The Touring Pages

Maybe I am not alone, certainly not with mental issues but also I wonder how many more members feel as I do?

But I have to say I recently received an email from West Lothian Cycle circuit asking for donations towards the building of a cycle circuit for people of all ages and abilities to improve their physical and MENTAL wellbeing, the section of the clarion I belong too made a fantastic donation to them. And on the club facebook they have been UK. You keep a wary eye on the forecast in the run up. It was starting to look promising for our 6 day jaunt around Norfolk last July – then a bit too good. At what point does a heatwave become dangerous and how to handle this with two boys aged 13 and 11? Day 1 – Stamford to Hunstanton – 78 miles We set off from Chris’ parent’s house in Stamford early on Sunday morning. It was 9 ish and the church bells were ringing as we spun through its deserted, Georgian streets. It was cool so we had our windproof jackets on for the first hour or so. We never put them back on singing the praises of a local pub who have introduced coffee mornings to help combat loneliness. This is all super stuff but seems at odds with what I have experienced.

Of course since I composed this something has happened to our world which trivializes everything, hopefully we will all be out soon but I ask all Clarion members to look within.

Melting roads and warm water bottles - how hot is too hot?

It’s always a weather risk, booking a cycling holiday in the

Anon again. Our destination was Hunstanton on the North Norfolk coast. En-route we saw some fellow Clarion riders from Fenland, and shouted a cheery ‘boots’ to them, before peeling off onto the Peterborough Greenway. By mid-morning we were pushing our bikes across dried mud dykes and walking round the cows that had taken up residence.

It was a relief when we got back onto tarmac. We were deep in Fenland where the roads were flat, straight and went on forever. We picnicked in Parson Drove just short of Wisbech.. By mid-afternoon we reached Kings Lynn .It was bright and sunny by this point, which kept us going into the hillier areas round Sandringham. This was tough, weighed down by panniers. We peeled off route 1 and turned towards the sea, hugging the coast until we rocked along a dirt road into south beach, Hunstanton. It was 6pm and we had ridden almost 80 miles.

Day 2 – Hunstanton to Sheringham via Titchwell and Wells – 46 miles The next morning was already warm when we set off. We followed the warden’s advice and went straight up a steep hill to an old drove road which took us onto a stony path and through fields. Our plan was to check out RSPB Titchwell. It was so hot we couldn’t birdwatch for long, retreating to the cafe for lunch. Our next stop was Wells Next The Sea. Wells was so packed that we had to dismount and walk to the harbour! We bought ice creams and hid in the shade. On our final leg to Sheringham, we decided to go via the main coastal road But it was windy and hilly road and full of traffic. I suffered a puncture. A passing car told my husband that I was walking with my bike so they came back to rescue me.

The valve had ripped on the only Schrader inner tube we had. Chris had to improvise using a Presta tube, wrapping the valve in tape to pack it out. He spent the rest of the day staring nervously at the tyre. It was a huge relief to finally make it to Sheringham, where we had been given an attic room in the youth hostel. It was stifling up there and sleeping was very difficult. I doused myself with cold water to try to cool off but it was a very uncomfortable night.

Day 3 – Sheringham to Great Yarmouth – 47 miles A quick post-breakfast visit to a bike shop got me a new inner tube (and a spare!) but we forgot to refit the rear brake. I discovered this on the hill down into Cromer which was an unpleasant surprise. Cromer was buzzing with tourists. We took the Norfolk Coast Cycleway route 30 which was much quieter and very pretty lunching on the beach at Sea Palling where the boys had a paddle among the diving terns. We suffered another puncture on one of the interminably windy roads. It was a long hot ride to Great Yarmouth Finally we were on the main drag which was all illuminations and noisy slot machine salons. We were tired and boiling hot – suddenly our Premier Inn loomed large on the edge of the beach like an Egyptian pyramid. We took full advantage of the facilities and washed our kit before venturing out. The calm on the beach was inviting and the sea breeze was delightful after a tough day in the saddle.

Day 4 – Great Yarmouth to Wreningham – 48 miles Our best night’s sleep yet followed by a full English breakfast! But air con doesn’t dry your kit! Chris spent an hour hair drying it, so by the time we set off it was already mid-morning.

The coastal trail down to Lowestoft had great views and a slightly cooling breeze. We seemed to be back on route 1 again before going into the town centre, where I posted back the Sheringham Youth Hostel key I had inadvertently stolen, The temperature soared into the 30s but we knew we had to keep going until we reached Beccles for some lunch. We bought sandwiches and sheltered from the sun. Everyone was rather frazzled.

