Vamos! Cycling Holiday Day 2

Cherín, Adra, La Rábita, Albondón

The second day of our cycling holiday based in Cádiar (located in the province of Granada), Spain was going to be a little more difficult than the first day.  Our host, guide and ride leader at Vamos! (Gary Williams) was always pretty forthcoming with information about the ride and what it was going to entail.  We got a bit of an informal briefing about where we were heading before we set of and plenty of pointers about what we were going to face along the way.  Today, we were heading to the coast.  Back at home (for Mike, my holiday companion and I) that would generally mean an easy run, dependant on the group and the wind strength or direction, towards Blackpool or Southport.  As the base for our Spanish cycling holiday was already relatively high up in Las Alpujarras and run down to the coast was going to be a different prospect altogether.  A case of 'what goes down, must come up' this time.

The day started with the usual routine.  Not too early a start, as in that part of Spain during November the Sun wasn't rising that early.  There was little point of getting up to get around in the dark.  We ate a hearty breakfast between about nine o'clock and ten o'clock, followed it up with a few routine bike checks, such as the tyre pressures.  After that we normally rolled out at about 10 am.  It was quite a cool day, reasonably over cast at whilst there was a threat of rain, it didn't look like it would actually materialise.

Time for a Break and a Proper Look Around

A View of  Embalse de Benínar and Our Route Their

We initially head out Westward towards a little town named Cherín, but didn't stop there. We instead made a route directly South towards of lunch stop destination of Adra. On our journey to the coast the road was pretty undulating, but ultimately it was downhill all the way. This meant that we'd have to climb back to our initial altitude, at least, to get back to the accommodation. We took the ALP-603 down through Darrícal and headed towards the Embalse de Benínar (a lake or reservoir). We had a brief stop at the South end of the lake to allow a few natural breaks, a bit of landscape admiration and a general regrouping. Everybody on the holiday was used to cycling, but we were all at slightly different levels, so on the ascents or descents the group did split up a bit. A short rest for the faster ones and generally it was all back together.

Mike Admires the View and Contemplates His Next Photo

A Time for Everybody to Get a Photo

The Riders Regroup Near Embalse de Benínar

View Across Embalse de Benínar

A break also offered an opportunity to take a few snapshots for the photo albums, scrapbooks and blogs.  There was certainly plenty of picturesque scenery all around.  As it was getting into Winter, some of the high peaks could be seen sporting a snowy cap.  After viewing the lake, we continued Southward and picked up another road (the ALP-461) which took us closer to Adra.  We met a junction near Berja (to the West of San Roque), but didn't get that far East.  Instead, we picked up the ALP-103 that would take us the rest of the way to the coast, over and along the valley of the Rio Grande.  The roads we now pretty flat and we passed a lot of agriculture and many giant greenhouses that are common in the area.  As we passed near La Alquería we followed the course of the Rio Adra, which was lined with tall large grasses, like bamboo.

At Our Own Pace on the ALP-461 on the Way to Adra

Three of the Group Climb the ALP-461 Together

One of the Guests (Robin) Give Gary Our Guide Some Tips!

When we arrived at Adra, the weather hadn't improved any.  It wasn't quite as cold, but it was still very overcast and it looked like it had been raining a bit.  We traversed the Calle Natalio Rivas a couple of times until we chose a suitable lunch venue.  I don't think the establishment we took lunch at was Gary's or his local friend Ramon's first choice, but at least it was somewhere to get refreshments.  It was nothing too heavy, we'd eaten well the night before and there was also plenty to go around at breakfast, so there was no point in further loading up ahead of the climb back to the start point.  After a reasonable break, which gave us enough time to consume some toast etc. and a few coffees, we were back out cycling again.

A Lunch Stop in Adra on the Coast

A Quick Stop in Adra for Coffees and Toast

After lunch we head Westwards along the edge of the Mediterranean Sea.  This area was very familiar to me, as I had stayed further West along the coast a couple of years before and had driven on the AP7, which also followed the coastline.  We eventually arrived at a place called La Rábita and this is where the long climb homewards began.  Gary was classing the run up along the A345 as part of the day's main climb, but it was pretty much uphill all the way from the coast.  It was just a very gradual drag for what felt like quite a few miles, but was only actually about one, up along this road.  We had a stop at the top of a long straight at a Repsol fuel station to grab a few supplies.  This mainly consisted of water for our drinking bottles.  

