, a castle appeared. Maybe they should consider calling this route ‘Coasts and Castles’. I will suggest it ;)
We were mostly riding on dedicated cycle paths, but a sneaky hill, a gear that wouldn’t change down and cars trying to pass one another by driving on the pavement, did make me worry that I might get hit as I’d had to get off and walk up the short sharp hill.
But all was well, and we were soon back following the blue signs on the paths skirting the fields.
Hold up, what’s that? Yup, another milepost for the bag.
We almost took Alnmouth up on its ‘new members welcome’ offer at their croquet club. But decided we had too many miles to cover.
Several field sides later and we were back onto quiet roads. We paused beside a Phantom, now residing at RAF Boulmer, not setting off till we had reduced layers of clothing and eaten the biscuits we’d brought from the B&B.
We decided we really needed to stop at the next available rest stop. Howick house, the home of more than one Earl Grey, looked very promising. But sadly, their £8 entry fee to even look at the cafe menu was just not my cup of tea.
We cycled on, pausing momentarily to allow a car to pass through a gate in the road before we followed.
We were again taking the road route, so we were now a fair way inland. Dunstanburgh castle came into view but was again too far away to visit. So had to settle for a zoomed photo.
Getting a little desperate now, we stopped at the Dunstanburgh Castle hotel hoping for a bite to eat, but sadly unless we were prepared to ride full of a large, expensive Sunday lunch, this was not the stop for us. However, we did order a coffee, having used the facilities. And Kate searched for a Northumberland geocache, then went to the corner shop to buy some rolls.
We dropped off course to see what was in Seahouses. ‘Dropped’ is the perfect description as we lost all our height advantage to visit the picturesque harbour and ate the rolls we had purchased in Embleton while watching the lifeboat return from a ‘shout’ and the ambulance step down from flashing blues. It was nice to know the new occupants’ status was no longer life-threatening.
Back on the road, we paused for geocache number two and a distant view of the Farne islands famed by Grace Darling, her dad and a nasty shipwreck.
We continued our detour around the coast till rejoining the NCN1 just below Bamburgh castle. First, of course, we had to stop to admire the views.
Onward via an undulating road, we paused again (handily at the top of a hill) to try to work out the reason behind this watchtower-like building. A little Google informed us that we were actually looking towards The Ducket. It was a grade 2 listed building, possibly built as a windmill or a dovecot, but was now a very posh rentable property for two.
Next stop, a level crossing. The barrier went down. The train went through at a crazy speed - almost too fast to photograph, and all too soon, the barriers were back up again. I would not have liked to be in the wrong place at that moment.
We fought a big hill, and then we crossed the A1. Having driven the A1 before, I was a little concerned at the prospect of having to cross it, especially as there was a big warning sign on the Saddle skedaddle app about taking care. But I needn’t have worried; there was a purpose-built crossing for the NCN1 at the narrowest point of the road. Easy!
There is a two-sided ‘issue’ with doing the NCN routes; they are, by design, a distance away from habitation. We’d both run out of water a while back, it was baking hot, and it was Sunday. The only cafe listed on our route had closed a few hours before we got there.
I decided to try to be brave and ask the next person we saw if we could have some water, but no, even though it was a lovely evening, not one of the few gardens we saw had anyone tending to it. And I wasn’t quite brave enough to knock on a door.
We reviewed our route and decided that we would brave a busier, less scenic road to reach our destination sooner. It was a good choice, and it really didn’t take long to scoot into Berwick and cross its iconic bridge.
We saw an open chip shop and unanimously decided that buying tea before reaching the B&B was the best option. That way, we could just shower and sleep when we got there.
We feasted like kings (well, that’s what the bill suggested). I still can’t work out how coke from a 330ml glass bottle is a pound dearer than the 550ml canned lemonade equivalent. I wish I’d known before I ordered! And don’t ask about the veggie burger.
After 57 miles, day three is complete.
Day four
While at breakfast this morning, I spotted an attractive card on the dresser.
