February 2022 - Round the harbour to bag a MP



Half term always flys by, but with loosing the first part of it to that dreaded caronavirus, this one felt particularly short. What better time to start a new challenge. 

Stage 1 - Head down to local station - Check.

2. Find the correct carriage on your train.
 Now if this had been my train, that would have been very easy. 


But this was mine. I couldn’t spot it at all. 


Thankfully, I did spot a cyclist getting off and was already following one heading on. This chap was obviously a seasoned pro - Asking when I was getting off and loading his bike accordingly. He grabbed his pannier and wandered off to find a seat, leaving me to faff for the next five mins of the journey. Bike safely stashed - check!



3.  Jump off at the correct station.
I always worry that I’m not going to get my bike off. But it really couldn’t have been easier. I found a quiet spot on the platform, and waited for the next train to arrive. 


I didn’t have to wait long. And was soon joined by my travel companions for the day. 


Babs and Jo had made their way from Winchester to meet me at Fareham station. We had all ridden parts of this  route in one direction of another, but none of us had ridden this particular version in its entirety. This and the beautiful blue skys (the first we had seen after a week of poor weather) filled our chatter as we found our way out of the station. 
The joy of paperless tickets and nothing more than a barcode triggering the gate to open was not lost on me, making the guard chuckle as we passed through. I’m guessing the technology is pretty new there too. 



Today, We were mostly following National Cycle Network routes, which has been carefully curated by Sustrans and maintained by their lovely volunteers. These guys had obviously been busy as even though we had just had 4 named storms blow through over the weekend, there was little evidence of tree fall on the route at all. And we, well Jo  to be precise, found it really easy to follow the little blue signs that marked the way. I have been reassured that this gets easier with practice. I’ll let you know when/if it does. . 

We quickly found our way onto the 236 from the station, following it to get onto the 224. This was a beautifully straight and wide route shared only with the Eclipse busses that run between Fareham and Gosport avoiding all the traffic. It was so fast and direct, we didn’t even stop to take a photo. 
The 224 continued following the original military train line right to the centre of town, but it became quite leafy once it parted company with the Eclipse bus route. We soon found ourselves at the waters edge waiting for the ferry to Portsmouth. 



The ferry ride is short but fun and gives a great view of the brand new aircraft carriers and the much older HMS Warrior. We paused for a while on the other side to enjoy the view and make our plans. 


Next stop, one of my favourite places,  Old Portsmouth. We carefully rode through the Camber docks - the oldest in the city and famed for receiving the first delivery of tobacco and potato to the country. We cycled on round the small harbour to inspect the mural on the side of the Bridge Tavern. We pedalled past the Still and West pub, again famed for drunken conscription into the Navy. We nodded to the statue of Nelson, who appears much smaller than his history suggests. We discussed the history of the roofless Garrison church, then rode on towards Southsea seafront in search of a coffee. 





We couldn’t resist the smell of the chips from the little shop on the front, so after a swift change of plan we found ourselves sat next to Southsea Castle enjoying the blue sea, blue sky and  the famous ‘Deep Blue’ chips 


Many a time I have waved away Naval ships from the front, but today we watched with a slightly heavy heart as HMS Diamond sailed away heading to take her place alongside NATO allies in the Mediterranean. I wished the crew safe travels and hoped that we would be seeing their safe return in the not to distant future. 



Following the recommendation of Babs’ daughter, we went in search of the Tennis club for our coffee and basked in the sun trap by the entrance. 


Eventually we pulled ourselves away from the comfort of our table and headed of towards the main reason for our travel. 

We quickly returned to cycle route 22 and rode through areas of Portsmouth I have never been before. Turning a corner just after the Rudmore roundabout, we spotted our quest. 




The first of many (I hope) millennium mileposts. There are approx 1000 dotted across the country so I have a quite a few to find before I’ve bagged them all. 
I will write a separate post about them, their history and any other information I can find. So if this interests you too, go take a look. 


It seems quite fitting to find  my first one in Portsmouth, and I marvelled that I have never come across it before despite it being here over 20 years. 

