Slept okish – but was woken by the torrential rain – nice.

Morning had broken, and our hearts when we saw the stupid, stupid weather. It was wet. And windy. And we had to have a little chef.

After a latish breakfast we set off in the rain on the final leg. This one was only a small jaunt around Dartmoor to Plymouth.

We got wet at the beginning, and in the middle, but not at the end. The ride from Okehampton is a good one, “mostly” downhill, with some hard climbs, but in general you are on tracks and it is pretty flat. Obviously by this time, every little climb is more tiring than you would expect, and if it hadn’t been for the rain, it would have been almost pleasurable.

We didn’t stop for lunch today, as we expected to get to Plymouth for lunch time, and we almost had a sit down for a coffee, but the serving wench was most put out that we were wet, so we ate in the street. At one point it said “13.5 miles to Plymouth”, 5 miles later we say a sign saying 13 miles to Plymouth, but at that point it was nearly downhill all the way. We crossed some amazing bridges, and went through some really eerie tunnels, with mist and darkness that even Marrsys super bright lights couldn’t penetrate.

I was loving today, the sun came out, and the last 13 miles were a joy mostly great road, and you could really get a spin up – I even overtook navman at one point – much to his disgust.

We got into Plymouth and had one last surprising hill to crawl up, and then it was down the harbor for a beer, and to let Brend change in the darkest toilet – in the world…

Sian came to pick me up for our trip to Dartmouth, and the guys were off to get trains home. We had cycled around 170 miles and gone up 11,000 ft or so, half of Everest or three Snowdons, some of the scenery was epic, some of the hills steep, and some of the weather wet – we had pints and pies and good times…

Big thanks as always to the team – hopefully we’ll get a few new stragglers next year

Day 3 – Strava track is here

Day 2 – tired all ready.

Marrsy had whinged all day yesterday about the hotel I had booked, so first thing was to re-book a different one. Then he still wasn’t happy. Breakfast was great, in the B+B – real good quality and plenty off it, although the three foot plate made it look smaller than it was (and the miniature toast made it look bigger). Poor old Brend was now really suffering, not just because of cycling, but also he had the sniffles. Today I has assumed was going to be easier, that’s a relative term really, it was not.

Once sorted we headed out, and everywhere out of Ilfracolme is up, so up we went – it was steep. But after a short while we went down, then up again and so on and so on. Had a good decent down towards Braunton after getting a little lost in a village. Then it was 19ft above sea level, knowing our end point was 1000ft above – nice one…. We followed the track around the bay, and along some really good cycle tracks for about 20 miles, then more up until we stopped at Petrockstow for lunch. And confusion, if not precipitation reigned.

We went up individually, pint and omelette, then we went outside to wait. We could hear Brend having some debate with the woman in the bar, and after an age he came out, complaining that there was no eggs for his omelette and no ham either. Anyhoo, after a short while his toasted sandwich came out, then another, then another – did he order three toastees? Nope. It seems that when he ordered his, they had assumed he was re-adjusting our orders – so we all had the same, expect for navigator who had to send his back because there was bacon in it. It was quite nice though. Then I had a helmet malfunction.

Other side of the pub was yet another massive hill, so at the top, taking a breather awaiting Brend – who was nearly killed by some dude with a trailer, I realised I had left my helet in the pub. No way was I going back down then up again, so although fresh faced Nick said he’d go we plowed on – refreshed with no hat, but Marrsy was very concerned I would die. I didn’t.

The rest of the day was many hours up and some down, some very steep bits and some not so. At one point Brend even took the lead, and surprised a squirrel who had come to cheer him on – the poor thing didn’t know whether he was coming or going after seeing The Brend power past, it did that four legged bounce and sprinted in a few directions before heading off to tell the tale of the rider in orange who had red legs.

After the final push up to our hotel, and one of the steepest sections of the day, we finally arrived at the prison which was to be our home for the evening – Travelodge Sourton Cross.

There was only one pub around, and it was on the other side of the A30, so after a quick refresh, me and navman played frogger across the main road for a crap pint in a seventies pub with just us in. Whilst we read the paper and drank, The Brend relaxed in the bath with a podcast of Russian Politics. Once he was fully conversant in the ways of the new Russian political system we ordered a cab. It was coming in “15 to 20 mins” – yeah right. It was raining.

50 minutes later and a maniac pulled up, unfortunately this maniac was our only hope of getting somewhere other than Little Chef for grub. He swore extensively as he set off at 120 miles an hour down the country lanes – to a place he “recommended”. Tell Ed the barman that Ed the Taxi brought you here. It looked okay, and was full – and we had no other choice so we stayed. Food was great, surroundings not so much. Brend had his, then drank my gravy. We had some beers and an expensive whisky for nav, and then Ed the Taxi came back and spoke to Ed the Barman, and whisked us away at the speed of a maniac cab driver to the safety of our beds.

