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