Sat 11th April - The quick run home and a sore B' Side

Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny, unfortunately very cold, in fact I did not have the greatest of nights sleep, waking first of all at around 3am in the morning when my top half was uncovered by my sleeping bag and the temperature was below zero, having woken I had to make a trip to the toilet block and when I got back I was really cold. I soon warmed up when I got back in my sleeping bag and this time I zipped it right up, unfortunately this didn’t work perfectly as I got in such a tangle turning in my sleep I was awake again by 4 then again a 5 because I had loosened the zip and my arm was out, suffice it to say it was bloody cold and when I got up again at just after 6 there was a thick frost on the outside of the tent, I tried to go back for another hour or so without much success.

For whatever reason it took me a long time to get packed up on the Saturday morning, I had a quick shower to warm up and even after that my tent was still soaking wet from the overnight frost and despite the Sun it had not dried it off fully. I got my gear sorted and was under way just after 11.00am.

It was my intention to ride up until 2.00pm and then hit the road for home. I had reckoned that it would take me somewhere in the region of 4-5 hours to get home including small breaks.

After leaving the site it was back through Looe and on to the back lanes towards Portlooe, Talland Bay and Polperro, once again I encountered some very narrow lanes with incredible gradients, it certainly was a case of more of the same. Polperro is beautiful but you cannot get near the front or the harbour so I headed out on Raphael Rd towards Lansallos, from there it was on to Polruan. I am sorry to say that the ride to Polruan was uneventful, however the ride away was pretty spectacular however I didn’t stop to take any photos.

I did take a couple at Polruan, one out to sea and the other overlooking the harbour at Fowey.

If you look at the one above you will see a distinct mark in the current/tide whilst it is evident in the photo real life it was even more striking.

I still had it in my mind that I wanted to make it to Fowey (so close but nearly to 30 miles by back lanes) before heading home so I pushed on and despite seeing a couple of interest potential photos I literally didn’t have an opportunity to stop safely and take the picture, as the gradients was either too steep or there was other traffic around at the time. So I travelled up via Pont Pill, which waas a beautiful little inlet that stretched almost all the way up to Lanteglos, then through Whitecross up to Penpol and the beautiful Penpol Creek, it was during this last section that I spotted the large quayside facility at Par just above Fowey, most people including myself think of Fowey as this quaint fishing village, what you don’t realise is that 1.3million tons of China Clay is exported from this facility just up the river.

In and out of Lostwithiel in almost the blinking of an eye, saw me going south again this time through Castle and Milltown before arriving in Golant, I have to say this last section was probably to tightest and steepest I’d come across in the last couple of days, and the road surface had everything, from grass to loose gravel via thick farm mud a couple of times I decided to ride with my feet out like outriggers as everytime I applied some power I felt the back wheel snaking. It was no surprise when I did reached the end of this section I was sweating heavily.

I had forgotten that there was a Youth Hostel at Golant and it was nicely tucked away at the end of a mile long track. However I decided that it would be useful to find out whether they had any space for Monday night when I was due back down this way, when I finally tracked someone down unfortunately they were full, so it would be a case of getting on the internet when I got home.

It was now coming up to 2pm and I didn’t think I would achieve much more if I headed down to Fowey, looking at the map I had decided the weather for Monday sounded terrible so I was going to find a Guest House or B&B as I didn’t fancy trying to put a tent up in the pouring rain. I headed up the B3269 to Lostwithiel and then to Bodmin before picking up on the A30 a quick refuel and then it was the long slog home. It was a fairly straightforward despite the delay right at the beginning when all the traffic was held up by an overturned caravan at Boverton, I felt really sorry for the family huddled on the side of the road with their caravan on its roof as the Fire Service tried to clear it away. I don't know who was to blame however, they were towing well within the weight limit with a 4x4 and the caravan had a flat and on a bend, so I suspect a blow-out on the caravan had caught the driver by surprise after a long drive.

As I am waited I joined up with a guy going back to Worcester on his Trail Bike after taking part in the Lands End Trial, if you don't know about this every Easter up to 400 MCC members make their annual odyssey to the far west in the Lands End Trial. Until 1914, when light cars were admitted, it was bikes only but when it was resumed in 1920 cars were there in some force and the route deleted the "and Back" part, finishing at Lands End. Now it is a run over some very arduous terrane, dirt tracks, back roads, byways, time sections etc to Newquay. His plan was to get to Exeter and hope his Daughter was there with the trailer to take him back home, as this event is organised on the hostorical and principles of a by-gone age it would strongly reccommend logging on to the MCC site. http://www.themotorcyclingclub.org.uk/events/landsend1.htm

The weather had been lovely all day so far but as I rode further East the worse it got and three and a half hour, and another refill later I arrived back home just as it started to rain, I learnt form my neighbours that it had in fact been grey and raining on and off for the last two days, so I had been lucky. One thing was for sure that run back from Bodmin with one stop for fuel had a major impact on my backside and knees they were both aching like mad, two hours a stretch is usually about as much as I really want to do, so double that with one small stop was not ideal. Also with all the camping gear on the bike etc, once you get above a certain speed the fuel gauge gets into free fall. So the manufacturers guideline of 190 miles to a tank of fuel in reality becomes more like 160.

Take care and as Mick says ‘You don’t stop riding when you get old, you stop riding to go to a football match.

Monday 13th April a wonderful start turns lousy!

Never mind Friday 13th, Monday the 13th ain’t much better.