Once we had finished documenting our visit (Jo and Babs are very patient!), we returned to our route around the harbour. It’s been quite a while since I rode round Portsmouth island and the city council have obviously been busy upgrading their shoreline. We took full advantage of the new seating arrangement to enjoy the sun for a little while longer. And who could blame us after the recent foul weather we’ve had to endure. 

Babs chilling…

Jo chilling…

Hmmm!!! 


Lovely day! 

The nicest thing about travelling by bike is that it is very easy to change direction. This is especially useful when you miss a blue sign and misread the route. It is also really good when you decide to make a detour to another local attraction. 

Portchester castle was too much of a magnet to resist, and though the extortionate prices put us off sampling the grounds, we took the path round the perimeter and reviewed our route on the horizon. 


Babs embarked on a touch of enforced bike maintenance in front of the primitive toilets. Returning to our journey once the chain had been returned to its cogs. We headed on back towards Fareham. 



We stopped once more at a nearby Lidl to use the facilities and ended up in a conversation with a lovely lady asking advice on frame sizes as she was hoping to start cycling. We left her with a card after extolling the virtues of Breeze and wished her well with her cycling venture. 

Our route back to Fareham station was fairly quick and pretty unremarkable. But the sense of satisfaction having completed our task was huge. 

Having once more swiped ourselves through the barriers with our newfound digital technology, we checked in with the definitely non digital guard as to which platform we needed. We headed towards the first lift and across the bridge to the second as we watched a train pull in. The lovely guard waited for us to arrive, confirmed the destination of the train and directed Jo and Babs to the correct carriage. 
I didn’t have to wait long either before I too was on my way home. 

My train was small and did not have an obvious bike section. But keen not to miss it, I popped my bike in through the double doors. I was expecting to be told off any minute, but no one came through, and I wasn’t blocking anywhere or anyone. Two stops later and I was back in Southampton and heading home after enjoying another great trip out with friends and my bike. 













October 2021 - The 24 by train

So the conversation goes…
Sue- ‘I fancy going for a ride today’
Me- ‘Sounds good, where do you fancy?’
Sue - ‘Somewhere by train’ 
Me- ‘Ummm, Ok!’ 


Within the hour we were on a train heading out to Salisbury. 

Being the control freak that I am, I had been worrying all the way down to the station that we wouldn’t be able to get on, as, checking the website, there was no way to book bikes on the SW train that we were hoping to use. We cautiously wheeled our bikes into the station and up to the ticket office. This was new to us both. 

The jolly guy behind the desk was super helpful and gave us all the information we needed, along with our ticket. Next stop, platform 3b. And that involved a bridge!



Two lift rides later and we are standing on the platform waiting for our imminent train. 
Just two minutes later, it arrives. The guard jumps out right next to us and directs us further down the train and to look for the carriage with the bike sign on it. This was quickly located and we start to lift our bikes aboard. 

I had been worrying about this bit too, but I needn’t have, they slid aboard just fine. The only trouble was - someone’s bike was already taking up a slot. 
Was this it?
Was it game over already?

I really wasn’t sure if the rules of train travel and wished SW trains had invested in the same stock as Scotrails Highland explorer, with a whole carriage designed for onward cycle travel. It definitely has encouraged me to plan to take my bike next time I am that way. 

As if by magic, the guard reappeared and said there was space in the next carriage. I tucked my bike into the next corridor and we readied ourselves for the journey. 

As mine wasn’t looking too secure,  I was worried about it falling, we opted to stay by them rather than taking a seat in the main carriage. But as it happened, it was Sues bike in the proper rack that kept moving. 

There were lots of positives to our choice, it was quiet, well ventilated, we were alone so didn’t feel compelled to be wearing face masks and we had a great view from the door windows. 
The only downside was being located right beside a rather smelly toilet. 


At each stop, bikes were either wheeled onto or of the train. The very accommodating guard, happily allowing the space reserved for wheelchair passengers to be used as bike storage. This must be a popular route! 

In no time at all, we had arrived, disembarked and were busy working out the easiest way into the town centre and a spot of cheeky breakfast. 


