Scores on the doors!

I've finally finished the surprisingly mammoth task of collecting all the sponsorship monies, reconciling the lot and sending it all off to the CMA along with sponsorship forms.

Fitting this in alongside my day job has been a long to process, but individual 'thank you's have been sent out to everyone so I can now list all of our sponsors here on the blog as the final post and draw a line under what has been a hugely rewarding experience. 

With all of your generous donations and help we raised a total of £4183.50 for the CMA.

At this point I must also single out Martin Potter and Paul Smith for their extraordinary efforts to help in our endeavour.







Martin single handedly raised around £900 of the final total. Unbeknownst to us he solicited sponsorship from people in the conference industry (with whom I used to work, and Lee still does). Their names are all listed below. A truly great effort from a man who I think must be in the wrong line of work!

Paul not only gave up a day of his precious spare time to come and stand in the rain making repairs to the 'Moggy' to ensure she was roadworthy for the journey, but also drove the many miles to Glencoe along with his wife Marie to make sure we got there OK in the car and to be there to provide mechanical support if needed. (He also paid for a tank of fuel somewhere near the Scottish border before I'd had chance to screw the fuel cap on.) The extra moral support at the start of the adventure was invaluable and greatly appreciated.

So finally, here's the roll of honour:

Chris Perkins and the Cue Media Team
Stuart & Nina Glazzard
Paul Barney
John Bryant & Debs
Pam Casey and 'friends & family'
Jeannette Jarvis
Helen & John Ryan
Graham & Jenni Lyall
Jill & Mike Martin
Q & Allison
David & Lindsay Weller
Sarah & Dave Watts
Martin & Sarah Potter
Mervyn Evans
Set & Stage Hire (Paul Hobday)
Chris Perkins
Kris Gundersen
Richard Bridge
Pete & Jenny Kidd
Cypher Media
The Pennington Family
Granville, Marie & Nero The Pug
Steve Monk
Paul Chamberlain
Mike Featherstone
Angela Campling & Clive Hannon
Helen Martin
Nigel & Emma French
The Brewery Tap, Abingdon
Pat & Chris Wiblin
Tom Fletcher and 'friends from the club'
Jean & Dave Boucher
Pete Sarson
Rob Bishop
Sonja Macmillan
Lee Moore
Ade Stuart
Richard & Anne Matthews
James Bennett
Sheila Smith
Darren Wildman
Mary Watkins (Boucher)
Steve Bean & Fiona
Simon Turner
Sarah Clarke
The Waltho Family
Guy Hankins
Gail & Karl Fletcher
Gary Clements
Tony Grogan
John Slater
Anne Pennington
Carolyn Anderson
Martin Hunt
The Simpsons
Louise Jennings
Gareth & Pippa Hill
John Blunn
Sheryl Denman Taylor
Tony Algar
Jeff Gordon
Ian Hunter
The Winton Family
The Padley Family
Kevin & Gerry Brooks
The Santos Family
Garry & Jane Tredwell
The Prince of Wales, Shippon
Lee Haywood
Steve Bowen
Bill & Maureen Morris
Chris & Teresa Lyndsey
Les & Linda Molby
Kay, Lauren & Jennifer Miller
Margaret Gascoyne
Malcolm Quartermain
Keith Jones
Andy Done
Chunk (Paul)
Geoff Whittington
Jim Heath
Mark Fletcher
Imelda Hawkins & Andrew Williams
Julie Quigley
Matt Riding
Craig Facer
Jenny Parker
Caroline Nicholls
Trudy Wilde
Iain Littlejohn
Rich Taylor
Norma & Frank Pearson
Colin & Chrissie
Ray Smith

THANK YOU ALL!

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

Day 8 - Tutbury to Shrawley - 80 miles

We had a very enjoyable dinner last night in the Dog and Partridge in Tutbury with Granville (our mechanic) and his wife Marie. The last time we saw them was last Monday morning in a very wet Glencoe while sprinkling the first of Dad's ashes, so it was great to see them again and catch up - seeing them really brought home how far we'd come.

