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...

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!

Stage six: Penzance to Liskeard...'Dance Across The Floor'

 It was Mission Impossible to get any laundry dry overnight: the RH must've been 99%! There was a serious amount of rainfall overnight, and my wee pod had a mini-forest behind it. In the event it wasn't gonna matter one jot!

And away from The Pirate. I don't think we'll see each other again...

The first order of business was to get myself fed and watered in Penzance's McDs: the bonus ball was that they did their version of porridge...I heart the stuff! Oh, and sausage & egg McMuffin, hash brown etc...and the free water bottle filling too. Nice one Ronald!

Troughing!

Would suit those who value seclusion...

From there it was away to checkpoint number two: Lizard Point, which is the most southerly point on mainland England. But of course you lot all knew that, right? Because I would be retracing my steps to and from LP, it made sense to stash the panniers in a secure location just to make life easier albeit of only 15 miles or so. There literally was nowhere that you would class as suitable or secure, so the below had to do...

Just pleased that they were still there on my return, and no wetter either!

It was a right trudge to LP, in ever worsening visibility and winds: I'd be lucky to get anyone there to take a photo. In the event there was one bird-watcher who was cowering behind an umbrella and he looked a little startled to see me appear. I do seem to have that effect, hah-hah! Anyway, I think he was glad to have something to do for a minute or so...

The cards are cruel tonight!

Rugged, wild and windswept. Bueno!

After being reunited with my excess baggage, it was off into the up-and-down rest of the route to Liskeard. Thank Goodness there were two notably flat sections- the two ferry crossings, hah-hah!
Falmouth to St Mawes was about 20 mins across and I enjoyed the break...certainly more enjoyable than the ramps outta town. Gawd!

Gweek Creek ahoy!

G'bye to Falmouth...£10 one-way? Scandal, hah-hah!

Cards marked at a cafe on the pier...

It was just as predicted: up and down all the way to Liskeard. Thankfully there was World's Most Picturesque Ferry Crossing™from Fowey to Boddinick to break it all up...only for 4 minutes though!
The route managed to avoid civilisation or at least any Spars, 7-11s, petrol stations or anywhere that might offer up some calories. It was gone 1.30pm and I was nearly out of water, never mind food. I'm trundling through yet another tiny village when I spy Veryan Stores. Major result, both for them and me!

I reckoned on no more rain, so off came the overshoes...

Genuine Cornish Pasty lurking at the back.

Fowey..is nice!

I can make that!

Lo and behold another insane gradient is waiting to smack you around the chops on the other side, hah-hah! On more than a few occasions the nature of the country lanes meant traffic having back-up to a passing place. The Top Trump card is if you're pulling a trailer: then the other party will reverse for you it seems. Not really want you want to be faced with when you come bombing around a corner, but there you go!

Paper, scissors, rock.

Liskeard is only another 5 miles. Good!

It was great to happen across the Prem Inn: what wasn't so great was the delay in waiting to get checked-in. I ain't got no time for that! Anyway, the usual trio of admin, ale and food followed. What did not follow was this 'ere diatribe, as any usable signal (4g or wi-fi) evaporated. Non bueno!

If it's good enough for Len Henry etc...

Bike delighted to be in shelter for once!

The choice of ale was er, limited. To one!

So to the final two items of essential nonsense...

Today's stats.

And today's tune? An absolutely infectious stormer of a dance number, that's what!

Let's see what tomorrow brings...goodnight!

Stage five: Camelford to Penzance…’Let’s Work Together’

 What a sight for tired eyes- no, not me, but the pile of laundry alongside some breakfast that the fantastic host of Chandlers B&B left for me. Oh yeah, he also wrapped a couple of slices of last night’s pizza for me. If Carlsberg did hospitality…

Laundry…cereal…get in!

Sorry bike- we go into the grimness once more!

Defo in Cornwall now.

Long live! Trying to get the ferry…

The cunning plan was to get the Rock to Padstow ferry: it actually worked! Six quid though…but worth it to avoid the detour. No sign of Capo Stein- he’s probably largeing it in Monaco or similar, hah-hah! Padstow looks pleasant, like quite a few places have so far…must return in a more civilised manner.

Six quid!

The Stein’s lair…

S’alright.

Post-Padstow it was a trundle on all manner of roads, gradients, traffic, civilians etc…no issues apart from the racket coming from my rear brake. Fair dos, it has seen some action over the past few days but the pads were new only three weeks ago. By chance there was a bike rental place before Portreath. Bloke there was helpful and put some new rear pads on, but did say that because of the metal-metal contact from the worn-out pad, the disc was scored to f**k and would need replaced…he didn’t carry a spare but did recommend a shop in Hayle, just before St Ives. And he didn’t want paying for his time either!

Bike shop #1

Bike shop #2

One trousered rear disc.

So I ummed and aahed about whether to bother stopping at this second bike shop- the pads would probably be okay and get me to flatter days, and time was only ever going one way. Snap decision as I passed it…stop! Good job I did: mechanic bloke could see time was tight, so dropped what he was doing and had a look. He said that not only was the disc terminal, there was a risk of it breaking altogether which would not have been optimal. He could have flogged me the same disc again but said he had a barely used disc which would last longer than Shimano’s Ice Rotor bollocks. So he gave me a spare set of pads and put that disc on for £20. Again, no labour charge. Blimey!

Blue skies at last!

Still feel it..just a little less.

Novel to have effective brakes innit!

The one order of business was to get to Land’s End before 5pm- reason being that their official photographers would finish then and because this is a charity thing (don’t like to talk about it much), they would take a photo at the sign gratis. And again, they were onside…even though they aren’t meant to through in some extra photos using the punter’s iPhone, that’s what they did. Nice one!

Nice to see you etc.!

And the official effort. Cheers Guv…

He looks a bit miffed. Scary.

So that left about 10 miles to Penzance and the obvious choice of The Pirate Inn for tonight’s acco. Tragic, I know…

Told you.

Bit of pod action!

It’ll do nicely.

The pub itself ain’t great but the bonus ball was a firm of Morris Dancers doing their unhinged thing in the beer garden. Take a bow, England!

Rehydration protocol was identical to last night’s.

The warm-up. Fearsome.

Post-dance debrief/lash-up happening!

Just the two items of business remain…

Stats ahoy!

And today’s tune is an old favourite (ain’t they all?) and sums up how much I appreciated the help. Nice one!