Day 12 - Hindon to Boscombe - 40 miles

So we awoke today to face just a short and easy 40 miles before the finish - I can't quite believe where the last 12 days have gone, and I have mixed emotions about finishing today. I'm happy to be getting some rest this weekend and to have a bit of time away from the saddle, though my bottom and saddle are now starting to form some sort of a relationship - I've had 12-15 miles of pain-free cycling on each of the last 3 days, so I hope that after a few days away from my saddle I don't end up back at square one with this relationship.

The overriding emotion, though, is one of sadness - I'm not really sure why, it's just how I feel. Maybe the end of a long adventure always feels like this, and maybe that's why Scott disappeared into the snow one night never to be found again (a bit drastic really, he must had something to look forward to at home: I have my wife, cats, bed, electric toothbrush, spinning classes, The Brewery Tap, The Prince of Wales, the Moggy to tinker with, the bikes to service and, this Sunday, Dave (the chef) Watts is cooking Sunday lunch for us) I'm really looking forward to that first bit of relaxation, although we'll probably cycle across town to Dave and Sarah's house - don't want my bottom getting too comfortable now!

So, after a Bronze-medal-winning breakfast at The Angel Inn (we had very good quality, cooked-from-scratch dinners last night too, which I washed down with a pint each of Landlord, Doombar and Otter Ale, Helen went for a glass of wine safe in the knowledge that Stowells of Chelsea wouldn't even get across the threshold here). The full English breakfast included bacon that must have been dry cure, great tasting sausage, and two very well poached eggs. Lee also partook of the full English this morning, and Helen was really pleased to be able to have an excellent bowl of porridge with honey. We headed off to lug all of our gear down to the car for the last time during the ride - certainly the last time while in lycra, as tomorrow we'll be blending into the crowd in our 'civvies'.

Hindon is a very nice little village in the middle of nowhere, so I have no idea how people earn a living around here, but it seems very well kept and doesn't feel like it's full of second homes of city folk. Once we'd got our bearings and got onto the route in the right direction, Helen and I headed out into the countryside and its lanes for a few miles. It was a very hilly start, but the weather was nice and warm so i was happy (I would have been happier if the lanes had been wider than one vehicle and were not covered in potholes, but it was nowhere near as bad as the Scottish track near Dumfries). We saw a couple of deer bounding around the field next to us - there's something about seeing deer like this that makes you feel as if you must be miles away from anything.


So, after a few miles up and down country lanes and a very big hill (there were four cat 5 climbs today, three of which were in the first 10 miles), we turned left onto the A350 just north of Shaftesbury (of 'Gold Hill' and Hovis advert fame), unsure as to whether we were going to have to climb the famous hill on our way through town. We didn't, but we were still treated to a mile and a half of evil climbing, busy winding roads, and the hill was relentlessly steep. I have to say I've found some of the cat 5 climbs harder than the 3s and 2s. When we finally reached the top and got into Shaftesbury, we decided not to detour into town to find Gold Hill but to carry on as we were feeling the need to get this job finished now.

Soon enough we were heading out of town and we turned right into much quieter roads, which was a great relief after the busy roads we'd been dealing with so far. We had a nice descent for quite a while, which gave us time to take in the view ahead of us - we both spotted a road in distance that went straight up a big hill. It didn't mess around zig-zagging its way up to lessen the incline but just tackled the hill head on. It soon became evident that this was on our route, and that our next challenge, the third cat 5 of the morning, was coming up all too soon. Turns out we all underestimated today by some margin.

After a steady 5mph climb in granny gear we reached the top of what turned out to be a 16% hill - shorter than the one I'd tackled in Yorkshire, but I felt much stronger today, hope it's the benefit of 11 days cycling and not just fluke.

