It’s always great to have something to look forward to over half term, but as I’ve not been out self-propelled camping since last August, this one was really exciting.
So sitting here surrounded by more stuff than the bags will allow, I was stuck trying to decide what was necessary and what was not. Of course, there is always a little apprehension as choices are made when packing, especially when you can't remember how it went last time, but this time I also had new kit to try which was bigger and bulkier than I'd taken before.
Having for some time envied Jo’s tent, particularly when it was raining, I started looking at options for a similar one. I was hoping to find something that did the same thing but was slightly smaller. But, after extensive research, I was pretty sure that there was little to beat her tent design.
I found one that I liked the look of and tried to find somewhere to see it. But there is a distinct lack of outdoor shops that display tents on the South Coast. I checked in with an online company that I’ve used before. They understood my plight and said that they were happy for me to trial-pitch the tent as long as it was indoors and returned in the condition it came to me (including all the labels). Fortunately, I knew that I could access a school room big enough for this, so pressed the button on the buy.
Two days later, it arrived. I picked up the box and my heart sank. I just couldn't believe how heavy it was in comparison to my original tent. Did I really want to do this? But then my mind went back to my last camping experience, (see link below) where my tent got soaked during the pitching, and my bedding got wet every time I got back into the tent as there was nowhere to leave the wet gear I was wearing. Then I couldn't even heat my own water for a hot drink.
I had to give this tent a go. I headed to school with them both.
So after that quick trial pitch, the decision was made. Now I just needed to work out how to fit it in.
Meanwhile, Trigger enjoyed a shower and chain wash. The natural rinse cycle of rain was right on cue.
Then came the packing.
You would have thought that this gets easier with time, but no, every item is considered and reconsidered. And way too many ‘justins’ make it into the bag mainly to combat the completely unpredictable weather.
I promised myself that this time, I would keep a check on all the things that I actually used to make sure I didn't take them next time (I'm sure I've said that before)
I was happy that the tent still fitted in my rack bag. That was a relief.
Now I just needed to position the rest into the other panniers, all while making sure the bags were even.
How that took all day, I’ll never know. But finally, it was all done, including a quick check that the bags still fitted on the bike with the tent in place - nearly ready to roll!
Then the bags were back off again to fit in the van for a quick trip to Winchester in the morning.
Day 1 - Kingsworthy to Marlborough
I could see Jo rearranging a few things in the huge front bag attached to her Brompton, Dora, as I pulled onto her drive. I quickly decanted the contents of my boot, attaching them to my bike as I did so. Just as we were about ready to roll, I spied a message in our camp group's Whats App chat saying ‘The Eagle had landed’. I squawked my response.
Less than half a mile down the road, Babs was waiting for us. Jenny would be joining us tomorrow. Nerves were mixing with excitement as we rode the familiar roads out of Kingsworthy heading towards Stoke Charity.
It had been such a long time since I had ridden any distance, let alone on a fully loaded bike. I silently hoped I hadn’t bitten off more than I could chew, but confidence came in knowing that these guys would be so supportive if/when I needed them to be.
We stopped a little longer than planned at the picturesque pond at Stoke Charity.
Babs had recently had new mudguards fitted at a bike shop (that will remain nameless). Somehow they had neglected to see that the bolts holding the guards were touching the wheels and by the time we had reached the pond, had not only worn her patience with the noise but had begun to mark the back tyre with a ring too. Babs was busy looking for a place to hide them then would send hubby to pick them up later. I was more confident to fix rather than remove and set to work with my adjustable spanner.
Thankfully the fix was easy, but did require the bags to be unloaded to get to the problem bolts. We were soon back underway but were now running much later than planned.
We travelled familiar roads to our planned coffee stop, a little shop and cafe at St MaryBourne.
Cakes were purchased, shared and inhaled before any chance of the photographs requested by Jenny. More cake was bought and that was almost missed too. A not-so-photogenic plate of crumbs would have to do.
