Day 1: Home - Hertford (37 miles)
Monday, 6th September
These things are sent to try us.
With an exciting day ahead, the 'crack of dawn' was no more than a distant dot in the rear view mirror as I set about breakfast. This also gave me plenty of time to pack all the gear I had assembled and set out last night. Despite plenty of practice, I've yet to devise a system which arranges all the stuff into the two panniers and bar bag. Yes, some things do have their regular place, but mostly it's just about keeping cooking equipment and food together; sleep system in one bag, clean clothes and cleaning accoutrements close together. But since most things come out the bags at the end of each day, then go back the following one, it matters not too much.
A quiet forecourt at Doncaster station
I gave myself two hours to cycle the sixteen miles to Doncaster. Given that my ticket was for a specific train, I wanted to include a time contingency in case of emergencies. And with the sun providing some welcome heat, I was keen not to work up a sweat. My luck was in and I arrived at the station with 40 minutes to spare. After examining the departure boards to find the platform at which my train would arrive, I headed for the lifts - a fully loaded touring bike is more than a handful for me these days, so stairs are to be avoided if at all possible. Is it the bike getting heavier or just that my aging body finds it harder to cope? As I was waiting for the lift, a bemasked figure to my right asked 'Aren't we talking then?' It was my brother. Let me try to give you some idea of the magnitude of this coincidence. Despite living a mile or so apart, we move in different circles and lead different lives, meeting only a couple of times a year to exchange birthday and Xmas gifts. Yet here we were, miles away from our homes, both about to catch trains and set off on adventures, me heading south and my brother north to hike the West Highland Way. It really is a small world!
Having wished each other well, we parted company and I sought platform 1 for my London bound train. This is where things could begin to come unstuck. LNER, the primary rail company serving the London - Edinburgh route, recently added new rolling stock in the form of 'Azuma' trains - they look sleek and modern, but have attracted the ire of many cyclists who report the provision for bikes leaves a lot to be desired. You can't just wheel your bike on; it needs to be booked in advance and a space reserved. To board the train you need the assistance of one of the LNER platform staff to unlock the bike spaces, which are apparently rather limited in size. Having been obliged to wrangle bikes on 'Voyager' train sets in the past and knowing how much of a struggle that was, I wasn't looking forward to this experience at all!
I needn't have worried. Leona, the platform supervisor(?), rang the onboard train manager to confirm which of the two bike compartments were occupied or free - two other cycle tourers with reservations had showed up, and there was a bike already on board. Leona accompanied me down the platform to the correct zone where we chatted whilst the train arrived, a couple of minutes late. Here we go! Leona carried my panniers - they have to come off the bike for loading - whilst I got the bike onto the train and into the bike space alongside the one already in place. No problem!
My reserved seat was in 1st class in the same coach, so I was soon sitting comfortably in my single spacious seat enjoying the countryside whooshing past out the window. The 1st class fare (with Railcard discount) was £28, which is the main reason I opted to treat myself, although the peace, calm and ample space are also attractive. If we take into account what a lunch of orange juice, coffee, ham salad sandwich, crisps, and brownies might have cost (these are covered in the cost of the 1st class ticket), it was more than worth it.
Having been helped to detrain my bike by the other cyclist who was continuing on to London, I found myself in Stevenage station ready to start my tour proper. It was hot! But I'd much rather it be sunny than the dismal grey we've had for the past couple of weeks. It's sometimes a little tricky picking up the start of the route on the Garmin, especially in busy town centres, more so when there are roadworks thrown into the mix. So I just followed my nose and was soon reassured the Garmin by latching onto the programmed route. Unfortunately, time spent on Stevenage's wonderful cycle network was all too short lived as I headed out onto peaceful country lanes. With only fifteen or so miles to the campsite just outside Hertford, I was in no rush. However, when my planned route began to head down bridleways, after the first short one I declined any further off-road forays. I like the quietness of these routes, but the tree roots, over hanging branches, and occasional awkward gates, not so much. So I stuck to the quiet, rural lanes and let the Garmin work its re-routing magic.
All too quickly I arrived in Hertford and managed to pass through without colliding with any of the pupils spilling aimlessly out of the local schools. Then things began to unravel slightly as I arrived at the site only to find:
As much unwelcome as unexpected!
Oh dear! Plan B it is then, which in this case involved heading for another C&CC site around 15 miles away. With the heat as it was, and with empty water bottles, I first popped on site to see if I could wangle access to a water tap. Having found one of the site staff to seek permission, she apologized for the site being closed (staffing issues of some sort), but also informed me my Plan B site wasn't open either, nor in fact was the Plan C site! This I've never come across before, but it serves me right for not booking.
With my water bottles full I and my increasing thirst somewhat quenched, I was now better placed to give thoughts to Plan D. Just off site, but still in reach of the site's wi-fi, I searched for local hotels on Booking.com. I guess I could have searched for local campsites, but I actually just wanted to be sure of somewhere to lay my head. Now my luck changed, finding a hotel located on the route I planned to take tomorrow; the miles earned in getting there today could be banked in shortening tomorrow's longer day. Click, click, click, booked!
The gods of chaos hadn't quite finished with me yet and threw up one more challenge.
Accepted! Nine out of ten 'Road Closed' signs can usually be passed, safe in the knowledge that as a cyclist, it's usually possible to navigate as a pedestrian around road works which might close off the road itself. And so it proved on this occasion. Rush hour had arrived in Hoddesdon, making for an exciting passage through it, but then the route sought out the towpaths alongside and across the River Lee, where rather distressed narrowboats seemed to occupy most of the bankside moorings. A mile or so of sniggling back and forth across bridges and around footpaths and I arrived at Roydon Marina Village where the hotel was located.
After checking in, declining a room which I discovered hadn't been cleaned, and getting another, I headed across to the Marina Boathouse where I could get some food and a beer. One veg chilli and a pint of Wainwright's later, I was feeling much happier. The cost of today's rejigging left me lighter of pocket than I'd expected, but, as my cycling buddy regularly reminds me, 'There's no savings banks in the afterlife.' That I'll miss one night under 'canvas' is a shame, especially with the weather being so amenable, but there's always tomorrow. Despite being reassured by the C&CC site manager that the next site on my list is open, I don't think crossing my fingers will do any harm.