The
two thousand-plus kilometre cycling journey, from Lands End to John O’Groats,
is as much a sojourn through classic British towns as it is a formidable challenge
along undulating roads. The United Kingdom has nothing of the soaring
switchback-infested climbs you’ll find in mainland Europe but its plethora of
steep and narrow ‘Roman’ roads are significantly harder than you might think.
They certainly were for me.
Should
you wish to do a little more than just cycling, the journey takes around two weeks.
The further north you travel the better
the roads seem to get. That is, if you’re still alive and well after passing
through the traffic-infested town of Warrington. There didn’t seem too many
alternatives along England’s west coast, other than long deviations that may
have been just as busy.
 |
The first hotel since Lands End. |
Leaving Lands End around mid-afternoon, the 60-kilometre
journey to Truro - the most southern
city in mainland Great Britain - provided an ideal start. Mildly undulating
between Penzance and Helston, there were views across the bay, the most
prominent, St. Michael’s Mount, which is connected to the mainland by an underground
railway which transports goods up to its castle.
The next day’s cycling,
from Truro to Tiverton,
via Exeter, was a far cry from the day before. A174-kilometre journey, which included an
underestimated climb through the rolling moorland of Dartmoor Forest, took almost
the entire day.
 |
The top of the climb. |
The narrow B3357 and B3212
roads between Tavistock and Moreton-Hampstead, felt as remote as anything I’d
seen so far, or was likely to see until I reached the Lakes District a long way
to the north. Shrouded in mist at the top of the long, steep climb, there was
little to see, or photograph, save the odd cow. Though the route was mainly
down-hill, and at worst along undulating roads, it was early evening before I tiredly
and hungrily reached our accommodation in Tiverton. Needless to say, I slept
well that evening.
My third day’s ride
between Tiverton and Stroud, via the
Mendip Hills, was a far cry from the day before; much shorter and with more
gentle ups and downs. The A38 carried me almost the entire way to Bristol, most
of it through open farmland.
 |
Our accommodation in Stroud. |
But one of those large cities
you’re already not looking forward to cycling through, long before you’ve even left
home, was Bristol. With its city and surrounding county, not far off 500,000
people, I wasn’t looking forward to travelling through its centre; nor even its
smaller perimeter roads, for fear of losing my way and riding far further than
I needed to. Choosing the latter, the city’s outskirts were as busy as
expected, but once across Bristol’s main bridge I was soon heading towards
Dursley, and beyond, Stroud. A small village bellow the escarpment of the
Cotswold Hills, it was one of those places that we could have spent more days
in should we have had the time.
* * * * *
Please
note: It may surprise you that not every cyclist travels long distances with a
GPS; just nearly everybody. If you’ve read my book Lycra, Lattes and the Long Way Round,
you’ll soon realise why I wouldn’t and at times, why I wished I did.
No comments:
Post a Comment