Having checked for guest houses and B&Bs when I got home on Saturday, I found a farmhouse B&B just outside Fowey and booked myself in, with that in mind I set off for the trip back down at Lunchtime on the Monday, I spent the morning re-packing my gear and giving the bike a bit of a check over. It was a beautiful day in Hampshire and my neighbour told me it was actually the best one of the whole Easter Break so far.

Strange how the weather changes so easily in this country, I had left Cornwall in beautiful sunshine and come back to very drab and damp weather it now looked as if it was going to turn completely, as the forecast for Cornwall. A lovely relaxed run down listening to my MP3 player a couple of short stops, to refuel and get a cup of tea at a roadside van near to Boscombe Down but all the time it looked as if the weather was going to be okay.

I got to Exeter just after 2pm and I thought I would get to Fowey in about another hour and a half, that would give me time to do a bit of a stretch down the coast I thought and then head back to the B&B I had booked, but as I got out onto the A30 towards Lauceston the clouds started to build quite ominously, yet as I looked more towards my destination it did seem brighter, or that’s what I told myself, a bit of wishful thinking on my side in reality.

By the time I reached Launceston the heavy drizzle was set, and there seemed no breaks whatsoever, I pulled over at a layby Café first of all to get a hot drink in me but to also put on my waterproof outer jacket, I stupidly thought it’s not far I won’t put the trousers on, big mistake. Just after Launceston I looked at the trip meter and worked out that by the time I reached Fowey I would be pretty much empty again so I stopped to fill up and then pushed on, all the time the rain was getting heavier and the cloud lower. Now I couldn’t wait to get to the B&B at the end.

The only problem being the further I went, the heavier the rain and now there were rivers of water running across the road in places, so I had to reduce my speed, Now the second problem, the slower speed meant my visor wasn’t clearing properly and at the same time with all the damp it was starting to mist up, I therefore opened it a bit, which now meant the water was getting inside, in fact at one stage I couldn’t work out whether there was more rain on the inside of the visor or the outside.

With the constant efforts to keep it clear, my gloves now resembled a pair of sponges on my hands. Not to mention the water had now gone through my trousers, through my thermal long johns and my underpants were soaking as well. On top of all this the rain was running off my helmet and down my neck, If I had got the collar of the waterproof jacket any tighter I would have probably passed out from strangulation, yet the rain still got in and I could feel it seeping down my back.

All in all not a very pleasant experience and worse was to come, as I reached Bodmin, the rain became biblical in proportions and the wind started to really get up and gust quite strongly. ‘I do this for fun’ I kept telling myself over and over.

On the road down to Lostwithiel I was actually holding up the cars, as the weather was that bad compounded by the fact I couldn’t see where I was going half the time. Thankfully then the B3269 to Fowey itself was fairly empty but I really was riding at a snail’s pace by now.

I did do one quick lap down through the town so I didn’t have to cover that route again. I then went to find where I was staying. I had booked in at Coombe Farm now it got really tricky, because of the rain and the slick mud on the lane, it was pretty much a nightmare getting to the farm and then I got it all wrong and went down a track that led to the back of the farmhouse and got myself jammed in when I finally got there. Thankfully the dogs warned Tessa of my arrival in this unconventional way.

Before I got completely in a mess, Tessa came out the back door to rescue me, coming in this way did have one advantage, and I was able to dump all my soaking gear in the kitchen and back rooms without traipsing them through the house. Tessa showed me up to my room so I could get changed into some dry gear; she then invited me down for a cup of tea to warm me up. Whilst enjoying the warmth and the tea Michael came in and immediately switched the television over to watch the postponed MotoGP so I was able to sit and enjoy that, it is very interesting the background of the farm and how tough it is at times for farmers and their families. They really are a very welcoming and natural couple and I enjoyed my stay, after the GP was over I retired to my room which was very good, the rain, wind and cold had really taken it out of me, so after eating the sandwich and cuppa soup I had brought with me. I got into the bed for an early night.

The next morning dawned clear and bright and after a full breakfast, I rescued all my gear that had been drying next to the Aga in the kitchen, it was then recovering the Bike from the back of the farm. Thankfully Michael had come back and moved his huge Tractor out of my way and I was able to get it up the bit of a track and then through the yard up to some concrete hard standing where I loaded it back up. When getting back on to the bike though, my boot brushed against the seat and with all the mud around you can guess what happened, I ended sitting on a big muddy patch, until a few miles later when I was able to get off and wipe it and the seat of my trousers clean, not a great start to the day.

The roads were very tricky after all the rain had washed so much dirt and mud on to them the night before but thankfully after getting out of the lane and up on to the main road, it was an A road for a while up and around St Blaise then on to the A 390before turning off down to Charlestown the sign on the picture tells the story, it is a working ship repair yard but of a very special nature.

After a brief stop for the photo and a clean up, I got underway pretty quickly, the early night and staying on a farm meant I had got an early start so I was hopeful of making great progress today, looking at the maps, it looked hopeful, however I had, had one warning the back lanes up around the upper reaches of the Fal were in a bad way and there had been an accident the night before which some of them were closed so I decided that I was going to take the King Harry Ferry but this was some time away yet.

Back on the road it was down the lanes to Pentewan before getting on to the B3273 to Mevagissey a lovely ride and the weather was getting better all the time. Mevagissey is a very small and stunning little village; I stopped on the way out to take the following picture back down of the harbour. I was determined not to waste the early start by stopping too much, I was also noticing that the more I rode the more ‘ride fit’ I got , I didn’t get the same level of muscles cramping up due to the long hours in the saddle as I had when I first started this challenge. Out and on to the back lanes once again towards Gorran Haven and Boswinger, where there is another Youth Hostel and I had tried to get in there as well but it was fully booked. Actually I was quite glad of that I wouldn’t have made it that far on Monday night.

