June 21st - It’s time for some Cheddar…
68.5 miles – total so far = 232.8
4,396 feet of climbing – total so far = 18,807
Max elevation 916 feet
Not the best of nights sleep. Did wake a couple of times and realised I was thinking about the fund-raising mess.
When it really was wakey wakey time, put that to one side and head down for breakfast.
Lovely room for breakfast, we are the only people in there. Also, a lovely breakfast, all good fresh food and very nicely cooked. I should have taken pictures of all breakfasts, not just the prunes at The Jamaica Inn. Actually, I think I took a few others, but not this very nice one. What an interesting diversion, discussing breakfasts that I did not capture in a picture.
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Anyway, more importantly, the saddle sores don’t feel too bad. When it comes to changing time, slap on a good bit of Butta, slip into the old favourite Castellis and cross fingers. Quick update with Gary at Uckfield, prepare the drinks and then wrap up ready to go.
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Getting more used to the idea of packing up, so quite quickly find myself sorted and heading downstairs with Steve to get dropped back where I left off. The drive was a bit unroadbikish, so it makes sense it seems. Charming lady of the house makes a donation to CRY as we talk to her about where we have been and are going.
Today, I must admit has been preying on my mind, not just the CRY problems, but also Cheddar Gorge. It shows up as a massive spike on the days profile. Can’t believe that I put it into the route just because it would be fun to do it and I probably wouldn’t get the chance to do it another time. Flat would have been good.
Anyway, this is the first morning that I set off and it isn’t raining. Steve takes a video of me riding off, but not just a normal video, one that shows me a bit like the old Benny Hill speeded up bits, just I am not chasing young ladies or such like with the doo doo diddly music playing. This entertains me later on when it has been posted up on Facebook, Twitter and the rest and plants a seed of an idea in the other support team members minds. In fact, I replayed it at least ten times and just laughed.
The ride today is the shortest of the three days so far. Only about 68 miles, and after two days of over 7,000 feet of climbing, a mere 4,500 will be nice. However, there is… ‘The Gorge’.
First stop will be after 15 miles in Kingston St Mary. This is just before what I have just realised is another reasonable hill, into the Quantocks. Before that, there is a short sharp climb up to Langford Budville after only about 4 miles to wake the legs up, then at Nynehead, another climb, again short but up a stunning cutting, with beautiful coloured rocks either side and dense trees and bushes. In fact, so dense I had to take the sun glasses off while going up this cutting as it was almost dark! Glad I didn’t meet anything coming down as I went up. After this, towards Taunton and then just around the west of it before getting to Kingston St Mary.
Still no rain, and it’s a pretty little village, but with just a touch of the Midwytch cuckoos about it. Quick top up on food, as it had been a jolly good breakfast, and then it’s off to this hill.
It actually is just as high as Cheddar, and goes up over about 3 miles, with a couple of little ups and downs early on for the first 2 miles. Steve and Helen go past at this point, just before I head into the last mile of the hill and this is solid at 15%. It’s sodding lung busting.
At the top of the hill there is a cross roads where I have to give way. I am so glad that I didn’t have priority and had a reason to lean on the handlebars, get back enough breath to swear and then check the Garmin for the route.
I didn’t realise it at this point, but what I had climbed was about the same as ‘The Gorge’ but over 2 less miles.
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There is a kind of karma usually with cycling, in that what goes up usually has to come down and that was what I was doing now. Just as steep going down as it was coming up, but less painful on the legs.
Wiggle through Bridgwater, which was pretty busy and then it was off to the Somerset levels. Nice quiet country roads, no hills, ideal for a bit of cycling.
Well, that doesn’t last long as shortly after Bridgewater and crossing King’s Sedgemoor Drain (honestly), I turn away from sign posts for Glastonbury, which is due to be starting Thursday of this week, and up another pretty steep hill.
On getting to the top, it wasn’t that far thankfully, and glancing over to the right I see across the fields a lovely view of Glastonbury Tor. Stop, snap, move on.
Thinking about the rain over the last couple of days, I reckon the Glastonbury mud is ready and waiting for the festival goers who will be arriving the following day.
Back to the levels now, and these are level.
Coming up to a place called Mark, I see that I am being advised that the road is closed ahead. This won’t be the last time that I have to consider what to do about this kind of sign, and the course of action I take now will be pretty much what I do throughout the ride, press on to find out what the situation really is.
When I get to Mark, sure enough, the road is all dug up and closed, but the pavement is fine so its hop off and wheel the bike a couple of hundred yards and then I’m clear of the problem. Fine for me, but I don’t see how Helen and Steve will get through the same bit, so a quick call before we meet up at Blackford.
