Just when you think you have left plenty of time to get to the station, you get that sinking feeling that can only mean one thing - a puncture! Worse, it's in the back wheel. Worse still, your friends are already on the train you expect to meet in 20 minutes. But after a quick explanatory text and the quickest tube change I've ever done, I was back on the road, hoping the dodgy patch on the only spare tube I was carrying would hold, as I didn't seem to have another.
Three sets of red lights and two lift journeys later, I arrive on the correct platform just as the train's arrival is being announced. I count the carriages as they roll past as Jo's text had said, 'We are in coach three.'
As I walk up the platform, I look up to see a familiar smiling face. Jo and Babs had arranged their bikes, so there was just room for one more, and while I patiently waited for my heart to slow and my brain to clear, the train 'took the strain' as we rolled towards Bournemouth.
We chatted the whole journey catching up on each other's news and discussing the day ahead. We soon reached our destination and set off towards the sea. Even though I had ridden this way before, I used Cycle.Travel to plan the route down to the seafront. It took us a much quicker and easier route than I have ever used before, so we soon stood next to the pier watching the angry sea whip up foam as it met the shore.
With the wind to our side and the sun in our eyes, we headed down the seafront, dodging stray children and long leads with tiny dogs at the end, all while wheel spinning on patches of windswept sand. It was great fun! We arrived in Poole in no time at all.
We continued with the sea to our left until we ran out of the promenade. Then, turning right, we headed up the hill, away from the coast and towards Poole Quay. The road was busy with ferry traffic, so we were glad to find that the NCN 25 took us into Whitecliffe park with its newly resurfaced cycle path. Our first milepost was lurking just inside the main entrance. We were very impressed by its obviously newly painted colour scheme.
We continued along the dedicated path, listening to the lapping waves and discussing the movement of a large catamaran as it crossed the harbour towards the docks. We decided to make the most of the view and munched on our sandwiches as we enjoyed the fresh sea air and unusual warmth from the sun. Once back on the move, we soon came across our second milepost. This one, designed by Andrew Rowe, was very different to the others as its 'fingers' pointed in three directions.
We continued along route 25, keeping the harbour to our left for a little longer as we entered the old town. We received warm wishes of a safe journey from a cheery chap who stood outside the RNLI museum. Crossing a small bridge, we now had water on our right as we began to circle around a large inlet.
It became evident that I had not checked the road surfaces of the proposed route as we hit a large area of compacted gravel that continued the entire length of Upton park. Thankfully, the overnight rain had not completely filled the puddles, enabling us to mostly skirt around them. Though it wasn't too difficult to ride, we were pleased to get back onto the next stretch of tarmac. As we rode past, we commented on the fantastic well-used children's play apparatus.
We continued around this inlet, detouring slightly to find the remaining milepost of the route. Unfortunately, this was right alongside a bustling road which sported a brand-new cycle and pedestrian crossing. Though you could just see the sea from this location, it was impossible to take a decent photograph.
We had, by now, completed our loop and were poorly retracing our steps back to Sandbanks. However, we did take a scenic detour by the large RNLI training centre and marvelled at the artwork surrounding it.
The sky turned grey as we said 'Hi' to the middle milepost once more, and as we paused to cover bags with rain covers, we noticed a beautiful rainbow overhead. Two minutes later, we were soaked to the skin!
It didn't take long to get back to the main promenade, and this time, with the wind behind us, we sped back towards Bournemouth (at the designated 10mph). We soon caught up with an older gentleman on what initially looked like a hefty-looking trike, yet he, too, was gliding almost effortlessly down the path. As I turned to say good afternoon to him, I noticed he had a massive grin on his face. I couldn't help but mention how happy he looked. He told me that this electric bike was the best thing he had ever invested in. He was now in his eighties and had lost his driving licence to poor eyesight and his ability to walk any distance to his sore legs. Yet this bike allowed him to "access the world."
He explained that this trike was so much better than any mobility scooter for him. "It's keeping my legs turning". This was a return journey from a morning in Poole, something he thought would never be possible again.
