South for the winter

November 30, 2024

The wet road home

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It's autumn today. And tomorrow, it's winter. I don't think it's normal for a raven to head south for warmer climes, but that was the plan I'd hatched with my own Raven today, and - in a further break from the species' norm- this particular Raven was also planning to go into hibernation once she'd arrived back at base. Winter in the UK is no time for cycle touring, unless you've a pronounced masochistic side.

That said, today's forecast was pretty decent, with temperatures of (at a guess) the low teens, in celsius, and a 10% average chance of rain. Milder than we might have had a right to expect, and apart from a burst or two of rain, including later on today, we'd been very fortunate this tour.

I woke at six, thanks exclusively to the buzzing of a very loud alarm clock in the adjacent room. This kind of scotched the plan for a town centre breakfast some time around eight, because I was now wide awake, dammit! - so I dutifully plodded two minutes up the road for McDonald's breakfast muffin, and faffed around far too much before cycling into the centre of Barnstaple just before nine.

Barnstaple is the largest town in North Devon, although the region as a whole is comparatively remote and has always been a bit deprived as a result. So it's not quite a cultural mecca. To a degree, Barnstaple also competes with Bideford, another sizeable town a few miles west, but it has retained a fair shopping centre and does have a bit of life. Barnstaple squats across the river Taw, which is fortunate from a photographic perspective, because whilst cheap shops aren't picturesque, rivers usually are. At least, in my opinion.

View across the river, heading into town. The South West coastal path follows the riverfront here, and actually there is a good cycle route around the area too - the Tarka Trail. For drier times, though.

Barnstaple museum, and square. Another Christmas tree was in evidence. I definitely need to get shopping.

The clock tower. They must curse every time the clocks go back and forward. You'd need a very long ladder.

Looking south east along the river Taw. That's not photo processing, it's genuine sunlight. For a while, I had to get the snazzy cycling specs on.

This is what happens when you park your bike in wet cement. Someone had inscribed a "Tour of Britain" commemoration on it, from when a stage started here. But this bike wasn't going anywhere much.

Although it was a short and fairly relaxed day in prospect, we didn't dawdle too long by the river, but instead headed up the hills towards South Molton, just over an hour away. I fancied breaking up the day with an early coffee there, if for no other reason than that it's quite picturesque. It has a rather impressive town hall, and a good range of shops including a cheese shop. Any place that can sustain its own dedicated cheese shop strikes me as being more than averagely civilised.

The South Molton town hall. And yes, that's another festive spruce right in front. Sheesh. I missed the tropical palm fronds of Torquay.

Only another twenty miles away was our lunch stop, at Crediton. There honestly isn't too much to tell about the intervening journey to get there: a succession of country roads, some narrower than others, some even muddier than the fields which bordered them, and all of them relentlessly up and down in the local vernacular. By now, Raven was brown again, and for the most part, so was I. Also, wet feet. Always nice.

It was at about this point that Raven got fed up and started to slip her gears in protest, so as I coasted down the hill to Crediton I stopped off at the local bike shop for some adjustment. I can get by with this myself, but it's less fun when you've no stand and your gear mech is plastered in mud. Our friendly mechanic did the necessary, then helpfully dropped a chain gauge through before declaring that we were also going to be needing a new chain some time soon (expected) and cassette (not expected). I think this year's service will potentially cost more than my car, although we've covered about 3k miles in seven months and Raven's definitely worth it. But the news reinforced the 'end of season' feel of our day. We'd had a great tour, but this would be it for a while.

This is what touring in Devon looks like. Except on the smaller roads, where you can add mud, and often manure.

Crediton lunch was a ham and cheese toastie, plus carrot cake, as I watched them setting up outside for the evening's Xmas light switchon. There were going to be festivities, and a band was tuning up, so I was serenaded by occasional loud excerpts from the Beatles back catalogue. This was fine by me, even if not overly Christmassy, but the proprietor had clearly been dealing with it for at least a couple of hours, and kept huffing and pointedly banging the door shut. I guess he was more of a Rolling Stones guy.

Crediton town square. It's just off the main road, which meant that I'd never been there before, main roads being where you travel in a car. It still surprises me how much more you see on two wheels.

Zipping up my waterproof in defiance of the rain, I clipped back in and we headed off to our final uphill of the season. The gears held, and unexpectedly soon we were back at the sign welcoming us to Exeter. This always feels like we've arrived home, because the final eight miles or so to my house is along the smooth, flat cycle path of the river Exe. It requires minimal effort, and has plenty of distracting scenery. So by half two, we were wheeling back into the garage.

That's a wrap.

I'd originally intended a bit more from this tour: specifically, I'd wanted to explore the Granite Way through Dartmoor, across the Meldon viaduct, and also the Tarka Trail in north Devon. But engineering work and the wet weather had scuppered these plans temporarily: we'll try again next summer, when conditions are better for a road bike. Even without, it's still been a grand tour of our home county, a place well worth exploring. But for now, it's back to the gym for me, and off to the bike shop for Raven, as we get ourselves match fit for some new adventures next year.

I think we'll have one more short ramble to come, probably around April. But more importantly, once I've sorted that Christmas shopping, I may just be looking at tickets for a 2025 excursion to France. They can't match the quality of English breakfasts, but I rather think their patisseries will merit further exploration.

A bientôt.

That's Devon for you. Even on a relaxed ride, the place keeps throwing hills at you.

Today's ride: 52 miles (84 km)
Total: 405 miles (652 km)

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Mark BinghamAnother great ride! Thanks for sharing!
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