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When speaking to Helen about Mark, Helen says they have had a map nightmare in that they plugged in Blackford and only realised when they had gone someway that they were heading to Blackford Minehead, 60 miles away! Scooting back as quickly as they could and able to work around the diversion.
On getting to Blackford, nice little village, Steve is taken with the idea of a pub lunch, and is amused as we all are as the pub is called The Sexy’s Arms. Several single entendres later we enter.
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We are safe from the walking dead in here as they need to remove footwear before entering, and I am not sure that they have the motor skills for that.
One massive sandwich later and the sun is still out as I head off, the wrong way. Quite often happens in that if zoomed out, the route is small and may look as if it goes another way. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Turn around, and start off on the approach to ‘The Gorge’. 36 miles done now, another 32 odd to go to tonight’s stop.
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It is only about 5 miles to the bottom of ‘The Gorge’ so before you know it I’m riding through the outskirts of Cheddar. You know when you are getting closer to ‘The Gorge’ (beginning to wish I hadn’t started the whole ‘The Gorge’ thing now, extra key strokes to pop in the inverted commas, and there was another one in these brackets!), as the shops start degenerating into tat shops and chip shops etc. Nothing wrong with tat and chips, although I do prefer fish, but the concentration was one of the things that I had read about in my research.
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Just at the foot of ‘The Gorge’ though, just before Cox’s Cave and the associated Mill pub, there was a Christmas Shop. I cycled past thinking that I hadn’t expected to see one of those and then pulled over and went back to it. This drew a derogatory remark from another cyclist going past, something along the lines of, ‘given up already.’
The reason for turning around was that oddly I needed some 12 volt screw in fuse bulbs for our old Christmas lights. As the lights are many years old, replacement bulbs are hard to find so this almost seemed to be a chance too good to pass up.
The shop was closed.
So, turn around again, and start ‘The Gorge.’
Psychologically, as I have said, this has become huge in my mind and I have serious doubts about being able to ride it. Has this morning’s Quantocks experience helped? I don’t think so as I still see this as the bigger hill, and if that one this morning was so painful, how on earth will this be. However, I am capable of great stubbornness, so let’s see.
The beginning bit wasn’t at all bad, and I just put the head down and started riding up. As I have said before, I seem to be a cadence rider when it comes to climbing, in that I will set the speed for pedalling and drop gears to keep that speed going.
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What was good about this start bit was that I still had other gears to drop down into. It was only 5% to 8% here, childs play, just keep going. After a bend or two, I spot one of the riders who can cast aspersions on my cycling integrity just shortly before, a couple of bends ahead of me. It’s not in my mind to catch him up, as I am going at my pace and that is what has to work for me, but my pace is definitely better than his and by the time we do get to a steeper bit, around Castle Rock, where it ramps up to between 15% or 16%, I am getting close to his wheel.
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Not wanting to be cocky as I have no real idea how long the steep stuff will continue, I expect it to be all the way on up and the Garmin is just showing a pretty steep looking climb on what is to come, I don’t go past him at first.
Imagine my joy when after only a short bit of road the gradient drops back to about the 10% level and I have to go past. He latches onto the wheel and I have my first pick up of the ride. We match pace and start talking to each other.
He is doing a LEJOG. This would be the only time I would meet and talk to another LEJOGger except at one of the ends.
He and his pal, they were named Mark and Martin, but I don’t know which one I rode with, his mate was a bit further up the road, are doing the Deloitte route (never heard of it), but he seems to think it’s one that is well known, and it may be! They are also taking 13 days riding, but without a rest day so they will roll in one day earlier than me.
He is not local, I detect a South African accent and play my ‘which part of South Africa are you from’ game and get it wrong. I used to work with so many South Africans, I had got quite good at this. Clearly out of practice. You may expect me to say what I guessed and where he was from, but you will be disappointed as I can’t remember. It was months ago and I am poorly organised, remember?
He goes through some of the other places they are going to, over to Bath, somewhere else the night or two after that, and then Norwich.
Norwich? I query this and he seems to think that is right. Very strange route if it is, only afterwards do I think perhaps Nantwich? Anyway, will never know now. I chat about where I am heading and we discuss how the support side is working and what a nice day it is today, as the sun is still out and as you get up the Gorge (note one capital letter and inverted commas gone) we find ourselves with a tail wind.