I could tell that Helen was feeling the effects of the last two days' (120 miles) cycling as she didn't get too far ahead of me on the hills (usually when we're out cycling Helen beats me to the top of the hills and I have to resort to making up ground on the flat and downhill sections), but without stopping (except for a photo near the top, which I'm sure you'll agree was worth the stop), we crossed the top hitting 800+ft - the only other time I'd hit this height since the Peak District was on the way into Stow.

All that was left for the first stint was for us to descend into Blandford Forum before finding somewhere to swap over. I handed the baton over to Lee just east of town, 9 miles from Wimborne, leaving 20 miles to the finish. My ride was now done and, feeling a little sad (but not sad enough to accept Helen's offer to drive to allow me to finish the day with Lee) I waved them off, up a hill and into the warmest sunshine I've felt since the start of the ride - could we really be getting a micro summer for our trip to the seaside?!

After an hour in the layby I headed off to find the riders, but soon hit a closed road into Bournemouth and before I knew it I was having to rely of the TomTom to get me into Bournemouth and to the Miramar hotel where we would be meeting - so that was the end of my chance to catch up with them.

After a pleasant few miles of cycling (Helen assures me it was much easier than the first 20 miles) along gently rolling roads, they wove their way into the centre of Bournemouth and  toward the sea front and the hotel, while I did the same in support car version 2 but from the opposite direction now. Time was ticking, it was half past one and Mom, Claire, Millie and Lucy were already in Boscombe and lunching at the Boscombe Bowling Club - the designated finish line.

I arrived at the Miramar in time to check in and get some of our bags into our room before Lee and Helen arrived (having cycled directly into someone's wedding photographs at the front of the hotel overlooking the sea!).

We checked in, then all three of us got back on our bikes to cycle the two miles along the sea front into Boscombe and to the finish at the bowling club, where we were greeted by our family standing at the side of the road waving flags - we'd finished!! (Well almost, we still had to cycle back to the hotel).

So we all parked ourselves on a couple of benches and drank cold drinks and ate ice creams and flapjacks while watching the home team playing the away team, whoever they were. Bowls is such a relaxed game, and when the sun's out and the grass is bright green it makes for a pleasant spot to sit for a while, so I can see why Dad used to enjoy doing exactly that at exactly the same spot as we were now, so it seemed an apt place to finish our journey.

An hour or so later our cousin Julie arrived - soon to be the last of the extended family living here in Boscombe. We chatted for a while then headed just across the road to the cliff edge where we did what we'd come all this way to do: we sprinkled the last of our dear old Dad's ashes.

So, job done! We've seen the whole thing through, even though at times I've wondered if we would - if it wasn't the hills causing doubt it was windscreen wipers, closed roads, driving rain, lack of petrol stations, to name just a few - but generally speaking, it's gone very well, with only minor hiccups or concerns and we've been able to concentrate on the cycling.We've seen some stunning scenery, eaten lots of food (some good, some bad), had a good variety of ales, slept in many beds and met many generous strangers along the way. I've got much more from this trip than I'd ever imagined I would, and not all of it has sunk in enough at the time of writing this for me to put into meaningful words. As hard as it's been, it has been the adversity at times that has made the journey so special. I can see why people do this kind of thing for a holiday (at the moment my wife can't, though, so think it'll be a while before i'm back in the saddle for anything like the last two weeks).

So it's been 810 miles, burning 51,000 calories, two punctures, one minor crash/stunt, four guest houses, eight inns and two guest riders.

It looks like we should have exceeded £3,000 in sponsorship and donations by the time we've counted and collected up all the 'offline' donations over the next couple of weeks, so it's all been well worthwhile. I'll post the final total, along with the roll of honour, in the coming weeks.

We're genuinely thrilled with the amount we've managed to raise for the CMA, and humbled by the amount of interest in our ride and the blog - I've had to spend many arduous hours of an evening typing these posts when my brain and body are desperate to sleep, so I'm pleased it's not been in vain.

Thanks for stopping by.

NEXT STOP: Home - in the car!