Each day has been the same for us since starting really, the only real difference being the weather and the place we've slept in, so the days have all merged into one, full of unfamiliar places, hills, rain and pedalling - but seeing Granville and Marie last night meant we are deep into England now, and almost home! Well, not quite, we still have another 230 miles to go, but it felt like we'd almost finished.

So we ate pies and burgers washed down with Young's Olympic Gold (a nice golden ale with plenty of flavour which somehow reminded me of Caramac - not sure why, but that's the best tasting note I can provide) - we had initially opted for pints of Red Dwarf, brewed locally in Burton, but it turned out someone had just emptied the barrel before us.

We woke this morning to fluffy clouds and blue sky, and although our initial joy was tempered by the weather man telling us that showers would develop throughout the day, we decided that we were happy with 'showers', which sounded much less wet than yesterday's weather. So, with a route that barely registered on the climb chart we were surely in for a good day's cycling.

We headed down for breakfast, and once again we both had a full English as I was first in the saddle. The lady serving us had spotted the Moggy earlier, and us in our lycra, had put two & two together and thus cooked us an extra large breakfast to fuel our journey! The breakfast was very good: nice sausages, and the first plum tomatoes of the journey - my favourite when it comes to a full English - but this plus was cancelled out by the hard, 'toast-shredding' butter. Nevertheless, it was still a top 5 contender in the breakfast rankings.

This was the first place we've stopped at that offered us no cycle storage, so we locked the bikes to the rack last night and so were very relieved to find them still there in the morning (not that Tutbury seemed like the kind of place to harbour light-fingered criminals - in fact, the whole area seemed to be littered with well-to-do villages with grand old buildings; there must be interesting history around these parts, maybe associated with Burton's extremely successful brewing period: Burton became the centre of the the beer brewing world during the height of the British rule in India and was responsible the creation of the India Pale Ale style of beer, this success was credited in no small part to its water being high in Gypsum content, brewers today still 'Burtonise' their water before brewing - but I digress).

On our agenda for today was a visit to Mum's, as we circumnavigated Birmingham just east of the M42 before heading out into Worcestershire - so if seeing Granville and Marie last night didn't quite feel like we were home, today definitely would.

I was soon on the road heading towards Tamworth. It was fresh, but dry and bright, and the roads for the first 10-15 miles were country lanes so a very pleasant start. The usual posterior pain didn't start in earnest until 10 miles in, so all was going well and throughout the rest of the ride I was able to spend enough time out of the saddle to give me some relief.

Before I knew it I was rolling into North Warwickshire. It's a funny county, Warwickshire, it never ceases to surprise me: it's always larger than I expect it to be, and it starts both further north and further south than i think it should - it almost feels as if it's secretly extending its borders while the surrounding counties aren't looking. I shortly arrived on the outskirts of Tamworth, the former seat of Offa, the man of Dyke fame and former King of Mercia. Apparently Tamworth gets its name because it sits on the river Tame and had a 'worthig' type of fortification (if I've remembered that correctly) on its banks, courtesy of the aforementioned King.

After getting slightly lost in the centre of town and having to take a short walk through the pedestrianised centre I picked up the route and headed out of town. Tamworth looked quite nice by the way, and I'd have liked to have spent a bit of time looking into the history of the place, but our schedule didn't allow such indulgences.

After a small climb out of town and completing my first 26 miles of the day I met up with Lee, just as the rain was starting. We swapped over and Lee headed off, soon to be in very familiar territory following a route we've used numerous times to get to the NEC when the traffic on the M42 was bad. I headed off in roughly the right direction, but trying to navigate with an atlas and so many roads and junctions to contend with made it impossible to keep on track so I headed to Knowle and then Dorridge where I filled up the car, again!

I knew I was back on the right route now so I found the next available place to stop, picked up some bottles of water for re-filling en route and started today's blog while waiting for the 'Redditch man' of newspaper fame to pass by. At this point we were only about 4-5 miles from Mum's - perfect timing for a lunch break.

