To Boston: entering the Fens

August 15, 2024

Today’s ride looks simple enough - a straight shot south paralleling the Witham the whole way to Boston that’s barely 20 miles with no significant climbing at all, and what little climbing there is all comes in the first five miles. After that we enter the uncrowded, ultra-flat Fens and won’t face another hill for the next eighty miles. It should be a breeze.

And it is a breeze. Unfortunately there are breezes and there are breezes. According to the Beaufort Wind Scale, today’s winds fluctuate between a fresh breeze and a strong one, but at least it’s not a gale.

It’s also unfortunate that today’s fresh breeze is blowing in from the SSW, meaning we’ll be feeling it in our faces most of the way. Its not really a problem for the first few miles though as we bike south out of town and are sheltered somewhat by trees, hedgerows, and the last few low rollers of Lincolnshire’s hills.

What does detract at first though is the traffic, coming heavy and fast on A183, Boston Road. It’s probably the worst route out of town if you’re on a bike, but it’s the only one going our way. There’s no room for us and the HGV’s both on this narrow, shoulderless road so we ride the sidewalks and footpaths for about a mile and a half until we reach our turnoff to the quieter B1183. For the next two miles we ride this lesser highway southeast with the wind coming from the side now as we cross a few easy rollers that bring us to the turnoff to Wood Enderby and the kind of road we like best - empty, unstriped, well-paved. It’s typical of what we’ll be riding nearly all the way to Boston. Other than those first four miles it’s a very quiet ride, trafficwise.

Just past Wood Enderby we climb the final small ridge of the day and I stop for a last look back. A hundred yards later we clear the crest and see nothing ahead but sky and the plain terrain. In the distance I make out the Boston Stump, the landmark tower of Boston’s St. Botolph’s Church. It’s fifteen miles away, with nothing in between to block the view.

While I’m stopped looking at it and pointing it out to Rachael another biker approaches, riding in from the south. He’s a local, but I don’t think he ever noticed before that you can see Boston from this far north.

A first look at the Fens, with the Stump standing needlelike on the horizon.

So a few things about the Fens, other than the obvious stuff like its history: a wide, swampy area that was drained centuries ago and all of its waterways channelized so that the land could be made inhabitable and suitable for cultivation.

One thing is that it’s flat and pretty empty, so that under the right conditions you can enjoy miles of easy, relaxing and ultimately somewhat monotonous riding.

Another thing is that there are very few view blockers here - not many trees or even hedgerows, the ground is mostly wall to wall agricultural. Even though nothing other than the Boston Stump has much prominence, there’s nothing impeding your view of all this nothingness either.

And the third thing, an unfortunate one for us today, is there’s nothing to stop the wind either. Since it’s coming at us, the next ten miles or so until we near Boston are a slog as we trudge along at 7-10 mph, looking ahead in the distance to the next slowly approaching small copse or hedgerow that might give us some small relief from our torment.

We’re not in Lincolnshire any more, Toto. This looks more like Kansas.

Crossing Howbridge Drain gives us what counts for a scenic overlook in the Fens.

As good as it gets, so we might a well look both ways.

So the Fresh Breeze is no fun. Also no fun is Rachael’s bad luck to get stung by a bee. It sounds like a freak accident, with some poor insect getting blown against her knee and stinging her there before it bounces off and gets blown way. Rachael reacts strongly to stings, so this is definitely a concern. Her kneecap turns red and there’s some swelling but there’s nothing to be done but wince through the pain and continue biking into the wind.

No explanation for what’s going on here. Maybe I’ve just heard Rachael’s yelp of pain.

With four miles to go conditions improve significantly when we come to Anton Gowt and pick up the pedestrian/bike path that parallels the river and carries us the rest of the way to Boston. We’ve turned slightly southeast now so the wind direction is better for us, but the min thing is that we’re now shrouded by a wind-breaking tunnel of green. It’s a little slow and close sharing the narrow path with pedestrians, but it’s definitely much easier.

The Anton Gowt Locks, that connect the Witham with nearby Newham Drain. Both are straight shots, channelized centuries ago in rhe draining projects.

We’re edging into Strong Breeze territory, with the river looking like it’s near to developing whitecaps as it plows into the scum at the bend in the channel.

The frothy Witham. To get the best effect, imagine the sight of the water rushing downwind and sound of the wind whipping around the trees.

Video sound track: Feel So Near, by Dougie Maclean

It’s just turning one when we pass below the Stump and enter Boston’s Market Square. Too early for our 2:30 check-in, so we head straight to Still Meze, the Turkish restaurant we’ve been targeting, lock up our bikes in the alley and step into a small dining hall empty except for the owners. They serve up a delicious gut-buster of a spread, starting with a gratis heaping tray of bread and olives.

Lamb Guvec. It’s sizzling when it arrives and takes a few minutes before I can test the first bite.

It takes us an hour to dispense with all that. Still too soon to check in, so while Rachael limps across the street to a pharmacy for something for her bee sting I order a tray of baklava and a coffee. She’s back shortly and helps me out by taking a single bite.

Earlier in the day we got a text from our hotel saying they’d send us a code for the keypad and checkin instructions at 2:30; but when that time comes nothing’s arrived in the inbox yet. Rachael tries to call the hotel while I’m finishing dessert but the line just goes dead immediately when she calls. Frustrating, but maybe it’s because we’re indoors - so she tries again once we’re outside standing on the bridge.

The call still won’t go through, so we walk the bikes down the sidewalk a block to our hotel, which is dark. She tries and fails again, and then gets the same result with my phone. Upsetting. Then she has the bright idea to try again with her TMobile number instead of the Orange account we have, and to our relief the call goes through this time and we’re in our room a few minutes later. As near as we can tell there was a network problem, and everything is normal again when we check the next morning.

The Stanley Hotel works well for us. Its economical, includes a modest self-serve continental breakfast, has good WiFi and even an elevator. We settle in for a few hours with me having the thought that I’ll go out later in the day to walk around town and look at the birds on the river. That doesn’t happen though because by five it starts raining and is still at it when I give up at seven and just walk across the street to the Weatherspoon’s for a bowl of soup and a pint. When I come out about a half hour later I see that I took just a bit too long. The rain has stopped and it looks like I might have caught a sunset if I’d been just a few minutes earlier.

Our street. The Stanley Hotel is just around the bend on the right.

Nice enough, but I’m about five minutes too late.

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Today's ride: 20 miles (32 km)
Total: 3,288 miles (5,292 km)

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Suzanne GibsonSorry to hear about the bee sting, Rachael. I hope it wasn't too bad. When you came through Gauting, 2021 I think, you had also been stung by a bee, and on a more sensitive place.
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