He asked where we were from and where we were going. You could almost hear the cogs in his brain spinning with ideas. I left him pondering whether he would be able to get his bike on the train as I pulled up to meet Jo and Babs, who had been waiting for me to catch up. But as we got level with Branksome chine, I heard a cheery 'Cherio, safe travels' from my left, where I spied my new cycle buddy sat on the bench waving at us, still grinning from ear to ear.
The sun was back out, and the lure of chips was too great, so we stopped at a small cafe on the front. We waited quite a while as the chips were freshly prepared. Finally, they arrived in bags full of promise, but the portion size left much to be desired - think a semi-full McDonald-sized carton containing about 20 full-sized chips. This would not be my main meal of the day!
Thankfully the sun/wind combination had completely dried us out by now. So we sat in the sun for a while, enjoying the sights and sounds of the seaside, watching a detectorist scan the shore for hidden treasure.
Jo decided to make the most of the unusual weather and headed off at some speed towards the sea. She returned with wet feet and a grin from ear to ear.
We made the most of the tailwind, making our allotted 10mph speed limit almost effortless. Like the accompanying drifting sand, we quickly rolled past Boscombe pier and found ourselves in Southbourne in no time. It wasn't until we stopped here to look back that we realised how strong the wind was and began plotting ways to avoid a headwind on the journey back.
We reached the cafe at Heningsbury Head and decided to detour to the station at Christchurch as we could catch our returning train from there. Sadly there was no lift to the platform we needed, so we each carried our bikes up the stairs on one side and bounced down the other. We were also dismayed to find all the toilets were locked, and we had at least a 20 min wait for our train to appear. But as with every journey, getting our bikes onto the train was easy, with a clearly marked carriage and a dedicated area to store the bikes. I'm unsure whether we were chatting too much or just too tired, but unfortunately, no one thought to take a photo of our return journey.
We parted company at Southampton station. I left Jo and Babs on the train as they headed back to Winchester. So with three more Millenium mileposts to add to the collection and just a short ride home, today's mission was practically complete.
So this week I led my 350th ride for Breeze, but instead of the celebration that it should have been, it was filled with sadness as it would be the last ride I would take for British Cycling.
This week I have handed in my notice for all things British Cycling. I am no longer a Breeze Champion. No longer a BC coach. No longer a tutor of Level 1 ride leader training.
Why? Well, it certainly wasn’t due to work pressures or losing interest. No this was sadly due to the current climate where BC needs sponsorship and sadly the only companies that offer such things these days are not the ones I wish to be associated with.
I won’t go into detail here. Instead, I want to reflect on what an amazing journey I have had over the last 8.5 years with Breeze (who are sadly unlikely to see any of the money that they have bargained their membership for)
Where do I begin? Firstly I want to remember the wonderful participants that have joined me on one of my 350 rides. Many I choose to call friends and many I hope I will ride with again. These ladies have so often made my day as we’ve chatted our way around whichever route we have taken to coffee. The number of times I’ve left home wishing I could have stayed in, but returned after my ride so glad that I have been. If you are one of those 1200, thank you for joining me, it’s been a blast and I’ve loved every second.
Next, it's a nod to those amazing Champions I have had the privilege to work alongside, previously coordinate and more recently train. Again, it's been brilliant working with you all, especially those in Southampton who have helped us build the number of women cycling around the city. Thank you.
Then finally it is important for me to recognise and remember quite how far I have come - from thinking a ride to the common was a long training ride and a ride to town a step too far - to riding 100 miles around London (twice) and cycling from Windsor to Buck house and back overnight on numerous occasions - with lots of tube changing practice on the way. Without my Breeze training, I would never have even contemplated these rides let alone complete them.
I've tried my hand at Moutain biking, BMX, cyclocross and track and learned that of all disciplines touring is my favourite. But I will always be grateful for the opportunities Breeze has given me to challenge my own limits. I've even got used to having my photo taken - something I would have shied away from 10 years ago.
Though it is with huge sadness that I pass my jerseys onto others, I know this is the right decision for me at this moment. I am now looking forward to finding new areas to serve the cycling community and can't wait for new opportunities for me to grow my cycle experiences further.
All that is left to say is Thank you all - it's been a Breeze!