After this, the road looped around a place call Albuñol and continued to gradually climb. Our guide reckoned that the main climb of the day was about 16 Kilometres (roughly 10 miles) continually up and this didn't take into consideration these early slopes.  Oh my Lord!!  This climb was going to be a killer.  We arrived at a large roundabout on the outskirts of Albuñol (the North side) and Gary was prepared to accept that this was the start of the climb proper.  Looking at the ride on Strava later, this climb was marked as the Puerto de Albondón.  It wasn't the steepest of climbs, but it was relentless.  It's marked on the Strava web site (www.strava.com) as a HC climb, which means in racing cycling parlance that it is so big that it's beyond categorisation.  The HC actually stands for Hors Catégorie, which is a French term used in cycle races (most notably, the Tour de France) to designate a climb that is incredibly tough. 

A Roadside Garden on the Puerto de Albondón

We probably weren't to far into the main climb and I was doing OK, there was quite a way to go though.  I'd done the cycling club's hill climb recently, exactly a week before, but that was only a five or six minute effort.  This ascent was going to take over an hour.  I just wasn't used to riding uphill for that length of time.  In the UK, even on hilly day, you are usually able to recover on false flats or downhill sections before the next climb.  Here, I was just not going to be afforded that luxury.  On the middle section of the climb some of the stronger riders began to pull away.  I wasn't feeling to great at this point, but I just kept grinding out a rhythm as nest I could.  I often felt like I could do with a few more gears, which wasn't good, as I was riding a bike with a compact chainset.

I Abandon my Bike for a Few Minutes on the Approach to Albondón

I got to a point around the town of Albondón where I just needed a bit of a breather.  Fortunately, there was a bit of a garden or viewing area at the side of the road.  I took the opportunity to dismount and give my legs a rest under the pretence of taking a few pictures.  I don't really like stopping on a climb, but this one wasn't going well and I just needed a breather.  I really wasn't stopped too long.  It could only have been a couple of minutes and then I was back on the bike and trying to further progress up the climb.  I have a few thoughts about taking a layer off, or maybe the arm warmers, but whilst we were warm from the effort the temperature around us was falling as the road arose up to the clouds.

A View Back Towards the Coast from Albondón

A View of Albondón from the Roadside Gardens

At the end of the day, whilst the slow pace I was capable of climbing this hill wasn't great, I have to accept that my body just wasn't used to this kind of effort.  Eventually I was over the hardest part of the climb and hit a section of flat road.  I had a stop to put my raincoat on ready for the later descent back to Cadiar.  This was somewhere around the junction of the A-345 that we we riding on an the adjoining GR-5202.  After that, there was a little bit more climbing, but then I was on the homeward stretch.  As it was cold, and we all knew the way back to the accommodation, there was little point hanging around for the other rider and getting a chill, so everybody carried on at their own pace.  It was fantastic, to be finally heading back for the warmth, a shower and some sustenance.




Looking back at the ride from the Garming GPS data, it was obviously a very hard day.  We'd done almost seventy miles, and whilst that wasn't by any means an unfamiliar distance, it was very unusual to be doing so much climbing, so it felt like we'd ridden an awful lot further.  The ride was uploaded to Strava, to be presented with the message “There are no achievements on this ride.”  There were no surprises there.  It had taken me about an hour and a half to the the ten mile measure section (Strava segment) of the climb and that meant I'd been travelling at an average speed of a might 6.6 mph.  Oh well, I got there in the end.  It was an achievement, but the latter half of the ride could not be described in any way as enjoyable.

To date, the Puerto de Albondón is the longest single climb I've ever done. It was about 3,250 feet of climbing taking us to an altitude of four thousand meters. I have previously done other rides in Spain, and pre me having a Garmin, so it's possible I have done a longer climb before. I just don't have any way of measuring it. I'm sure that I have climbed to higher altitudes before, but possibly it was split up into a few smaller climbs. Whilst I didn't enjoy this one on the day, I'd love to go back a knock a few tens of minutes off my time on a warmer day. Maybe next year?

