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Page 21 of 55 (542 items)
Sunday 2 August 1981
14:15 - 18:00
Afternoon ride: Rattery
Sunny and warm
13 Participants: Frank Boyes, Colin Brierly, Dave Eyre, Richard Eyre, Mark Filham, Simon Haly, Michael Jones, Mark Morton, Kevin Presland, Darren Sharp, John Stuart, Nigel Wilson, Philip Wrigley
The traditional English holiday season finally seems to have spring upon us, and it has brought plenty of traffic with it. This did not, however, deter a grand total of thirteen riders from meeting at Marldon in glorious sunshine for our August afternoon ride. A welcomed return was made by Darren Sharp after a long repast, and Simon Haly also joined us for his second Sunday ride. Dave Eyre came along, accompanied by his young son Richard, riding pillion so to speak on a rear-mounted child’s seat.

Colin had planned a winding route towards Totnes using the peaceful lanes rather than the busy main road. After a leisurely wander, climaxed by a brisk sweep down into the town centre, we took to the back streets. A stop was made above the town to admire the sun-soaked scenery before we joined the main Kingsbridge road. On turning left for Harbertonford we found that Phil had beaten us to the base of the hill – perhaps he was rekindling his vital energy for the steep climb into the woods!

Rather than dropping down to Harbertonford, we made a sharp right-hand turn, intending to head out towards Rattery. The lane had recently been gritted and it was not too long before we were struck by the dreaded puncture bug. It was Kevin who had received the unwelcomed air leakage, caused not by one of the sharp stones as we had thought, but by a nasty thorn which took plenty of hefty prising to release from the tyre. A spare tube was speedily inserted and the great inflation commenced. Spirits were, however, dampened when the hiss of escaping air made its return. The spare tube had apparently already been punctured and it was I who had the pleasure of laying the patch that solved the problem. The offending tube replaced and blown up we resumed our course to Rattery.

Time was now getting on and so a slight change of route was undertaken. We decided to search out a different destination, branching off towards Ashridge and traversing the lovely countryside to Week. It was a happy bunch of cyclists that finally descended to Staverton where the station had recently been voted the best-kept railway station in Britain – a plaque was unveiled during the week by Monty Python actor Michael Palin. One of our favourite cycling venues must surely be Staverton Bridge and we took a tranquil rest there in order to savour the beauties of the Dart Valley. Meanwhile a suspicious discussion was brewing in one parapet as to the properties of home-made bombs! I am not certain what the plot was even though I was one of the scoundrels in question, but Frank appeared to be rather enthusiastic!

It was at Staverton that we parted our ways, dreaming I suppose of the great ride we had just had.

(John Stuart)
Sunday 9 August 1981
10:00 - 19:00
Day ride: Fernworthy Reservoir
Chilly start, sunny later
19 Participants: Iris Buckler, Valerie Farrell, Simon Haly, Don Hassall, Michael Jones, Andrew Kitchen, Jackie Lofty, Mark Morton, Glenn Powling, Kevin Presland, Richard Read, Alexander Reep (Junior, North Bovey), Tim Reep, Robert Spence, John Stuart, Matthew Tewson, Mike Ward, Nigel Wilson, Philip Wrigley
The weather was a little chillier on the following Sunday, but the pickup point at Bovey Tracey was not deserted when Michael, Nigel and myself arrived there at 11.00. Iris had pedalled up from Plympton to join us. We trouped into the Brookside Tearooms and herded ourselves around a vacant table for refreshments, during which time we were invaded by the rest of our cycling companions.

Coffee over, it was Robert and Michael who took the title of “leaders” for the day as Colin was away on holiday for two weeks. The elevenses came in very handy for the long climb up towards Manaton, and we met Tim Reep and son Alexander riding a tandem at the summit of the hill, as arranged. Our latest young rider, Andrew Kitchen, coped very well with all the hills despite the fact that the pangs of hunger were beginning to make us ask ourselves “When is it lunchtime?”

A little more up and down – more correctly steep down and steep up – and we had reached the main driveway to Fernworthy reservoir, our intended lunch spot. The banks of the reservoir are well patronised by the summertime tourists but we had little trouble in finding a peaceful lunch spot overlooking the calm waters. Having eaten our fill the more energetic performed the usual lunchtime jollifications before we took to the road again.