It’s 815, the van is loaded with bikes and bags, and it’s raining. This can only mean one thing. We are off on another adventure. Kate has joined me for this one; day one involves another long drive up-country. I was very relieved when Kate explained that she had remembered her arms and legs.
Charge one was busy but pleasant. Charge two was so annoying I didn’t even take a photo. Charge three was utterly different; I felt like I was a Tesla driver - a choice of chargers - even if most of them were the other type.
And once we’d finished our charge, Kate found a large geocache.
Finally, we made it to our destination. Though both tired from the journey, we opted for a walk to find tea. It was lovely to look over the Tyne towards the Sage once more. Kate sat down on the bench; I thought she must be tired, so I joined her - but no, she’d found geocache #2.
Spurred on by this ability to find things, Kate led us to a source of carb loading. We partook before returning to the hotel for showers and an early night.
End of day one.
Day two -
Having met with our Saddle Skedaddle rep and handed over our bags, we helped ourselves to breakfast and planned our day. Then, bikes at the ready, we left the van where it was and headed down to the quayside.
Kate very kindly agreed to elongate our ride very slightly so that I could bag a couple of mileposts that I missed when last this way (Hadrian’s cycleway)
We also witnessed a couple of folk zip wire from the high bridge down to the quayside, raising money as they went. We then watched the millennium bridge turn to its elevated position so that an ex-lifeboat could fit under as it left the City.
Kate got a chance to cycle through Hadrian’s arch. And in no time, we were enjoying the sights of Tynemouth. This was the greyest day I’ve ever been there, yet it was still so pretty. We both commented how nice it was to be cycling so close to the sea that we could hear the waves gently lap against the shore.
We decided against a visit to the priory as it was threatening rain, so we carried on along the shoreline. But as always with the British weather, the sun came out just as we rounded the next headland. From here, you could just make out the priory and the lighthouse at the end of the pier.
Two cyclists drew our attention to the sea less than 5 minutes later. They were off their bikes and staring out into the northern stretch of Whitley bay. At first, I thought it was some rocks. Then maybe a seal or two. But the froth was from none of these. It was instead four very playful dolphins. We stood mesmerised for ages.
The local council had made quite an effort with banks of wildflowers though the grass had obviously struggled in the drought-like conditions. You can see St Mary’s lighthouse in the distance.
Our route had primarily been off-road, mainly utilising the promenade and wide pavements beside the sea. But as we got closer to St Mary’s lighthouse, NCN1 and thus our route diverted onto a long gravel track. We were pretty surprised by this as we’d opted for the road route as we are both on relatively thin tyres. If they hadn’t been the more puncture-proof verity, we would have been even less confident than we were. Having said that, we had barely encountered any cars, which was very pleasant. We commented that this was only the second time we’d seen any cyclists of note as a small group went past us on the track.
We cycled on but paused to enjoy the Seaton sluice view, which was much more picturesque than its name had conjured in my mind.
Ready for a break and a chance to look at the map, we stopped for some lunch at a cafe on Blythe beach. We chatted with a couple who had done the same route a few years ago. They eased our minds about some of the upcoming hills.
Leaving Blythe, we were excited to spot our first ‘Coast and Castles’ specific signs.
Our route was more winding than the main road would have taken us; we crossed under this bridge in both directions as we were taken around an inlet.
And the crossings for the big roundabouts were all a way down each side Road, adding distance. I thought we’d done all the mileposts for the day, but I’d obviously missed a couple on the map. So we bagged them as we went through. Thank you, Kate, for tolerating my passion for milepost bagging.
Kate spotted a mouse and a stoat as they tried kamikaze dives in front of her wheels. I didn’t see them at all. I didn’t even spot the Emu till Kate pointed them out. Maybe I should have made that optician’s appointment after all.
I could, however, spot mileposts from quite a distance.
We paused at a beautiful viewpoint before falling into the drift cafe. It would have been rude not to drink a coffee while we were there.
One more milepost. More gravel track and through an encampment of van lifers playing live music, and we were nearly at our home for the night.
So at the end of 48 miles of stunning scenery, we arrived at our hotel. We were invited to take our bikes to our room, which was very welcome, and we were able to eat on-site after a very refreshing shower.