LEJOG (End to End) Day 5 - Out With the Club

Leg 5 - Walton le Dale (Preston) to Carlisle [RVCRC A Ride]

After what seemed like a two minute stop at home we were on the road again.  I’d last spoken to Paul yesterday evening just to check he’d got home OK after we parted in Euxton.  My girlfriend came over to stay as it was going to be the only opportunity to see each other for nearly a fortnight.  I’d been pretty busy with the ride, so it didn’t seem like we’d been away that long, but it always seems longer for the one left at home.  I arrived back before her, but she soon arrived with supplies and we feasted on a Curry to try and get the calories into my body following the one hundred and fifteen mile ride the day before.  There were a few checks to do and a few bits of kit to swap over.  We were possibly expecting to see some snow as we progressed further North, so a few more layers need to be put out to wear and carry.  I had a mental checklist, but decided it was better to get up a bit earlier the following morning and put it all together then.  I’m one of these people that need to take everything out again to check it if I pack the night before, so it’s better just to lay stuff out were I can see it.  I was a little bit stressed about forgetting something when there were other distractions and I wasn’t in the company of a fellow LEJOG participant.  All in all, it was a pleasant and relaxing evening.

The following days ride had been planned for a while in advance.  Paul and I normally ride with the Ribble Valley Cycling Club (RVCRC - Ribble Valley Cycling and Racing Club - www.ribblevalleycrc.com) on a Sunday when we get chance.  When the ride leader became aware that we were coming through Preston on the Sunday he planned a route that would allow him and the other riders to accompany us for at least some of the way.  We left our homes and headed up to Preston College in Fulwood, which is the usual meeting place for the RVCRC Sunday club rides.  That day’s ride leader (Mike Smith) had planned a route that would take us in the right direction but would keep us off the busiest road (A6) for at least the morning.  It was good to catch up with our team-mates and everybody was interested to see how we’d been progressing.  I was personally chuffed that we were going to be joined by one of the older members (Ken Stratford who’s about 80) for some of the morning.  Most people were amazed at the weight of our bikes with the Panniers and luggage.  I’m pretty sure they were glad not to be riding with them.

Ribble Valley CRC Sunday 'A' Ride - The Usual Suspects

After the usual Sunday morning banter, and a bit more because of this unusual long distance ride we got under way again.  I was very tired at this point and was glad to sit in the wheels a bit to start with and just have a chat with as many people as I could.  We got to some more undulating terrain on Mike’s A6 avoiding route and I was always mindful that we’d have to do some reasonably significant climbing to get through Cumbria (which ever way we did it).  However, Paul seemed to have a new lease of life and wanted to show his strength compared to the riders without the extra weight.  I couldn’t avoid doing the same as much as my legs were trying to tell me to do otherwise.  We are lucky to normally be living in this area, from a cycling point of view and we were reminded of this when we made a forced stop to fix one of the groups members puncture.  We had seen some great scenery so far along the way, but some of our local stuff was good enough to match any of that.

A Short Stop for a Mechanical - Fortunately Not Ours (Paul & Ash)

Some of Lancashire's Scenery - As Seen on Our Normal Club Runs

The next stop was Farletonview Tea room (next to Farletonview Fishery - www.farletonviewfisheries.co.uk), a café stop that I remember using once before on a previous Sunday club run.  This was as far North as the other riders could venture with us before heading back to Preston.  I parked the bike up away from where we were sitting in the vain hope that somebody may steal it and I wouldn’t need to do any further riding that day.  The café was pretty busy, but fortunately it was a reasonably mild spring day, so we opted to site outside to eat.  I recounted stories of Paul’s Mars bar and Full English breakfast sports nutrition diet as he tucked into yet another (full) English Breakfast.  We posed for a few photographs of the group before Paul and I bid them farewell and head yet further North.  The next stop was going to Kendal, which wasn’t too far away, to stock up on electrolyte tablets for our drinks bottles.

Ash and Paul at Farletonview Tea room - Not the Usual Club Run

Paul at the Cafe with Another RVCRC 'A'  Rider, David 

If I Park My Bike Here Will Somebody Steal It? - Please Do!

