3 UNITED KINGDOM
ENGLAND & SCOTLAND
1 279 Kilometres – 29 Days
5 May - 7 June 2007
5 May – Cape Town, South Africa – London, United Kingdom
I called several SAA offices to inquire about
transporting a bike by plane. The consensus was that I had to bring the bicycle
as part of my luggage and, based on the price quoted, I feared the cost of the
flight would be a pricy affair. My essential items weighed 25kg, and so did the
bike. Eventually, I arrived at the check-in counter with my bank card in hand
and was relieved to find the payment was a much smaller once-off fee. What a
huge relief.
6 May - Chelmsford
The wheels of the plane touched down in London at 6h30, and
I was stiff and puffy-eyed from a 12-hour flight.
I was picked up from the airport by my friend, Eddie,
whom I had met during the 2005 Tour d’Afrique ride. Since we were early, we had
plenty of time to explore the Chelmsford area where Eddie lived. A much-needed
walk led through a pleasant, wooded area. I found this quite surprising,
considering how densely populated the island is. In the following days, I would
discover that, despite being overpopulated, this island offers more hiking
paths than anywhere I have ever visited.
Later, we went to the village to look for a cycling map,
but to no avail. I had assumed it would be easy, but unfortunately, that was
not the case.
7 May – Chelmsford - East Bergholt – 66 Km
As always in a new country, I was eager to get going. Still,
it wasn’t until after midday that we cycled out of Chelmsford. Eddie kindly
accompanied me and led the way along a rural path, passing through Maldon, famous
for producing Maldon Sea Salt. However, I was fascinated by learning that
Maldon was the starting point for canalising two rivers flowing from Maldon to
Chelmsford in 1797. This discovery also marked the beginning of a multitude of
surprises I would encounter during my cycle north.
Eventually, we pedalled through the historic market town
of Colchester, which claimed to be the oldest recorded town in Britain and the
first Roman capital after the Roman conquest of Britain in AD43.
Despite being May, the weather remained wintry, and it
rained throughout the day. All this rain made for a very picturesque and green
countryside. The many villages we encountered were steeped in history and jam-packed
with charming double-storey, semi-detached, red-brick houses reminiscent of
children's book illustrations. As a cyclist, it felt like a dream come true,
and it was a completely different experience from the open spaces of Africa.
We kept our eyes peeled for the elusive Sustrans cycling
maps I encountered online and imagined would be readily available in the UK.
That night, we camped near East Berg between Colchester and Ipswich, and I
realised there wouldn’t be any rushing through the beautiful and historical UK.
8 May - East Bergholt - Aldeburgh – 70 Km
Eddie and I got underway shortly after 9.30 a.m. and headed
to Woodbridge via Ipswich. Our route passed through an exceptionally scenic
area of woodlands, estuaries, rivers, farmlands, mudflats, and heathlands.
At Woodbridge, a cycling map of the area was discovered. However,
the map made the ride even more confusing, as it indicated all the small farm roads,
and we were never quite sure if we were on the right track. Half the day was
spent studying the map, but we still went around in circles and didn’t make
much progress.
Towards the end of the day, we headed towards Leiston
where the map indicated a campsite. However, upon arrival, we found that the
park only allowed caravans, not tents. It must be mentioned that the property was
rather large, without a soul in sight. I guess rules are rules, but I still thought
this was slightly over the top.
Moving on from Leiston, the scenery remained breath-taking,
and it was understandable why the area was included in what is known as the “Area
of Outstanding Natural Beauty”. Biking through the multitude of villages encountered
without exploring was practically impossible.
Although the weather was marginally better than the previous
day, it was still freezing. Even though it rained all night, we encountered no
rain on this day. It, nevertheless, remained freezing. By evening, a private
campsite was discovered on a farm at a pittance, a far better deal than the one
we visited earlier, which was without a shower.
9 May – Aldeburgh - Corton – 62 Km
Once again, a rural road led to Walberswick and
Southwold, located on the banks of the River Blyth. The buildings in these
ancient villages are made of stone carried from the beach. We decided to
explore and enjoy the local brew before continuing to Lowestoft. Fortunately,
this was done without encountering Walberswick’s phantom coach, drawn by
headless horses and driven by the murdered Tobias Gill, who was hanged in the
area in the 18th century.
