50. Tour of the South West of England 

Tuesday 23^rd April 2024

I had planned a South West cycle tour late last year so that I could claim a few more English Counties that I’d cycled through.  There are 48 (excluding unitary authorities) and I’ve presently only cycled in 32 of them, with many of the missing ones being located South of Bristol.  Despite this, the real motive for this destination was actually when I read about a Motor Museum in Yeovil that I fancied seeing.  Although I’ve very little interest in cars now, as a young lad, I was fascinated by them and could name each make and model and even distinguish between the trim levels of various models.  So a car museum that boasted a fine collection of cars from my youth was an attraction, but not one that I could realistically expect Geraldine to accompany me on a 500 mile round trip to visit.  

So the idea of a cycle tour to encompass this museum began to take shape.  The starting point was to be Cheltenham where a cousin had kindly offered to store my car for a week (and even provided accommodation before the start).  And that’s why I was in Wychbold today, riding in the lovely countryside nearby.  (Wychbold, which I’m sure you know, is a tiny village just off junction 6 of the M5 with a conveniently placed free car park.)  The ride took me along tiny lanes which weaved North between Bromsgrove and Kidderminster and included an exceptionally good café in a garden centre.  The huge fruit scone and cappuccino fortified me well for the short 23 mile trip which I took simply to break the journey South.

After an evening catching up with my relatives, I had an early night, ready for the tour proper which starts tomorrow.

Wednesday 24^th April 2024

After a great night’s sleep in a really comfy bed, we set off in light drizzle at 9am.  The first two miles were up a steep hill on a busy road which really wasn’t pleasant, but by the time we’d got to the top the rain had stopped and we almost got a view across the Severn valley to the Malvern Hills.  I say ‘we’ since I was joined for the first few miles with my host, Adrian.  He was riding a gorgeous titanium bike which probably weighed less than one of my panniers and I felt a bit guilty because I must’ve been really slowing him down on the numerous climbs.  He was far too polite to comment, however.

We passed through the village of Slad, famous (possibly to a few oldies like me) for being the home of Laurie Lee, the author of Cider with Rosie, the wonderful autobiographical coming of age novel that everyone read as a teenager.  I’m not sure whether it’s still as popular now, 65 years after it was written.  For anyone considering heading to Slad for that or any other reason, it’s not worth it; there’s nothing there.  Just a pub, a church and a few houses perched above a spectacular valley and that’s it.  There was also a Romany caravan parked by the road with a horse grazing nearby.  Within the same camp was parked a fairly new Range Rover.  So they’re clearly doing OK then!

Stroud was as I’d anticipated; busy and hilly.  Adrian peeled off here to return much more speedily back to Cheltenham but not before we got a bit lost.  After a couple of attempts, I managed to find a lovely cycle path out of the town, with swathes of wild garlic lining the path.  After leaving this path, the road began to climb up onto the wide, open country: would I call them ‘wolds’ round here?  I have been assisted all day by a lovely tailwind and on this open area, this help became very noticeable.  I am hoping it keeps up tomorrow, but I doubt it will.  It was also very cold today, around 4°C early on, rising to just reach double figures.

Lunch was a lovely quiche in the Wickwar coffee shop.  It would have made more sense to have a break in Wootton-under- Edge, but I was in that town a few months ago and I noticed then that it felt a bit tired and it was notably short of good food outlets so I rode on a further four miles.  The Wickwar café served the quiche on a fashionable wooden board which was a mistake.  It may have looked stylish, but it was totally impractical.  The salad and the crisps kept falling off so I ended up eating much of the meal off the table.  Thankfully, that appeared to be just as clean and germ-free as the board so it was no hardship.

The last few miles into Bristol were along a disused railway which I learned was the first ever stretch of the National Cycle Network started in 1979.  It was very popular with cyclists and runners.

Once settled in the Bristol YHA, and before tea, I took a walk up Brandon Hill, the highest point in the city.  I’ve been to Bristol several times, but I’ve never before been here where there are impressive views from the top of the 109 foot Cabot Tower.

I enjoyed a substantial meal at The Shakespeare pub adjacent to the hostel.  I was lucky to snag the last free table in a very popular venue.  I didn’t NEED a sticky toffee pudding after my chicken Kiev, but it was very good!  And indulgent. The hostel is located right in the centre of the tourist area by the quay, and tonight I am the sole occupant of a six-bedded dorm on the 4th floor of the hostel overlooking the bustling city.  This is a very good start to the trip.

