June 11, 2024
Conquering Cornwall
LEJOG Day two: Bodmin to the muckspreader. And then to Crediton.
Look, this isn't going to be a food blog. But it's only fair to say that yesterday's accommodation did redeem itself quite a bit thanks to the efforts of the chef. Breakfast was great: there was granola, there were eggy things, and there were even kippers. Obviously, I discounted such fripperies and opted for full English, which - as far as I know - no-one in England actually eats nowadays, unless they're in a hotel or at the very least a cafe.
When I was a child, I remember noticing how much of the atlas was coloured pink, denoting British territory. Now, we live in a post-empire era, with only a couple of contested outposts. Even the Scots are trying to get out, and you can't travel through Cornwall without noticing the gentle undercurrents of separatist tendency. I don't comment on any of this, but I do simply observe that when we ate cooked breakfasts more often, we built an empire. I'm not sure that muesli and Rice Krispies have the same power. If there are any postgrad students of geopolitics/ sociology out there, I think this is a topic worthy of some research.
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Today's ride began at about 0920, and I wasn't sure how I'd be feeling on a second long day in the saddle. I'd not previously done successive five-hour runs, so I took things steady, knowing that there were a fair few upanddowns ahead. The weather was fine, apart from a continuing north wind which was less than supportive of my efforts to move up the country. It was a fairly rural route, but well chosen with a few steady climbs, and the occasional settlement. Camelford was an early and quite pretty highlight, decked in Union flags, presumably because of recent D-Day commemorations.
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From Camelford, the road rose up and I was soon passing unexpectedly through RAF Davidstow Moor, an erstwhile air base now abandoned to all but the sheep who launched themselves periodically across the road in defiance of passing cyclists. Apparently, this tarmac hosted three formula one races back in the fifties, but it's a long way off the glittering wealth that's now required to bring fast cars that don't overtake much to town.
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Morning coffee, two hours in, was scheduled for Launceston. I need to plan my stops better, because I found myself ten minutes and a steep hill away from the main part of town. Raven wasn't up for more hills, so I grudgingly capitulated and agreed to pause at the Spar shop instead, for eccles cake and water, which I consumed a couple of miles further along the road. No pictures: if it's true that a picture paints a thousand words, nobody needs that much information about a Spar shop.
I was noticing a lot of headwind today, which isn't something I'm that accustomed to in Devon. We tend to flank our country roads with proper hedging, the sort that means you can't see what's round the next bend. It makes downhills slow and frustrating, and it definitely adds a frisson of excitement whenever you hear an approaching car, but it does at least stop the damned wind. On the evidence of this trip, I'm not sure that the Cornish share our approach. It was only as I got towards the border that the green walls grew, and the wind dropped. By about 1230, we were onto county number two.
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We stopped briefly at Okehampton for a celebratory lunch, with about 18 miles left to the night's accommodation. The celebration wasn't simply for leaving Cornwall, it was also because there was sunshine. Okehampton is locally famous for existing under a perennial black cloud... something about the geography, the moors and the landscape. I'm no geographer, but I can attest to the fact that it's generally raining here, except when it's about to. To find a blue sky augurs well for our trip, I think. Either that or I've exhausted my good fortune already, and the Lake District will be properly miserable.
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Back en route, we headed for our bed and breakfast in the settlement of Sandford, just outside Crediton. I've cycled here a bit, as we're within about 20 miles of my house, and I watched the familiar village names tick past as the GPS guided us in. Unfortunately, it seemed not to know quite where to take us, and triumphantly concluded our journey up a hill, on a tiny lane, next to a farmyard with a muckspreader. This hadn't been quite how the images of my hostelry had looked on booking.com, and I was pretty convinced that the reviews would have mentioned an overwhelming stench of silage and manure. So I switched to good old Google, on the mobile phone, and as we approached our residence 3 miles away, the GPS kicked back into life with a solid black line to the door - as if to say, I told you it was down here.
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So that's it, day two done. Tomorrow is longer, but flatter, and tonight I'm excited to be catching up with Mrs M and the two dogs, who are coming over for dinner.
Today's ride: 64 miles (103 km)
Total: 127 miles (204 km)
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https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Infinite_monkey_theorem
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