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. 

Tucked up in my sleeping back, listening to the rain gently taping on the tent, I soon settled to sleep at the end of day 1.  

July 2021 - Tour number 2 - Keeping it local (Day 2)

There is something really calming about listening to rain on canvas, while you are snuggled into a sleeping bag. But tonight, I'm not finding it quite as relaxing as normal, but then counting elephants to check the distance of the thunder storm rarely is. 

Thankfully there was only the one occasion when I only got as far as ‘Ellie’ when there was a Big Bang  and then things quietened to just flashes. 

I heard rustling and unzipping from next door - I wasn’t the only one awake. 

‘Are you awake Sharon’ came Jo’s voice. ‘Yes. You ok?’ I replied. 

‘I’m just fixing my tent. Warning - I’m in my cycle jacket and pants’ at which point I hastily opted to remain within the confines of my own canvas - there’s been enough flashing already for one night!’ 

Having repositioned her wandering tent peg Jo returned to the safety of  her tent and told me about the growing en-suite water feature beside Bab’s tent. We both peered through the dark towards a pond heading towards the corner peg. It had by now stopped raining so unless it started again, we felt it was safe to leave Babs sleeping. 

I closed my eyes. 

I woke with the brightness of morning and more rustling from next door. Keen to check for puddles of my own, I got myself moving. The offer of coffee was too alluring. 

Though the en-suite water feature was now ebbing away, we all knew that the damp in the air would mean our tents would be that much heavier today. Breakfast was a leisurely affair, partly due to tiredness, partly due to the knowledge that nothing would be getting dryer due to the mizzle surrounding us. 

‘Why do things never pack the same way twice?’ 

I couldn’t remember what went where and ended up with very uneven bags - It wasn't till later in the day that I would come to realise the effect of not trying again, while trying to control a speed wobble whilst heading downhill. 

Once certain that we had left no trace, we headed out of camp and rode across the heathland towards brunch. 

We didn’t get far through the atmospheric scenery before being distracted by a family of donkeys against their misty backdrop.

The little one, wasn’t sure what to make of us and the strange, silent beasts that carried us. It was scarily much happier to approach the car that had just drawn up. 

 By the time we reached our chosen breakfast stop, the sun was out and we could loose our jackets for a while. 

You can’t visit the New Forest Lavender farm and not sample the lavender scones. Of course we left no trace there either. 

It wasn’t till we were just about to leave when another customer called across - ‘Do you have a flat there?’ 

We all looked down at our bikes, but it was Babs that had won the puncture lottery. She started readying her steed for repair while I did the next best thing and ordered more coffee. 

The coffee took longer than the repair, and we were soon on our way. Through village, hamlet and individual houses. Down some roads we knew and others that look like they have not been used in quite a while. At one point I was worried we were trespassing. 

But it all reminded me how pretty my surrounding area is and how easy it is to get to it by bike. 

We eventually reached the point where our paths would part, but not wanting to finish just yet, decided to have what is rapidly becoming a traditional parting drink at a handily placed pub. 

After clinking our glasses to a successful tour and raising a toast to further adventures, I headed south while Jo and Babs took the northerly route. 

But that wasn’t the end of the story. 
Just as I reached Romsey, I heard the familiar rumble of thunder, but unsure of its direction, I wondered if the others were caught in a storm. I stopped and shot them a quick message just as the heavens opened and gave me a complete soaking. 

‘Snack stop and tyre pump - slow puncture’ came the response. 

I rode on in the rain, mulling over their good fortune with the weather and wondering if I was the 'rain magnet' we had been discussing the previous night. 

It wasn’t until it started hailing and I ducked under a nearby bus shelter that the other part of the message hit me - ‘Snacks’ I said aloud, with a huge grin on my face, as I remembered my own stash. 

All too soon, I was back home. The tent was thrown over the washing line - as ‘Accuweather’ promised a couple of dry hours - and I headed off to get a shower and warm through. The sorting of the rest of the gear could wait. 

