The Pachyderm heads East

[IaninSheffield]

[Apologies that this travelogue is posted retrospectively of the tour itself, which took place last week. Internet access at the time was ... patchy!]

Day 1 (June 8th): Home - Woodhall Spa (64 miles)

With the weather set fair, restrictions being somewhat eased, and campsites once more able to accept visitors, it was time to snap up the opportunity for a short tour. Since The Pachyderm (Elephant Bike) hasn't been out of its enclosure since the Coast to Coast almost two years ago, it seemed only fair to grant the beast its freedom once more. Since a Pennine crossing tested the limits of my capabilities on such a weighty steed, I chose more sympathetic, more appropriate terrain for this tour.
Drawing the curtains this morning revealed that the weather forecaster had been as good as her word and the sun was already cracking the flags. Finished packing, loaded up two rear panniers, one tent on the rear rack and a further small pannier in the front 'basket'. With two bidons filled and the Garmin fired up, it was time to hit the road, or actually, gently wobble off in that way that always seems to come with sitting astride a loaded bike for the first time on tour.

Broken footbridge across the ford, Clumber Park
​

The first twenty or so miles were along regular routes, although Clumber Park in the sun is always a delight and well worth traversing. The ford, not so much! With the walkway out of action, it meant gingerly negotiating the slippery cobbles for fear of coming a cropper. The water was surprisingly mild but nonetheless refreshing, and I was grateful yet again for my SPD sandals.

With only a third of today's distance covered, second breakfast in Tuxford was uncalled for, but I wasn’t going to allow convention to stop me. There's a cracking little sandwich shop on the main street which I always struggle to pass. 'Can I have a cheese salad roll please?' ' Medium or large?' There was of course only one possible response. It was the large slice of treacle tart that was probably superfluous to needs, but I'm trying a new strategy where, if food presents itself, I don’t pass up the chance. Resistance is, of course, …. xxx.

Tuxford square
​

Overloaded with carbs, I clearly wasn't thinking straight when a few miles beyond Tuxford, the sign indicating the traffic-free NCN trail (Routes 647 and 64) all the way into Lincoln appeared and, despite having planned to go this way, I instead elected to pass. This opening section ran alongside a field and was little more than a grass path, so I gave it a miss, figuring I'd pick up the trail further along. Five miles later, and after a rather hairy stretch along the A57, I was back on track. I've cycled this trail before and it is excellent, providing a much easier crossing of the Trent than the other options. It's a repurposed former rail line, as evidenced by the occasional overgrown, but still remaining platforms of small, village stations.

No trains stopped at Fledburgh in a while!
​

The surface is hard-packed cinder for the first few miles and the remainder asphalt all the way to Lincoln. It's flat, quiet, sometimes tree-lined, sometimes with open views and I'd recommend it wholeheartedly. After passing under the A46 Lincoln bypass, you follow the River Whitham all the way into the city centre where the waterfront and Brayford Pool await. There's plenty of eating options along here, though hardly surprisingly, not much for the budget conscious cycle tourer. For me though, there's always pleasure to be had sitting a while and drinking in the scene. There's no charge for that.

Having cycled to Woodhall Spa a couple of times before, I decided to try a fresh route from Lincoln for the remaining twenty miles. The Water Rail Way follows the Whitham almost all the way to Woodhall Spa and is named for both the former Lincoln - Boston rail line which it follows, and the waterbird of the same name. It's off road, paved, quiet, and provides regular sculptures and information boards to keep you entertained and informed. I love being on new routes, especially when they're as pleasant and undemanding as the Water Rail Way.

Information board outlining the origins of the 'Way'

'scuse me missus, d'you mind if I park my bike a mo?

Bardney locks

St John the Divine, Southrey has a frontiersville look about it
​

With the wind almost astern, the miles to Woodhall quickly ticked over and I soon found myself in the town supermarket seeking out some evening comestibles. I was so lost in my reverie, it was only when I emerged that I embarrassingly realised I had failed to put on my mask! The shame! By the time I arrived on site, checked in and began pitching my tent, I realised that the two litres of fluid I'd consumed during the journey had not been enough. That and having caught the sun more than I expected was making me feel a little queasy. Lack of recent touring practice no doubt contributed to this rookie error. By the time I'd pitched the tent, unpacked, and taken a shower, I'd managed to rehydrate and was feeling much happier. The campsite manager had thoughtfully found me a pitch amongst the trees where the shade was welcome … at least until I tried to charge the Garmin using my solar panel. It was like a game of chess, constantly shifting the panel from the shade into each fresh patch of sunlight as soon as it appeared.

