Stage seven: Liskeard to Axminster…’Freeze-Frame’

So I’m kicking my heels outside the Prem Inn’s restaurant at 0620, in the vain hope of being allowed in to set about their cereals an’ that. Rules’n’regs say it’s gotta be a ten minute wait: when the doors opened it was straight down to business…as ever, time is tight. The Chef bunged three sausages and hash browns into a foil wrap for me, which I appreciated.

The aftermath, hah-hah! #twokilosheavier

Then it’s the usual rush to get out and into it: sooner I do that, the sooner I get on to wonderful Dartmoor…and nearer to the day’s finish in hopefully-wonderful Axminster!

One slightly-used bike. And vending machine!

Cue the usual traffic-fest until you get properly countrified, which didn’t feature a great deal of flat ground…fair play though as this should be the last of the mentally vertical days for a while.

The Tamar looking radiant, Sir, radiant!

Er, weren’t we here a few days ago? #navnonsense

Yeah yeah- there’s a ruin on the other side of the phone too…

Yahoo- this oughta be decent!

Apart from the nailed-on wonderful landscape ahead, the other reason to be cheerful was that I’d be cycling on The Granite Way for 11 miles or so and it is closed to cars. What was nagging me though was that there were some odd and unusual clunks and creaks coming from the bike. No, defo not my knees!

You also expect some flex from the frame and rack, but this was translating into an unwelcome wobble/shimmy on any of the many downhill bits. Brains Trust here reckoned it might be duff hub bearings or a couple of loose spokes. Yeah, that’ll be it. Go on mate, stick your head right in that sand!

Be up around the bend and up there in a bit..

There was a bike cafe/shop/repair place almost adjacent to the route and it was the usual split-second decision to stop and make sure that it was only something trifling wrong. More on that breaking story as we have it, hah-hah!

The mechanic very decently stopped mid-job to look at my bike. After a couple of minutes he beckoned me over and laconically said that he could see what the issue was, but that to fix it was beyond his capabilities. I looked at him and he showed me the right hand rear triangle: it had cracked and we were talking clear daylight. Gawd! I stared at it for a good ten seconds thinking that perhaps there’s some mistake here. Er, no.

Nah, that’s not my bike. Can’t be.

I’ve no clue as to how many descents I’d bombed down like that: equally though, maybe it finally gave up as I plodded up the gentle inclines of the GW. Either way, I’m lucky to have stopped and found out.

I messaged my cycling oppo Andy and had good cause to use the “Houston, we’ve had a problem” line, hah-hah! He helped with suggestions and online malarkey- cerveza owed!

Rental options were not a goer because the demand around here is for MTBs, not this kind of nonsense. I knew there was a Boardman bike that would fit the bill, and Andy had checked that there was a Halfords in Exeter that had one in size L in stock. Bueno! I gingerly got to Okehampton railway station and in an hour or so was darkening the door of Halfords. 

The bloke checked to see that the bike was indeed in the shop- nah mate, that’s duff info and you’re looking at 5 to 7 days to order it here. Right…how about stores east of here? Nah mate, system saying similar…sorry. That put the tin lid on it: best option was to get back to Lancashire and take it from there.

Train fare was £167 so I used Expedia to check rental car prices: how about £68? Yes please, even if means a schlepp out to Exeter Airport to collect it. I also get on the case and cancel some accommodation up-route. Good times, hah-hah!

I get to the Europcar desk and the bloke says, nah sorry mate- there’s no availability despite what Expedia reckon. Apparently this happens more than you might think. So a phone call to Expedia to ask wtf politely and also a refund of my non-refundable rental car fee.

Then it’s a schlepp to Exeter St David’s train station to buy a single ticket home: sort of a result as the later train is now ‘only’ £99, but the ticket bloke says he cannot guarantee that there’ll be a bike space for me. Should be okay, was his cast-iron message, hah-hah!

With that, I killed an hour in the local Wetherspoons and observed the rehydration protocol one more time…

Yes- a jug!

Not quite how I intended to arrive home.

Got indoors after midnight but it was nice to kip in my own bed again. Just a bit sooner than planned, hah-hah! To be continued, I hope…and a big thank-you to all who messaged with offers of a bike or to say that they were sorry about this malarkey. Much appreciated, you dancers!

As ever, just two more things to detain you with!

Truncated stats!

And one that I hadn’t heard for several aeons…as catchy as they come!