We were apparently staying in the same place Timmy Mallet had during his recent painting and cycling tour of the country. We chatted for a while with our host - not a keen cyclist despite the fancy bike residing with ours in the shed. He was more of a runner and swimmer; cycling came as a part of the iron man package but was his least favourite.
We readied ourselves to leave, but a change in the weather caused us both to rummage in the bags waiting for their pickup to grab extra waterproofing. We were only just in time as the courier arrived just before we went. The legs and coats were on before we even left the building. This was due to be our shortest day of cycling as we turned inland from Berwick to follow the Tweed.
We stopped at the border - glad that, for now, we wouldn’t need a passport to ride through it. Instead, Scotland gave us its traditional welcome as the rain became heavier.
As it hadn’t rained here for a few weeks, the fields were just too dry to accept the rain. So we rode through several flash floods, which made spotting potholes impossible. By this point, it was also clear that Kate’s coat was no longer waterproof. Soaked and bedraggled, we knocked on the door of The Masons Arms to see if they were open.
I’m still unsure if they were, but they warmly welcomed us in. Our soaking wet clothes were moved from a seat to a warming radiator, turned on just for our benefit, and we were offered coffee as we decided what to do next. The rain beat down on the windows and did not look like it would stop. Kate decided she didn’t feel safe in the conditions and rang Saddle Skedaddle for assistance. I wanted to carry on but knew this was very risky on my own. I sadly accepted the lift provided by our next host, kicking myself all the way for my lack of bravery.
The toilets held their own surprise - a beautiful, carefully lit well, sadly the photograph doesn’t show the skeleton at its best.
The journey in the car took about an hour, and the scenery was again stunning. By the time we reached Melrose, the rain had pretty much stopped, but the clouds still threatened more, covering the hills behind in seconds. We showered, changed and took advantage of the enforced rest day to be tourists in the small town.
We popped my bike into the bike shop next door to the B&B, where he replaced two cables and tweaked my gears in the hopes that the low gears would stop skipping. Kate found a bargain of a coat to ensure she wouldn’t get as wet tomorrow as the forecast wasn’t looking too good. We then worked hard to carb load for the final day’s ride.
The town was beautiful and I am glad we got the chance to look around it; I don’t think we would have had time if we had ridden there, which would have been a shame. So I guess that is something to bear in mind when planning a tour - you do need time to look around; otherwise, it just becomes a tick box exercise. Day four complete.
Day five.
Breakfast was a work of art this morning - such attention to detail - Kenny (our host and saviour) had soaked the oats in apple juice with berries and surrounded the cup with other fruit. This was probably the best breakfast of the week and kept me full until lunchtime.
We set off early today, determined to get over the two huge hills that had dominated the route profile. They made everything we’d ridden so far look like a flat line. Though it wasn’t raining when we left, we were taking no chances today - we both carried a change of clothes along with our usual gear.
We had barely gone half an hour down the cycle track beside the railway when Kate discovered her front tyre was going flat. I was happy to stop here and bag another milepost while we changed the tube.
It didn’t take long to find the culprit, but it took a crazy amount of time to get it out of the tire. The tweezers didn’t work, and it wouldn’t move in either direction - we eventually resorted to cutting it out with a knife blade.
We even met up with all the other skedaddlers who were also completing the Coasts and Castles route - six older chaps on mountain bikes who were doing as many trails as they could, a couple who were carrying their day gear in a pannier each and two girls on road bikes who didn’t seem to carry any gear at all. I did admire their jerseys though.
As each group passed, they checked that we were ok, chatted for a short while, and then continued on their way. It was funny to think we had all set off at the same time (but from different hotels), but this was the first time we had actually met.
We continued on our way; the scenery was stunning and so photo-worthy that we could have stopped every five minutes to take another beautiful shot. We were following the route of the Tweed, sometimes right alongside, sometimes on the adjacent hill (yes, there were several climbs along the way)
I stopped on a bridge to record where we were heading.
And where we had come from. The day was brightening, and our extra layers were packed precariously on the bikes.