The sun had brightened up considerably, and it was obvious that a beautiful afternoon was in store. The map was soon consulted and our minds went to work on the big decision: should we climb Widecombe Hill or Bonehill? After much speculation the votes seemed to veer towards the former, and so to Widecombe it was. On wandering up to the main Postbridge to Moretonhampstead road Tim’s tandem had gear problems, and so the few of us in front had a short stop whilst the necessary repairs were carried out.

We bid farewell to Iris at this point and then tracks were made for Widecombe. To make up for all the steep climbing done during the day a terrific downhill swoop presented itself. It was the kind of hill that could make you take off and feel that the world was your own. But enough fantasizing, Stuart lad; we had mechanical troubles. Nigel’s chain had slipped down between freewheel and frame. Robert managed to prise it out with a tyre lever and Nigel’s cycle was ready for the road again. Not that he or anyone else needed to pedal anyway – it was nearly all downhill to Widecombe.

The village was, as usual, packed out to bursting point, but we managed to mingle amongst the traffic and begin the greatest ascent of the day – you’ve guessed it, Widecombe Hill. The summit was conquered at a leisurely pace by the fitter members, and by the time we had begun to reassemble, a few of us had decided to head on early as we wanted time for a swim in Kevin’s pool. A nice long, relaxing freewheel down past Haytor and on to the Ilsington road brought us eventually to Silver Birches, where Mr and Mrs Presland were busily indulged in the preparations for a most scrumptious tea. Don, Mike Ward, Phil and Simon had ridden out to the Presland household just for tea.

After a cool dip in the pool, we weary cyclists were gladly rewarded with a marvellous selection of food and drinks – thanks very much indeed to the Preslands for providing us with a very enjoyable end to the day. Our inner selves satisfied we said goodbye to Silver Birches and descended to Caton Cross, where Torbay and Buckfastleigh riders separated for home.

(John Stuart)

[1 point: Val Farrell]
[2 points: Simon Haly, Don Hassall, Michael Ward, Philip Wrigley]
[3 points: Iris Buckler]
[4 points: everyone else]
Sunday 16 August 1981
10:00
Day ride: Ugborough Beacon
Sunny and warm
15 Participants: Iris Buckler, Dave Eyre, Samantha Green, Michael Jones, Justin Landen, Jackie Lofty, Mark Morton, Glenn Powling, Kevin Presland, Richard Read, Darren Sharp, Robert Spence, John Stuart, Matthew Tewson, Nigel Wilson
A most adventurous ride was the one destined for Ugborough Beacon – little did we Buckfastleigh regulars know what we were letting ourselves in for when we arrived at Avonwick during mid-morning! Iris greeted us, followed by the Torbay folk led by Robert. Two Wednesday evening riders, Samantha Green and Justin Landon, were amongst the party for their first full day run.

We intrepid fifteen left Avonwick, performed a brief tour of Ugborough and then turned left down a dead-end road! After numerous yells directed at the leaders we climbed up to Wrangaton golf course. Luckily we were not pelted with golf balls, but safely pushed up the zig-zag path to the summit of Ugborough Beacon. The sun was brilliant, beaming down on the most majestic of views, at which we marvelled whilst munching through our packed lunches.

Our taste for adventure really came out after lunch: having plotted deviously on the map, the leaders decided to head for the Avon Dam and then to divert to Shipley Bridge. As you will see, our plans didn’t quite go as we had hoped, but the experience was well worth it! A path took us past Spurrell’s Cross and on to the Bittaford to Redlake track, the stony properties of which served to pinch my rear tube. Whilst the front gang sped on I replaced it with due haste.

A couple of miles later we crossed the tall grass to Petre’s Cross – the time had come for good brakes and plenty of wits. We were descending to Huntingdon Cross, using ground pickled with large grassy bundles separated by ruts. Fortunately everyone managed it without too many accidents, only to step-stone the bikes across the river Avon!

A section of the Abbots Way took us to a viewpoint over the Avon Dam, which was extremely low today. Alas it was voting time, and the choice was either to Shipley Bridge for ice-creams or to continue on the track to Cross Furzes. The latter came out a clear winner, and so we fought the natural irregularities to Cross Furzes whilst Sam, Robert and Nigel decided to go for Shipley Bridge (they met us later at Mike’s house).

