The morning after the very successful Maypool Party we had anticipated being joined by the Exeter Sections, but they decided that the combination of warm sun and seaside was too good to miss and headed back along the coast.

It takes a lot of initiative, or even original thinking, to manage to get lost between Kingsteignton and Chudleigh Bridge, but such a feat is not beyond the ability of some of the faster members of the Section. We had waited at Marldon for the folk who had stayed at Maypool overnight after the party, and by the time our wanderers had eventually got to Chudleigh Bridge, thoughts were of food in the fairly near future.

It must be said that on such a glorious day, waiting for folk was no hardship, and all that was needed for lunch was a peaceful place to sit in the sun. The top of Haldon seemed to offer plenty of possibilities, but a sunny bank just above Harcombe on our lane route proved too tempting to pass; although peace was not perfect, Jean and I were not too disturbed by the distant noise of clay pigeon shooting and the rather nearer noise of Michael being buried in bracken – with insects of course!

After the delays it was obvious that Whitestone was going to be too far for other than the very fittest, and we contented ourselves with a run along the top of Haldon to Windy Cross before dropping into the Teign Valley and heading for home.

(Colin Brierly)

[1 point: Don Hassall]

Rain again the next week – that sort of heavy drizzle combined with a strong wind that soaks you before you decide it’s not worth caping up for. An unexpectedly large turnout (15) on such a day, including Colin Downer’s older brother Stephen, making his inaugural ride. A suggestion from Michael of a cup of coffee at his home took all thoughts of Scoriton Down as a lunch spot out of our calculations, but we did climb to Gidley Bridge and past Skerraton as a sop to our consciences for not reaching the published destination.

A nice comfortable dry-out and lunch followed by a show of Michael’s slides and his new frame and equipment before “once more into the capes dear friends” and heading for home.

(Colin Brierly)

Justin went into the hedge and Matt went into the back of Andrew!

(Kevin Presland, diary extract)

There were about twenty out on the March Afternoon Run, and with Don and Grace’s at Dawlish for tea, the general direction was fixed. There was more traffic than expected on the Humber Lane from Kingsteignton – ah yes, a scramble over near Ideford, but at least we shouldn’t encounter the muddy after-effects near Stoke-in-Teignhead on our way home like we did last year!

It was rather misty so the view from the golf course was spoilt, but not the drop into the back of Dawlish from Holcombe Down. Full justice was done to hot dogs and “Jelly babies and custard”, but when we discovered that two riders from Totnes were without lights there was a certain urgency to get folk moving again. But of course time went on, and before long we were wondering how to get them home. Mark solved the problem quite spectacularly by jumping his chain and locking the back wheel on the drop past Smugglers, wearing a large hole in the tyre besides damaging the hub flange. “Dad” was called, and Totnes isn’t too far off the route to Stoke Gabriel!

(Colin Brierly)

[1 point: Don Hassall]
[Unknown riders were Jean Brierly's relatives]

We had a good though rather hard trip to Crowcombe, with a gentle but unfriendly breeze on the way up and a downright antagonistic wind on the way back!

This year the competition was extended to include Southampton DA as an addition to the existing Bristol, Wessex and Devon Das. Rules were also amended to allow up to four slides from one photographer instead of the previous two, and as we were struggling for entries the change was quite helpful.

The independent judge had, as usual, a major task in making a selection of “Pictorial” slides from a superb dew-laden spider’s web to a murky industrial town – also a first class slide.

A lot of our better entries were not to the judge’s taste unfortunately, and while we had an excellent set of twenty four slides we were relegated to third place, the scoring being Bristol 1225, Wessex 1220, Devon 1210 and Southampton 1110.

Michael Jones tied for second place in the Cycling class. Whilst I would like to see Devon do better, the competition is a very friendly affair and results good or bad do not detract from one of the best weekends of the year.

(Colin Brierly)

The following weekend we were off to Crowcombe YH for the Inter-DA Photographic Competition: by "we" I mean Pete, Wendy, Laurence and myself. We had the company of Torbay (who had ridden up in the morning) for our ride to Crowcombe YH. We took our usual route through Bampton, Wiveliscombe and Pitsford Hill, stopping near Wivy for afternoon tea. We arrived at the hostel at about six-o'clock, which gave plenty of time to wash and change before supper. We did not do too well in the competition even though we had some very good slides entered.

(Jean Luxton)

Lunch at the Luxton household at Stoke Canon. Mark Morton was on his Dad's bike. Don and Matt Tewson were on the Vespa today.

(Kevin Presland, diary extract)

[3 points: Don Hassall]
[4 points: everyone else]

Eight of us met in Totnes for the Great Alternative Bike Ride on a dry but windy morning, and promptly set off up the Mount. We dropped down to Bow Bridge and rode along the lovely Bow Creek to Tuckenhay and the (gasp) ascent of Corkscrew Hill. After stocking up with “chocky bars” in Cornworthy we had a leisurely lunch in Dittisham.

From there it was “headwind battling” until taking to the deep, steep lane to Washbourne, whereupon John and I decided to re-route along this inviting track – which deteriorated, as they always do. Three falls, eight filthy bikes and no punctures later we reached tarmac at Beenleigh for the stroll up to Luscombe Cross. We said our farewells in Totnes after a very pleasant day.

(Rob Spence)

Decidedly damp again the next week, and in such conditions Drum Bridges is not the best of meeting points. Marldon folk were there first, and when the Totnes/Buckfast group turned up, Colin Downer had just lost a battle with a stone on the wet road and ended up with a rather gory face due to a cut on his forehead. A bit of patching up from Michael’s first aid kit and mopping with a clean handkerchief improved things before we headed through Liverton to Reddaford Water and our destination at Lustleigh Cleave.

I had memories of a sort of cave up near Nutracker that Graham and I had sheltered in some years ago, and when we found it, it proved big enough to give cover to the ten of us, although the temperature could have been a bit higher for true comfort. There wasn’t much to do after lunch but head for home and hot baths!

(Colin Brierly)

Colin Downer's amazing fall on the A38 right in fromt of Frances and I - I'll never forget that one. How we all avoided him is a miracle. Lunch in a cave.

(Kevin Presaland, diary extract)

Things were very different for our Teign-e-ver run at the end of the month, with warm sunshine and a large turnout for a fairly energetic run. We were pleased to see another new rider, 15-year-old Mark Sheppard from Totnes who was a friend of Stephen Downer. Mileage is not great, but by the time you’ve dragged up towards Moretonhampstead and then found more “bumpy stuff” over Nattadon and Meldon Hill, you could have gone twice as far on easy roads.

We had lunch at Middlecott after picking masses of thorns out of the inviting-looking grassy bank, and by the time we approached the climb to Teigncombe I decided that only the fitter folk were going to get to the desintation. Half a dozen continued whilst the rest headed back towards Hound Tor, meeting Tim Reep on the way. We waited there for three quarters of an hour to see if the others would catch up, but there being no sign of them we headed for home, having had it strongly stressed that we had to be back in plenty of time for James Bond!

(Colin Brierly)

When I got home I found I had been locked out by my brother! Took 75 minutes to find a way to break in to my own house!

(Kevin Presland, diary extract)