At Kendal we were going to reach a significant fork in the road, we could either stick to the main road route (A6) and pass over Shap Fell or we could venture into the Lake District toward Windermere and climb over Kirkstone Pass.  Our earlier discussions suggested that we were both favouring Shap Fell, as this should be a less steep more drawn out climb that could be taken by lorries.  However, we wouldn’t make the final decision until Kendal.  I’d only ever climbed Kirkstone Pass in the opposite direction (up away from Ullswater and Patterdale) and I remember dying a thousand deaths tackling it after I’d already ridden eighty five miles on the fateful trip.  I didn’t want to go through that again, and considering that we had all that extra weight Shap Fell seemed like a safer option.

Paul with Ride Leader Mike Discussing Our Exit Northwards

Saying Farewell to Our Fellow RVCRC Members 

Kendal Town Centre - A Stop for Electrolytes - Which Way North?

In Kendal we visited Evans Cycles to pick up a new supply of High Five Zero electrolyte tablets (I can‘t remember whether this was in Kendal or not now).  There wasn’t too much time to look around the shop, it was just a case of a quick in and out whilst the other rider minded the bikes.  We’d already earlier visited a health shop to see if they had anything suitable and we struggled to find anything, so the specialist tablets at the specialist bike shop was the only real answer.  Armed with new supplies, we continued Northwards and finally took the decision to travel over Shap Fell.

Views Back Towards Kendal from the Shap Fell Climb

The Road Northwards out of Kendal (A6) was fairly pleasant, but it didn’t take long before the climbing commenced, it was only gradual, but it was going to last for quite a while.  We were probably about half way through the journey, as far as miles to travel and days to ride at this point and the legs were really feeling the day after day long distance riding with more than twenty extra pounds in weight than we were used to riding with.  At this point I quizzed Paul about his ‘Gung ho’ riding style when we were out with the club earlier and admitted that my legs were really feeling it now.  He explained that he was actually feeling much better now, as he’d been fortunate enough to get a leg massage by his wife the night before.  He said the legs almost felt good as new now!  I had missed a trick here, I hadn’t made time for such an activity the night before at my house and was now wishing I had.

Views Over Gurnal Bridge Lane From A6

The climb up Shap Fell was a drag, but fortunately the road wasn’t too busy and the traffic was kept away from us in the latter parts of the ascent, as there is a passing lane.  For some time I was the slowest person on record, using the web site I upload my Garmin 200 activity to which is called Strava (www.strava.com).  There are sections of road marked on Strava, called segments, and riders submitting there GPS device files to the web site can see how they compare to other riders on the marked segments.  We had no means of uploading the files whilst out on the road, we could only recharge our Garmins when we stopped in the evening.  We had to wait until we returned home before we had access to computers to carry out the upload.  I had uploaded the first four leg’s data the night before and was now wishing I’d opted for the aforementioned massage instead.  The Shap Fell isn’t the highest in the world, but if you look at the profile of the day’s ride, it is a significant lump in the middle.  The Shap Fell Strava segment can be seen here:

http://app.strava.com/segments/1148300

As you can see, I am well down the leader board, but surprisingly I am no longer the last rider.  I can only presume that the people currently in 225th and 226th position are fellow End to End riders or very new to cycling.  I keep meaning to go back to Shap and post a time without the baggage, but it just a bit far to do a loop in one day from home.

Views from the Early Parts of Shap Climb - Any Excuse for a Rest

We eventually reached the summit of Shap Fell.  Whilst it wasn’t a County Border marker (incidentally, we must have missed the Cumbrian one by using the minor roads up to Kendal), it was a significant point on the ride and possibly the highest point we would reach.  It was much cooler at the top and there was a little bit of sleet and snow in the air.  Paul had been previously been talking about his new raincoat, which he’d christened the ’body condom’, but this was the first time it had been displayed to me and used.  Even if we didn’t need such garments for the rain and snow, we now had to do a lot of descending down towards Penrith, so we needed to keep the chill off.  It was good news that we were going to be going mainly down hill for the rest of the day now, but after working up a sweat you need to keep warm when travelling fast and pedalling less often.

