You never want to see this on a bike, particularly not the week before you are due to ride the Devon Coast to Coast. It's even worse when you realise that it runs on both sides of the seat post. I thought maybe it was just the paint while putting the creaking down to the bottom bracket.
A trip to my knowledgeable local bike shop confirmed it was terminal rather than cosmetic and suggested I take it straight back to the Liv Giant shop. He asked if I was planning to ride home; when I said yes, he asked how far and suggested I didn't ride any further. He kindly marked up the full extent of the crack, and I headed home in shock, knowing this was the last time I would ride my old faithful bike.
So what now?
I cancelled the work due to be done on the van so that I still had some transport, but couldn't think what to do about the Devon coast to coast. I was offered my friend's bike, but it was too small for a long distance; her other one was unsuitable too. I let the Touring Stars know my predicament and was immediately offered three more bikes to try.
So after a trial cycle around Winchester, I returned home with Karrie - Jo's trusty tourer. The trip was still on.
Karrie loaded up in a very similar fashion to old faithful. But with extra space at the front, which was all too easy to fill. And within a week of me first riding her, we were off to the station to meet the Stars and our train to Barnstable.
More correctly, it was one Star - Jenny and numerous trains. Sadly Babs had injured her ankle, and it just wasn't playing ball. She sensibly decided that it was better to rest it than risk permanent injury.
And Jo? Well, by this point, she had already ridden 137 miles from Winchester and would be cycling the last 30 today to meet us at Barnstable. We were very much looking forward to seeing her.
Jenny arrived, and a couple of minutes later, so did our first train.
Evidently, a cruise ship had recently docked as there was a queue for our carriage, not bikes - that was just our two - and the carriage was designed for four cycles. No, these were travellers with people-sized suitcases on wheels. They were busy pushing past us to get their bag on first, leaving little time and no space for our two laden tourers.
Jenny's fitted, just! I stood with mine in the doorway, waiting for a telling-off from the guard. But there was no such thing, just our tickets checked. We were very soon in Salisbury.
The next train had more space, and both bikes fitted fine, especially when I removed my outer pannier. We even had the luxury of drop-down seating with a perfect view of our surroundings.
Chatting away, we didn't notice the miles whizz past and were soon at Exeter St David's. We had half an hour till our next train, so Jenny went to find a fantastic coffee shop just outside the station while I had the hardship of guarding the bikes in the first sunshine I'd seen this year. I took one for the team!
The bikes easily fitted in on this next train, too and luxury; we even had proper seats to sit on.
At the next station, we spotted a family of four cyclists waiting to board. "I'll tell them there's no space here," said Jenny as she jumped up. Next thing I knew, bikes were being dragged in and flung anywhere they would go. Again we waited for a grumpy guard, but when he arrived, there were no grumbles, just chatter about our route etc., with not a care about the bike dangling off the luggage rack.
We compared routes, distances and campsites with Izzy and Tom and got increasing responses from Rufus and Casper as we headed to our joint destination. Izzy had been looking forward to this sort of adventure for years, and now her sons were old enough to try. The boys were excited too. We helped one another off at Barnstable and then said our farewells, knowing we would see each other on our middle campsite. We waved them away and then went to find Jo.
It was a great reunion, full of tea, cake and tales of adventure. Jo had been here an hour already but was more than happy for a top-up. 'Tea first?'
With a quick change of clothes - it was unusually warm - and a layer of sunscreen, we were ready to head to our start point 16 miles away. I had done this ride several years ago and could remember a big hill coming out of Ilfracombe. We'd be going down it this way, wouldn't we - so 'all downhill from here!'
The cycle path left from the train station and took us straight to a T junction that we would return to tomorrow. There sat the first milepost of the ride. So, of course, we stopped to record it.
Then straight onto a bridge over the River Taw. That was a bit of a climb, but not too bad. I think I've got this touring lark sorted!
The beautiful Tarka trail guided us gently towards our destination. Beautiful scenery and a lovely surface. No wonder it was so popular. We left the trail and rode through Broughton, and then it happened. Our first climb.