Entertainment came via a lovely lurcher-type dog named Olive, who just wanted to play ball with anyone who would partake. We each took a turn, some more successful than others. Then a young lad who should try out for their local cricket team started to play. This let us off the hook for a while. But when the boy was called to leave, the ball was quite literally delivered back into our court. It rolled past my feet towards another couple. The chap kindly picked it up and gave it a false throw to confuse poor Olive. He threw it with some force in the other direction, but he had neglected to see that another walker had entered the field on that side. This person subsequently took a hefty hit as the ball landed full force on his forehead.
The new dog then sped off with the ball, loving the idea of this game. Olive knew she had met her match as the pup sped away, so sat and waited for the adults to sort things out.
Lots of apologies and laughter later and the ball was returned to me by the first chap, who was thinking that the dog was ours. At this point, with all the grandeur of the old TV show ‘Tell the Truth’ the real owner stood up to leave, Olive meekly followed her true owner away from the field, ball in mouth.
We returned to our bikes refreshed in more ways than one and headed off towards the canal at Great Bedwyn.
On the way, We were held up in several pretty villages by numerous sets of temporary traffic lights. This particular stop at Hurstbourne Tarrant had me in stitches - I wish they had invented one of those when I was younger!
I kept the phone number in case I ever needed it again.
Once recomposed and the light turned green, we continued on our way.
We crossed the Wiltshire border. 'Now we were adventuring! '
Our body clocks told us that it was far later than we had planned. We unanimously decided that it was lunch time so rather than pushing on to the canal, we stopped at the now-disused Fosbury church, to use their prime seating with the best view. Maybe not quite as scenic as the canal, but definitely welcome.
I’m so glad we stopped when we did, as the next part of the route took us up a huge hill. I wonder if Jo knew.
The best thing about a large climb is the end, sorry, I mean the view. By now, we were at the top of the North Downs and the view was spectacular. We paused to watch a pair of kites circling in the distance. Then stopped again as the ridge stretched out before us.
The other good thing about a large climb is that it is usually followed by a nice long freewheel downhill. This was no exception and apart from keeping an eye out for loose gravel and potholes, we effortlessly glided down towards our next goal.
The canal at Great Bedwyn was so peaceful, I could have sat there for hours. No wonder Jo had picked it for our planned lunch spot. I once again marvelled at her route-planning skills.
We sat for a while to enjoy the serenity that always comes beside a canal. But time was marching on. We still had 8 miles to go, much of which was off-road and this was uncharted ground for us all. Jo rang the site to confirm our booking and suggested 530 as our arrival time.
A couple of ups and downs later, we found ourselves at the edge of Savernake Forest. The private yet public access ‘Grand Avenue’ absolutely lived up to its name.
I forced myself to concentrate on the road rather than the scenery just in time to notice a huge patch of newly laid gravel at the bottom of a downhill, but was going just too fast to stop before it. Thankfully I had just enough control to bring myself to a halt and warn the others. We walked over the remaining gravel patches together.
We happily found that ‘Long Harry’, the well-named path across the forest to our campsite, was also rideable. Fully aware that Jo and Babs had been riding at my speed all day and also concerned that we might miss the office to book in, I tried to send the others ahead, but they were having none of it, staying with me all the way.
We reached the site at 535! Jo apologised for being so late (5 mins!), her humour was lost on the site manager.
We had plenty of choice of pitches and chose one not too boggy and not too far from the toilet block, but far enough away from a team of children playing some form of tag or hide and seek. We headed to a pitch across the other side of the field, with a handy, yet slightly rickety fence for us to lean bikes on.
The next challenge - could I pitch this new tent? With nerves jingling again, I removed the footprint, outer and poles from my bag. Both Jo and Babs offered to help, but I wanted to know that I could do it myself.
I was struck again by the quality of the material and the ease with which the poles slid through their colour-matched sleeves. In next to no time, and a little guidance from Jo, I had a waterproof shelter. Thankfully, on this occasion, it wasn’t raining, but as I transferred all my gear inside and clipped in the inner with ease, I knew this would make such a difference if it had been tipping it down.