Woodhall spa Camping and Caravanning Club site
​

The site is quite busy and most pitches occupied, although fortunately since the young uns are back at school, things are blissfully quiet … apart of course from the birdsong, but I can live with that … even the rather vociferous blackbird which appears to have a perch on the branch above my head. It wasn't even bested by the cuckoo which made itself heard later.

Tomorrow we're off to the flatlands of South Lincolnshire where the only hills come courtesy of the bumps over the fenland drains. Keeping fingers crossed that lady luck will smile on me and grant an absence of headwinds.

 

[IaninSheffield]

Day 2 (June 9th): Woodhall Spa - Sandringham (70 miles)

It may not have been the best of starts to a day, but it was a 'first'. Last night's sleep wasn't great; it rarely is on the first night of a tour. Just couldn't seem to position my air pillow comfortably. But at least that meant I could be up early (for me) and cobble together some breakfast - coffee, a porridge pot and a couple of tortilla wraps with peanut butter and a banana. However, the coffee tasted a little 'off', which, as granules, could hardly be attributed to a rich roasting of Robusta beans! I just put it down to drinking it with other strong tasting foodstuffs. That was until I got to the bottom of the cup and found a lightly boiled caterpillar! Not checking pots and cups before use - yet another rookie error - I really am out of practice.

Not sure how I managed to faff around for so long, but it was after ten when we finally rolled out of the site and headed south east into the slight breeze which hung around all day. Good for helping to keep you cool but not so much when you're cycling into it with the Lincolnshire fens providing little protection. Fighters from nearby RAF Coningsby were taking off every so often, presumably on exercises, but crikey they aren't half loud!

I'd mentally divided my day up into thirds, each of twenty miles-ish. The first leg took us down to Boston, almost entirely in a straight line. This wasn't a surprise of course, after all, I had planned the route. Furthermore, having passed this way once before on a previous tour, I was only too well aware of the terrain - a thin sliver of horizontal land smeared across the foot of a huge, huge sky, in all directions. The roads here are not influenced by contours, and instead are obliged to obey the straight-as-a-die dykes dug to drain the fens. At Anton's Gowt the route joined the footpath which runs alongside the River Whitham into Boston, providing early views of ‘Boston Stump’, or the rather grand St Botolph's Church.

St Botolph's, Boston, fronted by a statue of Herbert Ingram​

This first third was little more than a quarter really, but with market day in full swing in the square, and a cheap chuckwagon on hand, an egg butty and cup of tea - for the princely sum of £2.40 - comprised a second breakfast. Suitability sated, I wiggled through the narrow streets of Boston and began the second 'third' leg with - in my head - a little over 20 miles before King's Lynn and another potential break. Ah! No!

River Welland from the Fosdyke Bridge​

It was perhaps nearly twenty miles as my path brought me towards Holbeach … then veered off. I was ready for a drink and some time out of the saddle, but it wouldn't be courtesy of whatever hospitality Holbeach had to offer. Fortunately a couple of miles later, the little lane I was following emerged onto the A17 at exactly the location of a truck stop. As I consumed another cup of tea and this time, a cheese & pickle butty, seeing no outbound roads other than the A17, I checked on the Garmin where I was headed next. Erm, along the A17 apparently, with its trucks, vans and cars all travelling at quite a lick. What on earth had possessed me to include this stretch?! [Having looked back at my planned route, it didn’t include the A17. I must have missed a turn somewhere and the Garmin simply replotted to get me back on track] This was to prove not the only navigational blunder of the day. A bit of backtracking revealed an alternative quieter and safer route, although at the expense of a couple of additional miles. Hardly welcome in this heat, but a better option by far than taking my life in my hands on the A17.