Paul Sporting His 'Condom' Checks-In From Shap Fell Summit

The Road Leading South From Shap Fell Summit

The Road Leading North From Shap Fell Summit

Our Bikes Parked Near the Weather Station on Shap Fell

I really can’t remember much about navigating our way through Penrith.  Our thoughts were now to our next overnight stay and our accommodation.  Up until Preston every aspect of the trip had been planned out.  Each night previously we knew where we needed to be and exactly where we’d be sleeping.  For the second half of the overall journey, we’d decided to be a bit more flexible.  We hadn’t yet decided whether we were going to take a Easterly or Westerly route through Scotland and whether we were going to pass through Edinburgh or Glasgow.  Also, we were more nervous about the weather conditions (there had been reports of snow in Scotland) and didn’t want to book accommodation only to lose our money by not getting to the planned destinations due to unforeseen circumstances.

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We were fortunate, we now had things like mobile phones with Internet connection wherever we were and we were able to use apps (little computer programs on the phone) to help us find our way and book a place to stay.  Even though Paul had a more sophisticated Garmin than mine, with GPS map, we’d still tended to use Google Maps on the smart phones as a way of navigating when we were unsure.  I’d previously done quite a lot of last minute booking whilst out on the road whilst either travelling for work or on a couple of road trips I’d had to France and Spain.  The app of choice was booking.com, but we were open to keeping a look out for suitable establishments as we rode along.

Prior to leaving Preston the first time, Paul had done quite a lot of research around the options in various places.  Even though it wasn’t definite that we’d be visiting or staying in Carlisle, he’d become familiar with a few of the options, and knew that there was a Premier in on the run in on the A6.  With the down hill sections and some flatter roads, we seemed to get there in no time.  Whilst I often ascended the climbs a little quicker than Paul before regrouping at the top, I could barely keep on his wheel on the dual carriageway approach to the city.  We pulled up in a lay-by across the road from the potential accommodation and Paul had a look at the room options on his phone.  At the same time I had a look at the booking.com app on my phone and came up with some options in the city centre.  We opted for the city centre, as it meant we could progress further along the way towards Scotland on the Sunday, the offer was better at the hotel I’d found and our evening meal options were going to be better in the more built up areas.

Paul does the Final Check-In of the Day From Our Hotel Room

We chose the Cumbria Park Hotel in Carlisle, as we could get a twin room and breakfast for a very reasonable rate.  It was less than just the room out of town.  The staff were very friendly and whilst there wasn’t anywhere safe out front or a car park around the back to leave the bikes the desk receptionist allowed us to put them in one of the smaller function rooms that wasn’t being used that night.  We got to the room, which was spacious and pleasant but a little old fashioned, checked in with Facebook followers etc. and freshened up.  The hotel offered us the option of dining in that night also, but we opted to go out and have a little look around town.  Rather than going and sitting down in a restaurant, Paul suggested we have a look around for a take away establishment.  We found several.  There were two close together which gave us the option of Fish and Chips or things like Kebabs and Pizzas.  Paul suggested that there may be the potential of sampling a strictly Scottish takeaway delicacy, ‘battered haggis’, if we went to the chippy.  I liked the sound of this, and whilst I’d had haggis many years before, I had definitely never sampled the chip shop battered variety before.

Not Quite in Scotland Yet, But Time for a Haggis

Battered Haggis and Chips as Sampled in Carlisle

As we left the chip shop I had a near miss with the traffic.  It wasn’t busy on the roads (we were walking) and we’d started to cross the road in plenty of time, but a car appear to be approaching fast and I started to run to ensure that we’d get across in time before the car arrived.  However, my legs had now ceased to function properly, I was felling a twinge from every time I took a step forward and when I picked them up in an attempt to run absolutely nothing happened.  This was a worry, both in the sense of the looming traffic and for generally getting about.  The only saving grace was that they seemed to work better and not feel so bad when we were out on the bikes.  If I ever do this type of thing again (a long distance bike ride), I will try and take measures to look after my legs a bit better at the end of the day.  I had a deep heat ointment, which I used at the end of the day and often in the morning before riding, but on reflection I probably could have done with using some oils on the skin to try and rub out some of the soreness and toxins from the leg muscles.  When all said and done there were two of us, some it would have been feasible to help with the maintenance of each other’s limbs.  However, we were already taking some ’Facebook Flack’ for room sharing (somebody suggested we’d be pushing the twin beds together), so heaven forbid rumours would get out there that we’d been rubbing each other down with scented oils!