After Lee passed by I gave him 5 minutes then headed off in the direction of Kings Norton. Five minutes later I was pulling onto the same driveway in Greenacres Road that I'd departed from eight days earlier. I was greeted by Mom, Millie and Lucy (Lee's daughters), together with flags, bunting and paper chains!
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It was lovely to see family again, and I knew Lee would be pleased to see the girls as he'd been missing them for the past few days. Lee rolled up shortly afterwards, having completed a 28-mile stint, and we headed inside for sandwiches, pork pie, cake and tea - by far the biggest lunch we'd had all trip (and very nice it was too). Dave Boucher came over to see us too - we hadn't seen Jean and Dave since Glencoe either, so it was nice to see him again (Jean couldn't put in an appearance as she was on grandparent duty).

After an hour of catching up and showing photos I felt I was getting far too comfortable and the thought of going back out was becoming increasingly unappealing, so all too soon I had to get back out on the bike and head towards Worcestershire, with just a short 13-mile leg ahead of me.

In Alvechurch I turned off into country lanes again, and although a little hilly it provided much more pleasant cycling and after an hour's dry pedalling I heard the now familiar sound of  the 'Moggy' approaching from behind. Lee parked around the corner and we swapped for the last time today, about five miles from Droitwich Spa (a 'Historic Brine Spa Town' if the signs you pass on entry are to be believed).

Droitwich Spa is only a small town so we were soon out the other side, where I stopped at the Holt Fleet pub on the River Severn, which looked particularly magnificent. After snapping a photo of it, and Lee when he passed, I set off in search of the Lenchford Inn, now only a couple of miles up the road in Shrawley. I pulled into the car park to find it sat on the bank of the river - a lovely spot, and the sun was even making a bit of an effort for us.

Lee arrived soon after, as did friends Sarah, Potter (no, not the one with the scar on his forehead and the broomstick), and a little later Grogan. We caught up over a couple of pints of Otter Ale. Sarah had attempted to get the local paper and the BBC interested in our efforts but neither were here to welcome us (is there something else going on that's more newsworthy?!), we appreciated the effort though.

Both Lee and I had managed to sneak off to shower in shifts and we were able to relax a bit and regale our crowd with cycling stories about near misses with sheep (I have a video which I'll post once I've worked out how to edit out the expletive).

It was a fun few hours, but you know what they say about 'all good things' and one by one they left. Then Lee's wife, Claire, arrived with the girls, which made his day, followed by our friend Adrian (making a cameo appearance to cycle with us tomorrow). Adrian had already cycled 18 miles from Worcester train station, having got a bit lost en route and having ended up re-tracing his steps(/pedals) in order to find the correct road out of town (I'm now even more thankful we've had the Garmin on the bike for our trip).

Lee went and found a table for dinner with his family while I kept Adrian company with another Otter Ale. We ate, and nursed a pint of Doombar before bed. Although I attempted to finish the blog before bed, the beers had taken their toll and I promptly fell asleep - not that i could have posted it anyway as there was no internet access.

The Lenchford Inn has seen better days, which is a shame considering its fabulous location, but it now seems to be earning its keep as a stop-off for tradesmen crossing the river after work. Lee thought the place had more than a whiff of Pontins about it, which I thought was very well observed, but our room was clean, spacious and comfortable and believe it or not the beds have won my 'most comfortable bed' award, for now at least, thanks to the mattresses having an integral 70mm memory foam top.

I woke at 6am (after only 4 hours of snore-free sleep I was informed - my wife will sympathise with Lee on that score) to finish the blog. The weather forecast for today is WET! So far, though, it's only the roads that are wet. Long may that continue. I've just seen Lee and Adrian cycle off into the distance, in the wrong direction, I blindly followed - not a good start, so I'd better go and find them now to make sure we all head in the right direction of Bromyard.

NEXT STOP: Stow on the Wold - 64 miles, a bit hillier today than yesterday, but nothing compared to recent days' terrain... I hope! Only five cat 5 climbs and a cat 4 just before Stow.