From Beccles we followed route 1 then some smaller B-roads to reach our destination, a pub in a small village near Norwich. The air wasn’t moving and we felt like we were riding in a cauldron, as our bodies began to roast. There were no rivers to cool off in and finally I sat under a tree and refused to move. I couldn’t go another metre. My husband threw a load of water on me which helped, but then I worried about running out of water. In the next village, we stopped at the church, found its cemetery standpipe, soaked ourselves with cool water then filled up our bottles. This was our new ploy. We carried on drinking water and pouring it over our bodies which cooled us for a time. Then we would find another church and repeat. After half an hour, the water in our bottles had become warm, like bath water.

The roads were sounding slushy and the top surface was coming off on our tyres, they were literally melting. We longed to arrive at the pub. One road closure and a few miles later, the relief – there was the Bird in Hand pub! We had a room which led directly outside, so hung up our clothes; they didn’t take long to dry – then ate our weight in the pub dining room.

Day 5 – Wreningham to King’s Lynn – 49 miles At breakfast, there were warnings about the hottest UK day ever with an expected 36 degrees. We briefly discussed whether our endeavour was foolhardy and decided to set off as soon as possible, taking it steady during the hottest time of the day. We choose B-roads that were not as busy, but some felt very unsheltered; fields of stubble and corn threw the heat back at us. We aimed for Dereham where we picked up some food in the Co Op, lingering in its air con. A local business offered us a water fill up which was gratefully received.

Our onward journey was a bewildering maze of possibilities as we navigated a route to King’s Lynn. Our water strategy helped us so we were permanently drenched and drinking about a pint per hour. The breeze felt like it was coming from a hair dryer. We started to believe we could achieve our destination intact. Our final stop at the Crown in Gayton was wonderful. Stripped to the waist, our boys guzzled coke. We had beer to ease the pain. Other drinkers thought we were crazy to be doing anything active.

The last ten miles were bearable because we knew we weren’t far – after the obligatory route finding confusion in King’s Lynn, we located the Premier Inn. The receptionist assured us the temperature would drop to 30 degrees by 10pm. The bad news was that they didn’t have air con.The restaurant next door was cool so we stayed there as long as we could. Back in the room, the fan was moving oven-hot air around. We even considered sleeping outside but a strange, warm rain prevented that idea. Chris ran a cold bath and tried to sleep in it. It was unbearable.

Day 6 – King’s Lynn to Stamford – 55 miles We wearily got up to have breakfast on our last day following the worst night of our lives. Fortunately there had been a shift at dawn and the air felt much fresher, at least ten degrees cooler and much more pleasant. We rolled along long roads with huge skies and enjoyed scooting over Sutton Bridge. By the time we reached Holbeach, the Aurora Cafe enticed us in for lunch. The staff were so impressed with our adventures so far they gave the boys free ice cream. We lingered in the market town of Spalding before joining a straight, seemingly infinite road along the side of the river Welland where Dan developed his second puncture of the trip. We had about 20 miles left.

As we neared Stamford, we encountered our first hills of the day. Despite tired legs, we hit them head on, buoyed on by the signs that counted down our finish line and practically raced the last two miles to the in laws where we posed for triumphant photos safe in the knowledge we could sleep in the next day!

Chris, Rosey, Doug and Dan James, Calder Clarion

Summer 2020

6 1/2 WEEKS IN THE EMERALD ISLE ON A £40 MTB

Arriving on the overnight boat from Birkenhead to Belfast I spent a couple of days in Belfast, before heading off around the Antrim coast, taking on the Carrick-A-Rede rope bridge and the Giants Causeway. I found N.Ireland friendly, like the whole of Ireland...but there were still strong tribal sectarian undertones...especially Derry/Londonderry! After heading out of N. Ireland I headed into Donegal and Ireland’s most northerly tip, Malin Head. I also took in the climb of the incredible Mamore Gap and the twisty descent that followed! Wild camping isn’t permitted in Ireland, like most other countries in Europe, but I think its mainly turned a blind eye to, as long as there aren’t a few of you, you’re making noise, partying or starting fires! In fact at Roscommon one day I had a Garda policeman in his car stop outside my tent one morning as I was making a brew! He asked me what I was doing, so I told him, before saying the police in England usually turn a blind eye if you’re not causing problems. He listened intently, nodded and said if I wanted breakfast or to use the bathroom his house was the first one down the lane about 50 yards away! I eventually made my way over to the west coast and the incredible Dingle Peninsular, where a young Irish girl was playing a harp on the cliffs at the end of the magnificent Slea Head route. I gave the Ring of Kerry a miss after advice from locals that I’d have cars and coaches up my backside all day, and instead went to the Beara Peninsular. A great decision as like I was told it is much quieter, just as beautiful, but about half the size. At the end was a rickety looking cable car to an island a few hundred metres away. In the winter apparently they transport cows, one at a time, over to the island to graze! The cable car also has a Bible and a bottle of Holy water apparently, for nervous passengers!

