Category Archives: GPS

bikes, combe raiders, GPS, MTB, UK

Devon Weekend – Sidmouth Ride

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With the Combe Raiders (Taunton based) travelling down to the Devon coast, it was an easy opportunity to head west and meet for a Saturday mountain-bike ride. Preferring not to drive two hours each way for a half-day ride, I made a weekend of it by finding a B&B a little further around the coast (south of Exeter).

One of the advantages (perhaps the only one) of starting work an hour earlier than strictly required is that it is easy to get Friday afternoons off. However, the unfortunate thing about travelling west to Devon & Cornwall is that there are no motorways. So I set off in plenty of time to tackle the A-roads; in the end the traffic was good and the trip only took the expected two and a half hours.

The airbnb.com find was another winner as I received a warm welcome in Starcross and was fed exceptionally well the whole weekend. With hosts that like to travel and cycle-tour (particularly in the States) there was plenty to talk about – Jim is planning an A-Z cycle tour of the States starting in Seattle and heading to Florida making sure he visits particular small towns in alphabetical order (X was a bit of a problem to find). The lovable dog and no-eyed cat (it still jumped up on to the back of the sofa etc.) also deserve mention.

It seemed to rain all Friday night, which didn’t bode well for the planned ride. As it turned out there were seven of us riding from John’s parents’ place in Sidmouth. With a group that size I decided I would be able singlespeed and not get left too far behind. We had a great ride, with temperatures in the mid-high single digits and a lot of water everywhere. It rained a fair bit on us, we got spectacularly sleeted on at one exposed stage and there were three reasonable-length mechanical stops (one of which was mine). But that was all part of the fun as there were some good climbs that were a challenge for all – especially me & 32:16 – and had everyone, gears or not, walking.

The flip-side of challenging climbs is proper descents – & with everything being very slippery, they certainly kept us on our toes. There were a few spills, but none too serious. The sun almost came out too at one stage – but that was about a mile away.  John (leading the ride, & riding yet another bike – I can’t keep up – this one a fully rigid 29er SS) was keen to head up one last hill to make a Figure-8 and add a few more miles to the paltry fifteen; that was vetoed in favour of cleaning up & heading down to the seaside for fish and chips.  That was a good decision – it was very tasty and much needed by all.

Devon countryside

Almost sun

Mechanical #2 – broken chain

The only real stream crossing & yet another shiny blue bike for John

I was pretty worn out, so Sunday was very leisurely with a big sleep-in, another (unexpected) full English and a relaxed drive back home via the coast in gorgeous sunshine (we got the days wrong for the ride). I stopped in and saw (Mum’s) cousin Pamela in Poole – the first time since I got my arm out of sling last year. I chose a good day as a roast was just coming out of the oven as I arrived – awesome – and great to catch up too (since I missed all the family news at Christmas just gone).

around home, bikes, GPS, MTB, UK

Whitchurch Off Road Trail

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Trying to beat off the general lethargy that has set in as I wait for my shoulder operation on Tuesday, I set off north an hour on Saturday for this ride around Whitchurch. I’m not sure why the recommended start point & therefore parking spot is a turnout on the side of a road – I’d be inclined to leave my car in one of the smaller villages on the ride. As I set off in the fair weather, my ride was very nearly thwarted early on as the bridge over the railway into Whitchurch is out for construction – eventually I found the temporary footbridge just to the east.

Out of the village I was soon on bridleways heading north & then over the A34 – quite a bit of this ride is too close to this busy road for my liking. There’s the odd route marker, but intelligent guessing while referring to the map has one picking the correct route around the edges of fields & through farmyards. The views started to open up a bit & early on there are a couple of cute little villages to roll through. I was becoming apparent that I was well over-dressed as the sky began to clear – but it’s a little too much hassle to remove leggings mid-ride & I only had the stifling winter gloves with me.

I shared this ride with the usual array of rabbits, squirrels, pheasants, hawks & various livestock. Shortly after I got on to Wayfarer’s Walk & found this strange building in the woods. It appears to be someone’s house now, with no clue as to why it was built. It’s on the Highclere Estate – if I had have been later in the year I could have popped down to Highclere Castle, the setting for Downton Abbey apparently. There was a nice, relatively, long downhill back down to the A34.