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In fact, it seems like no time has passed but we have wound up the Gorge, watched people climbing and abseiling, walking and running, changed up gears gradually as the gradient continues to drop off and are both surprised to find that we have done it, almost without realising it. It was SOOOO much easier than the Quantocks this morning.
Part of this undoubtedly was having a partner to talk with as we went up, albeit an accidental unplanned partner. There would be a couple of other times that I would repeat this trick on the ride and it certainly seemed to help.
I suppose I should try the gorge (no capitals now) again just me to see if it’s easier. But then, I would know that it’s not too bad a hill so would perhaps attack it a bit more anyway so it wouldn’t be a fair comparison. Just write it off as something I will never know the answer to.
I am floating on air at this point. Such a daunting hill for so long and it is behind me, with ease. And the sun is still shining.
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I say goodbye to my companion as I head left towards Beacon Batch and Blagdon as they head off towards Bath. I carry on climbing gently until I am over 900 feet before what can only be described as a wheeeeee road down to Blagdon. This does remind me a couple of times that I murdered my brakes on Sunday, but no mishaps. Other than over shooting Helen and Steve in Blagdon as I did whizz through it a bit.
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I realise that I have done this as I start heading out of the town. As it was down another bit of hill, I text them as the signal is a bit iffy, giving sort of directions to where I am.
While there, bizarrely I can get to emails, so I take a quick check. There is a long email from the CEO at CRY, and one from Jenni that he replies to asking her to call him. There is also a text from Jenni that sounds encouraging, so I give her a ring while I am waiting for Helen and Steve to find me.
Five minutes later I am in tears of relief as things have been resolved.
It seems that there was a bit of a misunderstanding combined with CRY following their guidelines strictly. I am glad to say that they have relaxed a bit and explained that the initial fund raising has been met, so we are a few hundred short on where we thought we were, but a lot closer than we had been led to believe we were. There is also a pragmatic approach to this that means we can go ahead with confidence. More to it than that, but this is long enough already!
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The release of the stress and emotion from hearing this news is overwhelming. What had been looking like a daunting day with big climbs, and for what if the charity issue wasn’t resolved has turned out so much better.
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Helen and Steve arrive, and I finally bring them up to speed on what has been going on, I just had to share as I was fit to burst. As always, they are brilliant about it and concerned that I had been bottling this up.
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To celebrate, the banana is placed on a wall and a picture taken over the fields to the lake, originally named as Blagdon Lake. Food, drink, shakes and now ready to head into the last 15-17 miles of the day.
There are a couple of stings in the tail of this days ride. Up into Butcombe, Long Ashton should be called Up Ashcomb, and then finally one small route malfunction 2 miles from the end.
No real problem with any of these as I am pretty happy at this time. CRY problems sorted, ‘The Gorge’ behind me and now I am over 200 miles into the ride in three days. That’s 20% done, feeling fine, all looks good.
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I come into Easton in Gordano and make my way to my cousin Monica’s. Well, if you do a ride like this, may as well see some of the family. And at the same time they are kind enough to offer tea, cake and a bed for the night.
Monica has been tracking me through the afternoon and shouting occasionally at the screen when I have gone a different way to what she with her local knowledge would have done, but that will always be the price of doing my own route.
Sitting outside drinking tea, eating scones with jam and cream is a splendid way to end the day. All in all, a really positive day.
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Another 68 miles done, ‘The Gorge’ conquered, the CRY stuff sorted and a change from a hotel.
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When everyone is there, Bill, Monica’s husband and Helen and Steve, we go to the local pub for dinner, a couple of pints and a curry. Not sure if curry is wise when bike riding, but sometimes the fancy for some traditional British food strikes you.
Never quite sure how things will pan out, but Bill and Steve have flying backgrounds in common and Helen and Monica chat about teaching. Quite nice to just sit and listen, not being the focus of attention as new people meet each other and talk. It may sound a touch conceited, but I have a feeling that I am the glue holding this together in some ways at times as it’s only me who will know everyone who we will touch on the ride. There are times when I almost play mine host and this quieter evening is just what I need.
It’s also not strictly true as what I have already seen in the hotels, here and would see more on the road later with Ruth and Jenni, is that the support team is every bit as much in the front line of explaining what we are doing. Realisation that the burden, load, PR job is shared is a bit light bulbish, but helps as I accept there are many times that I can be in the background, just getting on with what I have to do, ride the bike.
Somewhere in this evening, I write up the blog, I think before beer, and check on the state of cycling clothing, the sores, the bike etc all getting ready for the next day. Also, charge up all the different devices to use again. Then, back home and bed. Three days riding done.
