Moretonhampstead to Glastonbury

 June 12th

Up at 7.00 bright sunshine visible through the bedroom window of the Old PostHouse. Breakfast was at 8.0 but I had already loaded up my trusty steed so I would be ready for a swift get away. I had half expected to be fixing a puncture first thing because last evening I hit a cattle grid at 50 kph and thereafter the back tyre felt as if it was softer than before. I was too tired to do anything then so it was surprising that it appeared to be fine this morning. 

Breakfast was an international affair. There was a middle aged German couple who spoke no English trying to order breakfast with difficulty. The menu had choices at ever turn- tea or coffee, apple or orange juice, white toast or brown or mixed. Hilarious. there was an older French couple who spoke English and understood what to order. There was an English couple and yours truly the odd one out. Breakfast was a 9 out of 10. when I left I couldn't help showing off with Goodbye, Auf Wiedersen, Au Revoir.

Last Evening had ended with a swift descent into Moretonhampstead so it was no surprise that there would be a big ascent out of there this morning. It didn't disappoint. 1 1/4 miles of hill too steep for even my granny gear. Great start. But down the other side was pretty exhilarating and cold. I had to stop to put my jacket on. this continued throughout the day. Jacket on, jacket off. Dylan had told me that it was downhill all the way to Exeter. He lied. There were at least three big ups including Six Mile Hill which fortunately wasn't six miles long but instead, I think, six miles from Exeter.  The last part was admittedly sharply down into Exeter.

However after the first descent I checked the back tyre which was still feeling soft. I did have a tiny little pump but I had no expectation that it could blow my tyre up to 5 bar. Miracles do happen. My arm was nearly falling off but it duly reached 5 bar and the tyre has felt good all day.

After Exeter, which took a fair bit of navigating to get through and out the other side the route settled into a pattern of navigating from on picture postcard Devon hamlet to the next via narrow lanes where there was only just room for a car and me but to be fair virtually ever car stopped and pulled in to let me pass. Pinhoe, dog Village, Talaton, Payhembury came and went before I arrived in the fairy tale village of Broadhembury. Everysingle cottage including the pub and the church have thatched roofs. It was very attractive. If I had known that it was to be followed by the worst hill yet I might have stayed longer. 

"Ascend steeply for 1 1/2 miles through woodland" was the instruction in my end to end guide but that doesn't begin to cover it. It was creepy, steep, the roadsurface was terrible and I was knackered after the first bend. About half way up as I was slumped over the handlebars in the "recovery position" a young lady cyclist who was sailing down the hill, stopped to enquire if I was alright. I explained that I was engaged in the old man up the steep hill strategy. Instead of split the hill into three or four parts it was split the hill into thirteen or fouteen parts with suitable rests in between. She wished me well and went on her way and I wished yet again that I would have had the presence of mind to take a photo.

However hell was followed by heaven. 10 miles of flat wellsurfaced road and a wind more behind than against. Bliss. I was bowling along at 30 kph. I knew that it couldn't last and it didn't. A long drag was followed by a fantastically exhilarating descent into another picture postcard village of Corfe. Thereafter it was back to the lanes to negotiate a way around Taunton. In the village of Stoke St Mary I stopped to photograph the 13th century St Mary's church but got more than I bargained for. A lady of about my age was pushing a push chair containing a child who looked about 8 or 9 years old. Completely unbidden she told me that her son had passed away 12 weeks ago and today would have been his 43rd birthday. It got worse. The girl in the push chair was autistic and didn't speak and she had two brothers 5 and 2 for the mother to cope with. What do you say to that? I hope that I made suitably sympathetic noises but it definitely took the wind out of my sails.

The rest of the trip was reasonably rolling but significantly the wind turned and the last 15 miles were into a stiff breeze. There was one last hill, Collard Hill. Hills are like winds if they have a name they are significant. It was just before the town of Street, long and steep and for the first time the traffic was impatient. I was glad to rollinto Glastonbury where I am staying at the Premier Inn. 

 Tommorrow is 68 miles to Monmouth described by the guide as moderate. However I have lost faith in the author's ability to describe hills. We shall see. It has been said that if you reach Bristol you will go on to complete the end to end. Let us hope that that statement is accurate.