South Downs Way, Part 3

Blue skies over, the white cliffs of, er, Eastbourne.

So, the last leg then.  This time, I've got the whole public transport thing sorted, and am on the 10:03 from East Croydon, changing at Lewes and then on to Berwick.  I have company too, with this trip involving slightly more sensible days of 12 miles or so, my friends Sarah and Stuart have joined me.  Will be nice to have some company up on the hills, and indeed in the pubs, of which there may be a few - without the need to force the pace we should be able to stop fairly often.  Indeed, while we manage to pass through Berwick, and then Alfriston where we rejoin the Way, a mile further on a refreshing pint at the Plough and Harrow in Litlington seems in order - well, it is a rather warm day, once again my travels over the South Downs are accompanied by blue skies.

The Beachy Head

We follow the river Cuckmere for a while, but obviously staying with it all the way to the sea would be too easy.  Rather, the Way climbs up a series of hills, dropping down nearly to sea level between each, before finally reaching the coast, where we find ourselves in the Seven Sisters country park, so named for the series of cliff tops, over which, unsurprisingly, our path leads - so much for a nice flat walk along the seaside then.  It is certainly bracing up here, and we make good time on the springy turf, passing an old lighthouse that is now a rather remote private house, and then reaching the high point of the day, Beachy Head.  Oh look, there is a pub here...

Surely, the End?

From here we only have two miles to go to Eastbourne, and with it all downhill we are there before we know it.  Something of a landmark, this is only the second of the 19 official National Trails in the UK that I've completed - must work on that.  After a pleasant stroll along the promenade we grab a pint on the Pier, find our hotel, and then an excellent Italian meal at Mo Mambo.  A good sign is that the place is full of Italians - and indeed Eastbourne seems to be a magnet for foreign tourists, we pass Italians, Germans and so forth in large numbers, and why not.  Rounding off the evening is yet more beer and some live music in the Crown and Anchor - apparently the barmaids were quite attractive here too, I of course did not notice.

Sunday morning, and no more South Downs Way to do right?  Well no, the route we took yesterday was for walkers only, there is an alternative inland path for use by cyclists and horse riders, which this very year they have extended to meet up with the cliff route on the outskirts of town.  With an earlier start this morning though, we have time to visit the pier and play the penny slots, and then paddle along the sea front.  Eastbourne has actual sand it turns out, who knew?  Before long we reach the Way again, and quickly climb up onto the Downs, heading North away from the coast.  This is a rather more like the first four days, mostly flat along the chalk ridge, I suppose that the ten miles or so yesterday was the toughest section of the Way - good thing Sarah and Stuart didn't miss it.  For lunch we drop down to Jevington and the Eight Bells, and then climb up one last time onto the ridge above the Cuckmere.

Inside the Clergy House.

Back in Alfriston we pop into the Clergy House, the very first property to be bought by the National Trust.  Now restored to medieval appearance it's an interesting detour.  We find plenty more Europeans here too - and indeed at the next pub, the George, we are served Beachy Head ale by a charming German.  Then the extended pub crawl continues for a couple more pints at the Cricketers in Berwick, before it is finally time to get the train back.  All good fun I must say, and this last section of the Way in particular I can see myself coming back to.  Eastbourne has its charms too - they have crazy golf you know.  I can't help but notice as we pass through Lewes on the way back that the Harvey's brewery is there also, hmm.  But anyway, that's enough of the South Downs for now, next week, something a bit longer...

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

South Downs Way, Part 2

Rejoining the Way

Another weekend, and another trip to the South Downs.  What with section hiking the Way this spring, and a few cycle trips where this direction is one of few I can take without riding through central London, I seem to have ended up around these parts a fair bit recently.  Worse places to be I guess - though, now I've got to the central section of the Way, just getting to it isn't too easy.  I set off from Victoria station, the evil that is Westminster council meaning I have to park my bike the other side of the river and walk... then, as the train unexpectedly passes through East Croydon I realise it would have been better to get on there - if only it were in any way easy to find out where these trains stop in advance.

But anyway.  By 11am I'm back where I was two months before, in Amberley.  The effects of the wettest April in a century can be seen in the flooded fields and swollen river Arun, but today the sky is blue, for maybe the first weekend since I was here last - I should go walking more often.  It does make for hot work as I slog up onto the ridge, once I'm up though the route proves to be pretty flat.  Indeed for most of the weekend the Way lies along the chalk ridge top, only occasionally dipping into valleys.  To the North the ground falls away steeply, and then the Sussex countryside stretches away to the horizon, where the hills around East Grinstead and Tunbridge Wells are visible.  To the South there is a more gentle slope down to the sea, which gradually grows nearer as the walk progresses.