After leaving Boswinger I chalked up my next castle. Caerhays Castle I think I am now at 11. Caerhays Castle overlooks Porthluney Cove, near Mevagissey. The Trevanion family owned the land since 1390 and the house itself was built for John Bettesworth Trevanion, who at the age of 21 inherited the estate in 1801. John Nash, a fashionable architect of the day, was employed to create the mansion in 1808. Profligate living plus the costs of building the mansion ruined the family, and in 1840 the family were so heavily in debt that they fled to Paris, where John Trevanion died. Caerhays Castle was thus abandoned for 13 years.

Eventually in 1853 it was purchased by a Cornish Member of Parliament, Michael Williams, who restored the property. He was also a mine owner who it’s said found ducks swimming in the round dining room. At the turn of the century J C Williams arranged plant gathering trips to China. The gardens are famous for their magnolias, camellias, oaks and rhododendrons. The fifth generation of the Williams family still lives at the castle and there are a number of Trevanion family portraits still evident.

Portloe, Carne and Veryan came up next before getting back onto an A road for a short while, the A3078 to Trewithian before going of towards Portscatho, I could have stopped there but I did carry on to St Anthony right at the tip of the peninsular before re-tracing my route and back onto the A3078 to St Mawes and a great cup/mug of coffee at a quay sea café and number of photos and a couple of business calls, well it was Tuesday and I hadn’t changed my voice mail message so the world and his wife were leaving urgent messages. The view made up for interruption. Yet more ships and barges laid up and one very interesting structure, it looks like a barge loaded with legs from an oil rig.

All of this was moored up an din mothballs off Falmouth, the last image was taken as an old Brig was sailing across in front of a Coast Guard vessel and a bulk carrier.

I had now witnessed almost 20 vessels moored up off the South West coastline since I started this ride and no I am not going to start recording these as well, as I think it will get stupid and almost did within the hour.

I did add one more Castle to my list (12) with St Mawes Castle. St Mawes Castle is among the best-preserved of Henry VIII's coastal artillery fortresses, and the most elaborately decorated of them all. One of the chain of forts built between 1539 and 1545 to counter an invasion threat from Catholic France and Spain, it guarded the important anchorage of Carrick Roads, sharing the task with Pendennis Castle on the other side of the Fal estuary. A charming clover-leaf shape originally surrounded by octagonal outer defences, St Mawes was designed to mount heavy 'ship-sinking' guns. But particular care was also taken with its embellishment, and it is still bedecked with carved Latin inscriptions in praise of Henry VIII and his son Edward VI. It owes its fine preservation for modern visitors to the fact that, unlike Pendennis Castle, it was little developed after its completion. Easily falling to landward attack by Civil War Parliamentarian forces in 1646, it remained neglected until partial re-arming during the 19th and early 20th centuries.

Did you know that the UK has the 2nd and 3rd largest natural harbours in the World? Poole is second behind Sydney Harbour and Falmouth is the 3rd.

The A3078 is the road in and out of St Mawes and it loops around the peninsular and the town and provides some wonderful views before heading back out up to St Just-in- Roseland before turning off to King Harry’s Ferry. There has been a Ferry here since 1888 and the latest is the 7th to operate the service in this time and came into service in 2006.It has one very interesting additional feature, a full size mannequin of an old ferry man looking down river from the upper walk way to the bridge. Sorry I didn’t get a picture of that but I did get a couple of interesting shots, particularly one up stream. There were even more ships moored up even further up stream I can’t tell how many but there was at least 3 more and even one more hidden behind the car transporters, so that was a total of 8 in this small space. 3 car transporters and 5 ore carriers. So the one big boom industry right now is finding space for storing out of work ships.

After coming off the ferry on the Feock side it was down through Feock itself and then to Penpol and Devoran followed by a quick blast along the A39 before turning off to Mylor Bridge and Mylor Harbour and then into the outskirts of Falmouth at Penryn

After a quick stop on the sea front for a cup of coffee and a quick sandwich. I pushed on around the Helford River estuary, via Port Navas, Gweek, Mawgan, Helford before heading down through Saint Keverne to Coverack. It really is a beautiful part of the world however it appears all is not well behind the scenes second home owners in Helford are blocking the plans of the local council to develop a jetty for the local fishermen it appears that some 70% of the houses remain empty during the winter.

The next major stop was going to be down to The Lizard the sun was out and the weather was really very nice at this stage. I tried to get as close as possible to Britain’s Southernmost point and had to make do with the with a point next to the Suevic memorial due to the crowds, where a nice lady agreed to take my photo.

Due to the crowds and cars coming and going from the car park it was a very quick stop.

The SS Suevic story really is quite interesting and I can see why there is this reminder. The Suevic was a steamship built by Harland and Wolff in Belfast for the White Star Line. Suevic was the fifth and last of the "Jubilee Class" ocean liners built specifically to service the Liverpool – Cape Town - Sydney route. In 1907 she was shipwrecked off the south coast of England, but in the largest rescue of its kind, all passengers and crew were saved. The ship herself was deliberately broken in two, and a new bow was built on to the saved stern portion. Later serving as a Norwegian whaling factory ship carrying the name Skytteren, she was scuttled off the Swedish coast in 1942 to prevent her capture by ships of Nazi Germany.

On one 1903 voyage, a young officer named Charles Lightoller was assigned to crew Suevic as a punishment. During the voyage, he met an 18-year old woman who was returning to her home in Sydney, and after a shipboard courtship, the two were married in Sydney on 15 December 1903. Lightoller would later become the second officer on board the RMS Titanic and the most senior of her crew to survive the disaster.