Our shattered selves finally managed to freewheel to Buckfastleigh for a refreshing “cuppa” at Redmount; thanks to Mike and his parents for the tea, we really needed it! Thoroughly happy and sunburnt, the Torbay riders set off for the last few miles home.

(John Stuart)
Sunday 23 August 1981
10:00
Day ride: Buckland-tout-Saints
Cloudy but hot
11 Participants: Colin Brierly, Iris Buckler, Michael Jones, Frances Lofty (Adult, Totnes), Jackie Lofty, Mark Morton, Glenn Powling, Kevin Presland, John Stuart, Matthew Tewson, Nigel Wilson
Despite the cloud cover on 23rd August it was still very hot and sticky in the South Hams when eleven cyclists congregated at Totnes for our Buckland-tout-Saints ride. Frances Loft joined us for her first day run, having attended several evening rides. Our usual route was taken to Tuckenhay, where the old mill nestles amongst the trees – a pleasant, unspoilt spot is this. Deciding not to use our old favourite “Corkscrew Hill” we continued on the tarmac to the great metropolis of Tideford, albeit about three cottages. Our destination was not far away, and with a little climbing and dropping we had sorted out a lunch spot just outside the lodge at Buckland-tour-Saints house.

After battling the persistent gnats we finished our siesta and ascended the hill into the hamlet, recognisable as such only by its stone church. We meandered to Coveton, heading in the Kingsbridge direction, and after mechanical “tightenings up” made for Loddiswell.

“Next stop California Cross” was the cry; most of us needed a rest and cool ice-creams, and this we did by the petrol station before flying along to Avonwick. From here the going was fairly easy along the speedy road to Totnes, where we diverted either to Torbay or to Buckfastleigh. A sticky but most enjoyable adventure.

(John Stuart)
Saturday 29 August 1981
Tour: Wales
Day 1: Home to St Briavels Castle YH

10 Participants: Michael Jones, Frances Lofty, Jackie Lofty, Mark Morton, Glenn Powling, Kevin Presland, Richard Read, John Stuart, Matthew Tewson, Nigel Wilson
Last year’s trip to South Wales was so good that we couldn’t resist going again. This time the tour was designed especially for Junior members, and so it was that Frances Lofty (16), Jackie Lofty (18), Mark Morton (15), Glenn Powling (11), Kevin Presland (16), Richard Read (13), John Stuart (16), Matthew Tewson (13), Nigel Wilson (15) and myself set off for an August Bank Holiday that we’ll never forget! Frances takes up the story.

(Michael Jones)

Apart from Jackie’s cut hand, we all reached Newton Abbot Station on Saturday 29th virtually unscathed. The train journey was pretty quiet until we neared our destination, Severn Tunnel Junction – riding in a guard’s van through a very long tunnel with all the windows open isn’t the most peaceful way to travel!

A fairly gentle ride from the station took us past Chepstow Castle and on to Wynd Cliff woods for lunch, a beautiful area with extensive views across the River Wye. The walk to the view point was somewhat longer than we had expected, but it was well worth it even though the air was hazy.

Food consumed and saddle-bags packed we continued our walk through the woods, intending to pick up the main road again at the bottom. The going got harder as we went on, with tree trunks strewn across the path - presumably to discourage cyclists. When we finally reached the open road two hours later we were surprisingly near Tintern Abbey, and we didn’t need much encouragement to stop for a rest and a well-earned cup of coffee.

Apart from a long climb up to St Briavels Castle hostel that evening the remainder of the ride up the Wye Valley was quite easy. It was the first time that most of us had spent the night in a castle, with or without ghosts! The boys slept in the East Tower, above the dungeons, whilst Jackie and I took the Chapel. Just so that everyone was in the right mood by 10.30, a short evening walk traversed the darker outskirts of the village.