And what of the others? Well, the slow puncture became a full blown (or should I say unblown) puncture. Another cyclist came to their aid with another mechanical and they eventually reached home a few hours later. 

Did it put them off? 

No chance! 

Keep your eyes peeled for tour number 3. 

Relive - https://www.relive.cc/view/vYvr4Mm1Gx6

July 2021 - Tour number 2 - Keeping it local (Day 1)

It’s a beautiful day. 

It’s been a beautiful (if not a tad hot) week. And I’m stood on Cobden bridge watching the world go by. The cars behind are only slightly spoiling  the ambience of the location. 

A kayak glides under the bridge followed by a group of Paddle boarders. Above, a light aircraft slows as it heads to Eastleigh airport. A chap on a cargo bike skilfully manoeuvres himself and his double base up the slope at the end of the path. (It was only when he passed that I realised it was electric assist.) 

I am watching the horizon for two laden cyclists following the waterway on route 2. If I was less lazy, I would cycle to meet them. But my bike is heavy and that slope is hard at the best of times. I will instead wait here. Playing official photographer, while watching the world glide by. 

The unmistakable forms of Jo and Babs soon came into view, and our journeys merge. We followed NCN2 all the way into town, the boardwork looking particularly pretty with the tide high. We soon reached our first destination. Paid for our tickets and excitedly waited to board Jenny Blue who would be taking us across to Hythe. 

The bikes were expertly lifted aboard by the crew who made this look completely effortless. And we spent the next 15 mins letting the boat take the strain. 

By the time we had disembarked then walked the iconic pier into Hythe, we all agreed that we deserved a cuppa. The girls had already covered over 20 miles from Winchester and I, well I hadn’t gone quite that far. So a coffee stop was found. 


Once back on our bikes we continued following the handy NCN signs and shared use paths to Applemore and once negotiated our first, of many, cattle grids, we were in the New Forest. 

Riding through the infamous Ipley cross, we talked about the plans for a new junction and remembered those who didn’t get to ride away from it in past cycles. 

Onward into Beaulieu, where we stopped for lunch. 

The Bakehouse tea rooms has changed hands, but I was pleased to find that the overall feel has been retained as has the quality of the food. It remains one of my favourite coffee stops. 

Some locals felt the same and joined us for lunch. 

Time to leave so after another trip to the loo and a  smothering of suntan lotion, we made our way out of the town, heading this time for Brockenhurst. 

The sun beat down as we turned into the open moorland of the ‘forest’ punctuated by small clumps of trees which were often inhabited by the locals. The nicest thing about travelling by bike is the ease at which you can drop everything and join in with what’s going on around you. 

Next stop Rhinefeld arboretum and the long slow climb to Bolderwood. 

Having rewarded ourselves with a sneaky ice cream, we consulted the maps to see how far away camp was. 

Just 10 miles later, we reached our stop for the night - Ocknell Camping in the Forest site. 

We found some fairly flat land away from other campers and set up camp. 

A sign at the toilets filled both Babs and I with dread and all thoughts of wild wee’s during the night were dashed. 

Dinner was a leisurely affair and was punctuated by locals who obviously use this as a thoroughfair. Let’s hope they remember where the tents are. 

We sat, till dark, planning future adventures, then after a final stroll to the loos, and a refill of water bottles, we batten down the hatches for the night ahead. 



And so now I find myself in a field of Adders watching the lightning flashes and counting the gaps till the thunder with nothing more than a piece of material between me and my fears. How far I have come in the last 20 years! 

Night all. 

Edit - It’s just after 4. Jo is currently bailing out her tent - a peg pulled out in the wind/rain allowing the end to partially collapse. Babs now has a large water feature to the left of hers. And me?  I’m not looking.  

May 2017 - Riding for Phelan

I’d like you to meet Phelan. I mean I really wish you could. When I was asked for advice about a small charity ride around the Isle of Wight, to raise money for a little chap who had been suffering with cancer. I really didn’t know how much the experience would affect me, but I’m so glad I offered to help. 

