Days 8 and 9

Key stats: 83 and 96 miles; current location: Okehampton, Devon

Another couple of attritional days. Day 7 took us south through Herefordshire (via the best sponge cake of the trip in a church hall in Madley), stopping for lunch in Monmouth where we were tipped off by the locals that weather should be clear for the rest of the afternoon and that the roll down the Wye Valley to the Severn Bridge would be nice and gentle. Foolishly, we believed them. They must have been cackling as we headed off into the biggest rainstorm of the trip, against the wind all the way down the Wye Valley until the Herculean climb out of the valley into Chepstow.

The Severn Bridge was a real highlight, riding along the access track next to the motorway, and gave a real sense that the end was close. Unfortunately, leaving the bridge took us into the industrial heart of Avonmouth, where Robin was able to have his daily run in with a Chav, exchanging pleasantries with what looked like a 12 year old driver of a Vauxhall Corsa.

We were given a real family welcome in Chelwood, from Bill and Pat Richards (and Murphy the dog). Pat was well prepared for our arrival and wowed us with the first pizza of the trip. Having been tipped off how much we were eating, she had taken the precaution of keeping a spaghetti bolognase in the side lines as contingency – which was very nearly finished, but Pat was one step ahead of us and whipped out an Irish fruit cake which even Will could only finish two slices of.


Stocked up with Pat’s hearty breakfast the following morning, we headed into the sheet rain through the Mendip hills. This was one of the low points of the trip – the rain was driving against and morale took a real battering. A puncture outside Glastonbury was the last thing we needed - Robin’s hands were so cold he could neither mend the puncture. James was concerned that this may mean that he may also not be able to hold his sambuca shot glass.

Fuelling up with watered down coke and Nutrigrain Elevensies we pushed on into Devon, only to find similarly gruelling hill sections, as ascents were not rewarded by hair-raising descents, as the prevailing wind often meant that we had to pedal hard to actually go down hill. Burdened with four more punctures, we limped into Okehampton after what has been physically our hardest day, to our hotel which was best described as a Butlins holiday camp. Having enjoyed a Jacuzzi and sauna, we headed to the dining room with grand plans to exploit the buffet to the max. However, we had mis-estimated the dining arrangements and Will was banished from the dining room for wearing shorts to dinner (Mrs. Tweed would be appalled, CD would be furious!).

This leaves us going to bed on the eve of the final day with one big question is on all our minds: will Will be allowed back into the dining room?