Tardy Posts

Happy to say that I'm in the middle of another epic bike ride...this time, the long way across England, from Land's End (near Penzance) to John o'Groats (way up in northern Scotland).

I got to Penzance by train, and found two people waiting on the platform trying to figure out which person was me. They guessed wrong, so I had to clear my throat and get their attention. One of the two, Jim, helped me with my luggage, and drove me in a Peak Tours van to the hostel where we would be staying for the first night. Several of us introduced ourselves, then walked into town, eventually finding the pub where we were to meet for dinner. The pub looked the under-deck of an old galleon sailing ship, and there were 25 riders plus three Peak Tours staff, so it was hard to get to know anyone. My first impression...we were bringing the average age of Peak Tours clients up a bit. Several older riders (two of us in our seventies), but also three teenagers, including two classmates of 17-18, and one school leaver of 19 on a biking vacation with his family, and coincidentally, two of his teachers from his final term.

Day One --- we rode by taxi from Penzance to Land's End. The bikes arrived while we were getting our photos taken, and of course most people had their own bikes that had been entrusted to Peak Tours, so all they had to do was step over the cross bar, mount up, and start riding. Two of us had bikes rented from Peak Tours ... Bare (or Binka) from Iceland, and myself. Therefore, we were still adjusting our bikes while everyone else started off down the road. Dave, our ride leader, assured us that this was not a race, that one of the three Peak Tours guides, would ride with the slowest rider at the back. Bare (pronounced something "bah-deh) was the last one to depart Land's End, and I soon caught up with a few of the slower riders. I was just following written directions, so navigation at times became tricky. "When you come to a white cottage on the left, turn Right onto an unmarked road that has a sign indicating that it is restricted...." And the favorite term, during the morning briefings ... the road is a "lumpy," or "loompy" with a midlands accent. That means that the route is peppered with 500 foot hills where the road ascends at 15-20% grade. And if not "loompy," there's a "sweet little hill climbing out of such and such a village..." which means that anyone not in shape (myself included) will probably have to walk up the hill.

Day one, I didn't get my Strava recording properly, so I missed out on 5000 feet of climbing and about 68 miles. At the end of the day, we ended up in the fishing village of Fowey, staying in a hotel with near vertical drop down to the waterfront where all the restaurants were.

Day Two -- We assembled first thing in the morning near the ferry doc, and were warned to put our bikes in their lowest gear because there was a steep climb right out of the gate. I'm riding a Cannondale Synapse, which is a pretty good bike, but the gears are not made for rapid climbing (or maybe it's my legs that are no longer capable?)  Anyway, I happened to be near the front of the ferry, so had to be one of the first ones going up the "sweet little hill," which only lasted for maybe half a mile of thigh-aching climbing. A few of the faster riders passed me and were already leaving the morning brew stop by the time I arrived. The brew stop was on a beautiful picturesque beach then there was another steep climb up over a mountain ... why they don't build level roads, I'll never understand. I walked in a few places, and eventually made it to our lunch stop at a pub on the edge of the water, looking out over the water at Plymouth. Lunch was a full carvery, then we had to hop aboard a small ferry that would only hold a few bikes at a time, and sailed every half hour. I ended up on the ferry with only one other member of our 25-member group, a lady named Leslie, and who speaks with a very strong Geordie accent that I can only understand about half the time. Anyway, Leslie loves to do hiking in the Lake District, so she happens to be good at navigating, and willing to get off her bike and walk up the steep hills. We only lost about an hour trying to find our way through Plymouth using written instructions that were not always accurate. But we ended up on the right trail, and eventually found our way onto Dartmoor.

Have you ever ridden a bicycle at 50 miles per hour? I think I may have hit that speed on one of the descents on the moors. Exciting, but a bit scary. The moors are as beautiful as the movies make them out to be, and we saw hundreds of sheep, wild ponies, and smattering of cattle, and eventually ended up in the small town of Mortenhampstead, poised for a fast descent off Dartmoor the next morning.

I'll post highlights of our next couple of days later. Now, I need to get to sleep. During the first two days, we covered 140 miles and climbed close to 12,000 feet. Guess I've good cause to be tired.