£0.20 postcard from souvenir shop in Western Ho!
£3.10 tea and flapjack from cafe in Barnstaple train station
£10.00 campsite fee at Zeacombe House caravan park, Oldways End near Tiverton
£1.50 ice-cream from caravan park shop
Despite the intention of getting an early start, as I was worried about climbing and crossing Exmoor, I didn't get away from the youth hostel until 10am. Cooking and eating my enormous cooked breakfast, as well as chatting to the hostel caretaker about Brighton, small business bankruptcy, and mid-life career changes, all made for a leisurely and pleasurable start to the day.
I cycled back into Bideford to pick up the Tarka Trail which gave me several miles of smooth Tarmac and glorious views alongside the river Taw into Barnstaple. As I entered Barnstaple I thought it looked a nice town, and I stopped for a cup of tea and slice of home-made flapjack in a cafe that was well signed from the Tarka Trail. The cafe was delightful, being part of Barnstaple train station which has been kept with its original signage and paint colours, so feels like a throw-back to the 1940s.
Leaving the town was less pleasant. The signs for route 3 stopped suddenly so that I was left following my nose through residential areas, and there seemed to be a more than usual proportion of people with no sense around cycle paths. As one man's dog walked right in front of me, and I had to stop and quickly unclip to prevent myself falling off the bike, he simply said "sorry - he's a bit of a stupid dog". I thought he was more of a stupid dog-owner, not holding the dog by the collar or having it on a lead when I had rung my bell and slowed down to give plenty of time. I didn't say so, but neither did I smile as the dog had nearly had me off my bike.
I eventually found signs for route 3 again and picked up the quiet road heading east out of town. As the high cloud burned off and the heat started to rise, I became obsessed with the contour lines on the Sustrans cycle map for North Devon that was in the map-holder on my handlebar bag. I kept climbing, slow but sure, and stayed in the small ring on my front gears for at least an hour. I'd decided not to push the bike any more unless absolutely necessary, so instead I kept stopping when I reached a patch of shade to catch my breath and plot ways to leave all the camping equipment with my brother in Bristol for the second week of cycling.
Once I reached the height that was a darker brown on my map, I began to cheer up a bit as I could see that the views from on top of Exmoor were amazing. Well, they were for the brief periods that I had them, as the roads had high hedges on both sides, holding in the heat as well as obscuring the views.
I soon lost the hedges and had long, straight, level roads all to myself. Then I crossed a cattle grid and shared the roads with Exmoor ponies, sheep, and curious bullocks. I'm not keen on sharing my space with bullocks, and when one seemed to take a particular interest in me I began to fantasise about being outrun by a herd of cattle, and then found by one of the few motorists up here, trampled among the twisted remains of the Roberts. Needless to say, the bullock wasn't interested enough to bother running after me on a hot day, so I lived to tell the tale. I'm certainly glad I wasn't up there in the dark or at dusk, however.
The other wildlife that took an interest in me were horseflies. Several hitched a ride on my bright yellow panniers, and every time I stopped, skin glistening in the sun from the sweat that was pouring off me, at least one would land on my legs or arms and have a bite. I ended the day with lumps all over me, and wished I'd thought to pack insect repellent and bite treatment cream.
My campsite for the night was off my route by 3 miles, so I had to navigate my way in for the last 30 minutes or so, asking a local at one point, who kindly told me very clear directions before letting his dogs out of his car to chase me down the roads, barking and growling. If he knew they chased bikes, why did he choose to let them out just as I was cycling off away from him? This trip is showing me the stupidity of some dog owners.
Having found the campsite, and discovered that, as before, I was the only tent amongst the caravans and campervans, I settled down to cook my first meal of the trip with the Trangia stove. I'd always cooked at hostels before, and the one night I'd camped previously I'd eaten in the pub. This time, the nearest pub was 3 miles down a very narrow, unlit, twisty lane and I decided I didn't want the 'adventure' of cycling back in the dark after a meal and pint or two of ale.
I love the simplicity of sitting outside the tent on a pannier (to keep my bum dry on the grass) and creating a meal. Since I only had pasta (no sauce), a boiled egg from the morning, and an orange, you can hardly call this a meal, though it felt OK as I watched different cloud formations move above my head and the sky change colour as dusk rolled in.
The best bit about this campsite, apart from having a whole field to myself, was the showers. The cubicles were enormous, the water was almost, but not quite, too hot to bear, and there was a free hair dryer provided too. I felt a million dollars after washing my hair, shaving my legs, and moisturising my skin that had turned a darker shade of brown in the day's sun. Well, my arms down to my wrists and my legs from mid-thigh down to my ankles had changed colour. The rest of me had stayed the same. I'm not sure that I can wear short sleeves or skirts for work when I get back if the hot weather continues, as a cyclist's tan looks really strange with anything except Lycra.
I typed this up sat in the Ladies shower and toilet block of the campsite, which got a few raised glances as fellow campers came in to carry out their pre-bed rituals. As well as big shower cubicles, the space had a large area with chair, next to the hair dryer, and it made sitting with a cup of tea to write the blog a lot easier than struggling in the tent, which only just allows me to sit cross-legged if I position myself dead centre. The toilets were warm, well lit, and really comfy with space on a large surface in front of the chair to lay out my maps and notebooks - perfect, if a little eccentric. Like me.
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