Not the best bank holiday weather yesterday, but certainly not a bad day for cycling – mild, dry and only intermittently sunny.
In 2016 I set myself the task of cycling to all of Leicestershire’s neighbouring counties and back. Once I’d done all those I started doing non-neighbouring counties, and I’ve done quite a few of those now. In 2018 I decided that the next most viable one was Gloucestershire, but then I injured my knees and I haven’t added one to the set since then. However – my knees are now back to long distance form, the Summer is running out and I had all day yesterday, so I decided to give Gloucestershire a go.
The route is very easy – just pick up the old Roman road of Fosse Way south of Stoney Stanton, and keep going south. I took the eTrex for navigation anyway as although it looks like a straight line on a map, there are actually a few fiddly bits when you get up close and personal with it.
I set off at 07:30. I was actually on call until 09:00 so taking a bit of a risk by 08:30 or so, as by that time I was a fair distance from a computer in the event that I should get a call from work. But it was unlikely, and I didn’t get called. I was very relieved to switch the phone off at 09:00, by which time I was 16 miles away from home.
Nice to be doing an unfamiliar road – I’d only been about 30 miles down Fosse Way before – but the last 15 miles to Gloucestershire are hard. Long climb after long climb, like a drawn out rollercoaster ride. I didn’t much enjoy wooshing down those long slopes, knowing that I’d have to pedal back up them on the way back.
Stopped at a garage to buy some supplies – a sausage roll, a cheese & mushroom pie and some water – about ten miles from target. I dutifully put a face covering on, though the only other customer in there hadn’t bothered. He was only paying for petrol and was in and out of there in about 30 seconds, but still – it does seem inconsiderate.
I turned off Fosse Way onto a B road for the last mile and a half, and arrived at the Gloucestershire border at about 13:00.
I kept going into Gloucestershire for another 200 metres or so and had lunch leaning against a large tree off a secluded little country lane. Then I prepared myself mentally to face the hills again, and came back.
On the way back I stopped to take a pic of the High Cross Monument, marking the intersection of two major Roman roads, and (supposedly) the centre of Roman Britain. It’s featured in one of the Great British Car Journeys episodes, with Peter Davison and Christopher Timothy.
Stopped at a shop at one of the villages on the way back, not sure which one – Bretford or Brinklow, probably – and bought a bag of crisps, a can of cold Espresso and a Magnum ice cream. I hadn’t intended to have the Magnum, I really only bought it on the spur of the moment to get the overall cost up to the minimum debit card charge. I stopped at the bench outside the shop and consumed them all. I’m sure that really helped a lot – after 100 miles I was starting to feel superficially weary but I had loads of energy. I probably didn’t fuel myself enough on the 200 mile ride in June and if I had, I wouldn’t have felt so spent over the last 40 miles.
Back on 115.85 miles, which took my August total to 686 – this year’s highest monthly tally so far.
https://www.strava.com/activities/3992862473
Very nice to have added another county to the list. I don’t think I’ll do that ride again, though. Strava tells me that it’s the most elevation gain I’ve done on any ride so far. 5,761 feet.
I finished my Jack Reacher audiobook on the ride, Die Trying. Quite enjoyable but really pretty dumb pulp fiction. I do like the way he ties the various strands of his stories together, though. But he obsesses over details a bit too much.
I also listened to the BBC’s Brexit: A Love Story? on R4. Predictably there’s a satirical, mocking tone to the way the various protagonists on the Leave side of the argument are portrayed. I’d have been too angry to listen to it a year ago. But in the light of events since then I found a certain indulgent satisfaction in listening to it, knowing that the BBC had been defeated. A bit like listening to one of Lord Haw-Haw’s old broadcasts.