Day two complete.
Day three-
We ambled out of the Amble Inn just after 9. The sky was a beautiful blue, but the air slightly fresher than on day 2. Unfortunately, the weather forecast a few showers, so we were prepared to get a little damp.
A left turn out of Amble, and we were hit by the most beautiful scenery looking out towards the coast.
And minutes later, a castle appeared. Maybe they should consider calling this route ‘Coasts and Castles’. I will suggest it ;)
We were mostly riding on dedicated cycle paths, but a sneaky hill, a gear that wouldn’t change down and cars trying to pass one another by driving on the pavement, did make me worry that I might get hit as I’d had to get off and walk up the short sharp hill.
But all was well, and we were soon back following the blue signs on the paths skirting the fields.
Hold up, what’s that? Yup, another milepost for the bag.
We almost took Alnmouth up on its ‘new members welcome’ offer at their croquet club. But decided we had too many miles to cover.
Several field sides later and we were back onto quiet roads. We paused beside a Phantom, now residing at RAF Boulmer, not setting off till we had reduced layers of clothing and eaten the biscuits we’d brought from the B&B.
We decided we really needed to stop at the next available rest stop. Howick house, the home of more than one Earl Grey, looked very promising. But sadly, their £8 entry fee to even look at the cafe menu was just not my cup of tea.
We cycled on, pausing momentarily to allow a car to pass through a gate in the road before we followed.
We were again taking the road route, so we were now a fair way inland. Dunstanburgh castle came into view but was again too far away to visit. So had to settle for a zoomed photo.
Getting a little desperate now, we stopped at the Dunstanburgh Castle hotel hoping for a bite to eat, but sadly unless we were prepared to ride full of a large, expensive Sunday lunch, this was not the stop for us. However, we did order a coffee, having used the facilities. And Kate searched for a Northumberland geocache, then went to the corner shop to buy some rolls.
We dropped off course to see what was in Seahouses. ‘Dropped’ is the perfect description as we lost all our height advantage to visit the picturesque harbour and ate the rolls we had purchased in Embleton while watching the lifeboat return from a ‘shout’ and the ambulance step down from flashing blues. It was nice to know the new occupants’ status was no longer life-threatening.
Back on the road, we paused for geocache number two and a distant view of the Farne islands famed by Grace Darling, her dad and a nasty shipwreck.
We continued our detour around the coast till rejoining the NCN1 just below Bamburgh castle. First, of course, we had to stop to admire the views.
Onward via an undulating road, we paused again (handily at the top of a hill) to try to work out the reason behind this watchtower-like building. A little Google informed us that we were actually looking towards The Ducket. It was a grade 2 listed building, possibly built as a windmill or a dovecot, but was now a very posh rentable property for two.
Next stop, a level crossing. The barrier went down. The train went through at a crazy speed - almost too fast to photograph, and all too soon, the barriers were back up again. I would not have liked to be in the wrong place at that moment.
We fought a big hill, and then we crossed the A1. Having driven the A1 before, I was a little concerned at the prospect of having to cross it, especially as there was a big warning sign on the Saddle skedaddle app about taking care. But I needn’t have worried; there was a purpose-built crossing for the NCN1 at the narrowest point of the road. Easy!
There is a two-sided ‘issue’ with doing the NCN routes; they are, by design, a distance away from habitation. We’d both run out of water a while back, it was baking hot, and it was Sunday. The only cafe listed on our route had closed a few hours before we got there.
I decided to try to be brave and ask the next person we saw if we could have some water, but no, even though it was a lovely evening, not one of the few gardens we saw had anyone tending to it. And I wasn’t quite brave enough to knock on a door.
We reviewed our route and decided that we would brave a busier, less scenic road to reach our destination sooner. It was a good choice, and it really didn’t take long to scoot into Berwick and cross its iconic bridge.
We saw an open chip shop and unanimously decided that buying tea before reaching the B&B was the best option. That way, we could just shower and sleep when we got there.