I got slower and slower, then went the wrong way with my gear selection, making things so much more complicated. Karrie started wobbling, a car came past just a little too close, and that was it; I was off and pushing. And so began a long slow set of climbs, sometimes weaving from side to side. Sometimes pushing my hefty bike up several overly steep hills.
I found myself cursing my broken bike, cursing the extra bits I'd packed, then cursing my excess weight and extreme lack of fitness.
I was obviously going to have to pull out of this crazy journey when we got back to Barnstable and let the others get on with enjoying the ride rather than having to wait for me all the time. I even wondered if I could get a taxi back to the station from here and pay for the extra train ticket home tonight.
But we did it. With vast amounts of encouragement from the others and some assistance with the steepest bits, we got to the top of every hill. And as always, we were rewarded with the most beautiful views. Our first view of the sea came with an up-close experience of a buzzard mantling and eating its freshly caught prey. Buzzards mean so much to me; they always appear when I am unsure I'm in the right place. It was the confirmation that I needed.
At the top of another large hill, we found another milepost and a welcome rest as we recorded the second of our trip.
A tunnel saved us another long climb and gave us some welcome relief from the heat of the sun, and the tall signal post echoed the history of the route we were following, a disused rail track now put to excellent use as a cycleway
. 
A quick stop at milepost three - this one was downhill today, so we wouldn't want to be stopping right here tomorrow. Then a massive drop into Ilfracombe - the hill I had remembered.
We stopped at the local Co-op for some bits for dinner, then cycled through town to find the campsite. The views of the harbour were stunning.
It didn't take long for us to set up camp. Jenny had found the local beach and returned to cook her tea in the time it took me to shower. My new poncho blanket helped protect me from the increasing number of midges through the evening, one of the downsides to a riverside pitch. After food and washing up, I retired to bed, exhausted, unsure how I would get through tomorrow but knowing that whatever happened, I'd need to get back to Barnstable if I wanted to catch a train. I dozed off knowing that I would never have gotten this far without Jenny and Jo's massive support, and knowing that they would be there again tomorrow made everything feel more bearable.
Damn! Why didn't I write it down or do something to remember the darn number. It was 1am, and I'd just walked all the way up to the toilet block only to realise that I just didn't remember the number for the door lock. I spent the next 10 mins trying to work it out. I'd remembered the first bit, but then the rest was down to elimination and a teacher's bladder.
I woke to find that Jo had been up early to enjoy sunrise and some alone time in the local bay, and Jenny had brought eggs and rolls for our breakfast and was now busy packing up to give herself enough time to start her trip with a sea swim.
While away, her frog and Jo's Dora had a bit of a photo shoot. It took an annoyingly long time for Jenny to discover the photos on our shared What's App group.
We were ready to roll just before 11 and were immediately hit by the huge hill we had enjoyed rolling down last night. I slowly made my way back up to the viewpoint of the harbour. Then after a right turn into a big park, we slowly descended to the water. We made our way around the harbour to the statue, where Jenny and Jo went to dip their feet. The slope was designed to allow tyres to be dipped, but I didn't fancy risking my heavy load so close to the water, so stayed with the bikes. Jo and Jenny ran back up with the sea in their hands to wet the wheels instead.
After a long, slow climb, passing the two mileposts we had 'bagged' last night, we reached the reservoir we had earmarked for our first stop. I munched away on a second breakfast of garibaldis while the others went down to enjoy the view.
We set off again; all the time, I was bracing myself for the horrid hills that we went over yesterday. I reached the top of a small climb to share the viewpoint momentarily with another family of four. This time the girls carried very little, but Dad even had an oversized chair balanced on the huge trailer he was pulling. It wasn't till they disappeared down the hill that I thought to photo them. It's so lovely to see so many people enjoying this route and the beautiful scenery.
It wasn't long before we were speeding down the last of the big downhills. It was definitely easier in this direction. We stopped for lunch in Broughton, then retraced our steps along the Tarka trail to Barnstable.
We decided that a quick trip to Tesco was in order - I was already running low on sun cream (I wasn't actually expecting to use any this break), and Jo needed more Meths to cook with. Apparently, more Dora and frog shenanigans happened while under Jenny's less-than-watchful eye. Followed up by a telling-off from the security guard, who didn't like where we had parked.
