frank9755
Cyclist
- Location
- West London
London to Lands End
Background and preparation
Work was a bit quiet with nothing starting up ahead of the approaching Royal Wedding bank holiday-fest, I had a fair bit of holiday in hand and the weather was looking extremely good for April, so I thought I would slip in a quick tour.
Other (cycling) commitments meant I only had the working week so losing a day each side travelling out wasn’t an option but one idea that had been playing on my mind was to ride from London to Lands End. This appealed because it is a good distance, a meaningful destination to aim for and, with the combination of starting from home and the sleeper train back from Penzance, offers very easy logistics. I checked the distance. Depending on route taken it seemed to be from 320-360 miles: achievable in the time as long as I didn’t dawdle.
I had thought of setting off on Sunday lunchtime after doing a time trial (first ofthe season) in the morning, which would have made the distance more easily manageable and allowed me to enjoy some great weather. But I felt a wreck after the time trial, hadn’t packed and hadn’t put any thought into a route, so that didn’t happen.
Instead I spent Sunday afternoon mapping out an approximate route, using the ‘road atlas pages and red felt tip’ technique, and getting my gear together. For a solo trip, as this was, I tend to ride fairly long days and enjoy camping as being outside all the time helps to make it into more of an escape. I did a trip last year in France where I just relied on finding sites when I needed them but in the UK I’d always booked ahead. Given I hadn’t planned my route precisely but was going to be in fairly dense campsite territory I decided that I’d risk it.
Monday – London, Surrey and Hampshire
So I set off after the morning rush hour, south through Richmond Park, Kingston, Esher, Cobham and East Horsley. Then I decided to depart from my planned route, which was more back roads through the Surrey Hills, to try the A248 to Godalming. This worked out well – a pleasant run through a series of villages with moderate traffic and gentle gradients – but Ithen had to do a couple of miles on the A3, which was more challenging! Luckily one lane was coned off for the uphill section so I was able to shelter behind the cones as the juggernauts rumbled by.
Here I left known territory and cut west on some back roads into Hampshire. What looked nice on the map turned out to be less so on the ground. First I had navigation hell in the country lanes, then the headwind really picked up, then a little B-road leading to the town of Alton turned out to be very busy. Just as I was thinking it was not going to plan I looked up and saw a hill looming ahead of me, and then a sign saying 14%! Where did that come from? The reward for slogging up it was the rather unlovely town of Alton (which I wasn’t surprised to see has a listing on chavtowns.co.uk), followed by more slow climbing.
By now I was getting a little concerned about progress. I wanted to do more miles on the first day as it gets hillier further west and the weather forecast was not so good for the middle of the week. If it was going to be up to 360 miles to LE, and then a bit more back to Penzance, I was hoping to do 100 before stopping, but I’d only done about 60 and it was already mid-afternoon. A voice appeared from somewhere in my head and taunted me, saying ‘this day’s got 80 miles written all over it.’ I almost laughed out loud at the cheek of it!
The turning point was seeing place-name-of-the-day, a signpost to a hamlet with the gloriously Saxon name of Wivelrod. Then along downhill section to New Alresford, which turned out to be a delightful Georgian town (reminding me very slightly of Westport in Ireland), and more easy lanes to Winchester. Winchester had to be climbed out of, inch by inch, but then, once Romsey was bypassed, I was into the New Forest. Regretting not having bought food earlier, but enjoying the early evening sunshine and the playful ponies, I had to press on, ignoring the many tempting campsite signs, and onto the B3078 towards Fordingbridge. I’d ridden this road before and it is a climb up but pretty flat on top, across some fairly bleak heathland. But I hadn’t counted on the headwind! It was hard going, even on the downhills. But I made it, crossed into Dorset and settled down for the night at the village of Alderholt.
I’d done 105 miles which – although I could have done with stopping half an hour sooner – meant I could be confident of making LE in time.
Tuesday – Dorset
I was expecting the riding to get tougher as I headed further west, and wasn't to be disappointed by Dorset. My route headed pretty much due west on back roads and not going through any towns of size until Beaminster– just north of Bridport – where I had lunch – and then on to cross into Devon just before Axminster. It turned out to be a succession of climbs of around 500 feet. I didn’t count the number but it can’t have been fewer than 12 and may have been nearer 20.
It really felt like riding across the grain of the countryside. I’ll GPS it to see how much climbing I did as it felt like a lot, and steep too. The headwind was also a factor but, nevertheless, it was good cycling with pretty villages, interesting countryside, light traffic and plenty of challenging climbs. A highlight was my first distant glimpse of the sea, from a hill just after the village of Broadwindsor.