Day 11 - Ogbourne St George to Hindon near Shaftesbury - 56 miles

After a poor night's sleep due to our rooms being right next to the noisy main road between Marlborough and Devizes, we woke more slowly today than ever. We headed down for yet another busy breakfast. I had the usual full English, Lee had what has now become his usual (two poached eggs and beans), and Helen had scrambled eggs.

This breakfast won the wooden spoon competition for the journey, NO BAKED BEANS!! If this kind of behaviour had carried on a few centuries ago it surely would have got the chef a stint in the stocks! The breakfast consisted of two rashers of bacon, a fried egg, mushrooms and a confused tomato (a partially cooked tomato). I gave up eating these abominations two days ago - for me, they equate to a token bit of undressed salad on a plate, but more than this, there is no place for a partially cooked tomato anywhere that I can think of. Tomatoes should either be raw, in which case they should be nowhere near a cooked breakfast, or well cooked. Not thatThe Inn with the Well is the only place guilty of this faux pas - they have featured very regularly throughout our journey, regardless of county or country. So breakfast was a bit of a disappointment after a decent dinner last night: I had a 'real' chilli, with chunks of beef rather than mince; Leehad fajitas, which smelled good; and Helen had a tasty mushroom stroganoff. Oh well, you can't win them all.

We got all of our gear together, paid for our accommodation and got ready to go, hoping that Moggy would start without too much trouble today. So, with battery pack connected and key in, I pulled the starter switch and was rewarded with nothing but a very pathetic mechanical cough - she sounded quite sick today, and things felt ominous. I tried again, but to no avail, so while our three tired and agitated brains tried over the next 20 minutes to work out the best course of action if we couldn't get it started, we left the pack connected for one final try - but there was just another rather tired cough.

Although we knew a jump start would get the car running, we decided that trying to limp all the way to the end of our journey with all the changeovers and re-fuelling stops was just not feasible, so with great sadness we put my disaster plan from yesterday into action. We got a jump start from the landlord and I headed back to Abingdon to swap the Moggy for Helen's little Citroen C2, while Lee and Helen started pedalling south in the direction of Marlborough and then Devizes. Lee had only 25 miles ot do today, so my mission was to get back home, swap all the gear into Helen's car and return, catching up with them en route. So, after leaving the poor Moggy outside our house (looking rather naked without her livery), I headed off in the little Citroen feeling like I was driving a car from the future, such was the difference between the two vehicles.

We had parted company at 9:30am, and by noon I was passing Ogbourne in support car version 2 on the very road that had disturbed our sleep last night. By this time the riders had found a pub by the name of The Churchill Arms in West Lavington. This was close enough to the 25-mile marker to be a suitable changeover spot, and by the time I'd got past two accidents on the road (possibly due to the very heavy showers that seemed to be tipping down all over the area - one of which had caught Lee and Helen and drenched them just before they reached the pub), it was aroung 1 o'clock, so we decided that we might as well stay for lunch. There was a TV showing the Olympic rowing, and the Henry's IPA was good, plus Lee and Helen were still drying out (while Lee had the warmth of the car to go to, Helen still had another 30 miles to contend with).

So, after a lunch of baguettes with chips for Lee and me, and a risotto  for Helen, we headed out to get the penultimate day finished.

We headed off into yet more winds (the winds having already made cycling pretty tough for Lee and Helen in the morning), which made it hard going, and straight into the day's only categorised climb. Once we'd ground out this hill we arrived on top of Salisbury Plain. Lots of ups and downs ensued, but nothing huge, although the wind was still pretty fierce.




It was while traversing these hills that I came across a road sign that was new to me (or at least it's the first time I've noticed one) - I took a picture for you all in case you hadn't seen one either.

This road headed straight into Salisbury, so it was busy with quite a few trucks, meaning that the cycling wasn't the most pleasant we've had, but the weather was improving and the sun was making a bit of an appearance.

