After the worst night ever in a hotel - the seagulls and the shouting locals only overshadowed by the revving girlracer, the mechanised street sweeper around 5am, followed by a major beer keg delivery - Giles and I left Hereford with the sun already warm and a hot day to look forward to.
Through country lanes, spotting skylarks and buzzards and chatting about this and that, it was idyllic cycling. Away from the main roads the lanes tend to follow the rise and fall of the land rather than cutting through it, and the sudden steep inclines had me wondering about the prospects ahead across Dartmoor and Cornwall.
Then we arrived via Llanwarne (ruined church pic) in the much-disputed town of Monmouth, currently in England, for our morning tea/coffee stop. From there we followed the delightful Wye valley, the river always nearby if not in sight, stopping at the Brockweir bridge (I think) for photos of salmon fishermen in the glorious valley surroundings, and a chat with a couple of slightly older cyclists out for a day trip. Continuing on we passed magnificent Tintern Abbey in its river bend, then climbed away from the water before a rapid descent into Chepstow, its castle and iron bridge (pic), where a Gregg's sandwich by the riverside sufficed for lunch.
Then it was up on to the M48 bridge to cross the Wye outlet and then the main Severn river, with great views upstream from the cycleway. (Pic later from the shore). Shortly afterwards Giles departed towards Bristol City Parkway and his train to Oxford while I continued into Somerset. Not a pleasant experience to begin with as the cycle path petered out and the A403 was a stream of fast cars, vans and lorries heading for Avonmouth industrial and maritime complex. I then had to find my way to the M5 crossing of the Avon. This proved a little bizarre as I stopped to check my route with a pair of young riders who were clearly returning from school across this half mile crossing alongside the thundering motorway traffic. Two other pairs of lower end secondary children were walking across also, alongside the odd adult going to and from work as it appeared. On the other side was a long track meandering round huge industrial or storage facilities and massive car parks of new motors large and small awaiting delivery across the country. A strange environment for me but seemingly mundane for these local youngsters.
Suddenly everything was normal again and I headed into Portishead and along a busy rush hour B-day to Clevedon, and my accommodation for the night. I'd booked into a holiday camp expecting families and young couples but none were to be found. There was a clear divide between the owner-occupied bungalows with their pot plants and little gardens, and my end which was unadorned by any embellishment and seemed to be occupied almost exclusively by male workers presumably servicing local industry, and in their spare time barbequing their evening meal, phoning home to Poland, Ireland or wherever and drinking beer. The Jordanian and Egyptian in the adjoining cabin to mine offered some of their food and said they were training for their UK/EU pilot's licence conversion at a near Bristol Airport facility. I left having used the laundry and cycled into town for some dinner, feeling like a fish out of water, but just found the same sensation at a seafront, well, a Severn Estuary-front pub full of families and couples in the still bright evening sun (pic). I went back into town and was happy as the sole customer of the Bangla restaurant eating chicken Tikka drinking Tiger beer and setting the world to rights with the owner.
Now back in this potentially noisy drink-fuelled young men's environment it's as quiet as the grave.
More tomorrow as I head into Devon and a couple of rendezvous. And an update on the tooth situation: the ache has disappeared but tonight an errant poppodum seems to have partially broken off a section of tooth which is hanging in limbo not knowing whether to break clean away or hang on in there.
What fun. More ramblings tomorrow.
Through country lanes, spotting skylarks and buzzards and chatting about this and that, it was idyllic cycling. Away from the main roads the lanes tend to follow the rise and fall of the land rather than cutting through it, and the sudden steep inclines had me wondering about the prospects ahead across Dartmoor and Cornwall.
Then we arrived via Llanwarne (ruined church pic) in the much-disputed town of Monmouth, currently in England, for our morning tea/coffee stop. From there we followed the delightful Wye valley, the river always nearby if not in sight, stopping at the Brockweir bridge (I think) for photos of salmon fishermen in the glorious valley surroundings, and a chat with a couple of slightly older cyclists out for a day trip. Continuing on we passed magnificent Tintern Abbey in its river bend, then climbed away from the water before a rapid descent into Chepstow, its castle and iron bridge (pic), where a Gregg's sandwich by the riverside sufficed for lunch.
Then it was up on to the M48 bridge to cross the Wye outlet and then the main Severn river, with great views upstream from the cycleway. (Pic later from the shore). Shortly afterwards Giles departed towards Bristol City Parkway and his train to Oxford while I continued into Somerset. Not a pleasant experience to begin with as the cycle path petered out and the A403 was a stream of fast cars, vans and lorries heading for Avonmouth industrial and maritime complex. I then had to find my way to the M5 crossing of the Avon. This proved a little bizarre as I stopped to check my route with a pair of young riders who were clearly returning from school across this half mile crossing alongside the thundering motorway traffic. Two other pairs of lower end secondary children were walking across also, alongside the odd adult going to and from work as it appeared. On the other side was a long track meandering round huge industrial or storage facilities and massive car parks of new motors large and small awaiting delivery across the country. A strange environment for me but seemingly mundane for these local youngsters.
Suddenly everything was normal again and I headed into Portishead and along a busy rush hour B-day to Clevedon, and my accommodation for the night. I'd booked into a holiday camp expecting families and young couples but none were to be found. There was a clear divide between the owner-occupied bungalows with their pot plants and little gardens, and my end which was unadorned by any embellishment and seemed to be occupied almost exclusively by male workers presumably servicing local industry, and in their spare time barbequing their evening meal, phoning home to Poland, Ireland or wherever and drinking beer. The Jordanian and Egyptian in the adjoining cabin to mine offered some of their food and said they were training for their UK/EU pilot's licence conversion at a near Bristol Airport facility. I left having used the laundry and cycled into town for some dinner, feeling like a fish out of water, but just found the same sensation at a seafront, well, a Severn Estuary-front pub full of families and couples in the still bright evening sun (pic). I went back into town and was happy as the sole customer of the Bangla restaurant eating chicken Tikka drinking Tiger beer and setting the world to rights with the owner.
Now back in this potentially noisy drink-fuelled young men's environment it's as quiet as the grave.
More tomorrow as I head into Devon and a couple of rendezvous. And an update on the tooth situation: the ache has disappeared but tonight an errant poppodum seems to have partially broken off a section of tooth which is hanging in limbo not knowing whether to break clean away or hang on in there.
What fun. More ramblings tomorrow.
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| Salmon fishermen on the Wye |
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| The Severn estuary from Clevedon |
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| Tintern Abbey |
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| The (new) Severn bridge |
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| Salmon fishing |
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| The Wye at Brockweir |
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| Ruined church at Llanwarne |
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| Stopping for morning tea in Monmouth |
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