On the pilgrim path – a ‘pedaller’s’ tale

Gavin Hall shook off his longterm biking lethargy to follow an ancient literary route across 21st century Kent in October this year. Here’s his Canterbury Tale…

Prologue… Using the very best of my advanced negotiating skills, I purchased the 1963 Mercian for the full asking price. It looked old, tired, and a bit worn out, rather like me, but this was love at first sight. Much fixing-up later and we were both ready for the off – but where to go?

Act One: Turning the Tide Adventure is a relative term. Having not turned a wheel in anger for a year or three, the Dragon’s Back, LEJOG or PBP were perhaps a touch unrealistic. Then again, twice round the block seemed to lack ambition. London to Canterbury looked just right.

National Cycle Route Four wends its way across London, mostly hugging the glorious Thames. Sunrise scenes of skyscrapers, Greenwich and then the Docklands gave way to the more industrial landscape of the East End and beyond. The going was at first smooth and sunny, then rougher and cloudier as the route turned towards Dartford; not ideal for a glamorous racing machine, but no trouble for the vintage Mercian, newly shod with touring tyres. Act Two: Over the Hill Climbing out of Dartford over the M25 after a decent stop, the rain began to pour as the traffic noise increased. So much for scattered showers, but it didn’t seem to matter. A nice nursery owner afforded me the chance to warm up in a greenhouse until the rain eased.

Cycle Route Four then became Cycle Route One, weaving through Sittingbourne and on to Rochester, a real gem on the River Medway. The sun was shining again, illuminating another good stop to dry off, top up and have a look at the museum. What lovely people I met there; friendly, welcoming and not troubled by my garish 1980s cycling clobber.

Act Three: Pastures New Sticking with Cycle Route Four gave me a magical afternoon of cycling. The route become a track running alongside the Medway through the Riverside Country Park; no phones, no traffic, few people, and nothing to worry about aside from getting to Canterbury one way or another.

Speed was not of the essence in any sense, simply enjoying the sights and sounds was the priority; in a world where we are often monitored and measured, it felt great just to be out having fun on my lovely old bicycle. Act Four: Sting in the Tale Cycle Route Four now turned inland over tracks and lanes through endless fields bursting with hops and plump apples. As the light began to fade it was time to head directly to Canterbury which meant a scary (to me at least) spin down the side of the A2.

The cacophony of noise just a few feet to my right reminded me of how fragile we are and how fortunate to have so many traffic-free cycle routes. Grateful not to have been squashed by a speeding truck, I was glad to turn left and spin-up to Canterbury Cathedral, tired, hungry but happy once again.

Epilogue Speeding back to London by train, a glorious exhaustion overwhelmed me. The distance covered could rightly be considered as trivial, certainly fewer than one hundred miles, and it took most of the day to complete.

No awards had been attempted or earned either, but none of that mattered a jot; this was all about getting out and having fun. Should you find yourself with no particular place to go and a day or so to spare, a gentle meander down the Thames and across to Canterbury could be just what you need.