(Frances Lofty, 16)
Sunday 30 August 1981
Tour: Wales
Day 2: St Briavels to Capel-y-Ffin YH

10 Participants: Michael Jones, Frances Lofty, Jackie Lofty, Mark Morton, Glenn Powling, Kevin Presland, Richard Read, John Stuart, Matthew Tewson, Nigel Wilson
We left in style the next morning, being filmed by a BBC Bristol film crew as we rode out of the castle entrance. Thus began a day of hard riding in the heat. Leaving the varied and woody scenery of the Wye Valley behind us we continued through the lanes to White Castle for lunch and a tour of the battlements. We stopped again at the edge of the Black Mountains, gasping for a drink; it took Mike some time to get us back on our bikes, only to find that we’d taken a wrong turning along a new road that wasn’t marked on the map.

Finally we reached Capel-y-Ffin hostel, relieved to find that it wasn’t at the top of too big a hill. I think everybody will agree that this was the best hostel we stayed at in every way. The evening meal was delicious, and after doing the washing up we set out to climb the mountain behind the hostel. This, undoubtedly, was also the best evening walk of the tour, and was certainly something to remember.

The climb began quite steadily when it was still daylight, but we soon found that the only way to get up was on all fours. Gradually foot and hand holds diminished until we were sliding and grabbing handfuls of bracken, heather and gorse. Mark reached the top first, although Jackie still claims she could have beaten him if she had tried hard enough, and shortly afterwards the rest of us puffed to the summit. Scratched and battered we flopped down for a rest. If we thought the ascent was hard enough it was nothing compared with the descent, as we later found!

We stayed at the top until it was dark, at which point somebody spotted a light moving up through the bracken towards us on the other side. After several suggestions as to what it was, which stretched from a ghost to a search party, we decided to go down for a closer look. I’m not sure whether we found out what it was, but I still think it was a cyclist.

It was now so dark that we couldn’t see our feet, and the prospect of climbing down a steep slope without a path was pretty daunting. As we edged downwards the silence was frequently disturbed by shouts and yells as people slipped and landed squarely in gorse bushes. We found that laughing was the best way to handle the agony – Mike went so far as falling over with hysterics when Jackie stuck her hand in a gorse bush he had just warned her to avoid!

Finally we caught sight of the hostel light in the valley, and a great sigh of relief was heaved by us all. But we still had a long and eventful downward journey. When we had nearly reached the hostel we sat down, numbed and full of thorns, for a rest. For just a few moments there was silence, and we became aware of just how remote we were from civilisation. The laughter and yells then continued until we reached the hostel gate – back to sanity at last. At the end of that evening walk I had certainly come to the conclusion that Mike wasn’t quite the sensible person he at first appears to be – still, it’s fun to be idiots some of the time!

(Frances Lofty, 16)
Sunday 30 August 1981
10:00
Day ride: Dowrich Bridge

2 Participants: Colin Brierly, Jean Brierly
There was a final August ride, destination Dowrich Bridge, but the Welsh Tour left only Colin and Jean to carry out the run. I understand that all went according to schedule until a bush of juicy blackberries was spotted!

(John Stuart)
Monday 31 August 1981
Tour: Wales
Day 3: Capel-y-Ffin to Tyn-y-Caeu YH

10 Participants: Michael Jones, Frances Lofty, Jackie Lofty, Mark Morton, Glenn Powling, Kevin Presland, Richard Read, John Stuart, Matthew Tewson, Nigel Wilson
Mist prevented us from climbing the mountain again in the morning, and we began the chilly descent out of the Black Mountains. We reached Hay-on-Wye by about 12.00 along with two other cyclists who had come with us from the hostel. We stopped for coffee (some had beans on toast) and then rode on to our lunch stop after a rather long but enjoyable detour secretly devised by the map readers.

We arrived at Tyn-y-Caeu early that evening, Kevin a little the worse for wear after trying to climb a hedge on his bike (luckily no damage done). That night saw our first attempt at self-catering, and it was really quite successful. Our evening walk took us around a dark field in which cows had left their mark, as some of us unfortunately found! We returned quite early for an ecological discussion in the hostel common-room while the younger members played table tennis.

(Frances Lofty, 16)
Tuesday 1 September 1981
Tour: Wales
Day 4: Tyn-y-Caeu to Ystradfellte YH

10 Participants: Michael Jones, Frances Lofty, Jackie Lofty, Mark Morton, Glenn Powling, Kevin Presland, Richard Read, John Stuart, Matthew Tewson, Nigel Wilson
Next morning Nigel walked out of the hostel leaving his jumper in the games room. Of course we didn’t know that at the time – he remembered when he got home! A short ride and we were in Brecon itself, which provided us with numerous cans of baked beans, creamed rice and fruit which were all stashed away somewhere. Funnily enough, our film was showing in the Brecon Odeon – home from home!