All Saint's, Fosdyke​

Gedney, Long Sutton and Sutton Bridge came and went … but no King's Lynn. This middle 'third' was proving to be much more than anticipated. The real kicker, after the heat and the breeze, was the time you spend with your rear end on the saddle. With no variety in the topography, there's little chance to change your seating position and consequently, things become rather uncomfortable down under. I even took to pedalling a few hundred yards every so often out of the saddle, although The Pachyderm's low gearing doesn't help in this regard.

Sutton Bridge from the west​

Immediately after crossing Sutton Bridge, I made another blunder by failing to spot the parallel road running behind the bank alongside the A16! I only proceeded because there was a narrow shoulder which was just about adequate … and I was getting increasingly fatigued and dehydrated. A mile or so later I could pick up the back roads once more, but it still seemed like an eternity before touching the suburbs of King's Lynn. That stretch had been over half the entire day; I'd just failed to mentally note that during planning. At least it meant that the final 'third' would be much less than twenty miles. Phew … I thought!

Hillington Hall gatehouse​

I elected not to follow the cycleway through and out of King's Lynn so I could take in a supermarket stop to pick up something for the evening's meal. It couldn't have arrived at a better time as I was low on water and dehydrated once more. A bottle of chocolate milk and half a carton of orange juice later and things were starting to feel much better … and there were only about six miles left to go. Or rather there would have been, were it not for yet one more navigational blunder. I followed the planned route out of Lynn - or so I thought - and was disappointed to find that I'd once more found busy roads, made worse by the evening rush hour. A road sign on the way out of East Lynn made Sandringham six miles, which sounded quite doable given that I was headed for the Camping and Caravanning Club site there. After seven miles I was heading into country which didn't feel at all right; I knew the site was buried deep in woodland and there was none to be seen. I checked the Garmin and the blue line I'd been following, instead of being my route towards the campsite, was the A148 to Fakenham! I think that wearing sunglasses meant I missed some of the details on the Garmin. So I partially retraced my path then returned to a better heading, eventually arriving on site with a day’s total some eight miles higher than what I'd been expecting … and well over anything The Pachyderm has done before.

Sandringham Camping and Caravanning Club site​

Tent pitched I headed over for a much needed shower. On disrobing my tee shirt almost snapped in two from the encrusted layers of salt, so that got a good wash. While relaxing in my tent porch later, about to enjoy my evening meal and a cuppa, a fellow cycle tourist I'd met when checking in dropped by. Brenda had spotted my Cycle Touring Festival bidon, having not only been at the same event (and the previous ones) she facilitated sessions on tarp making. For this tour, she and her partner had serious rigs, towing trailers behind electric Kogas. I have little doubt that when I reach their levels of seniority, I too will be looking to be e-nabled. Brenda’s blog is CyclingInTheSixthDecade, although she quietly added that it was now somewhat more than the ‘sixth’ decade!

 

[IaninSheffield]

Day 3 (June 10th): Sandringham - West Runton (45 miles)

Apart from the wee beasties that tended to want a nibble in the evening, I liked the Sandringham site. Oh, and apart from the abundant wood pigeons which were keen to wake me with their none too tuneful crooing. But these inconveniences were a small price to pay for the woodland location and the shade it offered. Up and at 'em and on target for a nine o'clock depart … at least that was what I thought until I realised I'd spent the last couple of days using my camera as my timekeeper. It wouldn't have been a problem if I'd spotted it was still on GMT rather than BST! When are the powers that be going to sort that one out? So a ten o'clock departure it was then, but with only 40ish miles to do, I was in no rush.

The first few miles tracked across the Sandringham estate, passing by the main visitor's entrance which struck me as being very similar to those found at theme parks. The lady nearby when I was taking the photo looked most indignant when I mentioned that.

Sandringham visitor centre

The Norwich Gate of Sandringham Estate​

The cosseting forest made for a welcome change from the unending expansive views of yesterday. In fact, the remainder of the day provided further contrasts. Quiet hedge and tree-lined lanes, lumps and bumps, twists and turns; you never knew what might be around the corner - compared with yesterday when there hardly were any corners! Even the weather was more conducive to more comfortable cycling now the sky was overcast and the temperature a few degrees lower. This was the kind of cycling I particularly enjoy. For me, North Norfolk has far more to offer than South Lincolnshire. It struck me yesterday that I couldn't ever conceive of living in that area with its unending monotony of terrain. Today on the other hand revealed a landscape I'd be happy to call home … if I could afford it!