Once underway, we were quickly on a new path - well, new to us! The trail on this side of the water was just as beautiful as the other. There was a smattering of Mileposts, railway memorabilia and trail art to keep us pausing to take photos. We even treated ourselves to a purely medicinal Ice cream from a railway carriage when we couldn't resist stopping at Biddeford. The scenery everywhere was just stunning.
The day's heat had really taken it out of us, so we were delighted to see the sign to our camp for the night. Little did we know how steep sections of this footpath would be and how far it felt to get there. Sadly one of my bags became a victim of a gatepost on the way; I was just too tired to sort it out, so it stayed that way for the rest of the trip.
We heard a cheery hello from the outside bar area. Issy and Tom (the family on the train) sat there, sharing a celebratory beer. They had done the same length of cycling we had but had started in Barnstable and found every hill on the way! I yet again mentally thanked Jo's super planning skills for saving us from the same fate. They told us about the live music that would be starting shortly.
Our designated spot was just across from them. We started the task of pitching our tents. Mine took a little longer than usual with the need for many sit-downs! I was shattered. But the whole process was made easier with a superb backing track of all our favourite singalong songs courtesy of the live band.
We ate together, and then the others headed to the bar. I headed to the wash-up area and showers.
They beat me back as I was too busy conversing with a 12-year-old inventor who takes lawnmowers apart as a hobby and mowing lawns as a job. I slept very well but caught the sunrise on an early morning trip to the toilet block. (Thankfully, there were no locks to deal with this time)
It was hard to drag ourselves away from this pretty site, and the thought of the nasty route back to the cycle path was not appealing. But as with everything so far (except for the hills), the reality was much better than our imaginings, and we were soon back on the Tarka trail, finding more mileposts and trail art.
We said goodbye to Tarka and immediately started climbing. And boy, some of those climbs were hard! Thankfully there were lots of places to stop and 'refuel!' Even though the hills were challenging, I had found my climbing legs and had come to an agreement with Karrie and her gears. So though it would probably have been quicker if I did, I was not pushing quite as often as yesterday. This was very pleasing.
Various ups and downs later, I caught up with Jenny and Jo, who were mesmerised by a cow lineup. The cows also seemed pretty interested in us. They made their way across the field to have their photo taken, staying in formation all the way. At this point, we heard some familiar voices and the young family we'd met on the train rolled up alongside us.
We exchanged notes about the journey and then discussed the pub in the next village. We all agreed that it was time for lunch.
Sheepwash was a beautiful village with a lovely church and a pub that sported an amazing menu. But it was hot, we were tired, and there was still a long way to go. The only hill I could remember from the last time I did this ride was due to challenge us just before we got into Oakhampton. After that, surely it would be all downhill!? I think I have a very selective memory!
The pub was supposedly award-winning, though the only one I could think it qualified for was 'Slowest pub in Britain'. It took over an hour for the chef to make three quite uninspiring and very basic cheese sandwiches! (1 large lump of Brie in the middle of two slices of cranberry-covered bread!)
The family had decided to make a meal of it. Their massive plates of burgers and chips arrived well before our sandwiches, even though they had ordered quite a while after us.
This is not somewhere I would be writing a review for.
We rode along a ridge for a while, enjoying superb views to our right and half-envying the householders on our left. We took the opportunity to pause for a rest at the Morris monument, which overlooked the beautiful Hatherleigh moor.
We turned right and quickly dropped away from the ridge, then climbed again through Jacobstowe. Finally, we dropped down into what looked like an industrial estate and headed into Oakhampton. We turned left off the main road and were stopped in our tracks by the most fantastic piece of wall art. A near-life-size figure was standing on a rock sticking out of the side of a house. The rest of the wall was painted like the stunning scenery we had been cycling through all day. Very impressive!
Then we found Station Road. It was long. It was steep, and it was busy. So once again, I was off and pushing. We reached the station and took a break. Jo rang the next campsite to change our table booking, and I found the Garibaldis I'd forgotten all about.