Thus began the assault of the Brecon Beacons. Once into the National Park the surface scenery looked quite like Dartmoor, although the giant mountains most certainly did not. We ate our Brecon-baked pies and cakes at the mountain centre on the lawn, and supplemented our meal with delicious coffee from the café. The information centre showed us, in relief, the hills we had yet to climb and it was at this point that great gasps were heard from all members of the group (especially Matthew and Richard); to reach the final hostel, an impenetrable ridge had to be traversed – right over the top!

Undaunted, we set off again through the Brecons. It wasn’t long before the conspicuous zig-zag appeared in the distance, and a moment later we were riding up an “interesting” hill. The scenery was tremendous. Our younger members certainly showed the rest of us that they were now fit by climbing right to the top with scarcely a pause!

A few moments’ rest and we were on the last drop to the hostel – Ystradfellte. According to the guides I had read, Ystradfellte was situated in waterfall country, but I don’t think any of us realised the full meaning of that statement. Reference to the map lead us to stop for our first taste of what was to come – a small waterfall in a delightful grotto, close to the road but completely secluded from it. We were reluctant to move on, but milk had to be purchased before the shop shut.

Down, down, down through the woods, past the tiny village school and on into Ystradfellte itself. The hostel was described in the handbook as “Simple, Non-VAT, No Meals”, but it really wasn’t as primitive as it sounded. The warden was a pleasant old lady with a wonderful Welsh accent – just the type you’d imagine her to speak. The girls had a dorm in the main “cottage”, but we had a separate little house on the other side of the road, complete with common room and wash basin!

After a quick visit to the shop we set off for the track which led to the main river and waterfalls, hindered for the first few miles by a massive flock of sheep following their shepherd. A ten minute walk took us into the wooded valley, and soon we could hear the distant sound that we had been waiting for – the sound of crashing water. Dusk was almost nigh, but there was just enough light to fully explore the first incredible fall, with all its varied levels and vegetation. It’s the kind of experience that’s difficult to describe – one just has to be there. The sheer scale is breath taking. Then there’s the noise – such a noise that there’s not much point in trying to talk over it. It was darkness that finally forced us to return to the hostel at about 8.00; for once, food had taken second place to our enthusiasm. How grateful we were that we had left plenty of time next morning for further exploration. Contented and a little sad, the last night’s chatter died away into the depths of sleep.

(Kevin Presland, 16, and Michael Jones)
Wednesday 2 September 1981
Tour: Wales
Day 5: Ystradfellte to Home

10 Participants: Michael Jones, Frances Lofty, Jackie Lofty, Mark Morton, Glenn Powling, Kevin Presland, Richard Read, John Stuart, Matthew Tewson, Nigel Wilson
It was an incredible stretch of river. There were about five waterfalls in all, each more amazing than the last. It was possible to crouch right under the second without getting too wet – a truly exhilarating experience – but the last had a path running right underneath with plenty of room for standing. The tracks along the gorge were difficult going; two people injured themselves along those very tracks the night before, and a few people get killed in the area every year. However, Mike made quite sure that there were no casualties in OUR group, apart from a few wet feet!

It was 12.30 before we set off again to meet our train. Soon we were into the industrial area and after a two-mile drag we reached Hirwaun. Lunch was purchased but kept in saddlebags until the four-mile mountain road had been tackled, with a zig-zag even more acute than that of the previous day. There, laid out before us, was the Treherbert valley. With the time at 3.30 there was just time for lunch before making the final descent to the station. Cycles had to be stripped of luggage to fit into the small guards van, but soon we were aboard and heading for home.

As our second connection rolled away from Bristol, darkness was falling fast. Plans were already being laid for next year’s tour. But really, this one will take a lot of beating. Special congratulations are due to Glenn, Matthew and Richard, who coped very well with their first “proper” tour.

(Kevin Presland, 16, and Michael Jones)
Page 21 of 55 (542 items)
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