The recovery and rebuilding was also unheard of up until this point. Depending on the integrity of this design, engineers used carefully placed charges of dynamite to sever the bow at a bulkhead just aft of the bridge on 4 April. This move was successful, and the aft half of the ship floated free. The watertight compartments held their integrity, and Suevic was able to steam under her own power, in reverse and guided by tugs, to Southampton. The damaged bow was left to break up on the rocks.

White Star then ordered a new 212-foot bow section from Harland and Wolff in Belfast, which was launched head-first in October 1907. It was popularly said at the time that Suevic was the longest ship in the world, with her bow in Belfast and her stern in Southampton. The new bow was then towed to the shipyards of J. I. Thorneycroft & Co. in Southampton, where it arrived on 26 October. By mid-November, it was in position and being joined to the rest of the ship. The bow was a good fit, a testimony to the craftsmanship of the Harland and Wolff shipwrights. Ten months later, after the largest ship rebuilding effort ever undertaken at the time, on 14 January 1908, Suevic was completed and returned to service.

Heading North towards Helston, I stopped for fuel at just outside the much developed Lizard Point just after which I came to another one of the things I said I would track as I travel around the country, Airfields, as a quick reminder I am ex RAF and airplanes and airfields hold a natural attraction to me, I want to find out about their history etc, etc. so as I go around I am going to provide as much information as I can. So far I have passed by Popham Airfield, a grass strip near Basingstoke and the Royal Aircraft Establishment base at Boscombe Down and quite close to RNAS Yeolvilton, all of these on my route to and from the South West. Only Bembridge Airport on the Isle of Wight was truly on my Coast route so far. The latter is the home of the famous Britten Norman aircraft and the only airfield on the Isle of Wight.

Now it was the turn of Predannack Airfield. Building work began for an RAF advanced night fighter base to protect the nearby ports of Falmouth and Penzance during 1940 and RAF Predannack Down opened in 1941 as part of Portreath Sector. It later transferred to RAF Coastal Command until it went into care and maintenance on 1 Jun 1946. During the Second World War Coastal Command squadrons flew anti-submarine sorties into the Bay of Biscay as well as convoy support in the western English Channel using aircraft such as Bristol Beaufighters and De Havilland Mosquitoes.

After a short period of experimental use by Vickers under the supervision of Barnes Wallis around 1951, the base was taken over by the Royal Navy on 15 Dec 1958.

A World War II memorial was laid at the Predannack main gate, April 2007. It became a satellite airfield for nearby RNAS Culdrose, to handle intensive helicopter operations and as a relief landing ground. There is also a small arms range on the site and the RN Fire Fighting School moved here in 1971. And there are a number of obsolete and dummy aircraft throughout the airfield.

Writing up this part reminded me that I actually started from an old RAF base at Calshot Castle, also famous for a couple of other pieces of history "Aircraftsman Shaw", also known as T. E. Lawrence, or Lawrence of Arabia, was detached to Calshot to help with the 1929 Schneider Cup races. It is also believed that he was on his way back to Calshot from leave when he had his tragic motorcycle accident.

So that is now a total of 6, yes I am including Calshot as it was described as a ‘water aerodrome’ when it first opened.

It wasn’t long before number 7 would come up but first after turning off through Mullion I exited going out through Cury and passed Mullion Golf Club and Poldhu Cove. Famous for being the site of the first Trans-Atlantic radio transmission in 1901. In 2001 the Marconi Centre, a new museum/meeting building, was opened close to the site by the efforts of the Poldhu Amateur Radio Club, the National Trust and Marconi plc.

Coming back onto the A3083 the next airfield was in sight. RNAS Culdrose has three major roles: serving the Fleet Air Arm's front line Sea King and Merlin helicopter squadrons; providing search and rescue for the South West region; and training specialists for the Royal Navy.

It is one of only two remaining naval air stations in the UK, the other being RNAS Yeovilton. Admiralty surveyors first started preliminary surveys of land near Helston in 1942. RNAS Culdrose was commissioned as HMS Seahawk five years after these initial surveys. The station was originally designed to be a wartime airfield lasting about ten years.

The initial plans were for Culdrose to serve as a Naval Fighting School, it soon developed other roles. These varied roles included such things as the trials of the Navy's first jets, training of Airbone Early Warning crews and as a home base for carrier based aircraft. Over the years the stations emphasis changed from fixed wing aircraft to rotary wing, although its main role remains largely the same. It is one of the largest Helicopter bases in Europe and the home of 10 squadrons, which believe me is one hell of a lot. It was still only 4.00pm and I decided I wanted to ride until it was 6.00pm before making tracks for home, the idea was to get as far back as possible then try and find somewhere to stay for the night, if that plan didn’t work take a few breaks and keep going to home, which would mean getting home some time after 10.30. In, around and out of Helston and down to Porthleven for a quick loop before coming back on to the A394 towards Penzance with a quick detour to Marazion and Longrock for the following photos of St Michael’s Mount and back towards Marazion.

Once again a father and his daughter came up to talk, looked at the bike, complimented me on it and said it was nice to see the bike used for what it was designed for. I had a drink and a little walk around to get the blood flowing in my legs. The ride through Penzance was on the slow side especially when this bimbo decided she was going to slow down and stop without warning whenever she wanted to look at something, after the third time she got a full blast of my horn and a mouthful. No indication, no idea and then she saw a boat in the docks and anchored up. It wasn’t that I was too close it was the fact the car behind almost collected me as she had backed up so much traffic with her antics.