I headed back around the outside with the lightweight pegs in hand and found like the others that the soil was no more than 2 inches deep and I’m sure it was concrete beneath - the pegs were going nowhere.
I wondered what the little toggles were everywhere then realised it was for storing the guy ropes before packing it back down. Very clever!
With the last peg in place, my Nordisk palace was finished. It was huge! So much space everywhere, that I could even sit on my chair in the 'living space'. It would take a while to work out the best way to use it all. But right now I needed to get dinner underway.
We sat chatting till the stars arrived and the night's chill drove us towards our sleeping bags and after a swift visit to the toilet block, our little corral fell silent. While I marvelled at the sense of reflective guy ropes.
Day 2 - Day trip to Avebury, with added mileposts.
The camp was still surprisingly silent when I took myself off to the toilet at 630. Though our quiet neighbours were already taking it in turn to feed their hungry children. I sat on my chair in the 'living room' watching the winged couple fly backwards and forward for ages. I heard Jo’s zip go and she paused to chat at the ‘window’I’d made out of my door. I was thoroughly enjoying my extra living space as I listened to the next shower pass overhead.
At that moment, we received a photo message from Jenny who was on the first of the three trains that would bring her to join us.
It wasn’t long before the rain stopped and we sat around our various burners to make porridge. First breakfast was followed by a very tasty second breakfast of eggy bread provided and then made by Babs.
The ground had been softened so much by the rain overnight, that my chair had sunk and become quite embedded. This took some careful, yet gentle tugging to release the leg without breaking it.
With breakfast complete, Jo decided to ride to the junction between Long Harry and Grand Avenue that we nearly missed the day before. She was hoping to meet Jenny who had now completed her triple train ride and was cycling the final six miles from Great Bedwyn.
This was an excellent plan, let down only by the fact that they missed one another and Jenny reached the site via a different route without ever meeting Jo. Though it didn’t take Jo long, Jenny was already drinking tea by the time she got back.
Jenny had also purchased a new tent which she quickly pitched while we got organised for our day's ride. She too had a larger tent and was looking forward to being able to sit up in it.
We would usually be packing our tents down at this stage to head to a new location. But this would be a new experience for us as we planned to stay on the same site for two nights, leaving our tents behind as we went out for the day. We reorganised ourselves and our baggage accordingly and were soon on our way to our day's adventure.
The first goal was to bag a pair of nearby mileposts just along NCN 4. Looking quite unloved, we nearly missed the first as it was almost camouflaged by its surroundings.
Less than half a mile away was the opposite story. This second post had been repainted and surrounded by a bed of beautiful flowers. A lovely couple, just heading out for a long hike themselves, offered to take our photo before assisting Jo with some on-the-hoof route planning to get back to the site later. We had taken a rather steep and very busy A-road to get there. We were not looking forward to battling both cars and the gradient.
As we returned along our path, we were met by a beautiful puppy running alongside a cycling family. We briefly stopped for strokes and conversation before heading off towards Avebury.
The cycle route we were following was clearly marked so though a little twisty in places, was easy to find. We skirted around Marlborough College looking for a man-made hill named the Marlborough mound. We instead spotted a white horse carved into the side of another hill. We crossed a field, then with bikes abandoned just like in our youth, the others climbed the hill to get a better view of the horse's head that we couldn’t spy from the ground.
Babs took an amazing selfie from this point that caught not just the head of the horse, but also me waving from the bottom of the hill beside the bikes. There was also a glimpse of that elusive mound which was so large, it hid half the church from view. We tried to get a closer look, but when asking a local, we were told that this important Neolithic monument ‘belonged’ to the college so access is denied. This made me a tad cross, to say the least.
The sky looked a little grim and we needed to stop
for Jo to take an important phone call. ‘Who’d have thought’ there would be an open pub serving coffee right where we needed. Our timing was perfect as we sat out the majority of the cloud fall under cover with a cup in hand.
When the rain had eased and we’d finished the pot, we returned to our route. I was on the lookout for a field of Sarson stones that I knew should be near the horizon. I thought I’d found it and pointed it out to Jo, only to see one turn around and walk in the other direction. The others assured me that they were indeed sheep. I mentally made a note to go to the optician again soon.