St Mary’s, Burnham Market ​

The first real centre of population through which I passed was Burnham Market, a place I had heard of, and pretty though it was, I'm not sure it merited the hordes of tourists which had descended upon it. A sister village, Burnham Thorpe was the birthplace of Nelson apparently; that's the Horatio Lord Nelson variety, not the Trevor Nelson.

Village sign indicating Nelson’s birthplace of Burnham Thorpe​

I was surprised to learn that we were born two hundred years apart, almost to the day! Other than the village sign, there seemed to be little to have marked the presence of the great man. Although I was delighted by the cycling terrain on offer, the sparse villages along the route I had chosen - NCN1 - offered little in the form of sustenance opportunities. But sometimes your wishes are granted and as I turned a corner Binham Abbey appeared, although it was the little dairy/cafe attached to the abbey that particularly attracted my interest. They made a feature of selling 'Raw' milk, along with other dairy produce, though the little shop was completely unstaffed. The milk and other produce was vended from self-service machines, as was the coffee, albeit from a different machine. Had the minimum quantity of milk dispensed been less than 2 litres, I might have tried that instead. No cakes or buns unfortunately, but luckily I still had one of Tesco's 'Finest' croissants that I'd picked up on yellow sticker yesterday.

The remaining miles to West Runton passed as pleasantly and peacefully as those had during the morning and thankfully lacked the navigational errors which blighted the end of yesterday's ride. Following the sign off the lane indicating the Camping and Caravanning Club site took me steeply down a very uneven and stony track, certainly not the kind of surface I'd want to descend towing a heavy caravan! Just as I began to doubt whether I'd taken the right path, the site entrance appeared around a bend. Phew!

Camping and Caravanning Club site, West Runton​

After pitching the tent I followed the rather too brief instructions the site manager gave me to reach the village. I'm not sure I should have been walking across the enormous multilevel Caravan Club site, but I figured they wouldn't mind. Having walked further to find the convenience store than I intended, a visit to the beach was ruled out - time for that later in the week. Besides, having eaten little during the day, I was getting beyond peckish! One chicken salad sub, one chicken samosa, one piece of cinnamon fruit cake and two cups of coffee (sans caterpillar) later, and the beast that is my appetite had been adequately vanquished.

Tomorrow is another long one, but at least the first two thirds traverse the interesting landscape, and refreshment stops should be more likely than they have been today … fingers crossed!

 

[Saracenlad]

Absolutely Brilliant travelogue Ian. We have camped at Tuxford and Woodhall Spa this year too. Booked up to go to Sandringham In 3 weeks time after another visit to Woodhall Spa next week. One of our very favourite areas. Did you try the Deli in Woodhall? Pies and Quiches OMG so yummy.

 

[IaninSheffield]

Absolutely Brilliant travelogue Ian. We have camped at Tuxford and Woodhall Spa this year too. Booked up to go to Sandringham In 3 weeks time after another visit to Woodhall Spa next week. One of our very favourite areas. Did you try the Deli in Woodhall? Pies and Quiches OMG so yummy.

Thank you kindly.
Woodhall Spa and Sandringham both great places. It's the bit in between that I unfortunately find less inspiring, at least as far as touring is concerned.

 

[IaninSheffield]

Day 4 (June 11th): West Runton - Gedney Broadgate (66 miles)

Wakefulness seized me in it's insistent grasp rather earlier than I would have liked, but since I’d been sleeping on the merest head-down slope, only poor quality slumber was on offer. The flapping tent fabric suggested a bit of a breeze … but what direction? As I peeled back the tent door, puffy white clouds scudded across a blue sky just like they do on the Simpson's opening sequence. Another good weather day in prospect perhaps? With my timing now sorted, I was up, breakfasted, and away like a dinner mint - by just after eight.

After struggling up the stony track down which I'd descended last night, I was soon out once more into the delights of the North Norfolk countryside. Here I was now exposed to the southwesterly that one of the other campers had informed me was abroad. Fortunately the roads twisted back and forth, and with regular hedges and woods for protection any suffering was generally short-lived.