In front of the Jack and Jill windmills

I'm by no means the only one to have come up here, I share the path with all manner of walkers, joggers, mountain bikers, and indeed paragliders and microlight flyers.  Not to mention a fair number of sheep and cows.  There is room for us all though, as the Way stretches on - 22 miles for me on Saturday, and 26 on Sunday.  Still, the Ukrainian boots are holding up well, and I get to the Jack and Jill in good time after the first day of walking - the pub is named for the two windmills that sit, appropriately enough, up a nearby hill.  Some decent beer, tasty parts of pig, and much needed sleep follow.

The Abergavenny Arms

Sunday dawns cloudless, and after more pig I'm off again, the ridge continuing Eastwards, then starting to peter out down towards Lewes, and so the Way jags South to join a new ridge line from Newmarket Hill on to Eastbourne.  Walking over the Downs like this it's possible to envisage how they were formed, as the chalk sediments were rucked up and folded under pressure caused by colliding continental plates - actually far away, the plates in question being those of Africa, India and Europe.  Funny to think that these little ripples in the land have the same - still ongoing - cause as the mighty mountains of the Himalayas.  Little ripples are enough for me at the moment, it is still a long slog to reach Berwick for the train back.  At least today I find a pub for lunch, half a mile off the Way though it is.  The Abergavenny Arms in Rodmell is well worth the detour.

Fortified by a couple of pints I stride on, reaching the station with 15 minutes before the next train is due, sadly the pub opposite is shut.  Time to struggle some more with public transport... I'm sure the journey planner said to change at Lewes, but the station looks cold and deserted and I decide to continue to Brighton where surely trains to London will be found.  And indeed when I arrive one is about to leave, except to London Bridge rather than Victoria... well I am sure the ticket inspector won't mind.  As it turns out nobody checks, and I even manage to get another train on to Waterloo where my bike is, result.  So now I have only a little of the Way left to do - 12 miles or so to the finish at Eastbourne, though given there are two alternative routes I'm going to make a weekend of it.  This is planned for a couple of weeks from now, and shockingly I've persuaded other people to come along...

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

France by bike, day 4

I was a little worried when I planned the route from Portsmouth back to London - at 78 miles it is a little less than my route to Harwich last year, but I suspect rather a lot more hilly.  At least I make an early start, thanks to the hour gained during the crossing I'm on the road before 7am, and progress is good for the first 15 miles or so.  Then the hills start... first of all the South Downs, which seem to take a good 20 miles to cross, all of it up and, well, down.  And of course it is chucking it down again, which today doesn't seem to help much, as I push the increasingly heavy-seeming bike up one hill after another.  It is past 2pm by the time I stop for lunch at the Sun in Dunsfold - a decent ploughmans.

Steep ascent of the North Downs

I'm around half way at least, and can take some comfort in being in my fourth county of the day (if we can count East and West Sussex as two).  More good news, when I emerge from the pub the rain has, more or less, stopped.  It is even fairly flat in this bit of Surrey, and I'm thinking well, South Downs done, flat for a bit, then the North Downs, and I'll be practically in London.  Not quite it turns out, six miles or so along I get to the Surrey Hills... at 250m they are in fact the high point of the route, and would be tough to walk up with just a light pack, let alone a heavy bike.

But OK, I can do that... and then the death-defying roll down the other side.  Then of course it is straight onto the North Downs, which for a change is an even steeper push, this time up a chalky farm track.  At least the sun has come out, although as I slog uphill it is a mixed blessing.  Finally I reach the top, and find it is still off road on the other side, more gravel than chalk initially and not too steep.  Not sure what I was thinking when I planned this bit though, as before long the track I'm on turns to a mixture of huge chunks of rock and deep mud, mostly downhill, often steep, though occasionally flat and even with a bit of uphill.  This continues for some five miles and to say my bike isn't suitable is something of an understatement... Sometimes I try to ride along on packed mud, my heavy rear wheel constantly sliding away, trying to compensate with motocross style reverse steering.  Other times I bounce jarringly along with a death grip on the bars, trying to steer between the larger boulders in my path.  Now and again I pedal furiously, fighting the wheelspin, deliberately aiming for puddles as they tend to have some gravel at the bottom that I can get traction on, and sometimes I just give up and push.

Crossing the North Downs Way

Somehow I get to the end of it, muddy and dishevelled and with all manner of odd noises coming from the bike, to find myself on the outskirts of Leatherhead.  With a cry of 'fishface!' I trundle through it on the sweet, sweet tarmac, before long passing beneath the M25, why, I am practically in London!  And it isn't even 6pm... so, onwards.  I can't say there is much exciting left to tell of, the suburbs roll by beneath my wheels, Epsom, Sutton, Croydon, South Norwood.  I stop for a shandy somewhere, Ewell I think... eventually as dusk is falling, I reach home, at around 8.30.  It is a little less than 14 hours since I set off from Portsmouth, what can I say, it has been an adventure alright.  Probably a good thing I couldn't persuade any friends or family to come along.