It wasn’t till the day of the ride that I met Phelan. He was a lovely little lad with a cheeky grin and a huge heart.  I’d already met his Dad who had learned to ride to join the challenge that these work colleagues had set themselves - riding round the Isle of Wight, raising money for some extra treatment. On that day, I met him his lovely family and a group of very determined cyclists. 

I had offered to ride with the back group - inexperienced riders who needed to really pace themselves if we were going to make it all the way. One of those was Phelans dad - George - a most determined chap, who despite all his family was going through was determined to learn to ride his bike and then ride as much of the island as he could. We had been out for a couple of test rides before hand, but nothing quite prepared us for what was waiting for us across the water 

It was an early start but there was a definite buzz in the air as we waited to board. 

The journey from Southampton to Cowes takes about an hour and during that time, we received numerous questions, encouraging comments and donations - there and then, no questions asked just a set of very generous people, all with their own reasons for heading to the Island, taking time out of their day and money out of their pocket to help a little lad with sparkling eyes to live a little longer. 

Fighting with emotion and excitement, we returned to our bikes ready to gather for the group photograph. 

We knew we were the slow group. It isn’t bother us. We were given a head start and it really didn’t take us too long to get to our first stop  - Ryde. We were also overtaken by all the other groups by the time we got there. We didn’t mind though - our challenge was not to be the fastest, but just to have the determination and resilience to get round. 

I was purposefully keeping the pace slow and the spirits high to help us reach our goal. 

As the hours and the miles passed, we got progressively more tired. We had  a huge boost at the lunch meet point in Ventnor. Where many of the others had waited to cheer us in before continuing on their slightly faster journey. We were especially happy Knowing we had conquered one of the major hills already. 

We were making good time and I was pleased that we had only lost a couple of the riders to the support vehicle. 

We finished lunch and headed back out. But by the time we reached Military road (undulating is not a strong enough term for the hills here) our party had reduced down to three. 

Two of Steve’s work colleagues and me. We were flagging in the heat and the girls exhausted riding their mountain bikes. Their fat tyres were no advantage on this trip. 

There was surprisingly little traffic on the roads that day. But I spotted ahead a very slow  moving vehicle with its hazards going. I wondered what was going on. We soon caught up this party which consisted of the van, and three men, two walking with buckets. The third, an ex marine named Swasie was pushing himself with his one leg in his standard issue wheelchair from Firestation to firestation raising huge amounts of money as he went. 

We exchanged details, stories, hugs and tears. Then with our spirits and enthusiasm renewed continued on our own fund raising mission. 

We made it to the Needles. Paused for some refreshment and then enveloped within the rest of the peloton we rode back to Cowes. 

With a huge cheer on the chain ferry we realised that our journey was now complete. We had looped the IOW. 

I was so so touched when Phelan presented me with my medal for completing the ride around the island - all of which was to help him with medicine to keep him alive


 

Sadly, Phelan passed away within the year of completing that challenge, so the following year we rode again. This time to raise money for the place that had cared for him and his family in that sad sad time. And so the Blue Ninja Challenge was born. Blue was Phelans favourite colour. And Ninja the name he was called at home. 

We have been to Naomi house a couple of times now and every time I am amazed by the buzz of the place. Everyone who works there is just so positive and their aim is always to make the most of every day for the children because every day is precious. 

I’ve now done a number of  challenging rides, but not one even begins to match the challenge that many of the people spending time at Naomi house face every day. 

They don’t ask for a lot, but money doesn’t go far at all. £20 will help pay for a nurse of an hour, £10 would buy craft stuff for a child to work with. 

We have ridden every year since then. We will be riding for them again soon so please do consider helping this great cause. Any amount would be gratefully received. 

If you wish to find out more about this amazing place please take a wander through their website and take a look at a video or two. https://www.naomihouse.org.uk/about-us