St Mary’s Church, Stody

Brinton village sign​

Rather than retrace my route parallel to the coast, along NCN1, I chose to follow a more southerly course. Today was another day of thirds, but hopefully with a little more success than previously. Having had no porridge this morning, I was feeling ready for replenishing the energy reserves when signs indicating Fakenham was close appeared. During route planning I could have chosen to miss it altogether, but decided to dip in. After following a cyclepath on the outskirts of town, I popped out right in front of a Morrisons, so seized the opportunity to top up energy reserves. One quiche, one tuna sandwich, one mixed salad and a litre of orange juice later and I felt in better shape for the challenges ahead. My route didn't take me into the town centre though, which was a shame; perhaps I'd once more planned too many miles into the day? That and I knew I still had the open, flat lands of South Lincolnshire to face ... but not yet.

Grimston click tower, dedicated to Victoria’s 60th year of reign. Wonder what they might erect for the current monarch’s stamina? ​

The next third took me back to King's Lynn where I'd pick up the route I'd followed outbound, although in this direction I elected to pick up one of the abundant cyclepaths which track across the town. It was along one of these, near to a housing estate that I almost ran into a deer! It was munching grass alongside the cyclepath and I only spotted it at the last moment. I stopped to see if I could grab a photo, but it ambled off into the undergrowth before I could loose my camera. It didn't seem concerned in the slightest; disinterested might be a better way to describe it's demeanor. The cyclepath brought me past the Tesco which gave me sustenance a couple of days earlier, so I took the chance to pick up a snack for now, a pasta salad and green salad for later, and porridge for breakfast tomorrow.

The rather impressive library in Kings Lynn ​

King's Lynn seemed a town of contrasts - some areas down at heel, yet some excellent parks and interesting architecture. I guess if you followed a cyclepath from one side of any city to the other, you'd see similar contrasts.
The path eventually popped out onto the riverfront just to the south of town. The muddy banks exposed by the low tide did little to enhance the view. I wonder if the tidal range is too extreme to encourage riverside development, or whether Lynn has been bereft of the favours that some towns and cities with waterfronts have enjoyed?

Pill box along the bank on which the A17 cyclepath runs. Watching over The Wash? ​

The remaining third mostly retraced my outbound route, although this time I avoided the stretch along the A17 by finding the cyclepath I'd missed last time. If you read that account you might remember the path was along a raised bank. At first I wondered whether it might have been spoil from the construction of the main road, or perhaps, given the area, flood defences. What I hadn't expected was that the bank must have been around longer than I would have thought, as evidenced by the inset concrete pill boxes, facing the now distant sea. Nudged by that wartime reminder, as I once more reached Sutton Bridge, it jogged a distant memory in which I was sure my dad had mentioned being stationed there during his RAF service before being posted to the Middle East. I never doubted his word, but wondered if I'd remembered correctly - there are after all plenty of 'Suttons' around.

Sutton Bridge RAF Memorial​

And then on reaching the bridge itself I spotted a sign to the RAF Memorial - looks likely that this was the Sutton he mentioned. It's with great regret that I never asked him about his wartime experience. As a wireless operator I don't think he saw action, but maybe he did. But whatever the case, I'd have been more interested in his day to day life. What was life like in Sutton Bridge, or later in the tents in the desert? What about it made him refuse to eat baked beans or corned beef for the rest of his life? Just one of the many things I sadly left it too late to ask.

After Sutton Bridge came Long Sutton where I turned off for the final couple of miles to the campsite. With no Camping and Caravanning Club site nearby, I sought an independent, and with it being a Friday, expected it to be busy. It was! It's just a small, independent site of some twenty pitches and has goats, donkeys, chickens and other animals in enclosures, similar to a petting zoo.

Campsite friends​

It's really quite charming … or rather it was until other campers arrived and began setting up for the weekend. My next door neighbours are grandparents with a teenage grandchild. They had guests arrive for an evening barbeque, alcohol and music. There were lots of children from other families around who did the noisy things that children do. Folks were just having fun and of course, especially in these times, they deserve to. But as someone who enjoys peace, quiet and solitude, it's the kind of environment I'd usually avoid. No choice on this occasion sadly … and it cost me twice what I'd pay, as a member, on a C&CC site. Hopefully it will all die down when it gets dark and, since I'm not on a slope, I'll get a better night's sleep. Tomorrow is another 60+ miler and all the while through the 2D world of Lincolnshire.