All in all Preston to Carlisle was a tough but enjoyable day.  It was great to share part of the ride with our cycling buddies and we were still being fortunate with the weather conditions.  Also, we’d been very lucky as far as any incidents that would impede our progress or cause us to have to abort the whole thing were concerned.  So far everything was going very well and according to plan.  It was by no means easy, but it wasn’t a case of hating every pedal stroke.  We could have done a few things better, but generally things were working out well.  Tomorrow we’d be in another country and soon I’d be venturing to places I’d never been near before.

LEJOG (End to End) Day 3 - The Heart of England

Leg 3 - Royal Wootton Bassett to Ladywood (Birmingham)

Looking back, our cycle though the ‘Heart of England’ was probably my favourite part of the trip in England.  It was a great day, as far as the weather was concerned.  We rode on some historic roads and saw plenty of sights.  It was also a great time for catching up with old friends.  The morning was made very special by having the chance to spend some time riding with my cousin Karl on the run out of Royal Wootton Bassett and up towards Cirencester.  I always had a slight (superstitious) doubt about how we were going to get through the day event free when it was Friday the thirteenth.  However, we had absolutely no problems, and this was one of my best days out cycling if not one of my best days out generally.

We started to feel the ride in our legs now.  The descent down my cousins stairs was a bit tricky.  I eventually opted for coming down sideways to lessen the pain.  The prospect of getting back on the bike now was a bit daunting.  It was a much shorter distance today (about eighty five miles), but still a pretty long one with the panniers and luggage.  I had a very pleasurable evening the night before, and stayed up a little bit late catching up with my cousin considering we were needing to put in a substantial ride day after day.  Fortunately, nobody was needing to rise to early for work.  Karl’s wife only needed to be on the go at about nine, his daughter was off school and he was on our timetable, as he was riding with us.  We had a relative ‘lie-in’ before we got up for another cooked breakfast.  We got the bikes out, took advantage of a fellow cyclist’s track pump and got on our way with the local escort.  It was very sunny, with lovely blue skies, but a little bit chilly to start with.  Surprising, the legs were less painful riding than walking.  That was a great relief.

A Bit More Pressure Before We Go - Nice Track Pump 

Can we not Take This Bike Instead?

We had a route on the back roads up to Cirencester planned, but had a slight blip early on as we met some road works and had to turn back a bit.  We’d seen a road closed sign on our approach, but assumed that getting through on foot or by bike would not be too much of a problem.  However, the workmen were adamant that we could not pass for safety reasons.  It wasn’t too much of a drama, as there was an alternative road not to far back on the way we’d already come.  However, our ‘local guide’ did open himself up to a bit of stick.  He’s already been pushing the pace a bit early on until he realised that we just couldn’t do eighty plus miles at twenty mile per hour with the luggage and we’d have to pace ourselves.  If he wanted to blow out the cobwebs, he needed to wait until his return home without us.  It was strictly fifteen miles per hour for Paul and I, as we didn’t want to blow-up later.

The Cousins Before Departure

The detour was a minor inconvenience, but I am glad to make it.  We would have naturally bypassed a place called Ashton Keynes, and it would have been a pity if we did.  It was a very picturesque little place and the river that ran at the side of the road was crystal clear with lovely little bridges crossing it periodically.  I just regret not stopping, getting the camera out and taking a few snaps.  Soon back on the original track, we carried on up to Cirencester.  Karl accompanied us as far as the East side of the town and the junction of Burford Road and Stow Road and we continued up the A429.  A bid farewell to Cousin Karl and prepared myself for a leg on Fosse Way.  Roman roads can be a little bit disconcerting to ride on.  They’re sometimes so straight that you don’t feel that you are making any progress.  The stretch out of Cirencester was particularly bad, as it was quite undulating too.  