Thursday 25^th April 2024

At some point during the night I was joined in my dorm by a bloke from Australia.  I’m not sure when he arrived, but it must have been very late.  I woke at 6am and while I was away having a shave, he’d got up and was packed and ready for off.  I was glad that I am naturally an early riser, since at 6.30 a fire alarm woke everyone else.  It turned out to be a false alarm, apparently caused by something in the kitchen.  My sausages weren’t burned, though. 

There was rain in the air at 9am, but this soon cleared.  I loved cycling through Bristol.  The cycle paths are very clearly marked, well separated by kerbs from the other traffic and, unsurprisingly, are extremely busy.  Other users appeared to be mainly commuters who knew where they were going, and were adept at swerving round hesitant tourists with panniers – me!  Like in Holland, people wore ordinary clothes and felt no need to wear a helmet.  Everything felt quite continental, even the chilly morning air.

My first stop after leaving the city was Chew Magna in Somerset, my third county of the trip.  It’s a beautiful village on what is turning out to be a beautiful spring day.  Still a bit parky at 8°C, though.

I knew I’d jinx it by mentioning the weather!  I write these reports as I go along, so I wrote the first bit sitting in the graveyard of St Andrews church in Chew Magna.  Within minutes of me applying sun cream, I continued the ride towards the Mendip Hills (which sound much prettier than they look in real life).  As I started to climb, the clouds came down and by the time I reached the top, it was raining hard enough that I needed waterproofs.  The rain got much heavier as I descended towards Wells which was sad, because it’s a lovely city, but somewhat less picturesque in the rain. 

I then headed for Glastonbury where I really should’ve expected rain (I’ve seen the photos from the festivals).   What an odd place it is!  Wherever I turned I saw men with long straggly beards or women with purple hair wearing jumble sale clothes.  Many of the shops on the high street were offering spiritual or psychical products, so not being in need of these, I didn’t stop. 

I’d only ever seen Glastonbury Tor from a distance, so I planned to cycle as close as I could today.  Although the hill is smaller than I’d imagined, the tower itself is more impressive.

Lunch was taken at a café which seemed ideal for cyclists, sited on an industrial estate a little out of town.  It also received very high ratings when I’d researched it earlier, and the food was probably very good, although I never got chance to try it. When I turned up half an hour before closing time, the owner was very apologetic and explained that they’d just turned everything off!  But they could still do a very good cup of coffee and a hugely calorific cake for small change.  The surroundings were far from salubrious, but it suited me.  By the time I left, the rain had stopped, so all was well with the world.

The route to Taunton from Glastonbury was uneventful and also rather boring.  The countryside here is very flat and although I sometimes complain about climbing, it does add interest, a quality sadly lacking in this part of Somerset.  Today, however, the strong Westerly wind acted as a substitute for hills; I felt that I was climbing a gentle 3% gradient for much of the afternoon, even though the altimeter didn’t agree.  

I arrived at my Airbnb accommodation at 4.30, just as my host was returning from work, so that was good.  After a shower, I needed sustenance which I found at a local sports club.  The venue was recommended to me as ‘basic food, but inexpensive’ and that was accurate.  When I arrived, 3/4 of the tables in the fairly large room were occupied, and by the time my chilli con carne arrived, the place was packed.  And at 20 quid for a two course meal and two pints, I certainly can’t complain.  

The weather forecast for tomorrow is similar to today but the wind direction has switched to Easterly which is not good.  After an initial run South, my route takes me into the wind, and, like today, no rain is forecast, but we know what happened today, don’t we?

Friday 26^th April 2024

It was very chilly but dry this morning as I headed South towards Lyme Regis but I quickly warmed as I began the climb up and over the Blackdown Hills.  I’d not heard of these hills before, but the lady who made my baguette in Lyme Regis had.  As soon as I mentioned where I’d come from she asked how I’d got on over the climb.  It wasn’t that steep, but it did go on a bit.  It was an exhilarating ride down on lovely smooth tarmac though, which made it all worthwhile.  

The lanes beyond that were very pretty, lined with a variety of wild flowers.  Actually, that was all I could see, since, typical of this region, the lanes are set very low between high hedgerows.  I certainly wouldn’t want to drive along these roads.  My route skirted around Axminster, and I stopped in a lovely village called Kilmington which was very peaceful.