You can’t visit Salisbury without taking a selfie by the cathedral. Sue wasn’t so convinced!!


She was, however, quite intrigued with the modern art located around the grounds, placed in juxtaposition with the fine art of the cathedrals building. 
 

After a pleasurable time enjoying our surroundings and finishing our takeaway coffees, we cycled round the perimeter of the cathedral grounds searching for our first little blue sign. 

I have read before that they do become easier to spot the more you use them. I wasn’t convinced and kept an eye on my route map too. 

Once located, the 24 took us through some well beaten playing fields and next to a rather bulging River Avon. This greenery was short lived and we were soon on a busy, but well kept, shared path running alongside the A26. This diverted left behind the large Tesco and the perfectly placed park and ride, then onto a few quiet roads between a flurry of houses on the outskirts of the city. 
The little blue signs directed us, to cross the crazily busy A26 again, via a pedestrian crossing then down what must have been the original A road complete with remnants of inns and toll houses, but was thankfully now relegated to side street. 
As we cycled on the noise levels reduced, the surroundings became greener, and our enjoyment increased. 
We were on a mission to find the prettiest version of the NCN sign as we travelled through the country roads. 


We took a break by a very scenic little church at East Grimstead, I stretched my photography skills while Sue stretched her legs around the grounds. 






We set off again, towards West Dean enjoying the beautiful vistas on either side of the road and trying to investigate a  little village shop that was sadly being renovated at the time. (There goes my hopes of a sneaky chocolate treat) 
We cycled on towards Mottisfont.  


At this point things started to unravel. The clouds had moved in. The sky, getting blacker by the moment. We had reached a large climb that Sue decided to power up, but as she didn’t have the route visible to her, she missed the right turn that we needed to take midway. She was so far ahead she didn’t hear me shouting to remind her of the turn. By the time I caught up to her (thankfully she had stopped - I can’t ever catch Sue on a hill) we had both needlessly climbed what felt like a mountain! 
Cold, tired and grumpy, we decided that we needed to get some food. Though we had brought some lunch with us, the call of warmth and soup at Mottisfont was way too strong to resist. 
We freewheeled back down the hill and in less than 10 minutes had locked up our bikes, flashed our NT membership cards that I had picked up just in case and heading towards the cafe. 
Taking our seats just in time to hear squeals as the heavens opened and soaked everyone and everything not under cover at that point. Our timing was perfect! 






Refreshed and revitalised, we headed back to Southampton. This time too cold and tired to stop for photos.

I always like the 24 as a route and loved the train element of this ride. Though I’m not sure if Sue was quite as keen. 

September 2021 - Widdershins round the Wight



The messages are flying, the others are underway. I am all packed, but have a couple of things to do first. 



First, collect some fancy provisions. 
Then…

…complete a days work.

But, after a speedy ride through town, I’ve caught a ferry. 





There was something very refreshing about sitting on that top deck, buffeted by the wind,  but warmed by the evening sunshine. The stresses and strains of the week had melted away by the time the call came to return to our ‘vehicles’
Carefully making my way down the steep staircase, I was pleased that I no longer wear cleats on the bottom of my shoes and marvelled at the thought of my other cycle friends picking their way down only a few weeks ago for our Ninga challenge ride. 


My bike had also been bathed in sun during the journey, and was parked up next to another with matching panniers. The owner of which arrived shortly after and we compared notes on our onward journey. 
Next hurdle - crossing the river Medina. This was usually no bother. The chain ferry was just across the car ferry’s car park and ran every 15 mins. But not today, in fact not for ages. The ‘new ferry’ that had been in place for a number of years now has been dogged with problem after problem. It was now sat unceremoniously on its ramp out of the way of passing water traffic, yet looking very sorry for itself. It’s replacement - a small launch was ably carrying the foot passengers across, but car traffic had an extra 20 mins  added to their journey as they were redirected through Newport. I desperately hoped they would be ok with my heavily laden vehicle. I was not keen to add to my ride at all. I needn’t have worried, they didn’t bat an eyelid when I payed for my ticket and after a little encouragement, the chap did help to lift her aboard. 