Paul and I ended up being separated for a bit on this stretch.  I think I’d progressed through some traffic lights and he’d been caught when they were on red.  However, I stopped for a natural break and it still seemed a long time before Paul appeared.  When we did eventually meet up again, it turned out that Paul had experienced a little bit of Friday 13th Bad luck and had been on the deck.  He’d stopped on some wet leaves at the side of the road and slipped off when starting off again.  Fortunately there were no injuries (other than hurt pride) and the bike was OK.  However, he’d needed to backtrack a bit, as he’d dropped one of his pannier bags in the fall and hadn’t realised until a passing motorist pointed out the problem.

The Unicorn Hotel - Stow-on-the-Wold

We got to the end of the long, straight road and arrived at Stow-on-the-Wold, we didn’t stop for long, we just had time to have a quick look around and decide the next part of the route.  We decided to head out Eastwards and get away from the A429 for a bit.  As well as the long straight sections it had been pretty heavy with traffic and we hoped to find a road that was less travelled by motorists.  We went a few miles out of our way, but we weren’t concerned as this was going to be one of the shortest days on the entire trip.  We headed along the A436, but knew that we’d need to head back Westwards at some point.  Our new route took us into Oxfordshire for a short while.  We did our usual County border updates here.  However, the roads taking us up to Cirencester had failed to point out that we were entering Gloucestershire, so we’d already missed on of the borders already.  Continuing on, we soon picked up a back road, which linked to the A3400 that was destined for Stratford-upon-Avon.   I’m glad we found this road.  It wasn’t a particularly planned thing, but often the best events aren’t.  It was an extremely picturesque part of the route and relatively traffic free.  We passed through a little village called Long Compton and decided to take a break here.

Ash Checks in at Oxfordshire

Paul at the Oxfordshire Border - What Happened to Gloucestershire?

The road (A3400) heading into Long Compton had bee very pleasant.  The sun was shining, but the arm warmers were still on.  The scenery was very picturesque, not stunning but what some would say is ‘typically English’.

Views from the A3400 in Warwickshire

A View of the Road (A3400) Heading Towards Long Compton

We stopped to get supplies at a little local shop aptly named ‘The Stores’.  Yet again, Paul and I were separated for some time.  We’d decided to enter the shop separately, so that the other person could keep an eye on the bikes.  Paul had gone into the Stores first.  I’d been sat outside in the sunshine, but after a good few minutes I was confused as to why could be taking so long.  I had a quick look through the window and could see the shop staff talking to a lady with a baby, I presumed this was causing the hold up.  However, the lady came out the shop and somebody who had entered after Paul also did.  This didn’t seem right.  I’m sure it had been more than ten minutes now.  Had Paul been abducted?  A few minutes later Paul reappeared outside, clutching a few more supplies (the usual chocolate bars by the dozen), which included a freshly made sandwich.  After the ’where the heck have you been/what the heck have you been doing?’ conversation, it became apparent that the lovely old ladies working in the shop had disappeared into their kitchen to make Paul a sandwich by special request when it transpire they didn’t have any on first asking.  After this delay, I though better of going through the same thing again with them.  They had been very helpful and accommodating, but I though I’d just grab a few bits of fruit, cakes and flapjacks etc.

Long Compton in Warwickshire

'The Stores' in Long Compton

We continued tracking back North-Westerly and on our run up to Stratford (upon-Avon).  This wasn’t the final destination for the day, but was one of the key points.  We passed though Shipston-on-Stour and (I think) inadvertently came off the A3400 for a bit as we passed over (crossed) Fosse Way.  We travelled though Ilmington and then got back on our initial road choice for the last section up to Stratford.  We didn’t need a stop in Stratford, but it would be a shame to stop in such an historical place without having a look around.  I’d been in this part of the country before, but I’m fairly I’d never been to Stratford before that day.

Paul Updates Followers on Facebook in front of Shakey

Paul Surveys His Surroundings in Stratford-upon-Avon

In Stratford-upon-Avon, we had a brief stop to update our social network followers, and this happened right next to the Gower Memorial, which has a statue showing Shakespeare seated on top of it.  I took the chance to photograph the views of other tourist enjoying the area generally and specifically the river.

Paul Paying Homage to Shakespeare 

In Stratford-upon-Avon, we had a brief stop to update our social network followers, and this happened right next to the Gower Memorial, which has a statue showing Shakespeare seated on top of it.  I took the chance to photograph the views of other tourist enjoying the area generally and specifically the river.  Even though it was only a fleeting visit, we did feel like we had time to soak up some of the atmosphere and history.  The views of the river, and people boating on it, were particularly satisfying.