With a little detour to find the underpass, I was soon climbing back up on to the top of the downs over a big rabbit warren. This was hardly surprising as I made a small detour to go & look out over Watership Down – the setting of that delightful little book of the same name (Richard Adams still lives in Whitchurch).

I was lucky not to ride into a bunny living room, as I was reminded of man’s ability to generate electricity

Watership Down – it was much more exciting in the book

The short descent off Watership Down back to the loop I was supposed to be riding was the best bit of singletrack all day – which isn’t saying a lot, but it was good fun. I was soon on Caesar’s Way – which was predictable straight, before going through the last village, Litchfield, & back to the car. Litchfield disappointingly didn’t have a pub – I thought every village had a pub in this country – so it was some time before I got lunch. But that was mostly my fault as I enjoyed a pleasant drive home down little country lanes avoiding highways & motorways.  A nice day out exploring in the sun bringing temperatures in the mid to high teens.

Today my bike was cleaned & put into hibernation, before I headed out in more sun to the New Forest Wildlife Park.  This was mostly so I could get some some idea of what my housemate, Gary, is talking about when he comes home from work – he’s a keeper there.  And partly because they have a lot of otters there & after Yellowstone, I quite like otters (although Giant Otters, it turns out, make quite the obnoxious sound).  Amongst other things they have some Scottish Wildcat (slightly bigger than a domestic cat, which seems to think it’s a tiger), lynx (very hard to spot), a lot of owls (including a Morepork), some big wild boar (with rather cute boarlets) & five wolves.

Boarlets – like striped furry piglets, reminded me somewhat of baby warthogs (warthoglets?)

around home, bikes, GPS, history, MTB, UK

Hurst Castle

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After a week of gorgeous sunsets & sunrises on mild rides to & from work, winter finally decided to make a little bit of an appearance on Saturday with a few degrees of Jack still lurking when I set out for a little bit of ride west to check out Hurst Castle. A few miles down the road Beaulieu was looking pretty nice in the crispness.

I continued on back roads enjoying the peace & quiet, skirting around Lymington & many yachts propped up for the winter around the marina before riding the paths through the Lymington-Key Haven Nature Reserve.  It’s all very marshy and before rocksalt & transport was cheaper, it was a very profitable area for making salt. Now it’s quite the habitat for many species of birds & that curious breed – birdwatchers. I did my best not to hit any of them into the marsh as they stood on the path peering skyward.  After 25 km my goal was tantalisingly close across the water, but there were still a few miles of following the shore around through Key Haven & then along the two mile-long spit which was very shingly to the castle.

Hurst Castle is lying low next to the lighthouse

It was a bit of a slog along the shingle spit, but still a lot faster than walking

The Isle of Wight is only three-quarters of a mile across what is the end of the Solent

This Hurst Castle is rather underwhelming compared to the extravagance of the last Hearst Castle I went to.  The centre part of the castle dates back to Tudor times when Henry VIII built a string of castles stretching around the south-east of England to defend against invasion as he managed to antagonise the Catholic nations. They are all similarly designed – low-slung & circular. Being in such a good position to defend the Solent, the Victorians extended the castle a long way along the shore in both directions. It’s a little odd walking in & seeing just how long & narrow the castle is – definitely not your usual square keep. They put in numerous 38 ton guns, but a shot has never been fired in anger from the castle – that includes during its defensive duties through the two world wars.

At the end of the long spit on a reasonably chilly day, there weren’t a lot of other people around as I clattered around in my bike shoes.  There were plenty of nooks & crannies to explore around the Tudor central section.  I wasn’t exactly overdressed for the weather, so didn’t spend too much time reading the exhibits.  Instead I opted for eating my lunch watching the tide creep in – if I had have brought lashings of ginger beer I could have easily imagined I was about to discover a smuggler’s long forgotten treasure buried on Kirrin Island.