The journey to the campsite was quicker than I remembered from my recci ride. Though I am sure the hills were steeper this time. I was very relieved when I reached the heavy gates of the campsite, knowing I still had plent of daylight left to pitch my tent. Next job, find the others! 
This, of course, was easy. Who else was crazy enough to go camping at the end of September? The field had a couple of campervans liberally spaced around, but the only tents were in our little corall. 




After remembering to take a photo of the contents of each pannier (which proved invaluable for next mornings pack down), I set about pitching my tent in the quickest time yet. The lure of dinner at the local pub spurring me on. 


With little time to spare, we marched the two minute trek down the road, pausing only to chose the destination of our next adventure, we marched in, looking forward to a hearty meal and a good catch up. We weren’t disappointed with either. 




We returned to our tents for a final hot drink and a little star gazing. Then retreated to the comfort of sleeping bags warmed by tiny hot water bottles.  I had no trouble sleeping this time. 


Saturday morning and what’s this? The novelty of packing down a dry-ish tent. I was surprised with the quantity of condensation, though I had forgotten to open any vents in my haste to pitch and the ground was still damp from the previous weeks rain, so I guess that wasn’t surprising. It was soon dried by our handy Breeze towels and once breakfast was eaten, the big pack down commenced. 




I love the fact that our evening living spaces pack away so small. Looking at the bikes, it was hard to imagine that we could had stopped there at all. With a final trip to the loo for some of us and a little foraging for others the spoils of said hunting was handed to me - if nothing else, I had an apple for my lunch.


Turning right out of the campsite, we soon found our first blue and white sign indicating our route. I had to keep reminding myself we were following the white on blue signs  this time - I’d never ridden the route anti-clockwise before 



Our next stop, the New Town, Old Town Hall. A label that makes me smile every time I cycle past it- especially as there is little indication of any town at all. 
One day I will get there when it is open. I would love to see inside. I chatted to a chap who was walking the island on a similar route to us. We joked that he would probably take just as long as we would at our current speed. 
A set of cyclists in matching Lycra arrived at the carpark next to the hall and like us grabbed for their waterproofs as the weather did its best to put us off. They were riding round the island for charity, but unlike us, they were planning to be done by the end of the day so that they could take Sunday to ride back to London. needless to say - they weren't carrying much gear and were followed by a handy minibus a short while later. 


With the weather closing in and waterproofs donned, we decided not to investigate the nature reserves, but did stop to enjoy the view of the Newtown river. 



We waited patiently while Jenny entertainingly practiced her selfie skills. We were all impressed with the final result. Then laughed with the walker that we had chatted to earlier as he momentarily overtook us. 


Onward to Thorley, and a pause at St Swithin church. Inside stood a colleague of mine, Steve, the best man at his brothers wedding. We chatted to the church wardens and decided not to stick around for the brides arrival. Though we were more than welcome to attend, I am sure Steve was nervous enough without the feeling he was being observed.  And anyway, it was time to find some lunch. 


Having consulted the handy guide written for us by Paula, one of the IOW Breeze champions and a mine of local information, we searched for ‘Off the Rails’ a converted station at the start of one of the many bike trails formed where the original train network used to run. Though it was really busy, we managed to squeeze in and grab a rather tasty cheese scone and warm coffee.  






Though the cafe was on route, we decided to take a quick detour into Yarmouth itself. Which turned out to be much busier than any of us expected. It was obviously the day for weddings as the one way system on the high street was being thwarted by a backing wedding bus as literally hundreds of high heals and smart suits pored out of the local church to throw confetti at the newly weds. 

Jenny and I left our bikes with the others as we ‘nipped’ into the local store only to find we were behind a lady who had done a full weekly shop which was being rung through at a pace I have only ever seen matched in a shop in Cornwall. I think the others thought we had grabbed another sneaky cuppa, but no such luck! 