Once we'd rehydrated and cooled down a bit, we set off on the Granite way. Another repurposed railway line, and again, it was stunning. We loved the bridges and the fantastic views from them. I stood imagining how it would look through a train window. And realised that it would be gone in a flash. I decided that only a bicycle can move you at enough speed to cover a decent distance yet still give you the time and space to enjoy what's right there in front of you. We cycled on, finding a couple more mileposts on the way.
The scenery was stunning, especially looking out from the bridges.
Just out of Sourton, the little blue signs pointed us towards a track into the wood. It was a nice surface but so narrow that we opted to walk. The bird song and the warmth made for a pleasant stroll, even if we were pushing half a ton along.
We soon appeared out the other end and collected the 13th milepost of the trip. My friends are very patient!
Next stop, The Fox and Hounds. Not only was this due to be our food stop for the night. It sported a basic yet busy campsite out the back. We had to climb a hill to get to the pub and steps to get to the toilet. The site was further up still. This made it quite a wind trap but very pretty. We threw our tents up like pros, but just before we headed down to our pre-booked table, we heard the familiar voices of the family again. They had decided that their planned site was a push too far for little legs and followed our suggestion of this one. This time, we left them to pitch as we returned to the pub for dinner.
Our meal was bought out by an exhausted and slightly sunburned-looking girl who explained that the pub was only just quieting down after a busy afternoon where she and all the locals had been 'beating the bounds' a 160-year-old tradition that involves walking to all the boundary stones of Dartmoor every 7 years. Her busy shift started as soon as she returned. We watched the sun setting as we contemplated pudding.
We didn't stick around outside too long as the wind was quite chilly but not enough to ward off the midges.
The next morning's menu was eggy bread with the one remaining egg and some well-travelled Warburton thins. Jo did the honours. Then our young friends came over to chat while we began to pack up. It was looking like we were going to get an early start, and we were right next to our route too. But as if to upset our plans, a rogue bungee hooked around Jenny's rear mech with enough force to bend it right out of shape. We spent some time trying to right it and did get some of the gears working, but it wasn't going to fix properly without finding a bike shop.
We chatted a while to Izzy, who had been to the pub for breakfast - how did we miss that gem? We had been warned by another cyclist that part of our route was still closed after some pretty hefty bridge maintenance by Sustrans. We had been vaguely aware of the works, but the article we had seen said it would have been completed by now. But we suspected the two cyclists that spoke about it so far were correctly suggesting that it was impassable.
One had given us some handy hints about a diversion which we passed on to Izzy. Then finally set off on our way.
Even my bike seemed happy with the prospect of elevenses, though by now, it was nearly midday, and we still had a lot of miles to go. Of course, it must be all downhill from here?
What we didn't see when we initially stopped for castle and coffee was the mammoth hill climb out of the valley. The signs to Lydford Gorge should have given that one away.
Once out of the gorge and on from the waterfall entrance (we did consider going to look, but it was going to be a long walk to get there), we happened upon Brentnor church with its strange pointy bits at the corners of the square tower. We stopped for a bit of a look around, then headed on…
We then found another church that looked so similar to the first that the others went inside to check it out while I scoured maps to check we hadn't just made a huge detour to the back entrance. But no, this was St Marys of Mary Tavy.
We followed the blue signs down a path towards the sound of running water and onto a bridge. We couldn't resist stopping for a photo, a paddle of the feet (for Jenny), a conversation with a local dog walker (Jo), then two Dutch tourists (Jenny) and a sneaky shadow pic (Jo and myself). Our 10 mins of fun drew to an abrupt halt when some cyclists appeared from the other direction wanting to use the bridge. We said hasty goodbyes, and off we pushed (it was pretty steep!)
Though the gravel bikers had obviously had no trouble getting to the bridge, we had to walk most of the way. But this gave us a chance to appreciate the area's rich biodiversity as we strolled past.
We 'popped out' at the side of a pub, which we assessed for suitability of menu and seating availability. We moved on.
A bike repair sign appeared just around the corner - perfect. We could get someone to look at Jenny's bike before we tackled the next set of hills. But actually, this was a self-help place. There was food to buy, a kettle and microwave, and an honesty box for donations if you couldn't work out the swipe card machine.
There was a full set of tools there too, but with no one bar us to man them, Jenny sensibly decided to wait to try Tavistock for a bike shop.