​

 

[mjr]

The path eventually popped out onto the riverfront just to the south of town. The muddy banks exposed by the low tide did little to enhance the view. I wonder if the tidal range is too extreme to encourage riverside development, or whether Lynn has been bereft of the favours that some towns and cities with waterfronts have enjoyed?

It's the tidal range, in a way. It's not directly the everyday range, which does sometimes cause an odd-looking "Wiggenhall Wave" similar to a mini Severn Bore, but the memory of the lethal 1952(?) North Sea Flood where the tidal range, spring tide, storm rain and north wind combined to flood many coastal settlements is still strong, while the 2013(?) winter flood where the waters got within inches of overtopping the modern defences was a chilling reminder.

In practice, the required flood defence measures (usually either big watertight gates across any openings or no living space at quay level) seems to mean that the three cafe-bars open on the quay now are all in minimally-adapted listed buildings: two medieval warehouses and a Georgian bank. All have cycle parking near their entrances, by the way. There have been many plans to redevelop the fishing quay to the south of them, the latest being called "Nelson Quay" (who was from half a county away... Vancouver is Lynn's usual favourite native mariner), but it is still a working quay for small boats, which I think deters many developers.

To the north of the Purfleet dock and Customs House, most of the Georgian riverside buildings stand with their backs ignoring the river, then there's a car park (of course In the 1970s, the council even planned to build a multi-storey between the Customs House and the river, a plan only discarded when they found the quay wouldn't support the weight and it would take expensive massive piledriving), a few new flats and then the current main docks, north of which is an old chemical plant and some other industrial use, before farms on the drained marshes to the current sea bank.

There is now an Local Cycling and Walking Implementation Plan which will see the riverside route into town, which is already the best entry view, continue more directly onto the South Quay, but it's not yet clear to me how that will connect to rejoin the current route near the railway.

Oh, and we're more like 40-45 miles from Boston, as you discovered, and that bank-top cycleway to Sutton Bridge is the old A17, I believe, from when the southern arch of the bridge was a railway.

 

[IaninSheffield]

Thanks @mjr. It sounds like the reasons for which Lynn's waterfront originally developed continue to hold sway, unlike in places such as Birmingham and Liverpool for example, where commerce declined thereby making gentrified development a sensible (and desirable?) option.

 

[IaninSheffield]

Day 5 (June 12th) - Gedney Broadgate - Mablethorpe

Festivities across the site died down at a reasonable hour last night and in fact I got the most settled night's sleep of the trip so far. Crooing pigeons once more provided the wake up call, although they clearly didn't get the memo not to start at first light - at this time of year, that's around 5am. The site rooster on the other hand was much better trained and I'd been up almost an hour when he chimed in at around eight.

Another long day ahead, and it being entirely within Lincolnshire, I was hardly looking forward to it. And yet the weather was good - sunny intervals, reasonable temperature, and the breeze would supply cooling, albeit at the expense of being generally in my face. I've made it no secret that I find the monotony of the terrain in South Lincs. soul destroying, so it was with some surprise that I found myself enjoying my morning's cycling. Mostly I was retracing my tyre tracks back along the same roads to Boston that my outbound journey had laid down. And yet it seemed much less … boring! Occasional hedges and turns broke things up, adding much welcome variety. But these were the same roads so where were they on the outbound journey?!

Boston waterfront​

Arriving in Boston ticked off the first leg and, since it was Saturday and market day again, I headed straight for the mobile cafe in front of Boston Stump which had provided me with sustenance on the way out. Whilst sitting eating my egg butty, I could not fail to notice the number of individuals speaking eastern European languages and pondered on whether, given Brexit, there are more or fewer folks coming to work in the agricultural sector which so dominates this region. Unlike the metropolis, this area is somewhat out on a limb, so the influx of migrants doubtless stirred up some of the discontent which sadly continues to have social and political ramifications.