But, reunited with our bikes, we went to find a pier, that I never knew existed. This is what touring is all about. Stopping and starting whenever you like. Going off course, if you fancy, just to see something new, the only time limit being the amount of sunlight needed to pitch up. 
We headed back to our route, again following a disused railway track this time towards Freshwater. I am never a great fan of gravel, I avoid it whenever possible,  but the bike was well balanced and actually handled better than I was expecting. And the views of the river were more than worth the nerves caused by the path surface. 




Freshwater bay was just beautiful. The sun was trying so hard to join us. Jenny decided to encourage it a little, by taking a paddle. I politely declined the invite to join her, manning the camera instead. After all,  someone needs to document these events, don’t they? ;)




The climb out of Freshwater was hard, but was easier than the hills ahead on the dreaded Military Road. We stopped at every viewpoint, not only to enjoy the view, but to give our bodies a chance to rest before attempting the next one. 


And the next one was bad!!! It was tough to start out of the car park but it was continual climbing with an ever increasing gradient. As we rode past the entrance to Blackgang chine, it just got harder and harder. We had all gone ominously silent. I’m sure I was overtaken by a snail at one point. 
By the time we reached the next car park, I was done. My ears thumping with blood, my cheeks redder than my helmet. I rolled up to the big bin in the carpark and lent against it, initially unable to even get off my bike for fear of passing out. This is as close to bonking as I’ve ever been. I felt awful! 

This was what I had feared all along - I was just too unfit and wouldn’t be able to continue. My brain whirring with worst case scenarios. My body trying to stop me being sick. My friends, rallied alongside. Took the weight of my bike and helped me climb off. I sat on the bank, drinking from the water bottle I had just been handed and looking out at the beautiful view. Just as my head started to clear, I was handed the best  ice cream I had ever tasted and was joined by the others on the bank. Laughter was proving to be the best antidote to everything (with ice cream a close second) so after a short stretching session, I was ready to attempt the next hill. 




Our route now turned us inland as we vaguely headed towards the campsite. To my dismay, the hills matched those remaining on Military road, but knowing we had already conquered the worst one, our spirits were high as we picked off each one in turn. 






We passed the chip shop recommended by Paula and decided that the trip down the thousands of stairs to the sea was just not doable today. We rode on to Appledurcombe. 
We arrived at site just as the duty warden was leaving. She kindly directed us to pitch anywhere we fancied as we were their last guests of the day. 
We located the toilet block and the pool and quickly set up camp nearby. It wasn’t until everything was pitched that we discovered that the toilet block was no longer in use and we were as far away from the brand new block as we could possibly be. We decided the walk would do us more good than repitching.


Just as I settled into my chair, we were joined by a couple of rather chilly druids! Jo and Jenny had braved the outdoor pool and were trying out their new post swim wear. They rapidly headed down to the shower block and returned singing its praises. 


I headed off for my shower just as the sky was turning a beautiful array of pink shades. And returned with just enough light to cook by. We cooked, ate and chatted our way into the evening until tiredness and a chill in the air pushed us towards our warm sleeping bags. 




Our once peaceful evening came to an abrupt end - in the hands of our closest neighbours who had apparently forgotten that canvas isn’t quite as soundproof as their house and the whole site was filled with what sounded like the Last Night of the Proms, but the cheering and running commentary gave away that we were, in fact, all being made to listen to some prestigious televised boxing match. 
I have never been more glad of my tiny earphones - I plugged myself into a podcast and willed myself to sleep. Only to be awoken again by the huge screams that I assume accompanied a knockout of some form. Eventually there was silence, followed by proper sleep. This was, all too quickly, replaced by the sound of burners and clanking kettles that heralded the new day. 
With breakfast out of the way, we once again set about striking camp. Our Breeze towels are the perfect size and weight to dry off a damp tent. And we couldn’t resist the photo opportunity. 




A little time was given to some bike maintenance before we were once again packed and ready to roll. I have to say, I was really tired by now and was more than happy to divert the route away from the coast line, shaving off a hill or two. The campsite was right on the NCN route, so we chose to follow that for a while. 


We soon stopped, attracted by a beautiful field of Sunflowers. My thoughts went immediately to a dear family member who would have loved to be standing in that field. I’m sure she would have been grinning ear to ear as she witnessed our enjoyment of one of her favourite flowers. We took plenty of photos before we returned to our ride.  




