You might remember I was looking for a navigation solution? Well, thanks to my friend IF and his friend Pete, I found one. ViewRanger. Changed my life. You can download individual tiles of OS maps and use them to plot a route, and then, without even so much as a phone connection, you can stick your iDevice in the raincover of your front pouch and follow the blue line across the country. It's heavenly.
It takes some doing, getting your ViewRanger on, and I cut it pretty fine. For instance, I didn't take the time to fully appreciate all the details of the key for the maps. I didn't, for instance, fully understand that the hollow dots along a national cycle route meant 'unpaved'. I mean, I suspected as much, but, well, the details.
Jai and I took a look together, and decided to give it a go anyway. We we starting a new day, why not start it with a bit of mystery?
The path was divine, actually, all along a river using a disused rail trail. Jaime was basically frothing at the mouth at the thought of being on a rail trail. Until she got a flat. Boom. Right there, middle of nowhere, nowhere near a road.
We tried pumping it up, but no joy. Because I was a Brownie, and because I made the Girl Guide pledge, I had 1 spare inner. For a 400km journey. That's prepared, right? Wrong. Bad Girl Guide. We were about half way along the unpaved bit of track. Do we use the spare now, and risk another one in 30 seconds? Do we hobble along with a flat for the next 6kms? Do we, and here's the real question friends, take our heavily laden bikes and bushbash our way back to the road??
Yes! Of course we do! You can take the girl out of Cockatoo...
You won't be surprised to hear that, somewhat bloodied but undeniably wiser, we wound up right back where we started, with Jai changing her busted tube for mine. Look, it was an adventure, ok? As we were pouring off the railtrail, we were imaginating a bikeshop that sold cake. Carrot cake. Yeah. And a cup of tea. Yeah!
Sometimes, the universe delivers. We rolled into town to find a specialist, independent, bespoke bike building workshop, on the river, nextdoor to a cafe selling carrot cake. I am not joking. Thanks, universe.
Mercifully, as illustrated above, the rest of day 4 was a blessing. Yes, it was 85kms long, but it was a delight. Rolling country lanes and sunshine. Honestly, thank goodness, because another day 3 would've been the end of me. The towns of Coalport and Ironbridge in particular were delightful. Highly recommended! The fact that I cycled through them with a damp t-shirt and bra dangling from my pannier to dry and they still let me in, surely speaks volumes about them also!
Enter, Wales. Oh, Wales.
I know London has a bad rep as a town full of tired, stressed, over-worked, adrenaline junkies. I know that. I'm really enjoying no longer working 55+ hours a week and commuting 2.5 hours a day. Part of my willingness to move arose from realising that I was in work by the time Al got up, and he was home eating dinner by the time I left. That sounded dreamy to me. Can you believe that, Londoners? Leaving for work at 8.30am and being home by 6.30pm, still doing a full day of work, contributing loads, and basically working 9-6? Incredible!
But I really feel like Wrexham took this anti-London approach to living it too far. Jai and I checked in at the Premier Inn and wandered into town. It was about 5.35pm. The entire shopping district was deserted, as though the whole population was taking a nap, knackered from a full day of being Welsh. I checked the time again. Maybe I got it wrong? Maybe it was 9.30pm? No, no - before 6pm.
I know I guy who loves Wales so much, that the sheer mention of the place sends him into raptures. I emailed him for dinner recommendations before we left the hotel. When I got back, I found a reply saying 'Get out as soon as you can'.
It was a funny feeling that night. We'd both thought of day 5 as kind of a jolly - only 50kms, and the last day at that. I can't say I was sorry to be ending the bike-short era, but the thought of finishing the journey was as daunting as it was thrilling. It's not about the destination, after all.
It takes some doing, getting your ViewRanger on, and I cut it pretty fine. For instance, I didn't take the time to fully appreciate all the details of the key for the maps. I didn't, for instance, fully understand that the hollow dots along a national cycle route meant 'unpaved'. I mean, I suspected as much, but, well, the details.
Jai and I took a look together, and decided to give it a go anyway. We we starting a new day, why not start it with a bit of mystery?
The path was divine, actually, all along a river using a disused rail trail. Jaime was basically frothing at the mouth at the thought of being on a rail trail. Until she got a flat. Boom. Right there, middle of nowhere, nowhere near a road.
We tried pumping it up, but no joy. Because I was a Brownie, and because I made the Girl Guide pledge, I had 1 spare inner. For a 400km journey. That's prepared, right? Wrong. Bad Girl Guide. We were about half way along the unpaved bit of track. Do we use the spare now, and risk another one in 30 seconds? Do we hobble along with a flat for the next 6kms? Do we, and here's the real question friends, take our heavily laden bikes and bushbash our way back to the road??
Yes! Of course we do! You can take the girl out of Cockatoo...
You won't be surprised to hear that, somewhat bloodied but undeniably wiser, we wound up right back where we started, with Jai changing her busted tube for mine. Look, it was an adventure, ok? As we were pouring off the railtrail, we were imaginating a bikeshop that sold cake. Carrot cake. Yeah. And a cup of tea. Yeah!
Sometimes, the universe delivers. We rolled into town to find a specialist, independent, bespoke bike building workshop, on the river, nextdoor to a cafe selling carrot cake. I am not joking. Thanks, universe.
Enter, Wales. Oh, Wales.
I know London has a bad rep as a town full of tired, stressed, over-worked, adrenaline junkies. I know that. I'm really enjoying no longer working 55+ hours a week and commuting 2.5 hours a day. Part of my willingness to move arose from realising that I was in work by the time Al got up, and he was home eating dinner by the time I left. That sounded dreamy to me. Can you believe that, Londoners? Leaving for work at 8.30am and being home by 6.30pm, still doing a full day of work, contributing loads, and basically working 9-6? Incredible!
But I really feel like Wrexham took this anti-London approach to living it too far. Jai and I checked in at the Premier Inn and wandered into town. It was about 5.35pm. The entire shopping district was deserted, as though the whole population was taking a nap, knackered from a full day of being Welsh. I checked the time again. Maybe I got it wrong? Maybe it was 9.30pm? No, no - before 6pm.
I know I guy who loves Wales so much, that the sheer mention of the place sends him into raptures. I emailed him for dinner recommendations before we left the hotel. When I got back, I found a reply saying 'Get out as soon as you can'.
It was a funny feeling that night. We'd both thought of day 5 as kind of a jolly - only 50kms, and the last day at that. I can't say I was sorry to be ending the bike-short era, but the thought of finishing the journey was as daunting as it was thrilling. It's not about the destination, after all.
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