To Shrewsbury: Escaping the Railroad Inn

June 23, 2024

A mile into today’s ride and nearly an hour since we left the hotel Team Anderson finds itself back exactly where it started at the intersection in front of the Railroad Inn. We curse the place again, cross our fingers against it to ward off curses and demons, and start down on the other road to Shrewsbury, still the same 24 miles away it was twenty minutes ago.

I started having misgivings about this place when Alice presented us with the novel theory that global warming was caused by all the (coincidentally dark complexioned) people streaming in from the lower right side of the globe in search of free medical care and other handouts, thereby tilting the globe off its axis.

Here’s our problem, folks. Someone needs to reverse this flow and send them all back before we flip completely upside down!

We had further misgivings last night when Rachael lost about half of her clothes for an hour or so and finally asked Alice if they’d been turned in after looking everywhere. But of course not long afterwards they mysteriously appeared in a chest of drawers, causing us to suspect that perhaps the place is haunted.

And then this morning when it came time to leave our camera bag went missing - the one that contains the battery charger, adapters for importing images from our SD cards, spare batteries and spare memory cards. We looked everywhere, and finally went down to ask Alice if it had been turned in - a real possibility because Rachael thoughtfully took it down to the bar last night when she went down for cheesecake just in case I wanted to unload a batch of great shots from my walk to the refuge (which I didn’t, because there were no shots I was excited to take a look at).

Alice hadn’t seen it, and actually demonstrated pretty modest concern or sympathy. She was much more concerned about the fact that we were checking out so late (at 10:05 instead of by 10:00 as was clearly specified). So we gathered up our bikes and belongings, vacated the premises, said goodbye to our singular host and started packing up to leave - in the course of which Rachael found the camera bag in the bottom of her rucksack, a place she’d searched more than once. Mysterious, but hooray!

So while Rachael finishes packing up I load today’s route to my Garmin and then turn to load it to hers also. It’s not on her bike, so I ask her for it. She hasn’t got it, now it’s missing. We look everywhere! We’re considering humiliating ourselves further by knocking on the hotel door to tell Alice that not only did we lose (but then found) Rachael’s clothes, and lost (but then found) the camera bag, but now we’ve lost a Garmin and can we please please please go back inside the hotel and look around for it?

But then Rachael has a stoke of genius and remembers that she can find its location by looking at the other Garmin. It looks like it’s right where we’re standing, which of course could also be on the other side of the hotel door 20 feet away. And then she remembers that she can sound activate it, and soon hears a very faint beeping; and it doesn’t take long to discover it in her purse.

So finally, at 10:30 we start biking. We’re on an intersection, and Garmin proposes two options to choose from. Still under the curse of this place we pick the wrong fork in the road, which we soon suspect we’ve done as we find ourselves steeply climbing away from the hotel and then turning onto a rough-surfaced, pot holed dirt road. There’s unhappiness expressed about this at first, but the expressions grow more emphatic when we have to skirt puddles in the road and get our little shoesies muddy.

The final straw though is when we come to a lake that spans the whole lane and then some. There’s some good natured discussion of the pros and cons of continuing forward or going back, but finally we eat our losses and some premium grade jackdaw that’s dished up for the hapless navigator to savor, and turn back.

No, I don’t think so. This looks bad enough, and who knows what’s still around the bend.

So after that do you really need to hear about how the 25 mile ride to Shrewsbury went? It was fine, one of the easier rides we’ve taken lately. We cross the unsigned Wales/England border a mile from the hotel, which we’re alerted to only because the map on the Garmin says so and there’s a change in the road surface when it’s crossed.

Here are a few pictures. If you want to know more, watch the video.

We’re in England now, looking back at Montgomery from across the Severn. Montgomery is a Welsh border town, so of course there’s a ruined castle.

It was paved for most but not all the way.

An oak catastrophe worth stopping to bear witness to.

Another. That’s it for photo stops though. Lunch is calling rather insistently.

In Pontesbury, I think. Red brick is becoming a more common building material as we move deeper into Shropshire.

Video sound track: Black Frost, by Grover Washington, Jr.