Just before the centre of Salisbury we turned west towards Wilton, and soon the roads became quieter. We started to see some very nice looking villages and were soon in Wilton.


As the GPS wanted us to go the wrong way down a one-way street, we hopped off the bikes and walked it. When we popped out in the main square I was quite taken with the unusual church in the centre. We didn't have time to stick around to find out any history though, so we re-mounted and headed off along the route.




Within a few yards we were struck by an even more unusual church, which almost looked as if it had been shipped in from Italy or the South of France (must Google this one and see what was the story behind its seemingly non-English design).

Back on the route to Hindon now, we had more rolling hills and more strong wind. Helen was starting to feel the effects of her hybrid tyres now (basically they're mountain bike tyres but with a band of smooth rubber down the centre, and while this is a big improvement over full 'nobblies', when on tarmac they're still a million miles away from the road tyres Lee and I are sporting). Her tyres must be worth an extra 10 miles each day because of the extra effort needed to propel yourself along when all your tyres want to do is hold onto the road beneath.

The further along we rode, the quieter it became and the villages got prettier. We went through a nice place called Teffon, which had a small stream/river which ran between the houses and the road which meant that each house had a small bridge across into their driveway - it reminded us of Bourton-on-the-Water in the Cotswolds, but without the coachloads of tourists.

Soon after this, we passed a rather grand entrance of the sorts you have at large houses of the likes of Blenheim Palace. I'm sure Tisbury was the village nearest to it, but again, I'll need to Google this to find out what lay behind. We were suffering too much from aches to make any kind of detour so headed off once more along the Hindon road towards our goal.

A few miles down the road, and after one final hill climb, we rolled into Hindon and pulled up outside our pub for the night, The Angel Inn. The village of Hindon is also very pretty, and this combined with the £90 room price tag meant we were hopeful of good things inside. We weren't disappointed, we sat down to a pint of Otter ale (Helen had a bitter shandy) and then went to find our room to clean off the day's exertions. We were very pleased to find a four poster bed, a nice fireplace, a generous bathroom and even a sofa!

I set about starting this blog post while watching Team GB in the velodrome (two world records have been broken in qualifying while I've typed this) and Helen made use of the bath (she couldn't resist as we no longer have one at home!).

We'll be off downstairs for dinner next, and I'm expecting good things! We've got a choice of Otter Ale, Timothy Taylor's Landlord and Doombar to wash it all down with - I think even the wine selection will be good in here. Breakfast is served from 8am onwards, and with only a 40-mile run to the finish tomorrow we may allow ourselves a little lie-in.

NEXT (AND FINAL) STOP: Boscombe & Bournemouth - 40 miles.

Day 10 - Stow on the Wold to Ogbourne St George - 68 miles

Day 10 already! This second week had flown by, and today is the last day of normal mileage - 67 in total (all 67 of which Helen will be attempting today, on the first of her three days with us); tomorrow is only 54 miles and the run into Bournemouth just 40, so we really are on the home straight.

We awoke to a dry morning, but the ever cheerful weather lady promised us rain as the day progressed - we'd heard the same yesterday but somehow managed to dodge all but a few minor showers, so we hoped for similar today.

We went down to a busy breakfast room at The Limes guest house, and tucked into a full English (for me), scrambled eggs (for Helen), and poached eggs and beans (for Lee). The cooked breakfast was very good, and possibly the best guest house breakfast I've had this trip, fried bread made an appearance again and, for the first time, a hash brown.

During breakfast Dave (the chef) Watts appeared at our table! A very nice surprise - he had hoped to come and see us last night in Stow as he only works in Chipping Camden (at Cotswold House Hotel), but he was unable to escape due to so many people wanting to eat in his restaurant. After a short catch up he headed off to work and we paid our bills, at which point the owners of the guest house gave us a £10 donation! Thanks 'The Limes'!