A View of the River Avon in Stratford

To some extent, it was reverse tourism.  We knew where we needed to get to, and roughly the direction, but each day we would decide the route as we rode along.  This meant that before we left Preston we hadn’t considered that we would be passing through Stratford and what we might see when we got there.  Most of what I know about the places of interest on the route have been learned since we completed the ride and returned how, rather than the usual sightseer’s way of planning what you might look at first.

Gower Memorial, Stratford-upon-Avon (statue showing Shakespeare seated)

We just had to accept that with the limited time we had (eight or nine days, ten at the most) the primary focus of the trip would have to be the cycling and anything else we stopped and saw along the way would be a bonus.  Taking this into account, we were very lucky with what we did eventually see.  We may not have stopped anywhere long, and we may not have ventured off the road, but we did enjoy a lot along the way.  Whichever way you look at it, touring by bike give you much more chance to see things as compared to travelling by car.  Things don’t pass you by too fast to even notice them when you are touring on a bicycle.

Tourists and Local Enjoying the Area on a Lovely Spring Day

We left Stratford using the A3400 again, and we passed “The Saxon Sanctuary“ of Saint Peter’s in Wootton Wawen.  It was another quick fuel stop for Paul (more chocolate no doubt) whilst I took the opportunity for some more ancient building photography.  By this point, I’d started taking some flak from Paul about my apparent interest in the architecture of old churches, abbeys and monasteries.  Undeterred, I continued to capture these land marks to further study on our return home.  We were creating some great memories along the way, but it was nice to capture some of them digitally.  It was also good to be able to be able to send some of these views home people who we interested in tracking us on our little journey.

The last section of the day pushed us along from the North of Warwickshire and into the heart of one of the largest cities in England.  We still had the rural feel for quite some time and passed through places such as Henley-in-Arden (also known as simply Henley), before hitting the big Metropolis at the back end of rush hour on a Friday evening.  It was quite a contrast, but still a great adventure in a different way.  We sped into the city with the rest of the traffic easily having only ridden a mere eighty five miles on this day.

Passing through Henley-in-Arden - a small town in Warwickshire

In a similar way to how I’d been in frequent contact with my cousin the day before trying to organise our arrival at his home, it was Paul’s turn today to keep in touch with his friend Dave (known as Dufus - I still don’t know why).  It turned out that that Dave was Paul’s ex Brother in Law.  They had previously married two sisters and Paul’s was the only marriage that had lasted.  Dave’s  marriage hadn’t lasted, however, the friendship with Paul had.  Dave greeted us, and I must admit I was slightly concerned at the time.  Paul had exclaimed something along the lines of, “hello my darling” when Dave appeared, and I wondered just how close these two guys where.  However, my fears soon subsided, as I realised that Paul was speaking to his wife on the phone at the very same moment as Dave had come out of his flat to meet us.





We were treated to a rather large meal of home made lasagne at Dave’s with garlic read and a rather strong red wine.  Dave was a professional cook and, as it turned out a keen collector (and consumer of) strong red wines.  I believe the one we had was in the region of 15% by volume.  Freshened up and suitably stuffed the very generous helpings, we decided to venture into the city for a few drinks as it was the start of the weekend.  Dave’s place was within walking distance of the centre, which was a bonus.  After visiting a local pub, we move on to the town and a few bars on the main socialising area of ’Broad Street’.  A checked in at home, and my girlfriend knew of the area, when I mentioned where we were, so it was too late to pretend that we were having a quite night in.  We had a good night, nothing too crazy, but hectic enough considering we were in the middle of a cycling marathon.  After a few beers we headed back, but we couldn’t switch off straight away as Dave insisted we had a night cap.  Apparently, single malt whiskeys was also one of his hobbies and specialist subjects.  Possibly not the best way to counter dehydration, but enjoyable all the same.

A Nightcap at Dave's

The following day we had to ride a reasonably straight forward leg back to Preston, our home, our friends and our families.  Hopefully this was going to be OK as our bodies dealt with the alcohol?