£20.97 for maps, Waterstones, Telford shopping mall
£6.99 for iPhone cover, Accessory World, Telford shopping mall
£1.58 for Snicker and Dairy Milk bars, Greyhound Stores, Telford
£5.25 for soup and cup of tea, Royal Oak pub, Gnossal
£2.10 for chips and can of Dr. Pepper, fish and chip shop, Stoke
£24.60 for two course dinner and two pints of Hobgoblin, Talbot Inn, Biddulph
After leaving the youth hostel at 09:00, the first part of the day's riding was lovely, along the Silkin Way which ran right next to the hostel and took me all the way to Telford on a continuation of the Sustrans route 55.
I'd discovered, on checking my maps for the next part of the trip at the hostel, that I'd bought the wrong ones in my hungover haze in Bristol, and needed to have new ones to cover my route from Stoke up to The Lakes. I guessed (hoped?!) that Telford was a big enough town to sell OS maps, so had decided to stop off there, especially as it wouldn't even require a detour.
I found my way to the shopping centre in Telford fairly easily, stopping at the Tourist Information Centre that I passed on my way in to town through a park to ask the way and advice about best shops for maps. I had to lock the bike up in the enormous car park next to the shopping mall, which felt risky as I'd tried to always kept it in my sight before, unless locked away securely for the night at a hostel or B&B. I had no choice though, and looking around me it appeared that most Telford residents liked to drive rather than cycle. I was probably too early in the day for the usual profile of bike thief, anyway.
I took the panniers off the bike (there was no way I was leaving them on whilst I left the bike, as I have no way of securing them), took the front wheel off so I could lock both wheels as well as the frame to the bike rack, and proceeding to clip clop up the steps to the shopping mall, laden with panniers and handlebar bag. I got quite a few looks as I passed by, as it was obvious that the mall is not the usual haunt of Lycra clad, cleat wearing, pannier wielding cyclists like me.
I felt like I'd entered a different world when I went into the mall. Dead air, bombardment of the senses with Muzak and bright lights, and a confusing labyrinth of high street stores. I wanted to spend as little time as possible in there, so looked for the most likely shop to sell maps. Consumerism being what it is, however, I didn't fail to notice a mobile phone accessory shop on my way in; I didn't like my new iPhone bouncing around in my handlebar bag unprotected and had thought that I should buy a case for it.
The first likely shop I came to was an outdoor clothing store, but they didn't sell maps. They did, however, tell me where the WH Smith and Waterstones were, so I headed off in that direction. Having bought the four OS Maps I needed, and despairing at the bulk and weight of both carrying the unnecessary maps I'd bought in Bristol as well as the new ones, I headed back out of the mall into fresh air, but not before stopping at the mobile phone accessory shop and buying the brightest possible wallet for the iPhone, in the hope it would stop me leaving it somewhere stupid like the top of a pannier.
I was relieved to see the Roberts where I'd left it, all parts intact. After travelling around lots of rural areas, I'd become very suspicious and mistrusting of city-folk.
As usual when cycling out of any towns I'd been through so far, I found getting in to Telford easier than getting out again. As I'd learned that attempting to find the Sustrans route out could waste a lot of valuable time, I decided I would try an alternative approach and use my paper Sustrans map and Garmin OS maps to find road routes out that would bring me to an an obvious way on to the Sustrans route 55. I was doing well until I found myself on a dual carriageway with lorries and fast cars thundering past (the A442, I later discovered). I pulled over, did a dynamic risk assessment, and decided to walk back along the grass verge to find a less dangerous route. As I wandered around a part of Telford called 'Greyhound Junction' I started to become despondent and craved a KitKat bar, for some reason. I saw a rather grotty looking corner shop which normally I'd have steered clear of, but under the circumstances I decided anywhere that sold KitKats and could point me in the right direction for my travels would be adequate.
They didn't sell KitKats. They did, however, sell Snickers bars and Dairy Milk. I decided I had a craving for chocolate and not KitKats specifically so bought a bar of each. I then asked the woman behind the counter how I could get to my cycle path, showing her the Sustrans map on my handlebar bag.
