June 20, 2024
Wellington to Shrewsbury
train journey through Birmingham
It's before eight when we ride along the cycle path into Lincoln to get a train south. The sky's clear and the forecast is good for the foreseeable future.
Things are not so good when we put our tickets into the electonic gate on Platform 1. There's a problem and the guard comes over and takes a look and soon points out they were for yesterday's departure.
I did wonder about the ticket clerk who we dealt with me yesterday. He was clearly a rookie and had to get clarification from another staff member a couple of times. The thing is, I bought the tickets in the early afternoon, so there's no way we could have gone on trains that morning. Idiot.
Thankfully we have enough time to spare to sort things out and the ticket office is open - it's been closed quite a few times due to staff shortages. I explain the situation to the clerk on duty and he sees the time the tickets were printed, then checks and says there's no problem in booking our bikes on the required trains today, explaining that we could actually get return tickets for just £1 extra. Great! That's probably saved us the best part of £100, as we can use them from any station our train travels through, which will likely be Birmingham on the way back north next week.
Our destination today is a small town called Wellington, chosen because it's within easy cycling distance of historic Shrewsbury - about 20-odd kilometres to the west. There's a cycle route there (denoted on the OS map as a series of green dots) and it's pretty flat. Hopefully it'll make a gentle introduction to this fourth and final UK cycle trip, one which will get quite testing as we enter Wales.
Our train leaves Lincoln at 9:35. We have to change in Nottingham then Birmingham and arrive in Wellington at just gone 1:00. It's lunch time and we're ready for a bite to eat.
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An old photo of Wellington that I want to replicate is of a spot just a minute from the train station. It shows the town's square, with the front elevation of a mock Tudor building, which turns out to now be a Subway. After taking a snap, we sit at its outdoor table and eat our 6" ones.
The town's very quiet. It actually feels like a Sunday. The silence is broken by a busker on guitar who's doing a decent job, so I put some coins in his collection box before popping into a couple of charity shops. I end up with a long-sleeved, plum-coloured Holister t-shirt.
When we see a group of four police officers incongruously patrolling the street, I ask them about the road heading out to Shrewsbury. They collectively seem confused and a bit surprised that we're cycling so far. Once they've got their heads around that fact, they tell us to look out for an Aldi supermarket and turn left.
The four officers seems like three too many for such a quiet place and I joke about them being 'out in force' and silently wonder if this is just a pre-emtive gesture, what with England playing in a Euro 2024 football game that starts at 5:00. We hope to be in Shrewsbury by then to watch it.
We find the Aldi after going along the wrong road and ending up at a dead-end among some modern housing. Debbie wants to check if the supermarket has any England T-shirts, so I pop in, but the manager says they've sold out and won't be getting any more in. The company's buyers obviouly didn't rate England's chances of progressing very far in the competition.
We find signs for Cycle Route 81 and follow them west and eventually get onto a quiet lane that takes us to a village called Wrockwadine, where I spot a brick barn which was built with ventilation holes all around and I take a snap of it.
There's no traffic to worry about. The countryside slightly undulates, but there's no serious climbing and blue 81 signs point us in the right direction when we get to junctions.
The next photo I want to replicate is at the edge of a village called Upton Magna. The Corbet Arms stands at a T where we have to make a right and there's a bench to sit down on under a tree and after taking a snap of the pub, we relax for a couple of minutes as young children get picked up from the adjacent primary school.
The center of the village has various thatched homes that date back a few hundred years. There are a couple of old photos to replicate and looking at these it's clear the timber-framed buildings haven't changed that much in the last century.
Cycle Route 81 takes us on more narrow lanes into Uffington, where we look out for a small track on our left. It's a cycle path that leads into Shrewsbury. Debbie spots it and we ride on a gravel path and eventually come out close to Shrewsbury's incredibly grand train station.
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2 months ago
It's about 4:30 when we pop into a large charity shop, where the woman serving has England flags painted on her cheeks. She reckons England will win and is ready to go home for the game. I quickly buy a shirt and Debbie gets a small Clarks leather bag that looks new. The streets are quiet and no doubt most people are at home already, watching the TV.
Opposite the Victorian prison is a footbridge that takes us over the rail tracks. I pop into the main post office in town and mail something I sold on eBay. The women there says the Premier Inn is not far away and tells us to ride down the main street towards the river. It's getting close to kickoff as we make our way there.
Premier Inn is fully booked, but the young receptionist kindly comes outside and points along the road to a Wetherspoons and says we should try there, which we do. It's full, too. I know there's an old church that's been made into a bar-hotel and it's close by, so we double back.
The rate I get quoted is £100, but we don't have time to look around as the game has already started. Our bikes get squeezed upright into a tiny lift one at a time and are then left in a large space outside our room.
A basic pub called The Castle Vaults is just along the road and signs outside advertise live sports on telly, so we walk down there after doing a quick change. It doesn't serve food, so we have to make do with bar snacks to keep us going - in my case two packets of pork scratchings. Debbie hates them.
In need of a square meal, at halftime we go in search of an alternative and get pointed to The Old Post Office, which is tucked down an alley. It's the usual pub grub on the menu.
The place is surprisingly empty, but the game is playing on a large screen TV. There's just one other couple watching. We sit and look on as England somehow manage to scape through to the next round of Euro 2024 before walking back to the hotel.
To make sure we have a place to stay in Oswestry tomorrow, I phone around only to find places like Premier Inn are full. One place that has a room is called Sebastians and the woman I speak to quotes me £125. That's without breakfast. England isn't cheap. And the national football team has some issues that need resolving.
Today's ride: 28 km (17 miles)
Total: 739 km (459 miles)
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