We arrive in Shrewsbury around one and head straight to Côte, the restaurant we hope to eat lunch at. We’re booked at the city center Premier Inn (the same place we stayed two years ago on an emergency detour to have my broken tooth attended to), but our check-in isn’t until three and an earlier time will cost us extra. So lunch first it is.

It’s the weekend and downtown Shrewsbury is bustling - not surprisingly because it’s a beautiful Saturday afternoon and Shrewsbury is a lovely large town with multiple attractions to draw the tourists in - so we’re pleased to find that Côte has an available outdoor table where we can enjoy the summery afternoon, enjoy the crowds, and keep an eye on our bikes leaning against the wall of the Old Market Hall just across the street.

It’s a beautiful Saturday afternoon in Shrewsbury.

We feel secure. We didn’t even bother with a lock.

The view from our table: a detail of the Old Market Hall, built in 1597.

Lunch was fine, but somehow we still had room for ice cream when we were done. Rachael found only one ice cream shop nearby, Gelatistry, so we took off on the bikes looking for it. Old Shrewsbury is mazelike and we didn’t get far before we were staring at the phone trying to get our bearings when a passerby offered to help. He knew immediately what we were looking for - the place we’re after is apparently very well known - and steered us in the right direction.

When we arrived though we found that another thirty people had the same idea and were queued up in the hot sun moving very slowly toward the shop door. We decided we didn’t actually need ice cream all that much and turned back toward the hotel.

Reminds me of Voodoo Donuts in Portland. Not worth the wait.

We’re halfway to the Premier Inn when Rachael shouts from behind that she’s seen another ice cream spot. I look around at all the storefronts ahead and to either side but see nothing of the kind. So she says to look again, and then I finally look straight ahead and see I’m about to crash into an ice cream truck parked in the middle of the pedestrianized street. There are only two customers in this line, so we decide it’s worth the wait and find a wall to lean the bikes against. And we’re pleasantly surprised when he shows us a surprisingly robust list of flavors to choose from, including the almond mocha that we both enjoy.

And we’re just about to leave when Rachael looks up and sees there’s a computer/electronics store staring from across the square at us. I forget - did I mention that we left an iPad charging cable and a UK outlet adapter plugged into a wall about a week back? We’ve been coping alright because we had two as well as a triple outlet adaptor; but we’d like to find a replacement and Rachael’s had her eye out. So she heads across the street while I watch the bikes, and smilingly returns five minutes later with the replacement we need, including a usb-c to UK hotel wall adaptor.

So that’s pretty much the story of the day. After it’s cooled down though I go out for a short walk, along the riverside path on the other side of the Severn from our hotel. If you look at the map (go ahead - I’ll wait) you’ll see that Shrewsbury is practically an island in the center of a tight meander of the river - and across the river is a second near island, much of which is a flood plain/pasture with a walking trail along the river’s edge.

Just my type of setup - a short, easy, flat walk that’s easy on the knees and offers the chance that I’ll see a new bird. Maybe a kingfisher finally, maybe an Egyptian goose, who knows?

Crossing the Severn on one of the pedestrian bridges that connects the two sides

The meander on this side is filled largely by this pasture. There are gates at either end and cautions to not harass the cows. I don’t know why there are a couple of kayaks here too, but they add some color.

Looking back at Shrewsbury from across the Severn.

Looking back at Shrewsbury from across the Severn! But that’s not the point here. It’s that bird up in the upper left - an excellent capture of a sand martin (#256), one of about twenty swooping around here. Like most swallows, sand martins move fast and don’t stand still much except when the swoop into their nests in the sandy bank of the river that I can’t see from above.

Saint Chad’s Church, a mystery structure, Saint Akmud’s Church.

Here are those cows I was cautioned to not harass. I didn’t harass them, they didn’t harass me.

Shrewsbury is a town with a lot to offer. It looks like it would be a fine place to live, although it’s not the bike-friendliest place in Britain.

So, in the end quite a good day. Good ride, good lunch, good ice cream, new charging cable, new bird. All things considered, if you’re wavering between whether to stay in Shrewsbury or Forden your next time through, I’d go with Shrewsbury. Its more touristy but there are plenty of offsetting advantages to tip the scale.

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Today's ride: 25 miles (40 km)
Total: 2,341 miles (3,767 km)

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