I had the first stint in the Moggy today, so once Lee and Helen were on their way I strapped my bike to the rack and hopped into the car. Key in, I pulled the starter switch (I don't think I'll ever get bored of starting the car like this) but nothing happened! The ignition lights were on, and turning the indicator switch flipped out the trafficators so I knew there was juice in the battery, I felt a bit of dread in the pit of my stomach.

Of all the places to break down on the trip, Stow was the best, I'd already decided - I would be able to get the car towed home, swap all the gear onto Helen's little Citroen and catch up with them without much delay, but as I had Lee's re-chargeable battery pack in the boot I thought I'd give it a go. I had to remove the bike from the rack, and the rack from the car, in order to gain access to the boot. I lugged the battery pack to the front with everything crossed, connected it to the battery terminals and pulled the starter switch... BRUM BRUM BRUM!!

Excellent news. We suspect the alternator has given up, so as long as we've got the battery pack with us we'll be able to limp on to Bournemouth without too much of a problem - so long as nothing else decides it's had enough of our road trip, that is.

After attempting to follow the route down country lanes using the road atlas, and almost going full circle back Stow after half an hour, I realised the only way I was going to get through today would be to get on ahead to somewhere I could find that was definitely on the route and find a layby.

I stumbled across the riders purely by chance on the way to Eynsham and its toll bridge. After a photo I headed off to cross the toll bridge (at the cost of 5 pence - it always makes me wonder how many cars cross this tiny bridge in Eynsham, and how much they pay the poor guy who collects the tolls and gives out change: I wonder if they pay him in 5p's).

Shortly after the bridge I found a layby, and half an hour or so later the riders rolled in. I'd got myself ready for the changeover, but at this point they'd already cycled 26 miles, leaving only 7 miles for Lee today (poor Helen was only just getting warmed up), so he decided to finish off his mileage and head to Shippon to change over at the Prince of Wales pub, which was on our route, and where we could meet up with Dodge, a plasterer colleague and ale-drinking buddy of mine who was working locally.

I headed off to the pub, only to get a call from Helen just as I arrived, informing me that she had a flat. As I had the spares in the boot I'd have to do an about turn and rescue my damsel in distress (Lee was cycling ahead when she got the flat). By the time I got back to her, though, she was cycling in the opposite direction with Lee on her wheel (cycling term meaning behind - turns out he'd wondered where she was and had gone back to help her pump up the tyre). I pulled into a side road alongside to ask what had happened where they both turned to talk to me, only Helen had applied brakes and when Lee looked ahead to see what was in front he was somewhat surprised to see Helen right in front of him; he slammed on the brakes, his front brake being more effective that his rear it would seem, and he went straight over the handlebars.

The tension is palpable right now isn't it!?!

He did indeed go over his handlebars, but in a such a way that he would have won a gold medal if 'the bicycle dismount' was included in the Olympics this week: he somehow managed to walk over the handlebars as the bike tipped up behind him and fell in a heap on the pavement while he stood there nonchalantly wondering how he'd come out of that without a trip to A&E.

So, after three more tyre inflations en route they limped into the car park at The Prince of Wales, where we had a pint and made bike repairs. One puncture fixed and one bent derailleur unbent (oh, and beer duly drunk), we waved goodbye to Dodge and Phil (the landlord from the Prince of Wales who gave us £20 for our cause the week before we left), and we headed off towards the M4, Lee now in the car for the rest of the day having done 36 miles (I owe him three miles tomorrow).

So far the weather had been relatively dry, bar a short shower in Witney - could it be we were going to dodge another bullet?

We headed out of Abingdon and in the direction of Wantage, birthplace of Alfred the Great, and soon were meandering (intentionally) through the nice little villages of East and West Hanney.

We then headed in the direction of the Lambourn Downs - as the name suggests, this is a hilly area, it lies on the northern edge of the M4, and surrounds Lambourn, a reasonably sized village in 'horse valley' and West Berkshire. I've no idea what passed in history to ensure that these hills were named after Lambourn rather than neighbouring (and larger) town Wantage, but there it is, one of history's many mysterious.