Once we'd all used the facilities, bought some snacks and donated to the village hall fund, We carried on with our route, collecting another milepost as we went.
We were soon back on the road, and Jenny had a full set of working gears again. We bumped into another milepost, then a couple on a touring tandem. We had, by now, been given lots of conflicting advice about our upcoming route and whether it was diverted. The only piece of consistent information was that there was no signed diversion. We were just looking for a steep gravel track to the left, just before the long tunnel - what could possibly go wrong!
We set off, first through an industrial-looking area, then onto more converted railway tracks. We soon found ourselves at the mouth of a long tunnel with a path off to the side. We discussed just taking the unmarked diversion but decided to take the word of the bike mechanic, who said he'd been through only a week earlier. We headed into the tunnel. It was long, dark and wet in places, and as I could hardly see (my light was neatly packed away in one of the panniers), I was totally reliant on the track surface being sound. Thankfully it was. I reached the end before the others and was immediately faced by a set of padlocked barriers and 3 workmen on the other side. Even if they hadn't been there, there was no way we could sneak across as the mechanic had originally suggested, huge sections of the bridge were missing.
I hadn't been feeling very well since leaving Tavistock, and by now, I was in no mood for taking photos, having conversations with workmen or taking much stock of where we were or what we were doing. All I know is that we rode back through the tunnel, found the very steep diversion, which Jenny very kindly helped me push the bike up, and we slowly made our way to Horrabridge. We stopped at the pub on the bridge to restock, reroute and revive with a lemonade.
Once I felt a little better, we headed out to find our route. This really was a section that was supposed to be all downhill from here! With the handy guidance of a coach load of locals returning from a weekend away, we found the 27 again after another big climb! But finally, we were descending. We found a calf on the fairway of Yelverton golf course and left before we were seen by its mother.
We spotted two Breeze rides full of smiley ladies out and about on the route, no doubt meeting up at a coffee stop somewhere in the evening sun. We found two more mileposts and a little more trail art before finally rolling into Plympton and our camp for the night.
Rather than take us to our booked plot, which was a little way away, the owners offered us a secluded area just behind the 'clubhouse' and close enough to the toilet block to make everything easier. By the time we had pitched and cooked some food, the light was beginning to fade, and the mosquitos were becoming increasingly active, so we started to get organised for a shower. Jenny had already had hers but came across to help us keep the light on. This apparently involved practising numerous dance moves across the floor in front of the movement sensor; otherwise, we were all plunged into darkness.
It wasn't long before we were all tucked up in our sleeping bags and heading off to sleep.
Breakfast was quick and easy. Packing down was just as swift.
We popped into the camp shop and treated ourselves to some Freddos as a second breakfast. Then we were off to follow the little blue 27 signs around the coast towards our endpoint.
We moved from an industrial area to a park, an open-air theatre to a fort. We stopped and shared the last view of England that those heading off on a Mayflower' cruise' would have seen.
Then onto the 18th and final milepost of the trip, which was stunning against the backdrop of Smeaton's tower at the top of Plymouth Hoe.
Fed up with me having to repeat photos due to my ever-wonky hat, the girls joined me in wonkiness for that final milepost selfie.
Arguably that should have been the end of the ride, with the lure of coffee shops just to our left and looking out to sea. But the route didn't stop there, so neither did we. We continued along the road with the sea to our left. Through an increasingly built-up area, we finally made our way to Admirals Hard, where there was a long slipway guiding us out to the water.
Jenny and Jo headed down there with little hesitation. I was more cautious but joined them as they chatted with a lady waiting for the ferry with a large camera around her neck. She happily took a photo for us once she understood how to use my phone camera.
We had made it to the end. Our tyres wet at both the Bristol Channel and then the English one. Jo's feet were getting wet as we hadn't realised the tide was coming in, so we hastily retreated to the shore. 
I must admit, this was nothing like our start point. The welcome to Plymouth sign felt a little like it was lying, especially as we couldn't move the overflowing rubbish bin out of the way to take a decent photo.
We decided to head up to the station and forgo a coffee at the local greasy spoon, mainly because there was nowhere to put a bike, so we followed the torturous signed bike route to the station.