Another hill climb, but I had to stop halfway, not because I was struggling, but because I really wanted the photograph. The chaps on MTBs passed us again - they were utterly shocked that we were ahead of them as we hadn’t passed them at all. They hadn’t realised that there was more than one route choice.
Crossing the Tweed once more, we turned into Innerleithen and decided a coffee break was in order before we started the two big climbs. We found a lovely little cafe which was very much bike and dog related - they even had dog coats with pictures of bike chains on them. I am sure there was a niche link somewhere.
We took the place of the MTB chaps on the multipurpose bike chain points along the wall. They highly recommended the cake. The coffee was lovely, and the break was welcome. I had to convince myself that I really couldn’t carry heather back with me - they were beautiful though and guaranteed to last.
We left the town through the golf course - a sign telling cyclists to keep moving and stay quiet was not the most welcoming, and it was a little disconcerting to see the tee on one side of the road with the corresponding hole on the other. Thankfully the golfers kindly waited for us to pass before taking their shots. I could see on my Garmin that we were now climbing, but it wasn’t doing its usual long climb countdown. I was a little confused! We continued at a steady 3% climb and soon faced a long downhill. Was that it? Had we done the first one already? The route said we had, but my legs didn’t think so.
We enjoyed the downhill and quickly built up speed as we went. We were soon climbing again; this time, Garmin recognised it as a climb worth counting down. But again, we were amazed as we reached the top. We stopped in a small layby to eat our lunch - the end of the climb in view. We cheered on a group of cyclists who were obviously very used to this hill. Again, the scenery was stunning.
Once we’d finished lunch, we headed along the road, which by now felt relatively flat. We rounded a corner, and a milepost jumped out to greet us. This post said it marked the highest point of our route, and we were understandably very pleased.
We rounded another turn in the road and were treated to the most breathtaking view of the ride. We could see from the base of the Ochil hills the whole of Edinburgh right across to the mouth of the Forth. I was once again stunned by the sheer beauty of Scotland.
The downhill was terrific too. Beautiful views to our left and a great road surface beneath our tyres meant that we could really enjoy it. We still had a long way to go but knew the big climbs were over. We stopped at a service station alongside the A7 but within easy reach of our cycle path for a stiff drink to celebrate.
Our path took us over the railway track by Eskbank station, this could have been an option if we were running late, but we were doing fine. We continued along this converted train track for the majority of the rest of the route. Between here and the city centre, we found two more mileposts and a geocache.
The Edinburgh festival was in full swing as we emerged from the Innocent railway tunnel just below Arthurs’s seat. The roads were packed, and the parks were buzzing in a way you only see at the ‘fringe’. A chap sat at the milepost and jumped out of the way as he didn’t want to ‘spoil my photo’ even though I’d have been happy if he had stayed. Nevertheless, he was very impressed with our travels.
We weaved through some backstreets, using one of the many cycleways to the centre and soon found ourselves alongside Prince’s gardens. We tried to find the best spot to photograph our final castle. We had made it. And we were early too!
We rode to the meeting point, and Tom kindly relieved us of our bikes and secured them on his roof rack. He then drove us the two and a half hours back along an equally scenic route to Newcastle via the A68. Chatting all the way.
We transferred our gear into the van and went to find the trip’s last (and worst) hotel. We had missed the restaurant opening times, so we celebrated the end of our ride with a couple of pizzas and a glass of wine/coke instead. We both slept very well!!!
Thank you to Kate for your great company and any photographs I may have accidentally ‘stolen’.
Thank you to Alison at Saddle Skedaddle for organising the trip and who managed to get our initial hotel changed at the last minute when we realised the van wouldn’t fit into the car park.
Thank you also to all the lovely B&B hosts; it is sad to hear how the current financial situation is likely to change how they do things now - most that we talked to are no longer planning to take one-nighters as it costs so much to launder the washing every day. I’m not sure how that will affect those wanting to ‘credit card’ tour or do as we did, having your bags moved for you. Let’s hope things improve for everyone.