Once in Devon I was mainly on A roads – a glorious 2-mile 30mph descent on the A35, then the A358 towards the sea and A3052 towards Exeter. I finished the day with a few beautiful lanes leading to a campsite near the village of Woodbury, about 12 miles short of Exeter. I had ridden 89 miles but the hilly terrain meant it took me almost an hour longer than had 106 miles the previous day.
Wednesday –Devon
The weather forecast was much worse for Wednesday and I set off in a light shower. But it soon stopped and I negotiated Exeter painlessly and pointed the bike towards Dartmoor. I’d only skirted Dartmoor before and was really looking forward to this bit – heading right across the middle, and was hoping the weather would be kind. The Co-op in Moretonhampstead was doing2-for-1 on McVitie’s ginger cake so I knew luck was on my side.
From school geography, I was expecting the Dartmoor batholith to be a dome. Of course it isn’t and there were a series of ups and downs, but getting steadily higher, through some increasingly bleak moorland with some dramatic tors crowning the hills. I kept thinking ‘this isn’t as hard as Dorset!’ The headwind was there on the flat bits, but the rain held off, right untilI was on my high-speed descent into Tavistock.
I did a loop round Tavistock, partly because it is a pretty town and partly because I had forgotten to bring leg-warmers and was hoping to stumble across Dellzeqq’s brother’s bike shop to buy some. But I didn’t find the shop and – with Dartmoor behind me – thought I’d survive.
I pressed on towards the Tamar and Cornwall. As I was starting the descent into Gunnislake someone said ‘hello’. Turning, I saw another cylist who, given the road, stayed slightly behind me. We did some initial introductions. I was pleased to find someone who, when I said what I was doing, regarded it as a pretty unexceptional ride, not some major feat of endurance. Then he mentioned he’d done JoGLE on a Raleigh Chopper, and I realised it was the legendary MickF of the CTC forum and ranger of the Devon/Cornwall borderland! I had already been wondering if it might have been he as there are not many cyclists in these parts. I’d corresponded with him a lot on that forum and he has helped me with all sorts of things, from routes through Devon to an idiots guide to using a Garmin, so it was great to meet him in person and be able to thank him. He drew alongside and I recognised his famous red Mercian. Mick said he’d just taken his mudguards offthe day before so had got soaked in the rain and was heading home, but he kindly led me up Gunnislake Hill and gave me some helpful directions for negotiating Liskeard.
I pushed on, on the A390, which was my favourite road of the whole ride. A gloriously curvaceous and undulating road but never too steep and never too busy, and with no navigation to distract. The sort of road where the mind can (and indeed did) drift off into a reflective and meditative state, where insights and even bits of answers to some of life’s bigger questions can appear…
Riding in the rain is ok but setting up a tent is a pain, so I thought I’d press on until the rain stopped. It did at Lostwithiel, so I did too. 76 miles for the day.
Thursday – Cornwall
The campsite warden told me it was 62 miles to Lands End. Today was mostly A-roads, through St Austell, Truro, Redruth and Camborne, which made for good progress. Then I cut across some back roads over to Marazion, with St Michael’s Mount floating just offshore and the bay curving away to take in Penzance, Newlyn and Mousehole: this must be one of the prettiest bays in England. I was delighted to find that I could ride round the bay on a coast path into Penzance. With the waves lapping at the beach on my left, this made a fitting climax to my ride.
But it wasn’t over yet. It was only 3pm and my train wasn’t due to leave for nearly seven hours, so I had no excuse for not pressing on to Lands End. I decided to go out on the A30 which I found to be a pretty dull route, and hillier than I expected, but it got me there.
I’d only been to Lands End once before, about 15 years ago, and didn’t remember the theme park which it now is. It is developed (and yesterday was overrun with coachloads of French tourists) but by no means completely spoiled. I stopped and sat for a while, looked at the cliffs, stared out to sea, reflected on a challenging but rewarding ride, texted some friends to say I’d arrived and daydreamed a bit.
When I’d had enough, I took the B3315, the southern loop, back to Penzance. This was a much more pleasant road. Less hilly than theA30 - apart from three or four of those typical Cornish plateau-to-sea-level-and-back-up-again dips. I lingered further in Mousehole – a very pretty fishing village which I first heard about when tragically its lifeboat was lost with all hands in 1981 – then back to Penzance. This made 81 miles for the day and 351 for the trip (333 from my house to Lands End).
Back home
There was time for something to eat and a celebratory beer before boarding the train, which whisked me back through the night to Paddington, and a short ride home. I got home about 7:30am and jumped in the shower. My legs had that familiar tingling sensation from a challenging ride and I felt that happy sense of achievement. I reflected on lessons learned:
- Dorset is hillier than either Devon or Cornwall (possibly because I took more minor roads across it)
- The prevailing wind is from the west
- You can rely on being able to find a campsite when you need one
- Sleeper trains are a great way to save a day in getting home
Background and preparation
Work was a bit quiet with nothing starting up ahead of the approaching Royal Wedding bank holiday-fest, I had a fair bit of holiday in hand and the weather was looking extremely good for April, so I thought I would slip in a quick tour.
