Wednesday's ride was a bit different to both what I'd planned and what I usually do. I'd plotted a 66 mile ride with lots of hills. Lots. And then some more. But time ticked on, not least because I was waiting for a parcel, and by the time I'd left the house and stopped in the village to get some cash out, it was nearly one o'clock and I couldn't see me getting home until long after the sun had set since the aforementioned parcel was my new "bike-sized" digital camera and I knew damn well that I wouldn't be able to resist stopping to play with the new toy... Lots.
So ... I deleted the course on the Garmin and instead of heading south to the Brendon Hills, turned north and headed up into the Quantocks with no plan in my mind, just a resolution to do at least forty miles and no less than two thousand feet of climbing. The extra pennies (!!) I'd spent on getting the OS maps for the Garmin when I bought it last winter really proved their worth as I was able to spend the afternoon choosing where to go based on what it looked like or where it would lead, something I wouldn't have the patience to do with paper maps. My normal "don't get lost" plan BG (Before Garmin) was to plot a route, write and memorise the routesheet, and stick to it, no matter what. I've been a bit more flexible since but this was the first "freeride". And what a ride it was. Great fun.
I cycled through the undulating foothills of the Quantocks and then gained height on the eastern flanks. First though, a pause to enjoy the peace of the quiet lanes in the village of West Monkton:
Up, up and up ... but not quite the scenery I was expecting:
(I took that to make
@potsy feel at home.)
A few miles along (and higher) and the usual beauty of the area is restored:
I had a fun blast down the hills into this valley and then up and out the other side, heading to the village of Nether Stowey where I hoped to find somewhere for a quick stop. My luck was in!
From there, I kept going north and explored the quiet lanes on the flatlands between the hills and the coast. Serenity was the word of the day.
I was forced to abandon the peace and quiet and rejoined the loud, bustling world of Other People in Cannington, where I hopped onto the A39, planning to skirt round the edge of Bridgwater and make my way back into the hills for the return leg. It wasn't as bad as I expected, mainly because of roadworks which allowed me to filter past nearly a mile of slow moving traffic. I was too smug to care that I had just become the most hated person in Somerset!
Another half mile and I was able to leave the main road and get back into the hills, hurrah.
Another "wreck", this one much more aesthetically pleasing than the van:
It was shortly after here that my "freeride" went a little wrong and my legs went on strike, claiming that they needed much more cake to keep cycling up the hill I'd chosen. So I pushed. And then got back on. And pushed a bit more. And got back on ... and then saw a couple of horses and their riders coming down the hill. I didn't think they'd cope very well if I toppled over sideways (a real threat by this time) so I took the opportunity to rest up and let them pass before getting back on ... and making it to the top! Woo hoo!
Compared to that little lot, the rest of the ride was easy going, despite gaining more height so I could swoop down Buncombe Hill, which I'd climbed a week or two ago. I decided I was too tired to push it on the descent and keep my speed to 30mph - a wise choice since I nearly went into a pot hole, the main problem being my reaction times.
From there the bottom, back through the foothills to home and a long soak in a hot bath, much deserved I thought after 52 miles and 3600+ft of climbing - or 4200+ft of climbing if you include the section I walked!