We feasted like kings (well, that’s what the bill suggested). I still can’t work out how coke from a 330ml glass bottle is a pound dearer than the 550ml canned lemonade equivalent. I wish I’d known before I ordered! And don’t ask about the veggie burger.
After 57 miles, day three is complete.
Day four
While at breakfast this morning, I spotted an attractive card on the dresser.
We were apparently staying in the same place Timmy Mallet had during his recent painting and cycling tour of the country. We chatted for a while with our host - not a keen cyclist despite the fancy bike residing with ours in the shed. He was more of a runner and swimmer; cycling came as a part of the iron man package but was his least favourite.
We readied ourselves to leave, but a change in the weather caused us both to rummage in the bags waiting for their pickup to grab extra waterproofing. We were only just in time as the courier arrived just before we went. The legs and coats were on before we even left the building. This was due to be our shortest day of cycling as we turned inland from Berwick to follow the Tweed.
We stopped at the border - glad that, for now, we wouldn’t need a passport to ride through it. Instead, Scotland gave us its traditional welcome as the rain became heavier.
As it hadn’t rained here for a few weeks, the fields were just too dry to accept the rain. So we rode through several flash floods, which made spotting potholes impossible. By this point, it was also clear that Kate’s coat was no longer waterproof. Soaked and bedraggled, we knocked on the door of The Masons Arms to see if they were open.
I’m still unsure if they were, but they warmly welcomed us in. Our soaking wet clothes were moved from a seat to a warming radiator, turned on just for our benefit, and we were offered coffee as we decided what to do next. The rain beat down on the windows and did not look like it would stop. Kate decided she didn’t feel safe in the conditions and rang Saddle Skedaddle for assistance. I wanted to carry on but knew this was very risky on my own. I sadly accepted the lift provided by our next host, kicking myself all the way for my lack of bravery.
The toilets held their own surprise - a beautiful, carefully lit well, sadly the photograph doesn’t show the skeleton at its best.
The journey in the car took about an hour, and the scenery was again stunning. By the time we reached Melrose, the rain had pretty much stopped, but the clouds still threatened more, covering the hills behind in seconds. We showered, changed and took advantage of the enforced rest day to be tourists in the small town.
We popped my bike into the bike shop next door to the B&B, where he replaced two cables and tweaked my gears in the hopes that the low gears would stop skipping. Kate found a bargain of a coat to ensure she wouldn’t get as wet tomorrow as the forecast wasn’t looking too good. We then worked hard to carb load for the final day’s ride.
The town was beautiful and I am glad we got the chance to look around it; I don’t think we would have had time if we had ridden there, which would have been a shame. So I guess that is something to bear in mind when planning a tour - you do need time to look around; otherwise, it just becomes a tick box exercise. Day four complete.
Day five.
Breakfast was a work of art this morning - such attention to detail - Kenny (our host and saviour) had soaked the oats in apple juice with berries and surrounded the cup with other fruit. This was probably the best breakfast of the week and kept me full until lunchtime.
We set off early today, determined to get over the two huge hills that had dominated the route profile. They made everything we’d ridden so far look like a flat line. Though it wasn’t raining when we left, we were taking no chances today - we both carried a change of clothes along with our usual gear.
We had barely gone half an hour down the cycle track beside the railway when Kate discovered her front tyre was going flat. I was happy to stop here and bag another milepost while we changed the tube.
It didn’t take long to find the culprit, but it took a crazy amount of time to get it out of the tire. The tweezers didn’t work, and it wouldn’t move in either direction - we eventually resorted to cutting it out with a knife blade.
We even met up with all the other skedaddlers who were also completing the Coasts and Castles route - six older chaps on mountain bikes who were doing as many trails as they could, a couple who were carrying their day gear in a pannier each and two girls on road bikes who didn’t seem to carry any gear at all. I did admire their jerseys though.
As each group passed, they checked that we were ok, chatted for a short while, and then continued on their way. It was funny to think we had all set off at the same time (but from different hotels), but this was the first time we had actually met.
We continued on our way; the scenery was stunning and so photo-worthy that we could have stopped every five minutes to take another beautiful shot. We were following the route of the Tweed, sometimes right alongside, sometimes on the adjacent hill (yes, there were several climbs along the way)
I stopped on a bridge to record where we were heading.
