Day 9 - Cholmondeley to Eccleston

The cycling today was rolling and calm: nothing spectacular; thankfully nothing challenging either. Here are some photos:

Cow love:

Crossing the Mersey (at least, I think it's the Mersey) at Acton Bridge:

Primitive farmyard robot man, near Wigan:

One of umpteen motorway crossings. Not the most exciting photo but sums up much of the day:

Just north of Wigan, an old fella leapt into the road and flagged us down wildly. 'Lands End to John O'Groats, aye?!', he enquired. It turns out that he had done the trip (solo) some years before and, spotting our panniers, saw his chance for a chin-wag with like-minded souls. Brilliant - it's chance encounters like that make the trip what it is...

Day 8 - Samford to Cholmondeley

Welcome to Shropshire, land of funny signs. I especially like the first of these. You've got to watch those squaddies – they get over-excited and just dash out...

Today – on paper, at least – is by far our easiest day. We even slipped into casually referring to it as our 'rest day'. However, 25 miles is still 25 miles, complete with heat, traffic and sore thighs from the previous day. We still rolled up at the front gate tired and thankful.

Manor Farm is grand and down-to-earth all at once. There are impressive landscaped gardens all around but caravans, chickens and ducks out the back.

If you're the sort of person who laughs at ducks – and we are – you should chuckle at some Indian Runners. They have no arms/wings so rather than fly, get around in a high-speed Basil Fawlty walk.

These are different Indian Runners but you get the idea (with thanks to wiselywoven for the clip):



It's worth mentioning that we've had great B+B hosts all along the way. Today, the nearest pub (a swish gastro-joint in a converted schoolhouse) is 3 miles away. Host Jan not only dropped us off there for dinner but picked us up afterwards. Thanks Jan!

Between the B+B and the pub is a mad 'enchanted woodland' area – home to the purplest flowers in Christendom; also home to vicious moscos who fasten themselves thirstily to your shins the second you stop pedalling:

Finally, check out our calves – they're like baked hams.

That is all. Goodnight!

Day 7 - Worcester to Samford

More heat, silence and shimmering tarmac. It's like being in a David Lynch movie.

On paper, this is the hardest day so far: 60 miles and over 2500ft of climbing. That said, the climbs were manageable and the weather sunny. Still, it was TOUGH. Rosie's back is giving her a bad time again, so regular rest stops were a must:

Although we're mostly on main roads again, there's no shortage of natural beauty to make you exclaim loudly - and with foul language - if you just peer over the hedgerow...

We are now looking like LEJoG cyclists: tanned, dirty, and with burned bicep skin flaking away by the hour. Bike shop staff now just nod knowingly at us: 'End-to-End? Thought so...'

If you look closely enough at this portrait of skank, you'll see traces of cappuccino (2 sugars), 'death by chocolate' ice cream (2 scoops), sweat (lots), sun block (factor 50), and chain lube (teflon). Although you can't see it here, there are also some dead flies stuck to my face. I could choose to wipe them away but I prefer to leave them there as a warning to other insects.

Now arrived at Samford - a tiny, well-heeled village in Shropshire. The B+B is grand (Samford Manor, no less), the pub friendly, with amazing food (thanks, Three Horseshoes) and the countryside well-groomed. We're just glad to be here at last.

Night night.

Day 6 - Bristol to Worcester

What goes through your mind when you're cycling along A-roads all day? In my case, it's typically:

1. What's that ticking?
2. Is that ticking coming from my bike or Rosie's?
3. Is it time to have another flapjack yet?
4. I need a wee
5. Look at that astounding natural beauty (multi-coloured Cornish hedgerow/field of gently waving corn/deep blue, cloudless sky)
6. I wonder how many miles we've covered today
7. I wonder how many miles we have left to cover today
8. Why are my feet numb?
9. Should we take this intimidating A-road or risk getting lost on the minor roads again?
10. NOW is it time to have another flapjack?

Today's theme: history repeating. Once again, we decided to abandon our zigzag scenic route and instead take the busy A-road. Again also, there was a good reason for this. Rosie's bike was suffering mechanical niggles (knackered freehub mechanism, if you're interested), necessitating an early morning visit to the local bike store and eventually, an entire new rear wheel being bought and fitted.

So – another late start, another long, hot day (60 miles). The brutal climbs of the west country have given way to more gently rolling scenery although there's still plenty to make the fully-laden cycle-tourist weep. Despite the direct route, there's surprisingly little traffic. The overwhelming impression is of long, straight roads, powerful heat and just the chirruping of insects for company:

Tonight we're staying with my good friend, Lou. Her idiot dog, Pongo, is excited by the new company but simultaneously angered by my Harry Hill-looking glasses, for some reason.

BONUS POST – PLUG FOR FARESHARE!

We didn't plan to include a dedicated plug for FareShare but there was something on the wall at the FS depot that explained the operation better then we ever could.

The basic story is that FareShare accept food discarded by supermarkets and the food industry, all of which would otherwise go to landfill, then distribute it to those in need – either directly or through other charities. So what kind of things end up in the FareShare depot, and why? Over to you, posters!

Day 5 - Taunton to Bristol

Indecision to start the day. We had a scenic route to Bristol planned BUT still needed to be there by around 4 to visit the FareShare depot in Temple Meads. So the choice was – pedal fast and hope for the best, or abandon the route entirely and take the notorious but direct A38...

We went with the latter and set off late, as usual. True to its reputation, the A38 was truly grim in parts: awful road surface, lorries thundering past, lack of bike crossings at roundabouts. That said, it got us to Bristol quickly and there are plenty of service stations to keep us in snacks.

After one final huge, demoralising climb, we rolled down into the city only slightly late for our rendezvous.

Pete from FareShare had stayed on late to show us around and talk us through the charity's Bristol operation – and what an amazing operation it is. More about FareShare in our next post – for now, here's Pete showing us around (all those pallets on the top shelf are Tesco's 'Wheat Pillows')...

...and us striking the standard 'we're doing something for charity with bikes' pose again...

Waving goodbye to FareShare Pete, we headed through town and uphill to my Parents' place in Bradley Stoke.

It makes a big difference to see a friendly face en route. If the owner of that face is able to help you do your washing and sort your bike out, that's even better. Thanks, both, for all the help!

Day 4 - Okehampton to Taunton

I'll say this for long-distance cycling: it renews your appreciation for old biddies' caffs. Jacket potatoes, soup, scones, weak tea – this is the good stuff when you're on the bike all day.

When we got up this morning, it was raining hard. Having discarded her useless overshoes in disgust, Rosie improvised this homemade sock weatherproofing:

Leaving the B&B, as if on cue, the rain stopped for good. Today, thankfully, was long on miles but short on drama. Proper food, smaller hills, almost superhuman thigh strength starting to stir in our respective pins; lots of short stops and long drinks. A period of despair when we got lost among the unsigned backroads (again) was compensated by a brisk, wind-assisted final 10 mile sweep into Taunton. Oo-arh.

Tonight we're in a bland, 90s-decorated business hotel on the main road. It feels weird. Despite its size, Taunton has only two places you can eat after 9pm; we went for the Indian option and retired late, thoughts of the next day's ride already tickling our worry glands.