One of the better bits of the muddy track of doom

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

France by bike, day 3

Villedieu-les-Poêles

Well, I certainly slept the sleep of the just in Villedieu, and no ill effects from eating what I suspect was tripe for dinner.  Bread, cheese and a croissant for breakfast, and then it's back on the bike with another 60 miles or so to go.  I'm on the road by 10am, which given yesterday's performance means I am in genuine danger of missing the boat out of Caen... it depends as much as anything on the terrain, though at least today I am feeling a little more up for it.


Well, the hills continue, but seem rather more gentle, I'm mostly able to cycle up in bottom gear, my aging legs protesting all the way - followed by an exhilirating / terrifying rush downhill.  On the minus side, the rain that I've miraculously avoided thus far arrives in force, soon I am soaking wet from both the downpour and spray from the entirely non-absorbent French roads.  It doesn't seem to affect my ability too cycle much.  Passing drivers continue to sound their horns, eventually I decide they are encouraging me.  Not sure it is that helpful, though I do fell a bit guilty about the cars I gave the finger to yesterday...

Jesus it's a menhir...

Arriving in St Lo around 12.30, I pop into a bar to hide from the rain and have a warming coffee.  My request for a croque-monsieur is met with a gallic shrug though, it seems the bar is mainly a place to drink pommeau (a kind of apple sherry popular in Normandy) while betting on horses.  A bit early for lunch anyway, so I press on towards Bayeux.  The rain dies off at least, and the roads are flattening, but as I ride through miles of forest there is no sign of anywhere to eat.  It is 2.30 before I reach a roadside restaurant, where this being France, they are no longer serving food.  I'm actually thinking fondly of 24 hour little chefs, but fortunately they are able to rustle up a sandwich which turns out to be bigger than my head, phew.

Ancient burial site.

As the afternoon wears on I actually get some sunshine, and the going is easy enough, I breeze through Bayeux, and get off the main roads and into the fields, riding past a variety of roadside shrines, neolithic remains, and WW2 cemeteries.  Finally rolling into Ouistreham around 7pm, I'm a little concerned to find a series of shut bars and restaurants.  Well it is Sunday, what am I thinking?  Down by the sea however I'm able to find a brasserie for some beers, some soupe de poisson and best of all, merguez.  Even they chuck me out onto the terrasse at 9.30 mind you.  Never mind, it is time to get on the boat and head back to Portsmouth anyway.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

France by bike, day 2

MV Bretagne

May have drunk a bit too much last night, either that or the guillotine I got put in by a stage magician did more damage than it seemed at the time... Whichever, I'm really in no state to cycle, and though the roads in Brittany are straight and flat, progress is slow.  It's half past twelve before I spot the Mont St Michel, my planned lunch stop, and it's another hour before I get there... Still can't face beer so I revisit my childhood and have a diabolo menthe with my crudités, moules frites and tarte aux pommes.  Yum.

The Mont is an amazing place, shame I have neither the time nor the energy to explore much of it.  As it is I struggle through the Japanese tourists along a few medieval fortifications and vertiginous stairs before getting back on the bike.

Mont St Michel

Sadly progress continues to be slow.  I feel a bit better, but Normandy proves to be quite hilly... Avranches is particularly bad, a long steep push alongside a dual carriageway to get to it, and then what turns out to be a footpath out of town, so steep I have to walk.  It's a hard slog to Villedieu les Poëles, and I finally roll in at half past seven - there are probably people who could have run it in better time.  In time for dinner at least.  Must say I'm not too impressed by the French attitude to bikes though... I actually got beeped a couple of times today, thought that only happened in America. And the hotel charged me seven euros to put the thing in their garage.  Tut.

I'm in France alright...

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

France by bike, day 1

Alice Holt Forest

Well, Holland was fun last year, and the French are up there with the Dutch as reputed cycle-lovers.  We shall see.  For now I just need to get to Portsmouth in time for the ferry, not hard given I cheated and got the train to Farnborough last night.  Cheers Mum and Dad for putting me up :)

Still, plenty of hills between me and the South Coast, requiring a fair bit of pushing.  At least it's not raining, much, though rivers are swollen and fords impassable.  I also struggle to find some lunch, passing through several villages with neither shop nor pub, I settle for Petersfield Tesco in the end.

The drought continues...

I ride a bit of the South Downs Way - probably easier on a mountain bike, and from there the going is easy enough to Portsmouth.  Time for a beer or three in the Drake before getting on the ferry.  Nice place, looks like there will be music later, but I have places to go.

I do like these overnight ferries I must say, there is a bar, a good restaurant, even a bit of entertainment.  A sort of mini-cruise, the mini bit being good as I'd go stir crazy on a proper cruise I'm sure.  Whereas here I'll be off at 8am tomorrow with another 60 miles to do.

The Admiral Drake.

Photos to go with this post can be found here here.