This initially took us through a park and then up some very steep inclines before depositing us next to a huge ring road with little indication of where to go next. We eventually worked it out and said hello to the guys on the picket line before heading into the station.
Picket line? We had been aware of potential train strikes today but had been reassured by others that most trains would still be running.
They weren't!
There was not a single train moving through the station that day.
Jenny was due to meet her friend later and stay another night in Plymouth, so she already had a hotel booked. Jo and I were going to head on back before it got busy, so we now needed to change our plans.
We checked if there were trains we could use the following day and were kindly given a deck of tickets reserving our bikes and seats on the trains in the morning.
Having discounted the idea of riding back (yes, we did consider it), We headed into town to find a hotel while Jenny went looking for hers. Our search was quick and easy, but the room would be free at 3, so we pushed our bikes back towards the waterfront to find coffee and food.
This, again, was an easy find, a lovely cafe on the edge of the Hoe. Our bikes were tucked out of the way as we tucked into our lunch.
With satisfied stomachs and tired legs, we sat on the grass beside the lighthouse watching the subs go by and making the most of our enforced stop.
We headed back to the hotel to get sorted. Quickly making ourselves at home in this family-sized room.
Then back out for an exploration on foot. We bumped into Jenny and her friend near the lighthouse before we went back to our room for food, and they went for complimentary cocktails.
A quick check of the train line app showed that the one we had all the reservations for was already cancelled. There were two before it that we decided to try for.
While sorting the bags for a quick getaway, I found a spare Freddo that summed up how I was feeling by that point.
We were up before the alarm and ready to roll. We quickly found our way to the station, having found our bearings the night before.
The tickets scanned us into the station. And we headed to platform 6 and our train home. Another hurdle accomplished. But the lift to the platform was broken. The thought of having to unload and carry bikes was not a pleasant one. Jo ran up the stairs to see if anyone could help.
The station master (if there is still such a position) saw our plight and said, "Don't worry, you've not got time for this one; it's about to leave. But the next to Exeter goes from platform 4. That lift is working".
We headed back along the subway, caught the lift and found the smiling stationmaster on the other side of the opening doors. He led us to the bike carriage and unlocked the door so we could get sorted in the 20 minutes we had until it left. We did need much of that time to try to fit two laden bikes into their silly cupboards for bike use. Neither bike could or would hang in there. We unloaded what we could and squeezed the bikes in, much to the disappointment of those with suitcases who also needed the space.
We decided to forgo the seating and stayed with the bikes. This had the added advantage of fresh air every time we stopped and the doors opened. And we still got to enjoy the scenery through the big door windows.
At Exeter, we moved down the platform to sit in the sunshine while waiting for our connection. Jo and Dora stayed in quick-fold mode. Unsure what cycle provision would be on our next train.
But it was fine - exactly the same carriage Jenny and I had been on a few days earlier. Complete with 'luxury' fold-down seats.
Our last change at Salisbury went just as smoothly. This time the signs even displayed where the bike carriage was - very useful.
All too soon, we were back in Southampton. I just had the 15-minute journey back up the road to my house. Jo decided she'd had enough train travel for one day and set off home by pedal power. Hardcore to the end! And so so inspiring.
A huge thank you must go out to my cycle-touring buddies. Firstly, Jo, for lending me Karrie to use for the trip. I obviously wouldn't have been able to even start this trip without your fantastic generosity.
Thank you, Jenny and Jo, for your encouragement and patience in keeping me going through all my struggles. Thank you for sharing your time, snacks and photos; they are all greatly received in equal measure. A big thank you to Babs, too; your encouraging text messages were always impeccably timed; I only wish you had been able to join us.
Where shall we go next?
Further Information -
Day 1 Train to Barnstable then ride to Hale Valley Camping, Ilfracombe - miles
Day 2 Ilfracombe to Smytham Manor camping - 35 miles
Day 3 Little Torrington to Fox and Hounds Camping - 32 miles
Day 4 Oakhampton to Riverside park- 28 miles
Day 5 Plymouth to Premier Inn - 8 miles
Day 6 Train then Home - 7 miles
Links