After a pretty flat Oxfordshire section, we hit the downs and were soon facing a 10% hill. Helen, having done over 50 miles at this point, wasn't overly pleased with what was in front of us! We made a start up, where we found Lee in a layby waiting to take a picture - what would be the last he could capture today as we were soon to be off-road.







So after a few miles climbing up a number of hills we turned a corner to find this...

Looking at the GPS we decided that as it looked like only a mile or so of byway, we'd continue along and see how it went.

Two lessons to learn here:

1. Don't completely trust Google Maps when drawing a route, allowing it to 'follow roads' (meaning you can almost select two points and it will draw you a route between the two) - it doesn't seem to care about terrain; so long as a quad bike can make the journey, it seems to be fine for Google. (I know, I should have already learnt this lesson after the Scotland episode, but in my defence, I haven't had the time to check each mile of the subsequent 500+ miles to ensure this didn't happen again).

2. Compression tights provide no protection from nettles.

We plodded on until we couldn't cycle any more - the ruts were too deep for our pedals to clear them so we had to get off and push for about half hour. We finally popped out in a farm right next to the M4, which we crossed via a bridge, and made our way towards Ogbourne St George, now only four miles away. After a couple more short climbs we were afforded a great big descent right the way into Ogbourne, where we were met by our very own Paparazzi - or at least I thought they were; once I got a little closer I realised it was my new in-laws! I knew they were coming to see us this evening, but had no idea they were going to be there to welcome us, a lovely surprise.

We headed into the pub, our accomodation for the night (The Inn with the Well), and had a drink and a catch up, both about our ride and their recent archaeological dig. Mike bought the drinks (thanks Mike) and I had a nice Sunsplash from Ramsbury Brewery, a light summery ale. After our drinks we waved goodbye to Jill and Mike and went for a shower (or bath as it turned out).

We had dinner nice and early today and retired to our rooms for some of the first Olympic action I've seen since it started.

NEXT STOP: Hindon near Shaftesbury - 56 miles, haven't checked the weather but guess they'll be saying the word rain again.

Day 9 - Shrawley to Stow - 67 miles

Damp and grey is how I'd describe the view from our window onto the Severn this morning, it looked like the waterproofs were going to see some action today.

Adrian, Lee and I met for breakfast at half past eight after watching the weather man on the news to see if he'd changed his mind about the forecast for the day - he hadn't, so off we went for breakfast, down all the stairs and along all the corridors. Lee and I seem to be getting the furthest room away from the car and our luggage without fail.

Both Adrian and I had the full English, although he opted for a poached egg instead of fried. Lee had two poached eggs with beans and toast, as he was first up today.

We demolished the food, which was average compared to previous breakfasts but not bad, and then set about loading up and getting off for what we thought would be a relatively easy day.

Lee and Adrian headed off and I followed. Neither of us had checked any maps, and I soon had to pull over, realising I had little idea of what turns I needed to take. On consulting the map I realised we were all heading in the wrong direction - in our enthusiasm to start today we had failed to drop back onto the main road before turning right. A phone call soon came informing me that the GPS wasn't working again.

I gave instructions to get the riders back on track and soon we were all on the right roads again, albeit having increased the length of the route a little.

The climb chart for today showed a handful of cat 5 climbs before flattening out for a stretch, then a cat 4 into Stow. I think it's fair to say we all underestimated the terrain based on this - there wasn't a flat bit in sight. Lee and Adrian were either going up or down, and the down bits were too short to provide suitable recovery for the hill that inevitably followed, so they had a very tough first 20 miles, which tested them both and set the tone for the day.