Lunch was French fries smothered in curry sauce, which appeared
immensely popular and surprisingly delicious. Afterwards, the road took us to
Corton, where we arrived shortly before it started drizzling. There seemed no
end to the dreadful weather. In the icy conditions, I wore every piece of
clothing I possessed. We found solace in the cosy pubs, which were much more
comfortable than sitting huddled in a tent.
The campsites varied greatly. Some were well equipped
with manicured lawns, toilets, and showers, while others only had a bathroom
and no other facilities; the prices indicated the facilities available.
10 May – Corton - Cromer – 67 Km
Being May, the days were long, and the daylight lasted
until 9:30 p.m., which was fantastic as we didn't have to worry about setting
up camp in the dark.
From Corton, we slowly made our way along the North Sea
coast past Great Yarmouth, where I found an internet cafe. The French fries in
the town square fuelled our ride to Cromer, situated on a fast-eroding coast.
That said, Cromer remained a pretty coastal village with a lovely seafront,
pier, and lighthouse.
The big difference between cycling in the UK and riding
in Africa is that, in Africa, any cycle tourer is an enigma. Children come
running across the fields to look, wave or beg, and people are curious and want
to know where you’re from and where you’re going. They can’t comprehend why
anyone would do such a thing without payment. In the UK, you’re just one more
cycle tourist on a loaded bike.
The night was spent at an expensive campsite with showers
quite far away. It started drizzling but, thankfully, not before we had a cup
of soup and a bread roll. Unfortunately, it heavily rained all night.
11 May – Cromer - Sandringham – 118 Km
We set out in a drizzle, which continued throughout the
day. It was a rain-soaked ride to the station, where Eddie was to catch a train
home. However, he decided to ride to Norwich instead, as it offered more
options. After saying goodbye to Eddie, I pointed my bike towards King's Lynn.
Later that day, I found a Sustrans map (Route 1 Harwich
to Hull), which was quite helpful. I spent the rest of the day biking past
magnificent estates, ancient castles, and striking churches. They were all
equally impressive and boasted a history dating back thousands of years. The
route was well-marked, and I had an excellent day of riding despite having
trouble with the bike as the gears kept slipping.
12 May – Sandringham - St John’s Fed End – 32 Km
The campsite I stayed at was expensive but well-equipped.
It had laundry facilities and a shop. Thus, I ended up leaving later than usual
because I used the washing machines and dryers, which took a while.
It was late by the time I left, and I only cycled a short
distance to King’s Lynn, a substantial town with all the necessary shops,
including a bike shop where I could adjust my gears. I also bought an odometer
and a mobile phone. At first, I thought of staying at the hostel, but it was
closed. By then, it was already quite late, but it wasn’t dark until 9:30 p.m.,
so I could reach St. Johns Fed End, which had a beautiful campsite, bar, and
restaurant.
13 May – St. Johns Fed End - Boston – 56 Km
I encountered a surprising number of people who had
piercings and tattoos. It seemed like everyone had six nose rings, which made
me feel downright old-fashioned with just one. The UK is a remarkable place
with a diverse mix of people.
While en route to Boston, Eddie surprised me by driving
from Chelmsford to visit. We had lunch together, after which he returned to
Chelmsford.
It was interesting to note that most people in England
never made eye contact or acknowledged one another. However, in Eddie's search
for me, they knew the exact time of my arrival and departure. There was much pretence
going on. LOL!
Soon after Eddie left, the heavens opened, and rain came
gushing down. I succumbed to temptation in the market and harbour town of Boston
and booked into a hotel at a substantial fee. It's surprising what a person
will do when it's wet and cold.
One of Boston's most intriguing features is not only its
rich history, spanning centuries, but also its unique position along the Prime
Meridian.