I made it down to Ireland’s most southerly tip, Mizen Head and then on to Skibbereen and Cork, where I spent a few days recuperating at a hostel there. From there myself and the bike took a coach (yes there is a company that does that there!) to Dublin, where I did a few short local rides, as well as the sights....and the Guinness of course! It was then a boat to Holyhead(no boat for foot passengers from Dublin to Liverpool unbelievably!) and a 3 day ride from there to my home in Blackpool from there.

A fantastic 6 and a half weeks, that was really tough at times, but fantastic and unforgettable!

Graeme

Boots & Spurs BOLTON CLARION TOUR OF BAVARIA

It’s looking increasing likely that our planned & booked cycling trips to Majorca in May & Italy in June this year will both be cancelled due to Coronavirus, our long-weekend trip to Kettlewell has already bitten the dust. So with a deep sense of frustration it’s good to look back on previous trips & the following report is from last year’s escapade.

August 20th 2019 saw 9 of us heading for Manchester airport, complete with boxedbikes & packed panniers, for a flight to Munich airport & a subsequent eight day tour of Bavaria – with a little bit of Austria thrown into the mix too. A minibus, which had been pre-booked to pick us all up & transport us 20 miles to the airport, arrived on time but it was far too small to carry 9 bikes, 9 sets of panniers & 9 increasingly worried cyclists! Frantic phone calls by the taxi driver to his mates eventually saw the arrival of another minibus – which was equally too small, but with some ingenious lifting, pulling & pushing (by us) we eventually managed to squeeze all goods (human & otherwise) between, on & over the seats in the two vans. Fortunately my 6th sense had foreseen this eventuality & therefore the 70 minute delay did not make the incident too critical as I had built in plenty of ‘the taxi company will let us down’ time into our itinerary.

A minibus had also been booked for the journey from Munich airport to our hotel – a mere 6 miles away – but lo & behold, despite thoughts of Germanic efficiency, exactly the same issue was encountered there too. I hasten to add that a detailed list of all our luggage, specifically sizes of our bike boxes, had been emailed to both taxi companies prior to booking (to obtain prices) & repeated as part of the booking procedure! The Bavarian solution to this

dilemma was to make two trips, not ideal for us but at least it was only a relatively short journey.

It was raining when we left the UK & it was raining harder when we arrived at our hotel in Hallbergmoos, so all 9 of us had to somehow squeeze into the hotels ground floor corridors to unpack & re-assemble our bikes in preparation for an early start the following day; the floor was a mass of upturned bikes, wheels, tools, pedals & pannier racks, but we all managed to complete our tasks before showering & heading to the nearby ‘Greek’ restaurant for food & drinks, before it closed at 11:30pm.

The first day’s weather was just about okay, kind of on the warm side of cool, but the 2nd day was distinctly cold, the fleece jersey that I always pack, but never use on European tours, was worn all day. Had we picked a bad week? The forecast for the coming weekend in the UK was for temperatures of 30c – were we jinxed? No! After the first 2 days all the remaining days were wonderfully hot & we had no rain whatsoever, except for an absolute drenching when we were in the middle of Salzburg enjoying our evening meal; an additional round of drinks failed to outlast the downpour & our desperate run back to our hotel saw us drenched through to our skins within 2 seconds of stepping outside – & that lederhosen takes some drying-out I can tell you!

Our overall, 8 day, route took us through the centre of Munich to Weilheim in Oberbayern, then to Fussen & a trip up to the mist-shrouded King Ludwig’s castle, onwards to Mittenwald where our GPS guided route saw us riding & walking through a pleasant public park, located on the side of a steep hill, then upwards to the top end of the park - which was totally fenced-in, only to discover that our bikes wouldn’t fit through the pedestrian turnstile. There’s no way we were going to return to the bottom of the hill to come back up again, so we lifted our bikes over the high fence & transferred our panniers through the turnstile.

Jenbach was next, followed by Bernau am Chiemsee, then Salzburg & Altotting before we made our way back to our first hotel near Munich, where we had stored our bike boxes. The 2 days riding from Fussen to Jenbach were quite simply outstanding; jaw-dropping scenery, lovely villages & incredible lakes & mountains. It was hilly but not ridiculously steep terrain, the road surfaces were smooth & there were lots of traffic-free paths - some with gravel surfaces but that was a tiny price to pay for cycling in heaven.

Throughout the tour we encountered 2 punctures, one of which was to a tubeless tyre so there was virtually no delay, one failed bottom-bracket & two broken spokes – all on separate bikes; one of the spokes broke on Saturday afternoon & with no bike shop nearby or close to our route the buckled wheel had to be nursed for the rest of the day & all the following day until a bike shop could be found to purchase a replacement spoke & beg them to remove & refit the cassette (they were too busy to

do the job for us & yes, as always when a spoke breaks on tour, it was on the drive side of the rear wheel).