Beasts of the plain waiting to be woken​

To head in the general direction of Mablethorpe, I left town in a different direction to that which I'd entered the other day. Now into fresh ground! This too was typical South Lincs. terrain, but once more wasn't wholly intolerable. The only issue I had was, as before, spending so long in the saddle becomes increasingly uncomfortable, to the point that I once more found myself occasionally pedaling out of the saddle, just for relief more than anything.

Traversing the flatlands​

The vague recollection I had of planning the route also had little to offer in the way of a second stop. What it did have however, was a transition into a different landscape as I grazed the eastern edges of the Lincolnshire Wolds. It was almost as if someone had flicked a switch and the arable land turned to pasture, the lanes reverted from arrow-straight to twisty, and the odd few houses instead of being dotted apart, were clustered into villages. From the industrial scale of agriculture to a much more bucolic scene.

As I got closer to the coast however, the flatlands reappeared, just at the point where I needed a filip to keep my spirits up. In the distance I could see I was heading for a large bank stretching both north and south across my path. Perhaps this was a sea defence and I'd reached the sea without ever seeing it on the horizon? That did indeed prove to be the case; what's more, Garmin clearly wanted me to climb the bank and cycle along it! Was there a cyclepath I wondered?

Sandy- rather than sea-front?​

In fact there was and a sign indicated there was an extensive cycleway all along the sea front. When I saw the condition though, despite loving cycling along the coast, I declined the offer and headed back for the road which seemed to run parallel. Garmin kindly re-routed, but it got sneaky when, further up the coast, it once more directed me up onto the bank. As I was now within striking distance of Mablethorpe, I gave it a try and it was mostly quite passable, although being a Saturday, was quite busy with holidaymakers. The banking did indeed take me all the way to Mablethorpe, but whilst offering beach and sea views, restricted any view of what was inland.

This stretch of the coastal shared path wasn't too bad​

After checking in at the site, asking the site manager how to get to one of the town's supermarkets and being told it was a 25 minute walk, despite my tender rear, chose to go in on the bike. With my evening meal accounted for courtesy of Lidl, I returned to base and went for a shower. It's not a large site so there's only one facilities block, yet there was no one in and I had the choice of cubicles. Perhaps it's Covid, perhaps it's the time of day I arrive on site, but I've certainly not had to fight for a shower - I like that! My pitch is well out of the way from the main site but not far from facilities, it's sheltered from the breeze and is a regular sun trap. The cloud cover of earlier in the day has now melted away and the mercury in this little corner of the site began to shoot up. Since the site's rather too good a walk from town, after a filling evening meal, I took the bike on a wander, more to cool down than anything.

Queen's Park, Mablethorpe​

Away from my little corner the breeze was actually surprisingly cool, so the delights of Mablethorpe, such as they were, failed to seduce me. I've a second night booked in here - the online booking system won't allow single-night bookings at the weekend, otherwise I would have moved on. Instead I'll take the opportunity to further explore the Wolds tomorrow.

 

[Hedgemonkey]

Quite a timely post as next weekend myself and Mrs HM have been sentenced to a long weekend in Ingoldmells, tho there is the possibility of day release on the bike and I have noticed some of the routings from the tinterweb, route you from (Stalag 19 ) sorry Ingoldmells to Chapel St Leonards alongside the beach, if you know would you say its possible for someone on an ebike, I'm still doing jankers, for last weekends sandy push/drag along Spurn Head... ;-) where I ended up carrying her 25kg behemoth.

 

[IaninSheffield]

Ooo that must have been some crime for a sentence that harsh!

It depends which bit of the path you intend to attempt. Some of it's quite manageable (Mablethorpe to Sutton for example), but there were some sections where I had to push between Sutton and Huttoft. (A little more about this in my next post).
Between Chapel and Ingoldmells I took to the roads rather than the coastal path, which was just a bit too busy with holidaymakers (on a sunny Sunday) to navigate safely on the bike, so I can't comment on the sand there unfortunately.
It looks like on the coastal path there's an unpaved section between the two locations, so a bit risky?