The rocks on either side of the road could not be mistaken for fluffy creatures and signified that we were close to our second goal for the day. We pulled into a lay-by and decided to leave our cycle route and instead, push our bikes along West Kennet Avenue, a grassy path lined with standing stones that led all the way to the Avebury stone circle.
These stones just blew my mind, and we hadn’t even reached our destination.
We found the National Trust cafe to get some lunch, visited the little post office to find a badge and admired the fitting post box decoration. We then spent the rest of the afternoon just wandering round and round the stones.
I’m not sure what the tourists thought as we pushed our bikes up onto the large earthworks surrounding the stones, but two young lambs were fascinated by the metal two-wheeled animals that accompanied us around.
Having only ever been to Stonehenge a couple of times and knowing that you are held meters away from their stones, I just couldn’t believe there were no restrictions here. It was so refreshing.
The thought of people transporting them, let alone standing them on end in such a way that they are still there today is just mind-blowing. Then there is the fact that these were built in a pre-historical era. We have no idea why or what for and can only jump to conclusions based on the fact that they line up with the sun and the moon rise at their various solstices. Could this have just been a very large clock/calendar? We will never know for sure. Mindblowing!
We had planned to return to the campsite by following the NCN 403 along the Wessex ridgeway across Avebury down and through Fyfield Down Nature Reserve, but the flooding across the bottom of the first valley literally stopped us in our tracks. So after a bit of a debate, we retraced our morning route and enjoyed all the scenery we had missed in the morning's drizzle.
We spotted the white horse from further away this time and stopped to read about its history from a poop-splattered board. As we weren’t keen on the busy A road with a steep hill that we had come down in the morning, we decided to try a different route back. This took us on a different A road, that was less steep, but longer than the first but with lots of room for traffic to pass safely.
Once back at the site, we got straight on with cooking food. It was really nice to come back to a ready-pitched tent. I can see why cycle tourists love their rest day stops. I didn’t even need to shake off any water from the morning rain. It had already evaporated.
Jenny had brought a surprise for Jo in the form of cake, candle and birthday banner to celebrate her upcoming birthday. I’m not sure why she was tying Jo to her chair with it.
It was lovely to sit and chat but once again the chilled air drove us to our sleeping bags just in time to miss the next rain shower.
Though we weren’t too worried about the safety of our bikes, we always locked them together and preferably to something when camping. I remembered just before dropping off to sleep that I hadn’t set the alarm I had on mine. I gave a quick warning to the others and set it by phone. I also had a handy vent that happened to mean that I could see the bikes from my tent.
This was another wonderful design feature of my palace. It has vents at either end and you could access them both from the inside. No need to go out to open or shut them and plenty of ventilation to prevent condensation in the morning. Needless to say, I was very impressed.
This ‘window’ proved very useful at midnight when I thought I was being woken by my alarm for school. It took at least another two rings for me to come to the realisation that it was the bike alarms and another couple to locate glasses, phone and the app to turn the darn thing off, by which time it had switched off by itself. I quickly shuffled down my airbed and shone my torch from my window. The bikes were fine and whatever had triggered it was now nowhere to be seen.
About 5 minutes later someone came walking past, shining a light first at our bikes and then at the tent. I was considering getting up at this point, too pumped to sleep anyway, but the footsteps went away in the other direction. I checked the bikes once more then tried to settle to sleep (it took a couple of chapters of my audiobook but exhaustion won in the end)
Once again my tent proved its worth when I could pack everything away while under the protection of the outer canvas. I could even pull out the footprint and give it a chance to dry while packing down the rest of the tent.
This saved so much time that we were ready to roll by 10 rather than the usual 11am of previous camps.
We rolled along Long Harry for the third time, but things never look the same when you are going in the opposite direction. We rejoined Grand Avenue, once again being mesmerised by the surroundings and having to remind ourselves to keep looking out for gravel and potholes. We silently pulled to a stop as we spotted a deer to our left.