It was now a relatively slow ride through Mousehole and Lamorna before coming back on to the B3315 to Lands End some nice roads and pretty good going, I arrived at Lands End itself by about 4.45pm and was let through at no cost, no charge for bikes, I parked up by 3 other bikes and immediately headed for the toilet block, on as I got there I met up with the bikes owners, they were ‘less than young’ bikers like myself were actually on a similar venture, they had ridden over from Brighton and were now planning to ride to John O’ Groats, good luck guys, hope you made it okay.
I then walked down to the iconic sign post to try and get that essential photo, only to find a sign stating ‘Sorry had to leave early today, back in the morning’ Damn! I therefore had to settle for taking the following photo myself, better luck at John O’ Groats .

I left Land’s End at 5.15pm and headed North through Sennen turning towards St Just and Land’s End Airport (a grass strip in reality) however The Airport is home to Skybus, the scheduled airline that carries passengers and freight to the Isles of Scilly, and Westward Airways who operate the airport, flying school and scenic.

Then it wasn’t long before I was overlooking St Ives.

15 minutes later I was in the centre of St Ives and down by the harbour, I have to say St Ives was packed and it did take a while to navigate my way through the one-way system, even witnessing a young lad running down to the beach to catch the last of the waves with his board under his arm. But this was the last thing I was thinking of, I wanted to take one more photo and get off on my way through Hayle to the A30 and home.

As a family we used to come down to this part of the world rather a lot with our caravan and my children love the beaches just North of Hayle at Gwithian so it is with mixed feelings I rode through Hayle, spotting the supermarket we used to shop at, the surf store we bought wetsuits and body boards from.

It was now 6.15pm and I had to get going, even if I rode throughout it could possibly be 11.00pm at the earliest before I got home, on top of this I would have to stop for fuel at least twice, given the distance and the capacity if the tank, therefore it would be more like 11.30pm at the earliest. But Hey I was now on the dual carriageway and the throttle set, I won’t say how fast, somewhere between the legal limit and the admitted one of the bike, bearing in mind fuel consumption.

I reached finally arrived at Exeter Services at 8.10 on fumes, with a totally numb backside and totally knackered, I had been riding for over 11 hrs with very few stops, from previous experience it was at least 3 hrs before I got home so decided to look for somewhere to stop I had stayed at a Holiday Inn Express just up the M5 at the next Junction, in fact the one I would take for Honiton and Home so decided to try there as I had a number of privilege points owing that could cover the cost of a night’s stay.

Luckily it worked out a treat with one exception. I go the room, paid for it with my priority points, got a meal, a couple of beers a great night’s sleep but when I went to have a shower in the morning, it was broken, so I had this bizarre style of all over wash from the sink, sorry to the maid who had to clean up, but it wouldn’t have come to that if the shower had been working.

I got home just after Lunch, in time to do all my chores, of unpacking, loading the washing machine, then going off the collect my Son’s birthday present, Wow back to reality with a bump or what?

Take care and as Mick says ‘You don’t stop riding when you get old, you stop riding when you come back down to earth’

A Lousy Start ended Wonderfully!

The initial idea was to start on Wednesday night and get as far as I could before it got dark and then find a campsite, as it turns out that wouldn’t have been a great idea because even if I had started at 4.00pm I would have only got as far as Exeter before having to pitch tent, well may be not.

Due to a couple of meetings I didn’t get home until 7.00pm so there was no real chance of doing anything so I left it until the morning and even then Thursday morning dawned damp and drizzly so I busied myself getting as much packed and sorted as I could before wheeling the bike out of the garage for the last bit in the end I finally got under way just before mid day. It wasn’t long before I met up with the first raft of people heading off early for Easter, as soon as I hit the M3 the amount of loaded cars and caravans, was much heavier than normal, even for a Bank Holiday, they had been predicting that more people would be holidaying at home this year and this may have been the first evidence, I was due to see more before my trip was over.

I pushed on as best I could down the A303 passed Andover then Boscombe Down, it was slower than normal due to the heavy traffic but not by much, I knew the fun would come when we reached Stonehenge and the road becomes single carriageway and sure enough it was. The amount of people that either don’t look or just want to ignore a bike filtering is amazing, lost in their little world of steel, they don’t think about what is around them and by simply pulling to one side by as little as a foot a bike can get through a line of static cars. Even worse some people see it as their mission in life to be a pain in the ass, by purposely closing off a possible gap.

For the time being the weather was still okay but it was very grey and looking in the direction I was travelling the clouds were getting heavier, not only that the wind was gusting quite badly at times and with the bike already handling like a pig due to the weight, it led to some interesting moments.

After going past RNAS Yeovilton the drizzle started and it got slowly but surely heavier until I reached the Blackdown Hills and it turned into full on rain, in fact the cloud level was down so low by now, there were times when I was riding through the cloud level itself. Now this may sound stupid, I had decided to take the inner lining out from my suit as it was proving too hot in normal conditions, however it is a HG Tuareg suit and that lining is also the waterproof layer, so this rain had started to penetrate and I was feeling not only a bit wet but also cold. So it was time to pull over and get something warm to drink and dry off a bit and see if the rain would ease.

I had remembered a place on this road that was a bit like a Little Chef, but under a different name, Just then I turned a bend and saw the Newcot Chef and it hadn’t come a moment too soon, as my visor was now wet both inside and out, I had put it up slightly to stop it misting up in slow traffic and soon as I did that the rain started running down the inside, so it had become a real problem.