After a long and sweaty (but dry) two and a half hours we reached Bromyard - a little further away than expected, but a perfectly placed stop as this is where we used to holiday as kids at our Nan's static van. Lee and I both have many happy memories of being here when younger - we'd go down with Nan for a few days before Mum and Dad arrived, and we'd spend our pocket money in Mr Fenton's shop (usually on small plastic gliders that were propelled by catapult and always ended up in the river behind the van).

On the day Mum and Dad were due to arrive we'd head out of the park and wait by the bridge crossing the river to watch out for their car, so this bridge is where we spread some of Dad's ashes today.

After the ashes I swapped sandals for clippy cycling shoes and headed off in the direction of Hereford, with Adrian following.

While still hilly, it was now much easier cycling and we made good progress. Most of the route was B road, so it was nice and quiet, which meant we could concentrate on getting on with the job in hand - it was already gone noon and we still had nearly 50 miles to do.

We soon hit Ledbury, where we found Lee asleep in the car, so Adrian knocked on the window on the way past to make sure he realised we'd gone past. We then turned a sharp left up an incredibly steep hill. At this point we were circumnavigating the Malvern hills, with this part of the route touching on the edge of the hills - meaning more climbing. After a couple of cat 5 climbs we hit the top and dropped down to flatter ground, heading for Tewkesbury. The next 15 - 20 miles promised to be easy, and so it seemed to be as we sped our way back into Worcestershire from Herefordshire. A couple of miles before Tewkesbury we found Lee in a layby who'd been to refuel the car and buy some sandwiches for lunch.

After a slightly slower changeover than usual, Lee and Adrian headed off into town. I followed soon after, using the GPS to clock how many miles I'd travelled as we had 24 miles left before Stow that we needed to try and split down the middle.










We met up again at a Spar shop just before the start of the climb into Stow. It was while waiting here that I decided I'd found the best looking roundabout I'd ever seen - funny how the tired mind works while idle.

After a changeover, Adrian and I headed up the day's cat 4 climb into the rolling Cotswold hills. Adrian was suffering a little from the previous 57 miles now (and the breakfast that 'bit back' after upsetting his ulcer), so he wasn't confident he'd make the last leg, but with half a sandwich, an energy gel sachet and a good slug of Gaviscon from the Spar shop, he at least felt like giving it a go, wanting to see the day through.


While we were gaining altitude, Lee was back in the car park, where another £5 stranger donation arrived.

After a 2.5-mile cat 4 climb we started to relax, thinking we'd done all the hard work, only to be met with hill afer hill - it turns out that Stow-on-the-Wold is quite high up, and other than a mile of descent in the middle there was no let-up. The last 10 miles therefore were a real trial, but we pushed each other on and finished in good time, rolling into The Limes guest house at about 4pm. We locked the bikes to the rack and walked the short distance into the centre of Stow for a couple of well earned beers at The White Hart while Adrian's wife, Gemma, made her way across Oxfordshire to collect her somewhat sore husband after his monumental 67-mile ride today.

I had a pint of Arkells 3B to start with, which was what I'd call a traditional style bitter, followed by a Wiltshire Gold, also an Arkells beer. I preferred the second, though both were very palatable; the Gold had a slight citrus note and was light in body. The beer was
well kept and, from the menu, the food looked good too so I planned to return with Helen for dinner in a couple of hours when she arrived.

Once we'd waved Adrian and his family goodbye, I headed back for a shower and Lee headed to the Chinese takeaway - he had an early night planned to try and get on top of the tiredness he was feeling today.

On his way back he went into a pub for a quick pint and, after a chat with some 'Southenders', he acquired another £20 stranger donation - still no sign of the donations drying up and they now total well over £100!

Helen and her bike arrived courtesy of our friend Sarah and her new estate car, and the three us went back to the White Hart for dinner, where we made short work of 2x risottos, a burger, Eton mess, pear and apple crumble and the obligatory chocolate brownie. The food at the White Hart was indeed excellent, so take note if you're planning a trip this way.

NEXT STOP: Ogborne St. George - another 67 miles