14 May – Boston - Woodhall Spa – 48 Km
The following day, I reluctantly vacated my cosy room. Unfortunately,
due to the high room rate, I couldn’t stay another day, so I made my way
towards Woodhall Spa, which is only 32 kilometres away. Mid-morning, the bike’s
rear rack broke loose, causing the tent, sleeping bag, and panniers to land on
the road. Mercifully, this happened right in front of a boat shop, and the helpful
owner tightened the screws. Such a fantastic job he did, the rack was still in
place at the time of writing this journal 15 years later.
The
remainder of the day brought pleasant riding, meandering across the Fens and
along rivers featuring large boathouses. I soon learned that predicting the
weather was quite tricky. It changed almost every half hour, with one moment
being sunny and the next requiring taking cover from the rain.
Once in Woodall, I found no spa and only a few
dilapidated buildings. The cold north wind brought a constant drizzle, which called
for a day of hiding. I thus stayed put, and sadly the weather thwarted my plans
to explore The Viking Way, a 237-kilometre long-distance footpath that passes
through Woodhall Spa.
15 May - Woodhall Spa - Barton-upon-Humber – 75 Km
A missing road sign made me take a wrong turn, but a
helpful man came to my aid and let me know I was heading in the wrong
direction. So, this is proof that people did, indeed, notice one. The day also
marked the first time I encountered hills in the UK.
Unfortunately, dreadful weather again marred the day, and
I never spotted any camping facilities. Consequently, I proceeded to
Barton-upon-Humber, situated on the Humber River. The town is dominated by the
Humber Bridge, an impressive 2.22-kilometre single-span road suspension bridge.
It was also the first day I met other cyclists at camp. Despite the challenges,
it was a memorable day in the saddle.
16 May - Humber Bridge - Hornsea - 48 Km
The bridge was rather impressive and peering over the
edge gave me vertigo. Once across the bridge, a coffee shop provided coffee and
muffins.
Unfortunately, reaching Hull also indicated the end of my
cycling map. It turned out a frustrating day navigating as finding cycling maps
was far more complex than ever imagined.
Finally, in desperation, I rode towards the seaside town
of Hornsea, which didn’t have much apart from the seafront promenade and the
ancient church of St Nicholas. Still, a campsite outside Hornsea allowed
pitching a tent and gave shelter from the miserable weather.
17 May – Hornsea - Beverley - Malton - 74 Km
Despite the frustration of the previous day, this turned
out a good day. A shop in Hornsea had an excellent cycling map, and the day’s
first stop was the charming market town of Beverley. I snatched a few pics of
the impressive Anglican Church, built around the tomb of the Bishop of York,
who founded the monastery.
Cycling into Malton was in arctic conditions, and I
weakened at the sight of a B&B. The establishment consisted of a ground-floor
pub with rooms above. In the pub were friendly people who invited me to join
them for beer. However, their accent was so strong I couldn’t understand a word
they said. I thus finished my drink and instead went to a restaurant in the town
square where it wasn’t necessary to converse.
I thought it quite bizarre being in the home of the
English language and the regional accent so heavy that it was impossible to comprehend.
18 May - Malton – Boroughbridge - 50 Km
Departing pretty Malton, with its market square and
abundance of old buildings, was after midday as I finally located an internet
café. Unfortunately, the ATM retained my bank card, which took the best part of
the morning to retrieve.
Eventually, my chosen path took me through timeless
villages and high moorland areas dotted by rivers and valleys. By then, I was
in no mood for exploring and called it a day in Boroughbridge, a small
settlement with an old well and a main road lined by the familiar scene of typical
terraced houses under red-tiled roofs.
19 May - Boroughbridge – Leyburn - 48 Km
After getting going, my first stop was at the renowned
three standing stones, known as Devil’s Arrows – the stones are recognised for
their historical and cultural significance. It’s believed they originally formed
part of a stone row of five. The fourth stone was reputedly broken up in 1582
to build the bridge over the River Tutt, and the fifth lost in history. They
date from the early Bronze Age, over 4,000 years ago. The stones were most
likely used as a kind of astronomical alignment or by sun-worshippers from the Bronze
Age.
The day started promising, but the stretch between
Borough Bridge and Leyburn turned out to be the most challenging day of the
trip. The route led straight into a ferocious wind which blew me all over the
road. It even took pedalling on the descent in my small gear. I called it quits
at the first sign of a campsite, as the next camp was considerably further than
I wanted to go that day—a good thing, too, as my early arrival gave me time to
do my dreaded laundry. Gosh, I never imagined cycling in the UK would be this challenging.