Two large cups of tea and a toasted sandwich later and I had warmed up a bit it gave me chance to dry my jacket a bit over a convenient radiator and clean my visor, I also rescued a waterproof overjacket I kept in one of my front saddlebags just for this type of occasion, I decided against the trousers because the last time I wore them I decided they were for real emergencies only as the plastic they were made off meant I just slid around on the saddle all over the place and it became a real struggle to keep myself in the right position, I move around a lot when I am riding anyway but I want to do it out of my choice if you know what I mean. I had chance to take a very quick photo before I set off again it will give you some idea of how low the cloud was.

There is a hill the other side of that valley, honest.

Thankfully the further I pushed on the brighter it got and when I reached Exeter the rain stopped thankfully and it rapidly brightened up so as a soon as I reached the road to Plymouth and Totnes the roads themselves were dry and my spirits started to lift.

After a quick re-fuel in Totnes town centre I headed off through the back streets, through a small housing estate and finally out on the back lanes to Ashprington, Tukenhay, Comworthy and into Dittisham. Boy were some of these lanes tight, it would be a struggle to get a normal family car down them never mind anything bigger, add to this the fact that they were still damp from the mornings rain the high banks on either side meant the sun had not reached all the road surface, if you can call it that at times, so were no more that wet dirt tracks at times due to the mud left behind by farm vehicles, all this was just a taster of what was to come the following morning.

In this post there are a few examples of how true to the ethic of a coast ride I don’t know how long I can keep this level of detail up though as it is a major struggle to get any decent mileage covered. At this rate am going to cover a huge amount of mileage as sticking to these lanes so close to the coast is leading to a lot of doubling back on myself at times, not because I am going wrong it is just what is needed to get from A to B at times.

Despite this whinge there are some glorious little places along the way at the heads of inlets etc. which can just make you think ‘what beautiful countryside there is in the UK’

After going downhill on some very steep gradients for the last couple of miles, with tight U bends, meant I was in first or second gear all the time and riding the back brake, I stopped for a quick break for a photo and a drink of water before tackling the opposite. Over a mile of uphill with 25% gradients and U bends, however given the tightness of the lanes I had to be very wary about cars coming the opposite way and having to brake quickly, not a nice situation to find yourself facing a car on one of these U bends and having to hold the weight of a fully laden bike on 25% incline.

It wasn’t long before I had another tough section, very tight and narrow both down and up again, before I cam out through a small housing estate in the top of Darmouth, down past the Royal Naval College I had photographed from the other side of the estuary a few weeks ago. I went down along the front and into the town itself so I could take the B3205 out through Southdown Warfleet Road, I was amazed to find that whilst there was a queue of about 50 cars waiting for the Higher Ferry there was only one for the Lower Ferry, okay on the far side you have a few extra miles to cover it is not that bad, it is probably a 10 min drive rather than waiting over 30 mins in a queue.

After going up Weeke Hill I took a quick detour through Redlap before coming out on Dartmouth Road just above Stoke Fleming along through Blackpool, fortunately or unfortunately not the one in Lancashire, I have that dubious pleasure in a few weeks time. At Strete you can see right down the coast road you are about to enjoy to Torcross riding past Slapton Sands and it was wonderful despite the flies the nice weather seemed to have been hatching on the lake on your right hand side.

Time was getting on, it was now after 5pm and I still didn’t have a clue where I was going to be camping that night and the one close by the lake did not appeal with all the aforementioned flies. Thankfully luck was on my side and on reaching the roundabout at Stokenham I saw a sign for Old Cotmore Farm and boy was my luck in. It is a small and extremely friendly campsite, with a mix of touring caravans and camping, however it is such a nice place some people leave their caravans there for the whole season.

The husband and wife team that run it are from Worcester originally, this is becoming a bit of a trend, a few weeks ago I had eat in a great restaurant in Brixham that was run by a couple from Worcester. Matthew and Gwen Needham really are a very attentive and helpful and I think this has engendered a really friendly atmosphere at the camp it is somewhere I will remember for a long time, for other reasons as well. After setting up camp I had chased off to the showers, which I have to say were superb. I then got ready to cook my evening meal, but was interrupted from my thoughts by Gwen who came up to return my camping fee, asking me to donate it to the charity, this was followed by a chat with a young mother collecting her son from the swings, taking him in for his evening meal, she also promised to donate online, this was then followed by man and his daughter with a couple of cans of beer in his hand, one for me, following a nice chat about biking while I cooked my evening meal. Despite it still being grey and overcast and the sun going down the last hour really did brighten the day. After washing up I got off to sleep and thankfully despite being woken a couple of times as other people arrived at the site later on I got a pretty good nights sleep.

The following morning dawned as expected and thankfully a much brighter day. It appeared that I was the first one to get up and get moving so I started to do some brief packing whilst getting my breakfast underway, however as with the night before the friendliness of the site started to showed itself again, as just about everyone either said ‘good morning’ or came over for a chat. Before I could get finally packed another woman cam over and pushed a further donation into my hand. It was not my intention originally to do any collections as I went but this was an added bonus.

I finally got underway just after 10.00am which I thought wasn’t too bad, however the first hour and a half proved to be one of the most tasking I have ever encountered. I immediately turned towards Beeson and Beesands after leaving the camp site and although it was tight it was still fairly comfortable riding. I had my first fright of the day when I was taking the road from Huccombe to Bickerton when I encountered a car on a bend. Stupidly I had just taken a position close to the gravel covered centre of the lane when she came around the corner, No fault of hers whatsoever, I got it wrong, however despite riding the back brake when the car appeared I put my front brake on only to find the front end go away as it skidded on the gravel, if I hadn’t been so wide awake and quick with my reactions it would have been curtains, even then it was a damn close thing, with the front end skidding two or three times before I could finally bring to rest in the passing place narrowly avoiding the car that was now stationary.