There was plenty more climbing before I reached Lyme Regis; no really big hills, but lots of steep ups and downs.  I had selected a suitable café in the town for lunch, but although it was nicely located close to the beach, there was nowhere to park my bike (it was on a tiny lane with no pavements) so I moved a few yards and lashed my bike to a railing on the front and walked back to buy a takeaway coffee and a baguette, served to me by a fellow cyclist.  I spent a lovely hour people-watching, even seeing some brave souls taking a swim in the sea.  They were celebrating something special since once they’d emerged, champagne was opened.  It certainly didn’t need chilling.

Out of Lyme Regis, the road climbs.  And climbs!  It was soon after I’d started the ascent when the rain started.  Climbing with panniers in the rain into a cold headwind made for a pretty unpleasant afternoon.  I didn’t pass any towns worthy of a visit so I soon found myself just an hour away from my digs with two hours to spare before I could check in.  So I did the only thing I could think of and stopped at a pub for an hour.  (All the cafés would’ve been shut at that time.  He claimed) 

My Airbnb host in Yeovil recommended a local hotel for food, and her choice was very good.  Just as I was finishing a splendid cottage pie, I detected a burning electrical smell.  So could other patrons, and soon the area next to mine was cordoned off and several waiters were crouched on their knees inspecting a floor socket which was smoking (in a no-smoking area, too!).  Why waiters should think that they are good at electrics, I don’t know, but they are still messing with the socket now as I’m about to leave.  Perhaps it’s the same phenomenon that people who are good at mending shoes are also adept at cutting keys.

Anyway, tomorrow I’m having a day off touring and going to visit the Haynes Motor Museum which is nearby (and indeed the inspiration for this entire trip).  I’m not remotely interested in cars these days, but as a 1970s schoolboy, I was fascinated.  The museum here has plenty of cars from that era, so I’m going on a memory-fest.

PS.  As I left the hotel, I noticed that the men who I thought were waiters messing with the plug socket may actually have been electricians: one had a multimeter.  So now the question is, how on earth did the hotel manage to get an electrician to come out so quickly at eight o’clock on a Friday night?  

Saturday 27^th April 2024

This trip had several aims, but the primary one was to visit the Haynes Motor Museum and today was that day.  The museum is only about 9 miles from my digs, but cycling round town trying to get to my breakfast stop added a few miles.  They seem to be rebuilding large sections of Yeovil so many roads in the centre were closed and the place is also plagued with one-way streets.  Once I found the café (chosen because it opened early and had somewhere safe to park my bike), I enjoyed a great breakfast.  Just a pity they’ll not be open tomorrow. (It was while searching for my café that I saw a cracking shop name. Who wouldn’t buy a carpet from Walter Wall Carpets and Rugs?)  

I arrived at the museum at 11.15 and expected to be there all day since the place has over 250 cars on display.  The layout is very odd, however.  There are 15 separate sections, but several have only 2 or 3 vehicles displayed. 

My favourite section was called Memory lane and held all the ‘ordinary’ cars that I remember from my childhood.  One of the largest was called ‘The Red Room’ since every vehicle in it was red!  What an odd way to curate a vehicle collection. Another large section housed many American cars, many of which I’d never seen before other than in the Observer’s Book of Automobiles which I grew up with.  I was amazed at the size of these monsters, and it would have been interesting to see them alongside contemporary British models for a size comparison.

When I left the museum, I was interested too see a very rare car on the staff car park. To get round the 2012 European Union fleet average emissions regulations, Aston Martin launched a re-badged Toyota iQ as an Aston Martin Cygnet. It only sold 150 units in the UK (600 in total across Europe) over two years. Of these, there are 145 still on the road which, although a huge percentage of those initially built, is a very tiny number so I was lucky to spot this one wearing personalised plates.

I set off back with a tailwind and I’d specifically arranged the route to pass RNAS Yeovilton, the Fleet Air Arm museum, Yeovil Town FC, and the BAE Systems Digital Intelligence site, each of which held memories for me from many previous visits to the town.  Yesterday, I walked up Hendford where WRA were based (this was a recruitment agency I dealt with 25 years ago).  The agency is no longer there, but memories came flooding back of evenings spent there with the owner, especially since tonight I enjoyed a meal at The Manor hotel which is where I used to stay when in town. 

Sunday 27^th April 2024

It was difficult to find a café open early on Sunday morning for breakfast.  The one recommended to me yesterday was in a shopping centre with nowhere to secure the bike but I found a spot on the main street called Coffee#1 which looked promising even though it’s a chain.  I was the first person through the door at 9am and although they didn’t do cooked breakfasts, they did offer a panini which I ordered.  I also asked for what I thought was a cinnamon whirl (or is it a swirl?) but when it was given to me, it was sat on a kind of pie!  I haven’t tried it yet, so I’ve no idea what’s in it.