Slept.

Day 2 strava is here

Ride: 7/10 but a bit silly

Lunch: 5/10 – would have preferred to have ordered my own

Hotel: 6/10

Fox and Hounds, Lydford: 8/10

Another year, and another of the annual cycle rides. Due to holidays and iron man training competitors were restricted to just three this year – me, Mr Marr and Brend “The Straggler” Thomas.

We decided to do the Devon Coast to Coast this year, but as it was only a hundred miles, and we are so hard, we decided to do a little ride first off to get us to the Devon C2C start point in Ilfracolme.

I arrived on the Friday around five, after spending weeks in slow traffic around Bristol – and after checking in, Sian, Kate and I descended to Taunton, to see what we could see. We could see a pub, so we went in. I asked a rather aggrieved bar man whether the Stella 4 was cold – he told me in no uncertain terms it was. It was. Then right across the road was another pub, so we went in there too.

After some time The Brend arrived, due to some confusion (foreshadowing) he had to go back to the hotel to let Marrsy in, but he was down, and looked like he had had an enjoyable year all told. We got him settled in the pub, and before long the final arrival appeared – he had cycled up to Taunton – just to ensure he had ridden more than anyone else on the weekend…

After being told to leave the pub, because Kate wasn’t allowed in after 7, we umm’d and arr’d for a food place. Brend suggested Bills – so Bills it was, and rather good it is. So good we went back there for breakfast on the real cycling day. Brend had a tiny fish, and some scones, and finished off Marsys main, and after a short while we followed the navigator round a perilous route back to the hotel…

Next morning was ride proper. Weather sunny – check, no cobwebs on the bike – check, Brends camel toe sack filled – check, navigation aid started – check, Petr Cech in fantasy football – check, and off we went. After around some time we were at bills eating. Then we got lost.

But we soon(ish) sorted it, and we were on our way. Ilfrcolme is about 65 miles from Taunton, and Marrsy had regaled us with bad tidings of his last attempt at the route – he said, wait for it, he said – He had to push up the big hill – AARRGGGHHHHHH… So navigator in the lead we high tailed it through the town and out onto the countryside. Before long we got to a small incline, this was where Brend “The Power” realised that not cycling for a year is to his detriment, and his legs “had no power anymore”. We followed Cycle route 3 until we got somewhere (Bampton I think) and stopped for a “coffee” – Brend had a croissant, and our tea dregs and the left over milk, and licked the menu clean. Back on the bikes for the journey to the lumpy bit.

Few miles further and we stopped for a breather, before the first hill of the day – and what a peach it was. This was the one cyclist thought he might have to push up, he didn’t, I wouldn’t, Brend did (a little). It was steep, and slippery, but we met no cars, and it was early in the cycle. It was the sort of steep that unless you cycle up steep things you would think was steep anyway. Oh and slippy. And steep. And it had a massive leaf on it (you’ll need to check google street view to understand that.) Once up this abomination we paused to reflect on Brend. Then up again, and I had to get off – not by choice I have to add, but because some wally in a car caused a road block half way up – it was steep enough that it was impossible to get into the clip on’s, so after a little push we were on the way again… We now had fourteen miles of “up” to go – they were long old miles, but we stopped before the top for lunch in the Sportsman, which looked pretty dodgy, but had nice faggots and cold lager. At this point Brend started to suffer.

Two pints down, and stodgy faggots does not set you up for a 25 mile lumpy afternoon, I wasn’t happy about being back on the bike – but the “worse” was over – it wasn’t.

Well actually it was, but there was still some up to go, and a great 3 mile down, followed, as expected by a 3 miles up, then down then up then down then up, then scary A road where we were nearly killed everytime a car went past, then finally, after what felt like a day of cycling (hang on – it was a day of cycling) we saw the sign – Ilfracolme 3 miles. Navigated had promised it was downhill from here – and you know what – it actually blumming well was…

Got to our lodgings, and stored the bikes – nice place (The Olive Branch), quick shower and off to see the delights of Ilfracolme. There were dodgy people and a massive statue of a pregnant woman will half her skin carved off (Damion Hurst – obviously) but then we found the poop deck @ The Pier, and drank alcohol in the sun, outside, with a great view of the sea. This is what the cycle trips are all about. We chuckled at Brend as he told us of his “plumbing” issues. It seems that Brend does not have hot water in his bath or shower, so he has connected a feed from the hot water that works to the bath. I assumed via a hose pipe, or at least some type of pipe – but no, ever the inventor he used the packaging the curtain rails came in. For the last year. One in a million.

After beer we found a decent Indian, ate, drank a cobra and went to bed.

Night wasn’t great, my roll-a-blind banged, and at 5 the sodding seagulls shouted at each other..

Day 1 – done, Strava track available here.

Ride: 7/10

Lunch: 6/10

Poop Deck : 8/10

Indian: 8/10

Guest House: 7/10