I uttered my apologies for scaring them and got on my way, but it wasn’t long before I encountered my next ‘tricky situation’ after leaving Hallsands you go through a village called Lanacombe before reaching Chivelstone I was really trying to be careful almost on the verge of being over the top, however I came around one corner to find a farmer had been on the roads and if you have ever been to this part of South Devon you will know it is typically a red clay type soil, that when wet takes on all the properties of a good grease. Again my own fault but then again my own skill and an earth bank got me out of it. Going up the rise out of a corner, I got slightly off line and I mean by inches but it was still enough to touch this pile of red clay in the middle of the road, what followed was probably one of the scariest and most invigorating episodes I’ve ever had. As one biker once said to me ‘any accident you walk away from, is a good accident’ and this was a doosey I ended up in a tank slapper that lasted for about 30 metres up the road before I got it back under control, including a major rebound off the earth bank on the left hand side of the lane. I didn’t stop until a few miles later as I felt everything was okay, I kept it up and I recovered it was only when I stopped at South Pool did I see the extent.
You can see the lump of earth stuck in my crash bars along with the red earthy marks on my tank, saddle bags, my panniers and my trousers not to mention half of South Devon on my boots.
Where I stopped to take the photos was quite interesting as I had pushed on to a place just before South Pool, where the sign said ‘Tidal Road, sometimes impassable’ you can see from the previous shot all the seaweed from the next you can see why.

After this I went up over a small rise before descending yet again this time to go through a ford, that I wouldn’t want to go near in anything other than the lowest of tides we were at.

I have to admit at this stage I was pretty much at sensory overload and I would have been stopping every few minutes if I had decided to take every photo possible, add this to the fact that it was extremely slow going with all the tight lanes. It had meant that I was only going at between 10-20mph for huge sections and even when I got ‘free’ I was still limited to between 30-40 at best, anything higher than this would have been absolute lunacy, now people can accuse me off a lot of things but lunatic I’m not.

Coming out from South Pool I headed up onto the A379 at Frogmore a beautiful setting which almost had me stopping to take a yet another photo but I had to stay disciplined otherwise I was going to get nowhere. A quick blast down this A road was welcome release not only for myself but I bet the bike herself. Once in Kingsbridge I decided it was time for a coffee break so I stopped at the old harbour area. It was there that it could be said that I might have had a religious moment if I had ever been inclined. Firstly there was a big religious gathering singing hymns in the square near by, well it was Good Friday, that and a little old lady came up to me after reading the stickers on my bike to force a few pounds in my hand and wish me an onward safe journey, some of her words were around the fact that there should be more YOUNG people like me, crying out loud 'Young I’m not' but it did make me feel good. So the last 24 hrs had now raised a further £25 for the Charity and I was feeling good about myself. There is no doubt Kingsbridge is a lovely spot when the sun is out, unfortunately it was almost straight into the camera when I took the following shot.

After leaving Kingsbridge it was out through back lanes again, a lot of the time when riding these lanes all the Sat Nav says is , ‘Riding West on Road’ or something similar, it wasn’t long however, after a number of ups and downs as I have described before, that I came into Lower Baston and then an almighty climb and descent into Salcombe Town Centre. I always remember this place from when a girlfriend took me there over 25 years ago now to stay at a friends place for the weekend, a twee little place but the people I encountered had this bizarre very pronounced okay yah accent, ever since then it has always been Knightsbridge on Sea to me. During the off season this place must be dead because I can’t believe all the Porsche and Bentley drivers actually live there all year round, it’s a bit like Rock on the North Cornwall coast I suppose,.

No I’ve got it now, the parents go to Salcombe and they send their kids to Rock to get them out of their way.

Lovely as the place is when riding through the centre of town it was like riding through a fashion parade, the mothers and their daughters were made up to the nines, there is no way they would even dare to endanger their nails on a sailing boat despite being bedecked in the latest outfits.
It did give me a good giggle though before heading up towards Rew and Bolberry, before reaching Hope Cove, both Inner and Outer, this sounds an awful lot easier than it was, as once again it was up hill for a mile then down hill for a mile at ridiculous gradients.

Sorry about the bins and I don’t want to go on about this, so it is the last mention (for now) It was taking much longer than I had envisaged to do these sections, because of the narrowness of the roads and my desire to stay safe, I was therefore riding as much as I could and stopping for as little as I could, which my rear end wasn’t liking me for at all.

I then got a bit of good luck I had marked one of my maps as ‘investigate’ as one route was not clearly defined and looked as if it was not passable according to all my maps, however when I got there a wonderful National Trust attendant ushered me through the car park and even gave me the best directions to Thurlestone, which then led on to Buckland and Bantham before getting on to the A379 again for the short ride into Aveton Gifford.

Just after the bridge there is a turning to another ‘Tidal Road’ with the words impassable at times even larger. The section is probably only just over a mile, however it is very plain the dangers that can lurk on it’s route.
One thing that I did find strange was a couple of old codgers parked up in ‘Passing Places’ for crying out loud can’t you read, have your flask of tea elsewhere, they are not the only ones, the holier than thou crowd of Ramblers who do the same thing, can’t find a proper parking place so deem there need is more than anyone else, especially the locals and park where they want. If you haven’t guessed it by now I don’t like the bulk of ‘born again ramblers’ who come into the countryside and try and dictate what country people should do.