I felt very conspicuous being the only customer so early on a Sunday, but within five minutes, a couple, a family and a chap with a dog have all walked in.  I never realised Sunday mornings would be so busy.

I’ve got about 70 miles to ride today and since it’s raining and cold, I’m reluctant to leave the warm café.  By the way, the cinnamon thingy was just what I thought, but it was just extremely thick.  Very tasty, but expensive. 

The rain had virtually stopped by the time I hit the road again, and it was clear that it had gone for good by 10am.  It was still cold though. My first town on the route was Sherborne, a town which I knew nothing about.  I’d heard of the Abbey, but was taken aback by the shear grandeur of it, especially in such a small town.  I could hear the choir singing at the morning service as I wandered round the outside, so I didn’t feel able to enter.  Maybe another time.

The next stop was Shaftesbury and Gold Hill, the backdrop to the famous Hovis TV advert from 1973 (I didn’t realise until just now that it was directed by Ridley Scott).  Before I saw the hill, I needed a cup of tea, so I sought out a café called the Ugly Duckling.  When I arrived, I noticed that it was very wittily named since it was next door to the Cygnet Art gallery.  Good brew there, too.

I didn’t ride down the hill like the baker’s boy; there was a ‘cyclists must dismount’ sign at the top, but it wasn’t that which deterred me: it was the thought of having to ride back up those cobbles!

The afternoon proved to be bright and sunny and with a decent tailwind I made good time through some lovely countryside and past many pretty villages to Salisbury. 

I’ve not been to Salisbury for many years so it was good to see the Cathedral again. The town was busy (it was a sunny Sunday afternoon), so I sat and enjoyed a bit of people-watching in the cathedral grounds before riding around the outside and then continuing on past Old Sarum and to the village of Porton where I’d planned to call for my evening meal. 

The hostel I’m staying in doesn’t do food, and I’m too lazy to cook for myself on a tour, so I’d found that the only place offering food on a Sunday evening was The Old Railway Hotel at Porton.  What a find!  When I arrived, I was made aware that my planning was inaccurate.  They only serve food between 12 noon and 3pm, again from 5pm until 9pm, and not, as I’d thought, all day.  I turned up at 4.15 and the owner was very apologetic when he explained the kitchen was closed.  I said I didn’t mind and I’d just sit and wait and so I ordered a beer, found a comfortable table and settled down with a book.   After 15 minutes, the lady behind the bar must’ve felt sorry for me, and she brought me a couple of poppadoms and dips ‘to nibble on while I waited’.  (Did I mention that the owner was Indian?  So was the menu.)  Anyway, no-one says no to free food, so I was very happy.

By the time my lamb balti with mushroom rice arrived I was onto my second pint and had banished the thought of the last six miles to the hostel from my mind.  I was having a great afternoon.

The short trip to the hostel was uneventful, which is more that I can say for the weather.  The temperature had fallen to 6°C, the wind had picked up but the sun was bright in the sky.  So what was it doing hail-stoning?!!  The weather this April has been anything but normal.

I’d booked a bed in a dormitory at the hostel, but when I asked about bike storage, the lady admitted that they don’t have a dedicated place for bikes (very odd for YHA) and that they normally put them in the conservatory, but there were people in there just then.  So instead she offered me an empty six-bedded dorm (with en suite, a desk, a table, two comfy chairs and a three-seater settee) and my bike could live in there with me.  I’ve struck gold.  I managed to use all the furniture during the evening, so I’ve certainly had my money’s worth.

I’ve sussed out my breakfast stop tomorrow, and the weather forecast is for an 18 mph Southerly and I’m heading North so things are looking tickety-boo.

Monday 28^th April 2024

My bike and I had a good sleep in our en suite room, and after a cup of tea (just me, not the bike), we set off for breakfast to a tiny diner a mile away.  It’s farming country round here and I unintentionally overheard a conversation between the proprietor and a regular customer. I now know all about the DEFRA regulations on tagging lamb’s ears and why there are different rules for goats.  (It was a tiny establishment, and overhearing the conversation was unavoidable. And the subject was not especially what I wanted to hear over breakfast).

