September 29, 2022
Day 23: Stratford on Avon to Bromsgrove
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Despite being Canadian, and drawing a big distinction between ourselves and Americans, while harbouring an affiliation with things British, I have to admit that we are more like Americans than we might think. This became clear this morning when we had a word with our landlord, mentioning that we found Shakespeare things in Stratford Upon Avon to be fairly hidden, unadvertised, or non-existent. For example, about the birth house. He denied that they were bankrupt or that the place was derelict. We mentioned that it had no signage whatsoever, and he rather defensively gave the opinion that they might put out an "A board" in the morning. About other Shakespeare things, he said that the authorities in charge were more interested in preservation and education than tourism. "But", I said to him, "you are a tourist operator. You need to get on them to make sure that the towns attractions are open and findable". The response was kind of a shrug. Undaunted (as usual) I barged on. "About the Stratford Greenway, they say it is for walkers, bikes, and horses, but their barriers make it basically only for walkers. What about the disabled, or people with baby buggies, or tandem bikes or recumbent trikes, or us?" His reply was that he goes on it lots, all you have to do is raise the bike and go through with the rear wheel. Ok, I gave up!
After the expected amount of crossing and recrossing city streets to get out of town, plus passing through the typical industrial mess on the outskirts, we found ourselves deposited on the towpath of the Avon canal. This was of course quiet and pleasant, but the surface often was not great, so we ended up pushing.
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When the time came to leave the canal, we found the way barred by another devilish pedestrians mainly barrier. To get by this one there wa nothing for it but to remove our bags, and then to snake the trimmed down bags through the gate thing. It wasn't the end of the world, but just one more 20 minute time waster that contributes to not getting very far in a day. It also raises the blood pressure, particularly since you see the National Cycle Route sign so clearly right on the nasty barricade. We took note of where this was, so we could include it in a flame letter we will probably never send them. But a really complete letter would also cover all the missing signs, and the difficult to pass gates leading the hapless long distance cyclists through sheep pastures and onto bridle paths.
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Unlike yesterday, the houses we were passing seemed quite normal, and not material for a Homes and Gardens article, like yesterday's stone cottages. Still, we did run into one that we could tell ourselves was of the predicted whitish stone, and we found some other in that Tudor style.
We were directed for a bit along some quite nice quiet roads and lanes. But twice in the day there was a sign reading ominously "Ford".
A few km after such a "Ford" sign (too far to turn back) there would be this:
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Fortunately, there was always a way around for us.
Near the town of Coughton, we noticed off to one side some fancy buildings or churches. We took a turn, through a gate that did mention something about "private road" but there was also a sign for tour bus parking, so it did not seem all that private. We passed the church with the unique tower, shown in the photo, an arrived at a castle like manor house.
Outside the house was a sign, mentioning a talk about "The Gunpowder Plot".
I took off my helmet, in case the place might be a church, and went in the main door. Inside there was a desk with a lady at it, and several people milling about. The lady stopped me and said I would have to pay to get in, and to do that I would have to go to the admissions hut, somewhere over - somewhere.
I replied that I was a tourist and had no idea where I was. "What is this place?" I inquired. Her response was to repeat her explanation that I needed to go pay at the hut. "Yes, but, I am still waiting to hear the answer to my question, what is this place and what would I be paying for?"
The reply was that this was a place administered by the National Trust, and that I had to pay. "Wait a minute", I said, "here is a guide book on your desk, that looks like it explains the place!". "You have to pay for the guide book", she retorted.
Meanwhile outside Dodie was having better luck. She was talking to the actual guy who was going to give the talk on the Gunpowder Plot, that everyone was coming and paying to hear.
Unlike the bureaucrat on the desk inside, the guy was interested in his subject and was regaling Dodie with the story.
Apparently a family named Throckmorton came into possession of the estate where we were in 1409, by marrying into the family that owned it. I a not sure who built the two churches on the property, one Catholic and one Anglican. The Throckmortons were Barons, but somehow that title got extinguished when the fourth Baron died in a duel in 1682. The Throckmortons were involved in the Gunpowder Plot of 1605. This was a failed attempt to assassinate James I by a group of Catholics who wanted to restore a Catholic monarchy.
The plan was to blow up the House of Lords and cause a popular revolution. The famous Guy Fawkes was in charge of the explosives. I guess the Throckmortons were among the conspirators, and maybe this has to do with there being a Catholic church on the property here.
We really didn't learn too much, because the bureaucrat from the desk pushed her way past the forming line of people for the talk, came out, and told our lecturer not to talk to us, because - right - we had to pay.
By the way, the Throckmortons still live on the property, but now they are tenants of the National Trust. If the desk lady is their landlady, I don't envy them when the first of the month rolls around!
Hey, we have been seeing these a lot, naturalized in grass. Any guesses about what they are?
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https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cyclamen
2 years ago
NCN continued to throw us various road types, including path through a country park that included a rarely seen lake, another ford, and narrow laneway that included some quite steep climbing. We passed through the busy town of Reddich, for which I have no shots because there was nothing of interest there!
Redditch did mark the beginning of a sort of black hole, where our GPS struggled and mostly lost, to find satellites, making it hard for us to find a way out of town. Mobile internet data has been weak here as well.
We booked a spot at the Ibis in Bromgrove. The room was not only cheap but very large, so we just rolled our bikes in. The Ibis has a good position for us, very close to the train station. Our plan is to use the train tomorrow, to get us through Birmingham, which is only 30 km away. We'll pop out on the other side, and keep pedaling. This could be our last chance to use the train this way, because a strike is scheduled to begin on Saturday.
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(E-assist update: I have a new pen pal in China. Her name is Lisa and she works for the company that sells the controller my bike needs. Hopefully Lisa will get a new controller to us at our friend's house in Paris. Right now my old one is working, but fitfully. Dodie has bolstered the chewing gum with a shower cap, and the shower cap with a plastic bag, hopefully to keep things from getting worse in the next rain. The new controller would not be instant joy, because it will have the wrong power connectors and also needs programming with software we don't have. But it could be made to work, more or less.)
Today's ride: 46 km (29 miles)
Total: 817 km (507 miles)
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