Image courtesy of cycle.travel​

 

[IaninSheffield]

Day 6 (June 13th): Mablethorpe (42 miles)

Given how quickly the temperature dropped after the sun set last night, that a chilly one was forthcoming came as no surprise. By the time the sun once more peered over the hedge to kiss my tent, a heavy dew had fallen and the tent fly was wet both inside and out. It didn't matter. With a cloudless sky, the sun was doing it's best to turn me into a boil in the bag ready meal. So although I was in no rush, it quickly became far too toasty to languish in bed. I certainly didn't need the sleep having enjoyed the best night's slumber so far.

I pottered around, took breakfast - porridge, a delicious Lidl bakery croissant, and peanut butter & banana on mini tortilla wraps. That should be good enough to see me through the forty or so miles I'd planned for today - southwards down the coast, cut inland towards the Wolds, skirt their eastern margins, then make it back to Mablethorpe. After washing my smalls and cycling shorts, it was nearly ten and I was ready to head out. I'd like to say the bike felt lighter with two panniers and a tent remaining at base, but, well it is The Pachyderm!

The first five or so miles on the route should have been back down the sea wall, the one I (initially) rejected yesterday. But the sun was shining, the breeze was light and refreshing, I decided rather rashly to give it a go. To be fair, the stretch from Mablethorpe to Sutton on Sea wasn't too bad, with only very brief stretches of deep sand. Easily manageable. From there down to Hutton however (on the bit I chickened out of yesterday) there were some serious stretches where pedaling was impossible and I was forced to walk for several metres. Lincolnshire Council claims the walkway is very cycle friendly, ideal for families in fact. I can imagine mum or dad being chuffed to bits lugging their bike and their child's along these sections. That said, of course it is traffic free.

Chapel St Leonards​

Back on the quiet coast road, given that it was a sunny Sunday, by the time Chapel St Leonards hove into view I figured I'd earned a cuppa, despite only eight or so miles chalked up by the Garmin. Away from the coast there would be nothing available, so a small fluid top up, with a small piece of cake of course, ought to see me through the remaining thirty miles. After my break and having had a pleasant chat with a couple to whom I offered a place at my shaded table, I was off again, once more negotiating a thin sliver of stony, potholed road twixt the back of the sea defence bank and a caravan park. It wasn't the most picturesque stretch! I wondered how folks who came to holiday in these places, perhaps even owned a van, felt about the sea being so close, but completely out of sight. I turned inland just before Ingoldmells (I think) and had let myself down with the planning once more. It was a few miles of mostly straight, quite busy B road before I was able to return to the quiet and twisty lanes I'd enjoyed yesterday.

St Helena's Church, Willoughby​

As this green and pleasant section unfolded, I'd clearly not pushed far enough to get me into the more rolling Wolds, so was stuck with another flat ride and once more an uncomfortable derrière! Being (jokingly) mocked by an old card out with a small group on steel steeds didn't help - "Are you out deliverin' t' papers?"

With few villages and little of interest to detain me, it wasn't too long before I was once more approaching Big M. Lidl once more provided for my evening meal, on the menu tonight being a tomato and basil slice, tuna and sweetcorn pot, Orzo and slow roasted tomato pasta (without my gligs on I thought it was rice, so that'll be two lots of pasta then!), mixed salad and a chocolate desert for pud. I knew I'd be full up, and for under four quid!
By the time I got back to site, the fluffy white clouds that bubbled up in the afternoon had turned into a fully grey, overcast sky, which I welcomed and would be able to enjoy my evening meal without baking in my little sun trap. Fortunately, it was still more than warm enough to dry the day's washing. The Pachyderm once more pressed into service as a clothes horse. Oh the ignominy!

My quiet little corner of the Mablethorpe site​

Tomorrow's a fairly short day of thirtyish miles back to Woodhall Spa and may even include a few hills. Eek!

 

[mjr]

Day 1 (June 8th): Home - Woodhall Spa (64 miles)

Oh no it isn't!</panto>

 

[IaninSheffield]

Oh no it isn't!</panto>

If you're seeking a post as a copy editor ... 😉
Thank you kindly. Now corrected. 👍

 

[mjr]

If you're seeking a post as a copy editor ... 😉
Thank you kindly. Now corrected. 👍

BTDTGT(misspelt)TS

No: thank you. Your first day is pretty similar to my final day and a half on my next tour. (I am not pedalling that much fen plus more in a day on my three-speed!) It is great up to date info.