I passed Thruxton race circuit after a few miles and, I guess like all racing circuits, the racing cars are hidden from view, but they could certainly be heard for miles.  This is reportedly the fastest circuit in the UK which I find surprising since there is no long straight section like some tracks.  But then, there are no hairpin bends, either.

I almost managed to get through the day without getting wet today, which was a first for this trip.  It was windy, but that was boosting me northwards, so I had no complaints.  There were still many flooded roads, the worst being beneath a railway line.  I failed to unclip my shoes before entering, and in the middle it was so deep that the water overlapped my feet even though I wasn’t pedalling!

Today I tackled the highest climb of the trip when the road reached almost 300m.  It wasn’t steep, but just a long drag through very pretty forests and lots of wildlife, but not much of a view at the top. Good ride back down again.  

On Hungerford Common I saw some great warning signs advising of the dangers of colliding with free ranging cattle.  It seems that hitting a cow can damage your bodywork: who would’ve guessed?  There was even one sign graphically illustrating what might happen should a collision occur.  It reminded me of the nursery rhyme about the cat and the fiddle.

The café I had initially earmarked for lunch didn’t open on Monday, so I sought an alternative, but a promising candidate proved very elusive.  Google maps said I was stood right outside a suitable establishment, but I couldn’t see it.  So instead I went into a very posh hotel and had a delicious granola slice (which came with 3 free Maltesers) outside in the courtyard.  As I was leaving, I spotted the café I couldn’t find earlier; it was on an upper floor above an antiques shop and the only visible sign was 10 feet from the ground!  (I could offer them marketing advice if they’re interested.)

I could see from my map that my route took me close to a white horse carved into the hillside near Uffington.  Sadly, I never saw it, even though I had followed a rough bridleway to within 1/4 mile of its apparent location.  I am not sure where the best place to view the horse is, but it clearly wasn’t where I was.

My digs are great again, but the recommendation for dinner was a bit iffy.  The food was substantial, but easily the worst meal of the trip.  The frozen veg and shop-bought pie were both microwaved to superheated temperatures and the pie was very gelatinous.  The chips were good though.

Last day tomorrow, and although I’m just 30 miles from my car, I’ll be taking a longer route home to take in more of the Cotswolds.  The wind is looking favourable once more, and I might eventually have to break out the suntan cream time at last.

Tuesday 29^th April 2024

I enjoyed another substantial breakfast of muesli, toast, yogurt and a banana together with a pot of tea, after which I was on the road at 8:45.  The initial route was absolutely flat apart from a slight blip to climb to Coleshill village.  This, combined with a tailwind made for very good time for the first ten miles.  Sadly, there was very little to see since my route bypassed all the towns along the way.  It was only when I reached Burford did I see signs of people once more.  Yet here the people were all encased in their cars racing along the A40.  I spent an inordinately long time waiting for a gap in the traffic before I could cross.  It was lunchtime when I entered Burford, which reminded me of Broadway (in the Cotswolds, not California).  Sadly, here there was an abundance of people and cars crowding the pavements and roads.  I did consider stopping for a coffee, but everywhere was so busy, I abandoned the idea and continued along the way. 

At this point, I had entered the Cotswolds AONB and my map suggested that the scenery would be lovely, but I was disappointed.  I was directed along tiny lanes with high hedgerows and hardly any villages.  I was riding alongside the River Windrush, and actually passed through Windrush village, but the tea shop there didn’t open for another two days, so, unable to wait that long, I continued to Sherborne, although a different one to the place I visited on Sunday.  

This one had a lovely deli with a café attached where I bought a coffee and cake.  The wind was so strong here, that I had to keep hold of the paper coffee cup lest it headed the same way as that belonging to the lady on the next table.  Her quarter-full cup was blown off the table by a strong gust to her great annoyance.  My only mishap was that each time I took a bite of my cake, several almonds blew off the top.  I felt very cheated.

The route then swung further North towards Guiting Power before turning into the wind to track down to Cheltenham where my car was waiting. 

I’ve had a wonderful week despite the cold, the wind and frequent rain.  The weather has not been at all spring-like.  It’s hard to believe that it’s May this week.  But at least I used my wet- and cold-weather clothing and didn’t carry them over 400 miles for nothing.  Always looking on the bright side, me.

The total distance was 427 miles (including the Wychbold ride) with over 21,000 feet of climbing.  I can now claim to have ridden in a further six English counties, bringing the total to 38 (almost 80%).  The remaining ones are all in the Southeast, so I’ll need a trip (or two) down there to capture the rest.  That’s for next year, I guess.