20 May - Leyburn - Middleton-in-Teesdale - 56 Km
After leaving Leyburn, I found myself in a beautiful part
of the country. The pleasant weather added to the charm of the countryside,
with no wind or rain to spoil the day.
As
the weather was lovely, I stopped in Richmond, home to a magnificent castle.
The building of the castle began in the 1070s, and today it is England's
best-preserved Norman castle. After exploring the castle, I continued towards
Bernard's Castle, a ruined medieval castle constructed between 1095 and 1125.
My next destination was Teesdale, a typical British
market town. It had a market area and the familiar sight of terraced houses
lining the main street. Surprisingly, the village also had a campsite with
friendly caretakers who offered me coffee while I pitched the tent. Their
kindness added to the already pleasant day.
21 May - Middleton-in-Teesdale – Chollerford - 61 Km
Although it was a beautiful sunny day, the first since my
arrival in the UK, biking was challenging. The way towards Chollerford led over
the North Pennines with hills of 20% gradients. However, the landscape was
picturesque and dotted by heather moors, deep valleys, rivers, hay meadows, and
timeless stone-built villages.
The going was immensely slow, with a few hills requiring
walking the bike. The road climbed out of the valleys only to descend into
another. I churned my way up the steep hills, eventually reaching the famous
Hadrian’s Wall, which I had imagined to be the Scottish border, but that was
not the case.
A cyclist met along the path pointed me towards a
campsite where various hikers, hiking the Hadrian’s Wall Route, were camping. The
many long-distance hiking routes I encountered made me want to follow suit. I
discovered I was firmly on the Pennine Hiking Trail, Britain’s best-known and most
demanding route.
22 May - Chollerford – Bellingham - 25 Km
In great weather, I left Chollerford, soon getting to the
point where a decision had to be made to either veer west or east. The plan was
to head towards Glasgow to visit my friend Esther, and heading west would be the
obvious route. Still, I thought cycling the East Coast would be a pleasant way
to spend a day or two.
Eddie tracked me down and it became a short day of riding.
We pitched our tents at Bellingham, which is famous as a stopping point along
the Pennine Way trail and a favourite amongst cyclists.
23 May - Bellingham – North Berwick – By Car
While Eddie was travelling in a car, it made little sense
for me to ride my bike, so we loaded it on the car's roof.
The United Kingdom is a fascinating region with a rich
history. We passed by many castles and visited a few, all of them equally
magnificent. Eventually, our journey took us to Scotland, and I was amazed by
its natural beauty and stunning coastline.
By the end of the day, we arrived at North Berwick, which
offered a comfortable B&B. The town was charming, with old stone buildings,
narrow lanes, and a fascinating history.
24-25 May - North Berwick – Glasgow – By Car
In the late morning, we left the lovely North Berwick and
drove towards Glasgow, where my friend Esther lives. Eddie dropped me off at
Esther's apartment and then returned to Chelmsford. It was great to see Esther
again, who was still her usual lovely and talkative self. We spent the next day
chatting away and, by evening, I got a taste of the Glasgow nightlife by
visiting a pub for beer and food.
26 May – Glasgow
While enjoying a few beers, we made plans to hike the
West Highland Way. Esther's habit of always having three of everything made it
super easy for me to borrow a backpack and hiking gear. We packed our bags,
including tents, sleeping bags, food, stove, pots, and other essentials, and
were all set for our long hike.
The West Highland Way, spanning 95 miles (153.8 km), is
Scotland's first long-distance footpath. It passes through some of the
country's most stunning and dramatic landscapes. I was bursting with excitement
and felt privileged to have the opportunity to walk this famous route.
27 May - Milngavie - Drymen - 12 Miles (19 Km)
Early morning, we caught a train to Milngavie, a short
distance from Esther’s house (barely four stops). Half the train’s passengers disembarked
at Milngavie, seemingly doing the West Highland Way. I didn’t expect to encounter
so many people. I also didn’t expect to see them only carrying small day packs.
