Boston via New York

May 20, 2018

to the east coast of Lincolnshire

Packing up such a big tent takes us a while. It’s hard to lift the thing into its bag. After that we all have breakfast at the sprawling camp site's reception building where some visitors are already having beer and I’m struck by the fact that there are only white people staying here.

It’s about 11:00 when I wave goodbye and ride off. The sun is out and it’s clearly going to be a hot day again.

There’s a brick castle in Tattershall that was built in the early 1400s and I take a snap of it after going into the adjacent church to see if I can spot Tom Thumb’s grave. After walking around the cool interior for a minute, I get to it – it's set in the floor and there's a polished stone tablet over a foot long that simply states: T. Thumb – Aged 101 - Died 1620. It pays to be skeptical.

There's a Sunday Service on and church-goers come out just as I order a cup of tea from one of the ladies in the simple refectory and have a slice of cake to go with it. A table outside in the sunshine makes a nice spot to sit and relax and check my route.

The dinky village green has a 15th century buttercross and adjacent is a house with a ridge tile made to look like Tom Thumb’s home. After taking another snap I pop into Tattershall's busy Coop and get some drinks and snacks. There might not be very much available on my way to Boston as it’s all pretty rural out here.

At the junction where I want to turn right in Conninsby, I spot a clock on the church tower which i’s huge and handsome, painted onto the stonework in subtle colours. As I get out my camera, a man in his garden tells me it’s the oldest single-handed clock in the UK, and there are only a few of them. I just thought the two hands were together, but now it's clear there's only one. It says it’s just gone noon. A back lane takes me past the famous RAF camp before I veer east and head to New York, which comes and goes without any fanfare. There are just a few houses and a brick church near a crossroads.

It’s pretty hot now and the lanes are dead straight and basically free of traffic and fringed with nettles, cowslip and tall hawthorn hedges.

It’s three when I get to Sibsey Windmill and from a field away, it looks strange as the sails are missing. When I get there I’m told they got damaged in a bad storm in the spring and it’ll be a while before they get refitted and it doesn’t seem worth paying to go inside. The cafe looks basic, so I ride back a bit and head south down another flat, narrow lane that runs beside a dyke. Like I said, it’s similar to Holland.

At Cowbridge I get confused about where to ride and end up on the golf course before getting to a road and then a footbridge to find the footpath that heads south to Boston. It’s a short distance now and I go past another windmill, which is too tall for me to get a decent photo of.

Just on the bottom edge of Boston’s center is an old brick tower that takes a bit of finding, but after riding around for 10 minutes I get there. The town’s Gliderdrome is close by and I locate the alley it's down and take a snap of its underwhelming, squat frontage simply because in my teens I attended a few gigs here with one being Elton John - back in 1973.

The White Hart receptionist quotes 49 quid for a single and that's fine with me and I carry my bags up the carpeted stairs and relax on the bed for a 20 minutes before taking a shower and heading out to see the town's main sight: Boston Stump.

It's just across the road - over the shallow River Witham - and a sign outside it says it opens in the morning at 9:00, so the plan is to visit in the morning before checking out. It's possible to climb it's 85m-tall tower, which is visible from Lincoln on a clear day - I'll just see how my legs feel when I wake up.

Today's ride: 32 km (20 miles)
Total: 67 km (42 miles)

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