Other (cycling) commitments meant I only had the working week so losing a day each side travelling out wasn’t an option but one idea that had been playing on my mind was to ride from London to Lands End. This appealed because it is a good distance, a meaningful destination to aim for and, with the combination of starting from home and the sleeper train back from Penzance, offers very easy logistics. I checked the distance. Depending on route taken it seemed to be from 320-360 miles: achievable in the time as long as I didn’t dawdle.
I had thought of setting off on Sunday lunchtime after doing a time trial (first ofthe season) in the morning, which would have made the distance more easily manageable and allowed me to enjoy some great weather. But I felt a wreck after the time trial, hadn’t packed and hadn’t put any thought into a route, so that didn’t happen.
Instead I spent Sunday afternoon mapping out an approximate route, using the ‘road atlas pages and red felt tip’ technique, and getting my gear together. For a solo trip, as this was, I tend to ride fairly long days and enjoy camping as being outside all the time helps to make it into more of an escape. I did a trip last year in France where I just relied on finding sites when I needed them but in the UK I’d always booked ahead. Given I hadn’t planned my route precisely but was going to be in fairly dense campsite territory I decided that I’d risk it.
Monday – London, Surrey and Hampshire
So I set off after the morning rush hour, south through Richmond Park, Kingston, Esher, Cobham and East Horsley. Then I decided to depart from my planned route, which was more back roads through the Surrey Hills, to try the A248 to Godalming. This worked out well – a pleasant run through a series of villages with moderate traffic and gentle gradients – but Ithen had to do a couple of miles on the A3, which was more challenging! Luckily one lane was coned off for the uphill section so I was able to shelter behind the cones as the juggernauts rumbled by.
Here I left known territory and cut west on some back roads into Hampshire. What looked nice on the map turned out to be less so on the ground. First I had navigation hell in the country lanes, then the headwind really picked up, then a little B-road leading to the town of Alton turned out to be very busy. Just as I was thinking it was not going to plan I looked up and saw a hill looming ahead of me, and then a sign saying 14%! Where did that come from? The reward for slogging up it was the rather unlovely town of Alton (which I wasn’t surprised to see has a listing on chavtowns.co.uk), followed by more slow climbing.
By now I was getting a little concerned about progress. I wanted to do more miles on the first day as it gets hillier further west and the weather forecast was not so good for the middle of the week. If it was going to be up to 360 miles to LE, and then a bit more back to Penzance, I was hoping to do 100 before stopping, but I’d only done about 60 and it was already mid-afternoon. A voice appeared from somewhere in my head and taunted me, saying ‘this day’s got 80 miles written all over it.’ I almost laughed out loud at the cheek of it!
The turning point was seeing place-name-of-the-day, a signpost to a hamlet with the gloriously Saxon name of Wivelrod. Then along downhill section to New Alresford, which turned out to be a delightful Georgian town (reminding me very slightly of Westport in Ireland), and more easy lanes to Winchester. Winchester had to be climbed out of, inch by inch, but then, once Romsey was bypassed, I was into the New Forest. Regretting not having bought food earlier, but enjoying the early evening sunshine and the playful ponies, I had to press on, ignoring the many tempting campsite signs, and onto the B3078 towards Fordingbridge. I’d ridden this road before and it is a climb up but pretty flat on top, across some fairly bleak heathland. But I hadn’t counted on the headwind! It was hard going, even on the downhills. But I made it, crossed into Dorset and settled down for the night at the village of Alderholt.
I’d done 105 miles which – although I could have done with stopping half an hour sooner – meant I could be confident of making LE in time.
Tuesday – Dorset
I was expecting the riding to get tougher as I headed further west, and wasn't to be disappointed by Dorset. My route headed pretty much due west on back roads and not going through any towns of size until Beaminster– just north of Bridport – where I had lunch – and then on to cross into Devon just before Axminster. It turned out to be a succession of climbs of around 500 feet. I didn’t count the number but it can’t have been fewer than 12 and may have been nearer 20.
It really felt like riding across the grain of the countryside. I’ll GPS it to see how much climbing I did as it felt like a lot, and steep too. The headwind was also a factor but, nevertheless, it was good cycling with pretty villages, interesting countryside, light traffic and plenty of challenging climbs. A highlight was my first distant glimpse of the sea, from a hill just after the village of Broadwindsor.