We completed a fairly leisurely 420 miles – including 12,000 upward feet – the vast majority of hills we encountered weren’t too steep which was really satisfying considering that we were amidst the mountains for long periods; there were of course some exceptions but the only time we were forced to dismount was on a couple of occasions where the gravel surface, combined with the gradient & our pannier-laden bikes, made it impossible to continue pedalling. Once back in Hallbergmoos. after repacking our bikes in preparation for flying home the following day, we jumped on a bus to the local train station & caught the S-Bann train to the centre of Munich where we wandered around the city centre for a while before finishing the tour with a wonderful evening spent in the Hofbrauhaus, eating heartily & washing it all down with copious amounts of bier from 1 litre tankards, being served by buxom frauleins & lederhosen clad waiters, accompanied by the resident Oomphaband – all whilst relaying & often laughing about our fantastic Bavarian tour.

Summer 2020 BLACKPOOL CLARION CYCLING CLUB’S CYCLE-CAMPING TOUR DE DORDOGNE, LOT, PYRENEES ET CÔTE ATLANTIQUE.

After ‘mountainous’ tours from Lake Geneva, crossing many Alpine Cols to Monaco and from Toulouse along the Tarn and Ardèche Gorges, climbing over Mont Ventoux and through the astounding Grand Canyon Du Verdon to Nice, we opted for what we thought would be a flatter route around the Dordogne and Lot. We flew to Bordeaux from Liverpool’s John Lennon Airport, having aviation’s greatest tag line, ‘Above Us Only Sky’. Our base for the first few days was the campsite by the Dordogne River in La Roque-Gageac, often voted the most attractive village in France, it’s almost as nice as Blackpool! We had a ‘rest day’ canoeing down the river, however our paddle lacked the rapids and towering cliffs found along the Ardèche Gorge of our Toulouse to Nice Tour. The following day we got back on the bikes and visited a reproduction of the ‘prehistoric’ cave paintings of Lascaux, which are thought to be the oldest in the world, but we were underwhelmed by the Disney-esque Lascaux II, the real caves being closed to the public. The route had looked relatively flat on the Carte Michelin, appearing to follow the rivers, but the roads had other ideas, repeatedly climbing high above the valleys before plummeting back down again.

A birthday ride was next as, just like Big Mig’, I have my birthday on each Tour De France, so we headed out on a very undulating 90 mile round trip to the extraordinary UNESCO World Heritage that is Rocamadour, built on three successive levels, where old stone buildings, majestic towers and a castle cascade off the cliffs into the Alzou Canyon below.

An easier few days followed as we visited limestone caves in Domme and Le Châteu de Castelnaud, then a day of ups and downs to Cahors on the Lot River, before taking a morning train to foot hills of the Hautes-Pyrénées.

After our customary fine dining experience in a Lidl carpark, we set off on the long climb of the Tourmalet. It wasn’t a ‘bad trip’ at all up ‘The Distance Mountain’ and we paused at the Eugène Christophe statute, in Sainte-Marie-de-Campan. He was a professional cyclist from 1904 to 1926, known for inventing the toe clip and for breaking forks. When riding to a possible overall win in the 1913 Tour, Eugène was penalised for letting a villager operate the bellows on a forge, as he repaired his broken forks. In 1919 he was the first rider to wear the ‘new’ Yellow Jersey and at start of the penultimate stage from Metz to Dunkirk, he was leading by 30 minutes, but his forks broke again and he lost more than two and a half hours, and the race, while he made repairs. Three years later, when in third position, a third broken fork, this time on the descent of the Galibier, again cost him the race.

Onwards we climbed, reaching our campsite near La Mongie just below the Col at dusk. We had arranged to take our bikes on the cable car up to the Pic Du Midi Observatory and then freewheel back down on the gravel road, but despite having emailed the cable car company photographs of our five stone, fully loaded touring bikes, the staff told us that they only allow VTTs, so we pressed on, up the last 2 miles, to the Tourmalet summit, the highest Col in the French Pyrenees. We had a photo with Octave Lapize and, after a couple of hours taking in the cloudless views, we descended to LuzSaint-Sauveur and camped, before an afternoon ride up to the waterfalls at Gavarnie.

Over the next few days we rode onto Biarritz with stops at Lourdes and at the Grand Prix street circuit in Pau, although it’s not quite as famous Monaco’s circuit. Two flat days along the coast lead us to Arcachon and the Dune du Pilat, the biggest sand dune in Europe, with amazing views of the Pyrenees and Atlantic Coast.

A last 25 miles from our final campsite took us back to Bordeaux Airport; then insight of the finish’ we had to put our cagoules on, for the only time in 845 miles.