Day 7 - Holmfirth to Tutbury - 70 miles

Today was a day of two halves, fortunately! If this morning's weather had continued all day, I'm not sure how we'd have fared.

We had a very good breakfast in the White Horse to kick proceedings off. Lee allowed himself a full English this morning too, as he was second in the saddle. Breakfast was not quite up to Balloch or Threshfield's standards, but a came close second - interestingly, this was the first place so far on our trip to include fried bread with the full English (suppose it's a little old fashioned), but thankfully we've not had to suffer potato hash browns anywhere in its place!

After loading the car and with an unclear head, I almost rode off in my sandals, without helmet, gloves, glasses or drink! Once I had sorted myself and my things out I headed off straight into a hill. My legs were feeling the effects of yesterday - something I hadn't considered - as was my bottom, and right from the off it was hard work. As I didn't have time to get the blood pumping before I reached the hill, the first 2-3 mile climb was gruelling. In fact, it wasn't until I was coming to the last climb, at 18 miles, that I felt like I was performing to usual standards. But I'm getting carried away, first I must tell you about the glorious weather.

The Met Office had forecast heavy showers for today, and we weren't disappointed. No sooner had I finished the first climb than the strong headwinds started, the temperature dropped and the cold rain hammered down. I say 'down', but it was more like sideways. It felt like hail on the face and as I had to remove my protective glasses (because I couldn't see), I was now struggling to see because of the pain from the rain hitting my eyes. My fingers and toes were numb, and it was the worst bit of cycling I've endured so far - I think it was the tiredness from yesterday's efforts combined with the cold temperature that won this morning's cycling that particular accolade.

Nevertheless, I pushed on and the rain stopped for a while - it was still cold, but I was happy with that. I crossed into Barnsley and the Peak District. I considered taking a picture of the sign, but I was so cold, and so keen to get this stretch finished that I cycled straight on by. In fact, that's pretty much how my morning went - so apologies for the lack of pretty pictures in this post. I will try harder tomorrow, but in place of a picture from the morning, here's one I took from this afternoon - absolutely no relevance to our cycling, but I couldn't help myself.

I finally caught up with Lee after 20 miles and a climb out of Glossop. We swapped over and off he went heading for Chapel en le Frith, as did I, but in search of sandwiches for our lunch as we'd decided not to stop anywhere to eat and instead push on again.

With sandwiches 'in the bag' I headed south for Buxton and then towards Ashbourne on the A515. However, I lost the A515 and followed the A6 for a while before I could re-join the A515. At this point I wasn't sure if Lee had got ahead, so I decided that the only sensible course of action was to get far enough along the A515 to ensure I was in front and to wait for him to pass by. So I parked up in a layby about 17 miles from where we had swapped and was able to get yesterday's belated blog finished and uploaded using Lee's '3 dongle' for internet access.

While waiting the heavy rain started again and I was glad I was in the car.












Not long afterwards Lee rolled up, looking somewhat damp. He'd managed to get lost at the same point as I did - which meant extra hills for him to climb so a slightly longer than planned 'leg' to kick us off but we were sure we'd catch up as the peaks flattened out.

We pushed on for another 3 miles so that Lee could finish his leg and swap over, leaving us 14 miles each to finish the day.

Fortunately for me, this is where the second half of the day started: the sun started to break through the clouds and the temperature rose to make for a pleasant hour's cycling, and as we slowly descended out of the Peak District the hills got shorter and shallower, giving me the opportunity to get out of my saddle and allow my bottom a break - thus making the cycling more enjoyable. After a very pleasant hour's cycling and averaging 14mph (despite getting a little lost in Ashbourne's one-way system), it was time to swap for the final time. I sat in the car in a layby making a start on the blog while Lee headed off in the direction of Lichfield, still on the A515. Another hour later Lee rolled into the car park of the Dog & Partridge in Tutbury where I'd just finished fully inflating my tyre after yesterday's puncture.

So it's off for showers now and to see what the beer pumps offer us before dinner. Granville and Marie are coming over to say hello as we're in their neck of the woods - it'll be the first time we've seen 'friendly' faces since last Monday morning.