Once in Devon I was mainly on A roads – a glorious 2-mile 30mph descent on the A35, then the A358 towards the sea and A3052 towards Exeter. I finished the day with a few beautiful lanes leading to a campsite near the village of Woodbury, about 12 miles short of Exeter. I had ridden 89 miles but the hilly terrain meant it took me almost an hour longer than had 106 miles the previous day.
Wednesday –Devon
The weather forecast was much worse for Wednesday and I set off in a light shower. But it soon stopped and I negotiated Exeter painlessly and pointed the bike towards Dartmoor. I’d only skirted Dartmoor before and was really looking forward to this bit – heading right across the middle, and was hoping the weather would be kind. The Co-op in Moretonhampstead was doing2-for-1 on McVitie’s ginger cake so I knew luck was on my side.
From school geography, I was expecting the Dartmoor batholith to be a dome. Of course it isn’t and there were a series of ups and downs, but getting steadily higher, through some increasingly bleak moorland with some dramatic tors crowning the hills. I kept thinking ‘this isn’t as hard as Dorset!’ The headwind was there on the flat bits, but the rain held off, right untilI was on my high-speed descent into Tavistock.
I did a loop round Tavistock, partly because it is a pretty town and partly because I had forgotten to bring leg-warmers and was hoping to stumble across Dellzeqq’s brother’s bike shop to buy some. But I didn’t find the shop and – with Dartmoor behind me – thought I’d survive.
I pressed on towards the Tamar and Cornwall. As I was starting the descent into Gunnislake someone said ‘hello’. Turning, I saw another cylist who, given the road, stayed slightly behind me. We did some initial introductions. I was pleased to find someone who, when I said what I was doing, regarded it as a pretty unexceptional ride, not some major feat of endurance. Then he mentioned he’d done JoGLE on a Raleigh Chopper, and I realised it was the legendary MickF of the CTC forum and ranger of the Devon/Cornwall borderland! I had already been wondering if it might have been he as there are not many cyclists in these parts. I’d corresponded with him a lot on that forum and he has helped me with all sorts of things, from routes through Devon to an idiots guide to using a Garmin, so it was great to meet him in person and be able to thank him. He drew alongside and I recognised his famous red Mercian. Mick said he’d just taken his mudguards offthe day before so had got soaked in the rain and was heading home, but he kindly led me up Gunnislake Hill and gave me some helpful directions for negotiating Liskeard.
I pushed on, on the A390, which was my favourite road of the whole ride. A gloriously curvaceous and undulating road but never too steep and never too busy, and with no navigation to distract. The sort of road where the mind can (and indeed did) drift off into a reflective and meditative state, where insights and even bits of answers to some of life’s bigger questions can appear…
Riding in the rain is ok but setting up a tent is a pain, so I thought I’d press on until the rain stopped. It did at Lostwithiel, so I did too. 76 miles for the day.
Thursday – Cornwall
The campsite warden told me it was 62 miles to Lands End. Today was mostly A-roads, through St Austell, Truro, Redruth and Camborne, which made for good progress. Then I cut across some back roads over to Marazion, with St Michael’s Mount floating just offshore and the bay curving away to take in Penzance, Newlyn and Mousehole: this must be one of the prettiest bays in England. I was delighted to find that I could ride round the bay on a coast path into Penzance. With the waves lapping at the beach on my left, this made a fitting climax to my ride.
But it wasn’t over yet. It was only 3pm and my train wasn’t due to leave for nearly seven hours, so I had no excuse for not pressing on to Lands End. I decided to go out on the A30 which I found to be a pretty dull route, and hillier than I expected, but it got me there.
I’d only been to Lands End once before, about 15 years ago, and didn’t remember the theme park which it now is. It is developed (and yesterday was overrun with coachloads of French tourists) but by no means completely spoiled. I stopped and sat for a while, looked at the cliffs, stared out to sea, reflected on a challenging but rewarding ride, texted some friends to say I’d arrived and daydreamed a bit.
When I’d had enough, I took the B3315, the southern loop, back to Penzance. This was a much more pleasant road. Less hilly than theA30 - apart from three or four of those typical Cornish plateau-to-sea-level-and-back-up-again dips. I lingered further in Mousehole – a very pretty fishing village which I first heard about when tragically its lifeboat was lost with all hands in 1981 – then back to Penzance. This made 81 miles for the day and 351 for the trip (333 from my house to Lands End).
Back home
There was time for something to eat and a celebratory beer before boarding the train, which whisked me back through the night to Paddington, and a short ride home. I got home about 7:30am and jumped in the shower. My legs had that familiar tingling sensation from a challenging ride and I felt that happy sense of achievement. I reflected on lessons learned:
- Dorset is hillier than either Devon or Cornwall (possibly because I took more minor roads across it)
- The prevailing wind is from the west
- You can rely on being able to find a campsite when you need one
- Sleeper trains are a great way to save a day in getting home
