2009/06/09 - Day 4 - Bridgewater to Monmouth 69.49 miles in 7:00

Ian gave me a lift into Bridgewater with 5 others who also were shopping for bike essentials, though for rather less than me. Tandem was ready on the dot at 8:45, handed over the visa card and didn't look at the number on the pin machine, it was only 8.5 times as expensive as the brakeless one. A lovely bright yellow, but a shame not quite matching our goretex jackets. Cycled back solo 4.75 miles to pick up the stoker at B&B. After a quick bacon and egg sandwich provided by Jim, the wonderful host, we set off just before 10.


Same sort of terrain as yesterday, except the hills were steeper, there weren't any long drags, and it didn't rain. So actually very different. After a flat 15 miles across the Somerset Levels, we climbed Cheddar Gorge which wasn't as bad as feared, only one very steep hairpin. At top rested for drink and kitkat.

Then downs and ups, some very steep (but shortish) on some very narrow potholed and grotty lanes. At one stage I thought we were in a field because there was so much grass growing on the road.

The brakes are now amazing. I have 3. The rear Hope hydraulic disc is awesome. So much so that when we stopped to check the route, I what I though was gently braking but at the end a slight pull stopped the bike dead. Cherry catapulted into my back, and we gracefully toppled over into the nice soft verge of grass. First fall, and noone harmed. Still, I am very happy with our stopping power and can now go down hills again with reasonable alacrity.

Sun came out and we got to Easton Gordano for lunch at Kings Arms where we met many others of the group.

Then it was following intermittently patchy cycleway signs onto the Avon Bridge and over, though a sink estate of Waynettes (King Weston - avoid) to get to the Severn Bridge (first one). There was a road closed on the official route at Hallam, but thanks to my belts and braces paper map and Garmin we were able to rejoin via what turned out to be a shorter diversion. Getting to the start of the bridge was counter intuitive as we wiggled over motorways, again following weird changeing cycleway wigns. Luckily we met up with Robert (and Martin) who had been on the bridge before and sort of remembered the route.

Over bridge and through an underpass of the motorway that was full of glass, with 2 kids hanging around who we reckoned had laid the traps for cyclists. Welcome to Wales.

Along the cyclepath on the side of the mainroad out of Chepstow. What is it with cycleway designers? They stop start, have barriers that tandems can't easily go round, and just peter out in places. Easier on the road I reckon. Up passed the racecourse, followed the main roadup then along the Wye valley down to Tintern. A lovely wizz down and along. It wasn't raining, and we were soon to be at our quarters for the night. We were feeling good.

But the cycling gods know better. The turnoff to Whitebrook was marked with a lodging sign, and I knew this was right. But it went on and on and up and the Stoker decided we were lost, so for the first time in the day announced she had enough and was getting off. We tried to phone BA but no signal. She asked at a house and they said the Crown was "4 houses up". Well as each house is large, this means still a long way. Reception was a bit Fawlty Towers, and we were tired, fretful and bickering.

But after a shower and getting sorted, we enjoyed a lovely gourmet meal (the only Michelin starred restaurant in Wales) which was high on the nouvelle and a little too low on the carbs for us cyclists. We were joined by Lulu and Tom from her flat who was recovering from finishing his finals. I crashed early, the others finished a large cheese board which gave the Stoker strange dreams.


Or has it all been a strange dream? We are in a Matrix of unreality that is now getting to be our reality. So I must go to breakfast to face another day.