Our first walk was a 19-kilometre meander from Milngavie
to Drymen, a well-marked, easy, flat route. The path was wide and, therefore,
no chance of getting lost. The first section of the way was through beautiful
deciduous woodlands across many streams. Our trail passed numerous villages and
halfway we popped in for lunch and beer.
Our first night’s camp was at a farm about 1 mile (1.6 kilometres)
before Drymen. Luckily, the farm offered a cooking shelter, which came in handy
as it started pouring upon arrival.
28 May - Drymen - Rowardennan - 14 Miles (22.5 Km)
Departing Drymen was via a pleasant stroll through the
woods. Our path soon brought us to Conic Hill and our first taste of the
Scottish Highlands.
En route to Balmaha, we once again stopped for lunch and
beer. From Balmaha, the path proceeded along the shores of the famous Loch Lomond,
and I couldn’t be more excited. The views across the loch and towards the
mountains were unsurpassed. We rambled past Ben Lomand and through ancient oak
woodlands. Again, the views were spectacular and impressive.
Towards the end of the day, our path spat us out at
Rowardennan, exactly where we wanted to be and a place that sported a hotel, hostel
and wild camping. Esther opted for the hostel, which was wonderfully
comfortable and warm.
29 May - Rowardennan - Inverarnan - 14 Miles (22.5 Km)
On leaving the hostel, we heaved our heavy packs and
heavy they sure were. My dear friend had a knack for packing the whole caboodle,
plus the proverbial kitchen sink. The young man at reception looked at her in
utter amazement and inquired if she knew about the transport service. We only
then learned that hikers use a transport service to send their packs to their
next destination.
It didn’t take much convincing to send our packs by van
to our overnight stop. The other hikers looked at us in disbelief as we came sauntering
past, casually swinging small plastic bags containing the day’s provisions. By
then, we were well known for carrying the large backpacks.
Again, the path followed Loch Lomond’s shores and passed
through more natural oak woodlands, where I even spotted wild goats. The area
was very much associated with Rob Roy MacGregor, and there are countless
stories about him, but I wasn’t sure if they were all true.
The trail was considerably hillier than the previous days,
and it was a good thing we weren’t carrying those heavy packs. Camping was at
Bengals Farm, a place with a great bar/restaurant and cooking shelter, a
blessing in the dreadful weather.
Afterwards, a walk across the river took us to a bar believed
to be more than 300 years old. The place had a fantastic atmosphere, made even
more so by a cosy fire and a massive wooden table. It became an excellent night
of singing and drinking copious glasses of red wine in the company of other hikers.
So much fun was had I left my wallet in the pub!
30 May - Inverarnan - Tyndrum - 13 Miles (20.9 Km)
The next morning, in a panic, I returned to the pub to search
for the wallet and discovered the wallet was still there. What a relief! By then,
everyone knew the South African had lost her purse (how embarrassing). With my wallet
in hand, Esther and I set out toward our next destination.
The route followed the River Falloch and passed
spectacular gorges, waterfalls and rapids. We soon got to the old military road
built towards the end of the 18th century. Our walk followed this road (mostly
a narrow track by then). The views were made even more magnificent by the hills,
which took on a blue/purple shade and were covered in bluebells.
The trail further led past an area known as “the king’s
field”, where legend has it that in 1306, Robert the Bruce (from Brave Heart)
suffered defeat by the MacDougalls.
Though the landscape was unsurpassed, the dreaded midges appeared
(smaller than a mosquito but more ferocious, “wee buggers”, Esther called them).
These biting insects were all over the place, and as Esther hiked in short
sleeves, she was covered in lumps and bumps. They had the knack of getting in
everywhere, in your hair, ears and nose.
The day’s amble continued to Tyndrum, where camping was at
“By the Way”. We trundled into the village, well known for its Green Wellies
Shop. Here, one can find the whole shebang, from hiking gear to food. Esther
and I picked up two small backpacks, as hiking carrying a plastic bag wasn’t comfortable.