I wasn’t quite so silent when Babs and Jenny stopped a little ahead with another in their camera sights. Sadly my arrival spooked the poor thing and it dashed off to our right before they had their photo. Sorry guys.
It didn’t take too long to travel the 6 miles back to Great Bedwyn, where we were taken to an amazing cafe hidden away at the side of a sports field. With its own grass area reminding me of an old bowling green. Both the outside and inside were decorated with an eclectic mix of all sorts. There was something of interest wherever your eyes landed. The choice of food was great too. We opted for an early lunch with no cake.
The food was as good as it looked and set us up perfectly for the rest of the day. Even Jo’s soup bowl was massive! We eventually peeled ourselves away and rather than crossing the canal as we had on Wednesday, we stayed on the northern side, passing beautiful buildings with ornate friezes. And chasing the train as it overtook us from the station. We passed the turning for the windmill that we had visited on my first camp but turned down the next road giving us a lovely view of the top. I watched the fantail slowly turn as Babs was getting creative with her photos.
Then came the big climb up onto the causeway. Photographs never show how big a hill is, you just have to take my word for it.
We rode along the Chute causeway till we reached a sign pointing down for Chute.
We stopped here to try to see the Devil's footprint. Apparently, the new owner has cleared the hedgerow, cut the grass and enabled access to this strange place. But we couldn’t see the footprint itself as it was well hidden beneath the spring growth.
We were now very close to our next ‘coffee stop’. We rolled down the hill and round the corner to reach Jill’s house. It was so lovely to see her again and hear that she was now on the mend after a couple of back-to-back illnesses. Not only did she provide a warm welcome, but there was a spread of fresh homemade cake too. She had even made me the most perfect vegan scones. It would have been rude to turn one down.
We sat and chatted for way too long, it was such a long time since we had all been together. But after much laughter and more cake eating (the lemon drizzle was delicious too) we needed to make our way home. We still had a long way to go and much was on unknown roads.
We said our goodbyes and set off towards Andover. We sensed we were near as the road slowly changed from countryside to urban. but the cycle route kept us away from the huge roundabout thundering above us. Our route then turned us into a car park and we were back on gravel. this time running beside a set of ponds fed by the river Aston. We paused to say hi to the local residents.
Once out of the park, we weaved in and out of quiet roads and industrial areas popping out the other side of Andover near Barton Stacey. We paused for refreshment on a bridge over the River Dever, at that point even the six miles we had left, felt very long and my bike felt very heavy.
Then the roads became more familiar, and we were soon back at the beautiful pond at Stoke Charity. Just as we headed up to the turning out of the small hamlet, an unusual-sounding engine approached. the sound was coming from a tiny red sports car that must have been at least 70 years old. It was followed by a second of similar vintage. I assumed there must have been a car show somewhere nearby, but then both paused for a vehicle coming the other way. I looked across to see what they were waiting for, and wishing I had my phone to hand, I spied a tractor bumbling towards us. Not a modern one, but one of a similar vintage to the cars.
Were we in a film set?
Had we just fallen into a different time zone?
It all felt very strange until we were close passed by an oversized electric BMW that could hardly fit on the road. yes definitely back to normal.
We paused once more to say goodbye to Babs who would be leaving us at the next junction. Jenny would carry on when we left for Jo's house. We had had yet another amazing adventure, close to home, yet taking in so many things that we hadn't seen or done before. So much of this break was filled with laughter that I cannot for the life of me remember what we were laughing at, there is so much that I have not captured here in this blog.
As always, huge thanks go to my friends who let me travel with them, laugh at my jokes and ignore my moaning. I know I wouldn't do any of these things without you all keeping me going. Thank you. I am very very grateful.
Post script:- This photo contains all the things I didn’t use this trip - guess I need to look at other ways to loose weight.
Further Information -
Day 1 Kingsworthy to Postern hill - 36 miles
Day 2 Day return to Avebury - 23 miles
Day 3 Postern Hill to Kingsworthy - 39 miles
Links