And where we had come from. The day was brightening, and our extra layers were packed precariously on the bikes.
Another hill climb, but I had to stop halfway, not because I was struggling, but because I really wanted the photograph. The chaps on MTBs passed us again - they were utterly shocked that we were ahead of them as we hadn’t passed them at all. They hadn’t realised that there was more than one route choice.
Crossing the Tweed once more, we turned into Innerleithen and decided a coffee break was in order before we started the two big climbs. We found a lovely little cafe which was very much bike and dog related - they even had dog coats with pictures of bike chains on them. I am sure there was a niche link somewhere.
We took the place of the MTB chaps on the multipurpose bike chain points along the wall. They highly recommended the cake. The coffee was lovely, and the break was welcome. I had to convince myself that I really couldn’t carry heather back with me - they were beautiful though and guaranteed to last.
We left the town through the golf course - a sign telling cyclists to keep moving and stay quiet was not the most welcoming, and it was a little disconcerting to see the tee on one side of the road with the corresponding hole on the other. Thankfully the golfers kindly waited for us to pass before taking their shots. I could see on my Garmin that we were now climbing, but it wasn’t doing its usual long climb countdown. I was a little confused! We continued at a steady 3% climb and soon faced a long downhill. Was that it? Had we done the first one already? The route said we had, but my legs didn’t think so.
We enjoyed the downhill and quickly built up speed as we went. We were soon climbing again; this time, Garmin recognised it as a climb worth counting down. But again, we were amazed as we reached the top. We stopped in a small layby to eat our lunch - the end of the climb in view. We cheered on a group of cyclists who were obviously very used to this hill. Again, the scenery was stunning.
Once we’d finished lunch, we headed along the road, which by now felt relatively flat. We rounded a corner, and a milepost jumped out to greet us. This post said it marked the highest point of our route, and we were understandably very pleased.
We rounded another turn in the road and were treated to the most breathtaking view of the ride. We could see from the base of the Ochil hills the whole of Edinburgh right across to the mouth of the Forth. I was once again stunned by the sheer beauty of Scotland.
The downhill was terrific too. Beautiful views to our left and a great road surface beneath our tyres meant that we could really enjoy it. We still had a long way to go but knew the big climbs were over. We stopped at a service station alongside the A7 but within easy reach of our cycle path for a stiff drink to celebrate.
Our path took us over the railway track by Eskbank station, this could have been an option if we were running late, but we were doing fine. We continued along this converted train track for the majority of the rest of the route. Between here and the city centre, we found two more mileposts and a geocache.
The Edinburgh festival was in full swing as we emerged from the Innocent railway tunnel just below Arthurs’s seat. The roads were packed, and the parks were buzzing in a way you only see at the ‘fringe’. A chap sat at the milepost and jumped out of the way as he didn’t want to ‘spoil my photo’ even though I’d have been happy if he had stayed. Nevertheless, he was very impressed with our travels.
We weaved through some backstreets, using one of the many cycleways to the centre and soon found ourselves alongside Prince’s gardens. We tried to find the best spot to photograph our final castle. We had made it. And we were early too!
We rode to the meeting point, and Tom kindly relieved us of our bikes and secured them on his roof rack. He then drove us the two and a half hours back along an equally scenic route to Newcastle via the A68. Chatting all the way.
We transferred our gear into the van and went to find the trip’s last (and worst) hotel. We had missed the restaurant opening times, so we celebrated the end of our ride with a couple of pizzas and a glass of wine/coke instead. We both slept very well!!!
Thank you to Kate for your great company and any photographs I may have accidentally ‘stolen’.
Thank you to Alison at Saddle Skedaddle for organising the trip and who managed to get our initial hotel changed at the last minute when we realised the van wouldn’t fit into the car park.
Thank you also to all the lovely B&B hosts; it is sad to hear how the current financial situation is likely to change how they do things now - most that we talked to are no longer planning to take one-nighters as it costs so much to launder the washing every day. I’m not sure how that will affect those wanting to ‘credit card’ tour or do as we did, having your bags moved for you. Let’s hope things improve for everyone.