31 May - Tyndrum – Kingshouse - 20 Miles (32.1 km)
There were two routes to Kingshouse. Regional knowledge
told us to opt for the longer one. The alternative option was hilly, and you never
argue with locals. Albeit the walk was a long one, it remained relatively flat.
Our track led us through forestry plantations, which were
a tad muddy in places. I understood why wearing hiking boots was better than
running shoes. In the process, we crossed Rannoch Moor, which provided
spectacular views of various Munros (mountains over 3000ft) and distant lochs.
Descending into Kingshouse, Glen Coe and Glen Etive’s
magnificent mountains came into view. I’m sure there must be excellent skiing here
in winter and some fantastic rock climbing.
That night’s camp was at Kingshouse, which only offered
wild camping and no facilities, and it was better to remain in the pub until bedtime.
1 June - Kingshouse – Kinlochleven - 8 Miles (12.6 km)
A short stroll brought us to Kinlochleven via an area peppered
with some of Scotland’s most impressive peaks. It made me wish I was a rock
climber. Still, following the old military road, the path reached the highest
part of the trail via the Devil’s Staircase. This was also the first day the
sun was out and the views were genuinely magnificent.
Once at Kinlochleven, the tents were pitched at
McDonald’s. The village was picture-perfect and home to a large ice climbing
centre.
2 June - Kinlochleven – Fort William - 13 Miles (20.9 km)
The way climbed steeply out of Kinlochleven through
woodlands and joined the old military road. Esther brought a beer as
refreshment, which we drank at an ancient ruin. The other hikers must’ve
thought us slightly weird by then, as we were constantly canning ourselves
laughing. They most likely suspected us of being pissed all the time. Nevertheless,
there was no dull moment hiking with Esther.
Upon arrival at Ford William, we didn’t, like nearly all
others, go straight to the campsite, but first wandered about town searching
for pizza and beer.
3 June - Ben Nevis - 12 Miles (19.3 km)
The following morning, we put off getting up until about
09h30 as the weather was dreadful. However, one can’t remain cooped up in a
tent for too long and, in the end, no other choice remained but to don our wet
weather gear and head up the legendary Ben Nevis. The starting point was at The
Visitors Centre and it was suspiciously quiet. No other hikers were encountered
along the route, which didn’t surprise us. The fog was low, and the constant
drizzle made hiking unpleasant.
The path up the mountain was less steep than we envisaged.
I was surprised at how quickly the landscape changed from green rolling hills
to rocky terrain. Reaching the top, I was equally surprised to see a large
snowfield in mid-summer. Needless to say, we snatched a few pics and then hurried
back to lower ground—all in all, a seven-hour stroll led directly into a cosy
pub providing beer and food. Mission accomplished.
4 June – 7 June – Glasgow
Following our little adventure, we returned to Glasgow,
where plans were made for Esther to join me on a two-week cycle ride in
Ireland. Although Esther had a bicycle, it hadn’t been used for quite some time
and needed more than a spray of WD-40 to bring it back to life.
With the bicycle serviced and panniers purchased, we
loaded the bikes and were ready for our next adventure.
8 June – Glasgow, Scotland – Belfast, Ireland – 16 km
Getting to Ireland involved cycling from Esther’s house towards
Glasgow Central Station to catch a Stranraer train. This was where the fun
began and Esther, not used to the bicycle and panniers, fell over, not once but
three times between the house and the station. Looking around, Esther was lying
on the ground, her bicycle on top of her, resembling a beetle, legs kicking in
the air. All this happened in peak hour traffic, but Esther was undeterred by
the staring eyes. She got up, dusted herself off, looked them in the eye and
laughingly declared, “Take three!”.
At Stranraer, the Belfast ferry took us across the North
Channel, where our arrival was at around 16h30 (peak time) and where Esther
proceeded to fall over once more. The reason for all this falling over was
Esther’s bike being too big and her legs too short to swing over the middle
bar. It was, therefore not so much falling off the bicycle but more falling
over.
Nevertheless, we laughed so much, tears were streaming
down our faces and, surprisingly, managed to cycle the six kilometres north to set
up camp. By evening, Esther referred to her bike as Silver as it bucked and
kicked and appeared somewhat unwilling to see Ireland.