A chance meeting with some Brompton tourists tweaked our route once again as they highly recommended the nearby Pedlars Cafe that was ‘just up this track’ the chance for a second breakfast was too good an offer to turn down. We unanimously chose to redirect. And what a great decision that was. The Brompton guys had underestimated the distance a tad, but as soon as we arrived, we knew we had made a great choice. There was ample bike parking, though until the electrics arrived, we definitely had the heaviest bikes in the bike park. 


We found a large table in the shade and relaxed while making our choices on the vast food menu. I, of course, headed straight for the rocker and leaned back taking in all the surrounding memorabilia. This was exactly how I imagined a cycle themed cafe should be. 












The food arrived and was consumed before anyone even considered photographing it. It was delicious and set us up for the rest of the day. Once rested, and chosen a new route, we readied ourselves to leave. Jenny applied enough suncream on her face to protect us all. Thankfully for Jenny, the toilet block accepted all sorts, so even those practicing for halloween. 




Rather than doubling back on ourselves, we decided to continue on the Red squirrel trail - another disused railway line that would take us all the way to Newport. The first section was very easygoing, though there were sections of gravel too, but as with all good railway lines - not too much climbing!


We couldn't resist a second field of flowers, and spent a little time enjoying the atmosphere and basking in the sun along with the butterflies on flowers that take its name. We did confuse another group of cyclists at this point, who thought we were following the cycle path and quickly retreated when they realised they were off course. 





We continued on the Squirrel trail right up to Newport. Thankfully the others had already been through this area and knew exactly how to get through the showground which was still in the process of being cleaned up after the IOW festival. Considering it had finished a week ago, I couldn’t believe how much rubbish was still there. 


The road from the showground was crazily busy and some cars were not the most polite. We were very glad to get back onto a cycle path. 
We stopped off  at St Mildreds Church, Whippingham. The church is just up the road from Osborne house and was used regularly by Queen Victoria when she stayed on the island. We were hoping for a look inside, but even though it was a Sunday, the church was very much closed - as was the cafe and toilets. We sat on a bench at the back of the church eating the last of Jo’s amazing savoury flapjacks and appreciating the great view overlooking the Medina. A couple joined us and we chatted for a while about cycle touring and even gave away a Breeze card in the hopes it would encourage the wife to join others on a ride. 




We checked the time and figured it was about time we headed to the ferry terminal. We were closer than we thought with the route taking us past the lovely Lifeboat pub which features on all the Ninja rides. Then to the terminal to check in. While I went to find the nearest toilet, Babs went in search of ice creams. The ferry terminal was not selling despite the advertising board still being displayed. So she headed in the direction of the Waitrose up the road. As there were only multipacks available, she returned with 6. Even I couldn’t manage two, so she offered them to some fellow cyclists who eagerly accepted. No sooner had we finished ours, we were invited to board and as we were practically first on, had the pick of the seats. As always, when distracted with conversation, the crossing felt way shorter than an hour.  And we were soon back in Southampton. 


We rode together along the NCN23 and parted company at the top of the boardwalk. I waved them off and stayed till I couldn’t see them any longer. 


 

I was home, showered and somewhat unpacked by the time the others reached their bases. I readied myself for the week ahead and marvelled in the knowledge that I would be returning to work after what felt like a month while everyone else would only have had a weekend, such is the magic of cycle touring with a wonderful set of friends. 

Thank you to Paula for your excellent ‘guide book’ when I checked back to the mail you sent to us, I realised that apart from the mega staircase down to the sea, we had actually visited every suggestion you had given us. 
And a huge thank you to Jo, Babs and Jenny for inviting me along for the ride, and changing your plans to enable me to join you after work on Friday. Your wonderful company kept me laughing all the way, especially when I was struggling. 

I can’t wait till our next adventure. 














September 2024 - The one where things don’t quite go to plan

 It was the second Friday in September, and I was heading out of the garden on my bike, nothing unusual there, but this Friday, my bike was ...