Part One
Part Two
£5.69 cup of tea plus food for picnic lunch from Stowley village shop and tea room (pack of Ryvita, local cheese, one tomato, apple, and orange, Snickers bar)
Having left route 3 for the campsite, and noticed the steep hill I had descended the previous evening on this detour, I decided to take the B3227 road to rejoin route 3 in the morning. After a slow start, waiting for the sun the dry the thick dew from the tent before packing away, I set off at 10:30, knowing that my day's cycling was a relatively short one to Bridgewater.
The B road was pleasant and quiet, with all drivers giving me plenty of room when overtaking except one truck who came a little too close for comfort. Even so, I was glad to rejoin route 3 in Bampton, knowing the roads would be quiet country lanes with drivers who were exceptionally patient and willing to wait behind me as I toiled up hills or rode until a suitable passing place.
Having looked at my route whilst sat in the Ladies toilet at Zeacombe House campsite, in knew that I was on roads as far as Taunton, then off road cycle path from Taunton to Bridgwater. I therefore anticipated a lovely end to my short day, getting to the campsite in plenty of time to set up camp and, perhaps, even do some sightseeing around Bridgwater.
According to my map, route 3 splits just past Bampton. Cyclists have a choice of heading south towards and through Tiverton, with an off-road route after Tiverton, or keep heading east through lots of small villages and in more of a straight line towards Taunton. I opted for the more direct route, so kept a keen eye out for the split in the route. On the way, I passed through an amazing gorge-like section of road where the Somerset red clay had been carved out to create the lane. I was dwarfed by red clay walls about 30 feet high, topped off by a canopy of trees to form a magical tunnel that could have come straight out of the Lord of the Rings movies. I said "wow" out loud to myself, and thought about stopping for a photo, but knew I would block the road if I did so pushed on, committing the visual spectacle to my memory.
When I came across it, I discovered the route 3 option I had chosen had been re-numbered by Sustrans to route 344, but I could easily spot it as the new number had been stuck over to the top of the old '3'. I paused at the sign at the fork in the road, on a little triangle of grass, to take a photo. I'd been photographing various versions of the Sustrans signs to compile later as the 'good, bad, and ugly' to feed back to Sustrans.
Having got my photo and eaten half a cereal bar, I headed on my way, following the 344 signs through lots of junctions, twists and turns, and repeatedly heading downhill towards streams and bridges to be greeted by an uphill the other side. I got used to this predictable pattern, changing gears in plenty of time to get me up the other side without having to get off and push.
At a confusing junction without Sustrans sign, I stopped to use the OS map function on my Garmin computer to check my way, and noticed a sign for a tea room whilst stood at the junction.
"Why not" I thought,
"I'm in no rush today, and this looks like a sweet village and tea room".
I was perplexed by the distinct sound of lots of children playing coming from the direction of the tea room, until I turned the corner to discover that the tea room - come village store was at the gate of the village primary school. The children ignored me arriving on my heavily laden Roberts as they we much more interested in two horse-riders that had just arrived. What is it about little girls and ponies?
I'd been fantasising about a picnic of salty cheese and tomato to accompany the two hard boiled eggs in my handlebar bag (still left from my big cook-up at Western Ho!). The shop sold fresh juicy tomatoes, lots of local cheeses and Ryvita, so as well as stopping for a welcome cuppa I bought the ingredients for lunch, imagining eating it in the shade of a tree in a roadside field, or shady village green.
As I sat down with my cup of tea, I decided to check my Blackberry for emails or messages as I'd been without signal since arriving at the previous night's campsite. As I rooted around in my handlebar bag, I became increasingly panicked. I took all the contents out and spread them across the table, double checking inside my Buff, arm warmers, and Sustrans T-shirt in case the phone was wrapped inside. No Blackberry.
I calmly finished my cup of tea, paid, and left the tea room to return to where I knew I'd lost my phone. I remembered placing it on top of the panniers after taking the last photo, intending to put it in its usual place in the handlebar bag after having my snack. I got distracted thinking about the route number change and how I'd only bought my Sustrans map a couple of weeks earlier, yet it was already out of date. I was worrying about the part of my trip through the Midlands, where I change routes regularly, and losing my way.
I'd got half a mile along the road, retracing my steps and struggling up a hill, when I realised that I could leave the panniers in the tea room and make this unwelcome doubling back a little quicker. I thought this was a cheeky favour to ask, but the woman in the tea room had chatted to me a lot about my trip, and I reasoned that the worst she could do was say no and then I'd just be doing what I'd started anyway. Nothing ventured ....
As it turned out, she was more than happy to help and was really concerned that I'd lost my phone. I asked what time the shop closed (6pm), took the phone number in case a disaster struck (assuming I could find a public phone box to use), and set off again, this time without the weight of the panniers. In any other circumstance, I'd have loved this ride through Somerset villages and with rolling countryside stretching out on every side. However, the 17 mile round trip in the blazing heat (hottest September day since 2006, apparently), eyes fixed to the verges and road for my missing Blackberry, was faster than I'd travelled for several days but not enjoyable. As I got nearer to the junction where I last used the phone, I convinced myself it would be sitting there on the little triangle of grass next to the signpost, waiting for me.
It wasn't.
Back at the shop, they insisted I used their landline to phone Vodafone and report the lost phone. They also told me where the Vodafone shop in Taunton was. I was going to have to pass through Taunton on my route anyway, and I'd need a phone, so I might as well visit the closest shop to get sorted, before it closed at 6pm. I left Stowley village shop and tea room at 3:15, just as the children were being picked up from school. I'd arrived whilst they were at lunch.
The road to Taunton was pretty flat as I was entering the Somerset Levels. I didn't enjoy it much though as I wanted to get to Taunton to get sorted, and knew I was now running very late for getting into Bridgwater for the campsite.
When you're forced to get a replacement phone, you might as well get something you like. I'd been thinking about changing from Blackberry to iPhone when I was due for an upgrade at the end of the year, so I signed a new contract and got a new gadget ... plus charger, box, and other gubbins to weigh down my panniers.
It then took me an hour of circling around Taunton in rush hour trying to find route 3 towards Bridgewater. In the end, I found myself on a road with a bike shop so went in there to ask and they set me in the right direction. Desperately late now, with the prospect of putting up the tent at the end of the day's cycling, I headed off along the canal tow-path that runs all the way between Taunton and Bridgwater. It was lovely, and I'd like to ride it again another day, under better circumstances, but on this occasion I just kept watching the sun slipping down in the sky and hoping I wouldn't have to ride the tow-path in the dark as I didn't fancy an evening swim.
When I stopped to put my Buff around my aching neck as it was getting chilly, I phoned ahead to the campsite. I'd remembered that Sandford House was a B&B as well as campsite, and had reasoned with myself that tonight, of all nights, I could afford to upgrade myself if they had a room available. Besides, I really didn't want to put the tent up in the dark and it was increasingly looking like this was the other option.
I usually hate B&Bs and hotels, having spent too much time in them for work. Tonight, as I type this from the luxury of a double bed, having soaked in a bath and had a bottle of beer from the honesty bar in the guest living room to accompany my 'picnic', I have a different view of them. I can almost smell the bacon cooking for me as I do minimal packing in the morning. Something tells me I'll sleep we'll tonight.
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