NEXT STOP: Shrawley near Droitwich - 79 miles and only 1 climb! :-)

(You'll notice there is no longer a 'chafing' score on the 'Smith-o-meter' as we feel we've cracked this with the right clothing and use of anti-chafing creams.)

DAY 6 - Threshfield to Holmfirth - 71 miles

Firstly, apologies to all who logged on to read our day 6 installment on the blog only to find it missing. With a later start yesterday, the big hills to contend with, and a later than usual arrival in Holmfirth, by the time I sat down to look at the blog it was 10pm - an hour later than my body seems to want to shut down while on this ride. In the end I had to concede defeat and turn the lights out at half past 11, so here's the entry for day 6:

We finally awoke to stare day 6 in the face - the big one. Here's how it stacked up:
7 categorised climbs of 19 miles in total: 2 x cat 5 / 1 x cat 4 / 3 x cat 3 / 1 cat 2

GULP. I think it's fair to say that neither of us was particularly enthralled by the idea of today's ride, having tasted cat 4 and cat 3 climbs recently and found them hard work. But we had to face it, so we went through our usual routine and headed down for breakfast.

Breakfast was a little later this morning, as the breakfast service didn't start until 8:30, so we decided to do a couple of checks on the bikes, inflate tyres and adjust saddles in an attempt to alleviate knee and bottom pain.

So with bikes back on the rack we headed in for breakfast to find out whether we were in store for a 'Balloch beater'. I had the full cooked breakfast (as I now consider my duty), while Lee went for poached eggs on toast - he was first in the saddle today and finds it easier to pedal without the weight of a full English to carry with him.

I can officially reveal that today's breakfast at the Old Hall Inn was indeed the best we've had so far, but only by a nose, and I think it was the salted butter waiting for me under a tiny cloche at a perfectly spreadable consistency that clinched it. The Old Hall Inn would make a great base from which to explore the Yorkshire Dales National Park and, being close to my wife's and my favourite dale (Coverdale) I think there's a good chance I'll be seeing this place again in the future. I think they have real claim to having the best food in the dale, as their sign outside states.

After breakfast I went to settle the bill while Lee headed out into uncertain-looking weather. While paying the balance for our room the lady behind the bar (who I'm guessing is the landlady) gave me a very generous £20 for our cause!! Who'd believe it?! Talking with Lee only the other night we were expecting the stranger donations to dry up the further south we went but so far, there has been no evidence of it. THANK YOU Old Hall Inn!

Once I'd filled the Moggy up with fuel in the petrol station in the village I set off to find Lee. However, there had been no sign of him before I hit Skipton. My phone rang shortly afterwards: Lee was somewhat lost in Skipton centre. The route can be a little tricky to follow on the Garmin GPS sometimes, as we're using OS landranger maps on it, which have pink roads; the route we need to follow is also marked in pink so it's very easy to over-shoot the route and if it's busy with traffic you can't always hear the beeps the unit makes to tell you to take a turn.

Once we'd finally caught up, by a slightly different route than planned, we headed south again, trying to thread ourselves between Bradford and Manchester. We swapped over after Lee had soldiered his way through his 21-mile leg with his still swollen and painful knee. I hopped on the saddle part way up the first categorised climb, a cat 4, and made my way into Calderdale.

When chatting with Q (my cycling guru) last night about saddle soreness and gear usage strategy, he suggested going for lower gears earlier in the climbs rather than trying to save a couple in reserve for when it gets steeper (which is what I had been doing). So I opted for this new strategy and hit the granny gear from the off, with my eyes fixed 3 metres in front so as not to become disheartened by what lay in front of me. I pedalled on, it was a comfortable climb for legs and lungs, but the saddle was starting to fight back.


42 miles in we swapped again, which was a great relief after a five-mile climb out of Hebden Bridge (cat3). Lee had made a pitstop in Hebden Bridge to grab lunch for us in the form of paninis, so when we changed over I was able to enjoy a hot sandwich and soft seat before heading off in the car to find Lee - who, after my half-hour break, had almost crossed the M62 and was halfway up his own 4.5 mile cat 3 climb. I waited at the top of hill where it started to rain again, though this morning's speed-sapping winds had now died down thankfully.


