September 18, 2008
London - Ashwell, Hertfordshire
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I eventually got away at 10-50am. I bought bread, cheese and fruit at my local supermarket before I set off. I was also carrying oatmeal porridge, instant coffee, sugar and milk powder. I had checked out campsites on the uk campsite directory and printed out what I thought would be a useful list. Today I was aiming for Ashwell in Hertfordshire.
The bike, as I mentioned on the previous page handled well, but it didn't take me long to realise, with all the extra weight, how much more effort it was going to take to propel it forward. I immediately appreciated the complaints of experienced cycle campers on CGOB forums, that off-the-peg touring cycles are too high geared. I still couldn't believe how fucking heavy it was.
I followed the same route out of London as we took last summer, on what turned out to be our tour of East Anglia. I took a minor diversion to an outdoor shop near Spitalfields market to buy a camping-gaz cylinder. I partially locked the bike outside the shop and hurriedly picked up my purchase. I asked for a camping-gaz cylinder. A white guy with dreadlocks handed me one. I paid for it and left.
I stopped for tea at the same cafe by the River Lea as we stopped at last year. For descriptions and photographs of this section of the route see: https://www.cycleblaze.com/edi...
I bought a newspaper in Waltham Abbey and ate my lunch in the nearby Country Park. Following the Lea-side path beyond Broxbourne in Hertfordshire, I diverted from our route of last year and continued to its end in Ware.
From Ware, I was back on the road. There was a long climb out of town. Topographically, Hertfordshire is hardly alpine, but on this first haul upwards, I adopted an alpine approach; hit a low-gear early and take it steady, as if I had any choice. For a few miles, I was, of necessity, on a busy main road, before I was able to switch to country lanes. I stopped for a can of ginger beer and a Mars bar at Dane End, by now safely in quiet countryside. At Ardeley, I photographed the beautiful black pigs kept across the road from the almost ludicrously picturesque village green. So close to London's swarming, modern cosmopolis, I felt I was almost back in the middle-ages. These days, though, a new thatched roof comes in at more than a few groats.
I pressed on to Ashwell, I wanted to have at least an hour to put up my tent before it got dark. In the village, there was no sign for the campsite. I asked a man, who was painting his house on the main street, for help. He directed me to a farm, more than a mile away. As instructed, I rang the bell at the back of the farmhouse and the farmer, after relieving me of £8 for a night's stay, showed me to a very neat looking field surrounded by a hedge and farm buildings. One of the buildings contained the shower and toilet block. There was a small caravan in the field and after it was put up, my tent.
By way of practice, I had only erected the tent twice before, once in my living room, tying the guy ropes to chair legs for stability, and once in the back garden, which has no grass. Then, I fixed the pegs in flower beds and cracks in the paving. This was the first time I had put it up on a proper pitch. Even though modern tents are so easy to erect, I found it very satisfying. I felt an immediate sense of ownership, an "it might not be much, but this is my home" sort of feeling, a little childish perhaps, but it was all new to me. In any case, I thought, there should be some reward for lugging all that gear around.
On previous cycling trips when staying mainly in hotels or B&Bs, the need for any kind of organisation or routine was minimal. The contents of my panniers would explode all over the room and be gathered up again the next morning. The limited space provided by a tent, meant that I was forced to develop a strict routine, not something that comes naturally to me. So, and I hope experienced campers will forgive me here, for what to them, is stating the bleeding obvious, I made a mental list of tasks to perform. 1. Put up tent.2. Unroll and blow up sleeping mat.3. Insert liner in sleeping bag.4. Roll out sleeping bag over sleeping mat in tent. 5. Find change of clothes, travel towel and toilet bag. [Not always easy, I never got the hang of re-packing everything in the same place each morning.] 6. Place pannier bags in tent vestibule. 7. Set off for shower block.
This being a modest adventure, I had no intention of cooking up noodles or instant mashed potato for dinner, then serenely falling asleep after reading a chapter or two of The Life Of The Dalai Lama. I was going to a pub in the village for food and beer. The farmer had given me a map showing a walking route across the fields, back to the village. It was pitch-black by now. I couldn't even find the start of it, so I got back on the bike and went in by road. In the evening I would normally prefer to have a change of exercise, but as I was beginning to find out, campsites are rarely anywhere near town centres.
I locked the bike to a fence in the pub car park. Outside the temperature had dropped quickly, the day had been mostly cloudy, but now the cloud which would have kept the night-time temperature up, was gone. I was beginning to wonder what kind of a night's sleep I would get. Inside, the pub was warm and I began to glow. I ordered a pint of Guinness and steak and kidney pudding. That should put some calories back. I fell into conversation with Kevin, originally from Stepney in London's East End, who had had enough of the city and moved to Ashwell two years previously. He still worked in London as a construction project manager, driving into town every morning. Not a life style that would appeal to me, but he was more than happy.
Kevin left early, but other villagers provided me with their opinions on university entrance requirements, family life, their yearly medieaval pageant. One guy gave me quite a lengthy tutorial on recent developments in scuba diving techniques. I drank more Guinness. I called it a night around midnight and set off back to my tent.
Unsurprisingly, I had to get up in the middle of the night, but I was surprised to note that I wasn't at all cold. Everything worked. This camping business isn't so bad after all, I thought.
Today's ride: 97 km (60 miles)
Total: 97 km (60 miles)
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