The next photo really shows the height the tide can reach, I have stood up to take a couple of them and you may think why photograph a post? Well that post is taller than I am and there evidence is clear that the water reaches the top of it, so they are not joking when they say ‘sometimes impassable’. After a quick ride up Stakes Hill to Bigbury, yes you guessed it very steep and narrow roads I then went down to Bigbury on Sea as I wanted to try and take a photo of the art deco hotel on Burgh Island. I did the best I could but I couldn’t stop one thing I noticed was a group of surfers on the far side of the bay and although it was a beautifully sunny day I bet the sea was freezing.
What followed next was one of the worst parts of the trip. A quick loop back towards St Ann’s Chapel and I took the turning towards Challabourgh, or what I have now deemed CHAVaborough, coming down into the valley, it is full side to side and up to half a mile from the seafront with static caravans, all you can see is beige, cream and light green aluminium boxes. I was so disappointed I didn’t stop and pushed on to Ringmore only to encounter the next issue a car came flying around the bend and only because I was taking it so easy that I was able to stop right against the bank, if I hadn’t he certainly would have hit me, as he skidded to a stop with his open drivers window conveniently position next to me so I gave him a right mouthful, ‘didn’t you hear me beep my horn?’ a lot of use that did, while I had earplugs in and helmet on.

His mate in the car behind who had almost rammed him, shouts through he was only doing 25mph, which was about 10mph faster than the corner needed so I gave him a mouthful as well, it really was reckless and here comes the rub both of them had London accents so they were obviously staying at Chavaborough.

Once I had recovered my temper I headed off through Kingston towards the A379 only to encounter a blockage on the road, a mobile home was coming down the lane and and a couple of cars were coming the other way compound this with a woman in a new car who was so panicked she would pull over for fear of scratching her car, thankfully there was loads of space for me to filter my way through and those stuck there must have been fuming to see me get through it without too many problems.

The next section once again looks easy on a map but gives no idea of the gradients involved but I needed to push on it was now after 2pm and I still hadn’t reached Plymouth however it did produce a lovely part of the coast at Noss Mayo and Newton and Noss. Another short stretch on the A379 again before heading off down through Knighton, Wembury and Down Thomas before navigating around a housing estate in Plymstock. I then had to work my way through Plymouth itself which is a combination of confusing and depressing, there must be so nice areas but I didn’t see them mainly because I was going through the built town centre and then on to the Hoe itself.

It may sound as I am rushing this a bit now, however each post is getting bigger and longer, in fact at times it seems as if it is taking longer to write it up that ride it in the first place. I did stop on the Hoe briefly for a coffee and use the toilets there, but I also needed to get my maps sorted as the next section was going to be a bit quicker and bit intense. I passed by the main gate of the Balfour Shipyard which I remember visiting over 20 years ago on business when it was DML, it was very straightforward run up through to Higher St Budeaux but then some of the issues started with a number of housing estates with tiny Closes and Avenues that end in cul-de-sacs without warning, I am therefore going to avoid these wherever possible in future as it doesn’t add anything to the task it just adds to delays.

Tamerton Foliot Road leads on to Fore Street and eventually Allern Ln, signposted to Lopwell, or it would have been if some scank hadn’t broken the sign, in fact this was about the 10th I had come across during this trip alone, after yet another detour through a housing estate before spotting a broken sign and double checking with the Sat Nav I was on my way, it proved to be a very nice section although it was really getting late and I wanted to cover as much as I could before stopping for the night, I had an ambition of Looe but it was looking at risk. Milton Combe was bypassed on the way to Buckland Abbey , turning left before Buckland Monachorum to cross the river then South for a quick loop around Bere Alston and Bere Ferrers before the run back up to Gulworthy and back on to the A390, after crossing the bridge at Gunnislake it was a case of turning immediately South again towards Harewood and Calstock it was on these lanes I had a ‘Thomas the Tank Engine’ moment when I saw a two carriage train high on an embankment, against the skyline, slowing down for a crossing, with the sun behind it shining through the windows, it really was quite surreal.

These lanes really were tight around here and it was now getting on a bit, however I was determined to get to Looe before I made camp for the evening but this was soon brought to an abrupt halt on the road to Botusfleming when a bout of cramp kicked-in in my left thigh. I’d obviously been pushing on too hard without anything to drink, a pint of water later and a walk around for five minutes and I was on my way to Saltash where I had to refuel then it was on to Tideford, Polbathic and then Torpoint.

It was now 5.45pm and I needed to find somewhere to camp for the night so as I pushed on around the peninsular to Cawsand and then Crafthole, the first I came across was a large Holiday Camp style place that looked over the top. The second in Downderry was even more interesting there was no mention going up the lane or even turning into the driveway . The first inkling that something was different was when I came across the 10ft high wooden gates, then on the right of it, I saw the sign which stated, ‘all campers at this site have to be nude, as this is a naturist site’ I struggled to turn the bike around and bumped into the people I asked direction from on the way up. Boy did they get a surprise, they had lived in the lane for over 5 years and had no idea the place was a naturist camp.

On to Seaton it actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise as I ended up passing a small site called Polborder House, which turned out to be run by a couple from the Wirral, close to where I was born. After pitching the tent and getting my stuff sorted out it was getting dark by the time I was cooking, eventually the sun went down as I washed up so I took the opportunity to climb into my bag and read my book before drifting off to sleep.

The next morning I would be trying to get going as soon as possible as I wanted to get a few miles under my belt before heading back home to take some customers to a football match at Villa Park on Sunday.

Take care and as Mick says ‘You don’t stop riding when you get old, you stop riding to go to a football match.