I avoided the circuitous route through the nature reserve on the return journey, but detoured back to Buckler’s Hard after Lymington. I took a few little walking paths trying to find an obelisk, the top of which I spied from some distance.  I tracked it down along Monument Lane, funnily enough, read the long tributes to a past MP & continued down the walking paths.  It was a little weird crossing a private airfield, but I was pleased to discover that the USAF used it for a while around D-Day to fly Thunderbolts on bomber-escort missions.  Find curious little bits of history like that is one of the great things about being following one’s nose in a country such as this.

Back through Beaulieu the sun was setting & as I climbed up to Hill Top I was surprised to pass a roadie struggling up the hill.  After forty miles, I was hardly fresh – this guy caught up to me on the flat, turns out he works in our head office & had ninety miles under his belt to explain my passing him.

Sunday was supposed to be a much shorter ride with Dan & Chris off-road in the Forest.  We looped around a bit & Chris showed us giant sequoias.  For the New Forest, these are big trees.  But after Yosemite & the NorCal coast last year, I was pleased just to be mildly interested.  Somehow we ended up way out west in a quaint village, Burley, with a good pub-stop to refuel on some big potato wedges.  Just as well the Forest is flat – the ride turned out longer than the previous day’s at 45 miles/72 km.  Beautiful day it was too, this place must be a zoo in the summer – there were so many people out on another frigid day.

around home, bikes, GPS, history, MTB, national park, UK, vehicles

Pedal & Steam Power

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Well thrilled at the prospect of a weekend at home & not having to drive hundreds of miles, I planned absolutely not-much. Of course, a couple of rides figured in that not-much – it having been a month since my last adventures off road & that shoulder op getting closer. Saturday’s was not at all ambitious – I headed to the diametrically opposite side of the Forest & followed some of the marked cycle trails (wide double track & some road, with plenty of walkers out). There were scruffy looking ponies in abundance as usual.

Just to prove that not all of the New Forest is beautiful, I think I stumbled on its secret ugly corner. It was bleak – low scrub, a dim day, sand, mud; I wonder why I didn’t see many people out there. But I was out on my bike pushing the cranks around & it was good. With twenty clicks under the wheels, it was a pleasant hour & a bit out stretching the legs.

The local MTB club (New Force) had a fortnightly ride on Sunday, northeast of Winchester. So I dragged myself out of bed & went & joined dozens of others. We split into three groups & ours proceeded on a long anticlockwise circuit along bridleways through rolling farmland. While it was dry overhead, there was plenty of moisture in the ground to deal with – the mud was draining & a good technical challenge, especially on any long descents. In fact a bit of road was sometimes welcome for the respite it provided. I’m not sold on these club rides, I thought mountain-bikers were generally friendly. Perhaps the English are just over people from all over the world – four hours & I hardly got a word out of anyone, I miss riding in North America. That’s beside the time when our group got split in two – who leads rides & doesn’t wait at big intersections?

Did see this good looking flag randomly down some country lane. Actually, I’d much prefer it were a silver fern on black

The day was salvaged by a big plate of cheesy chips (not quite poutine, but good enough), Somerset cider & then stumbling across a steam train near where I’d parked my car. I wandered up & down the platform a bit checking out the hissing engine & beautiful old carriages with the fascination one would expect of a history & engineering fiend. It occurred to me that I had no real reason to get home, so I paid my pounds & was issued with a quaint stiff cardboard ticket for the last return journey of the day. I had no idea where I was going, but that was just part of the fun.

We headed east under the setting sun across more green pastoral land, with plenty of cuttings to climb up a couple of hundred metres. The Mid Hampshire Railway, also known as the Watercress Line due to its predominant market-gardening commodity in the nineteenth century, has been restored since the ’70s & now runs the ten miles between Alresford (where I embarked) & Alton (which I’d never heard of) on many days of the year. They have a surprisingly large fleet of steam & some diesel engines & all sorts of old rolling stock stashed on various sidings along the line. With all the staff in period dress & the engine chugging in to the fast approaching evening, billowing smoke swirling down to cover the carriage windows it was all good fun – not to mention the first time I’ve been pulled by a proper steam engine in I-don’t-know-how-long.

It was easy to see all the signal control wires running alongside the rails

A pleasant end to the day – even if I was a little tired from the mud-riding & got told off by the guard for almost falling asleep on his train.