After taking a while to understand my map (they're created for cyclists, so don't have many of the usual features of a road map or OS map), she pointed me in the direction of Oakengates. Thanking her, I went on my way, having scoffed the Dairy Milk in about three mouthfuls. I must learn that cereal bars don't necessarily top up my blood sugar levels, and that's why I start to get despondent and miserable when I get lost and haven't had chocolate or jelly babies.
As I went along the cycle path that ran parallel to the dual carriageway, but not alongside it, I was glad I'd taken the time to stop and ask advice. I'd assumed, from looking at my map, that I'd be able to get off the dual carriageway and onto the cycle path easily. As it was, the was a thick hedge and metal barrier between the two, so I wouldn't have been able to switch routes with my bike, and I could hear and see the weight of traffic on the main road. I was pleased to be on the cycle path, even though I was still breathing the fumes of the traffic.
After going through Newport, I missed the turning from the purple route on my Sustrans map (meaning on quiet roads) to the green route (meaning traffic free cycle paths or other cycle paths). Rather than turn back and hunt around for it, I decided to continue as I could see exactly where I was on the map, and that the road I was on was minor, and would meet up with the traffic free route in a village called Gnossal. Having got to Gnossal and found where the traffic free route went through, I felt so pleased with myself and my I developing navigational powers, that I went into a pub next to the route for a bowl of soup and cup of tea. I sure know how to celebrate success!
Revived and refreshed, I found the traffic free route into Stafford was a delightful old railway track - flat and easy, though a little rough under the tyres so not especially fast.
Stafford proved another town difficult to navigate through, so I lost about 30 minutes as I circled around. Stafford to Stone was on a lovely canal path though and I was relieved when I got to a decorative metal plaque announcing that I was about to enter Stoke-on-Trent. I knew the B&B was only about 7 miles north of Stoke, so thought I'd make good time.
If you ever get a choice about going to and through Stoke on a bicycle, go for any alternative. I tried all the strategies I had, employing paper map, Garmin OS maps, and the mapping app on my iPhone. Still I seemed locked in Stoke. I stopped, exhausted, at a fish and chip shop for some carbs and a cold drink (I really wanted tea, but their 'machine' was broken?!), thinking that a break and chance to lay the map out on a table might help.
Emerging from the chip shop, I decided to take this really slowly and carefully, and not pressure myself into riding somewhere (anywhere) because I was getting fed up with pushing the bike along pavements or standing at the side of the road staring at maps. I could see that route 55 went through a park at one point, so headed in the general direction of that park, looking out for signs for it. When I found the park and the route 55 marked out on the Tarmac paths through the park, I was jubilant that my slow, careful, and measured approach had worked. Sweeping bends through the park, which rose above Stoke and gave great views out to the surrounding countryside, confirmed my choice to stick with the desire to use Sustrans routes wherever possible, but 'cheat' a little by using normal roads to get to them when the way becomes less obvious or the waymarker signs mysteriously stop.
The traffic free route all the way from Stoke to Biddulph, where my B&B was, was a joy. It was another old railway route and had trees and hedges alongside, protecting me from the wind that was starting to whip up. The B&B owner had said to phone when I got to Biddulph, so they could talk me in for the last bit. I got myself to somewhere distinctive (a large supermarket on an A road) and phoned to discover that the Chapel Croft B&B was not in fact in Biddulph itself, which sits nicely in a valley, but in Biddulph Park, a nearby suburb, up a significant one mile hill. Exhausted, I hauled myself up the hill, noticing the fantastic views as I slogged up and also noting that the closest place to eat that night was at the bottom of the hill.
When I arrived at the B&B, saddle sore by now, tired, and a little bit emotional as it was almost 8pm, Andy, the owner, took pity on me and said he'd run me down to the nearest pub in his car. I said I'd be happy to phone for a take away delivery, but he insisted. Besides, most delivery services wouldn't go out as far as them, he said.
Thanks, Andy. I don't think I could have hauled my sorry bones back up that hill again, especially after a meal and pint or two. I was seriously considering skipping any food that night rather than cycle any more, but I'm sure that wouldn't have done my body much good. The Talbot Inn did a fantastic meal and nice pint, and I slept like a baby in my comfy double bed and room with all comforts.
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