From here we dropped down into a busy little area between Halifax and Oldham - not so busy with cars but with roads, and while easy to navigate on the bike with the GPS for guidance, following in the car wasn't so easy. At this point therefore we had to pick a destination and follow the TomTom's route in the car, so we parted company. This meant that once Lee had hit his mileage for the day I was nowhere to be found! I attempted to retrace my steps to where I had last seen him, only to end up back where I started, having a bit of a 'twighlight zone' moment.


While speaking together on the phone to work out where on earth either of us was, the heavens opened - for both of us. We couldn't be far away from each other, but decided to head to the next village along the route, Greenfields, which should be easier to locate as it was now on both our routes. When a very wet Lee arrived he told me he had found the best view he'd ever seen, complete with train crossing a viaduct and cricket match. The video he took on his phone did look nice, but at this point I wasn't about to go back to find it, as it was still raining and I had a cat 2 climb to do before we dropped into Holmfirth.


Fuelled by a panini and an energy gel I once again hit granny gear and pedalled my way up. I think it was a little steeper than the climbs earlier in the day, but short enough to be a happy compromise, I spent the whole climb waiting to turn a corner and stare another 16% section in the face, but it never came, and to my delight I rounded a bend onto the summit.


After another half mile's cycling I found myself bouncing around in an usual manner. The road immediately in front of me looked fine, so glanced down at my rear wheel to determine the source of the strange sensation and found a rapidly deflating tyre. I set about changing the inner tube - fortunately it was only drizzling at this point and 5-10 minutes later I was on my way again, with a very long and enjoyable descent into Holmfirth.


Our pub/bed for the night was a couple of miles the other side of the town, on Jackson Bridge, and after a short but ridiculously steep climb out of the town I found the Moggy sat opposite the pub. What a sight - we'd done it! This was cause for celebration as we'd both been feeling anxious about today.


Lee had already got the bags into the room so all we had to do was walk the bikes around the back to the storage area and head off for showers. The landlord, Dave, told us at this point that we'd made the local paper! (Thanks again to Helen for working hard behind the scenes to contact all of these people in an effort to aid our fundraising.) So our plan was to shower, have a quick pint, look the paper, and head into town to find a suitable spot to sprinkle some of Dad's ashes.


Holmfirth is the only place we'd planned to sprinkle Dad's ashes that he'd not visited before, but as a huge fan of 'Last of the Summer Wine' we know he would have loved to visit. In the bar we were soon asked by one of the locals about our efforts, prompted again by our CMA T-shirts. It transpired that the pub we were in was used in the filming of the TV series and the man we were now speaking to, Ron, had been the landlord during filming!


After a fun chat with him we thought he'd be a great person to recommend a nice spot for the ashes, which he did: a hill just across the road which afforded us an amazing view of the village. He assured us that the hill itself had been used extensively in the filming of the TV series, and once we arrived near the top we saw why: a picture postcard view! Once we'd taken in the view we sprinkled some of Dad's ashes, knowing that he'd be very happy indeed with this spot.


We headed back to the pub for another pint of Plaedies, which was a lovely hoppy summery ale (with plenty of body considering it's 3.8% abv). While enjoying our beer we looked at some pictures that Ron had been to fetch for us from his cottage across the road of his time with the cast during filming. He signed a couple of pictures for us and gave us £5 for our cause - stranger donations now up to £80.


We then sat down to dinner. I had an excellent slow cooked piece of lamb 'Henry' and Lee had pork with black pudding. Very good quality food, excellent ale and comfortable rooms makes the White Horse at Jackson Bridge another one that's worth coming back to: a proper locals' pub, full of friendly people. We also had £4 from a lady sat a couple of tables away who'd overheard us talking and then another £4 from a younger chap who popped in after a game of cricket. Stranger donations now £88. Brilliant!


NEXT STOP: Tutbury near Burton, 70 miles.