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Wild horses drag us away
A quick stop at a small village called Watchet for supplies led us directly onto a crossing of the Quantocks through some truly beautiful high moorland scenery. The climb was hard and the tracks were rocky but it was early in the day and they were clearly defined and fast. We stopped only once to make a slight detour in order to avoid disturbing a sleeping wild horse and her foal and had the pleasure of watching the two of them lying undisturbed as we slipped quietly by. The morning flew by in a haze of perfectly made navigational decisions, stunning scenery, sweet smelling heather, and beautiful weather. The hills and the tracks rolled away under our wheels and by lunchtime we had descended off the tops and into the town of Bridgewater and a Morrison's binge.

Full Screen

Our final afternoons ride was partially road but contained no few hills. The rolling nature of the landscape provided plenty of climbing, some on bike, some off. Of particular note was the steep 200m push (1 in 3) up the side of Cheddar Gorge on slippy limestone after we had already covered 90km and done 6000ft of climbing. By the time we reached the top of the climb we were both predictably knackered, but as we caught our breath we entered into a secret world a little like the Venezualan 'land that time forgot'. The scenery on the ridge top was different to the valleys and was green and fanned by a clean wind from the sea. I could feel the sweat of the covered climb evaporate as the 2 km of small country lanes led us to the start of a final small incline and the summit of the ridge, it was just after 5pm and although the view from the flat summit was a remarkable 360 degree vista of Lundy Island, South/Mid Wales, the real gem was yet to come. Heading North and down the back of the 250m ridge we had just climbed was an open grassy slope with a tight, smooth and clean single track pointing directly down into some tree cover 500m away. If the last 2km of climbing had been pleasant but dull the descent was exactly the opposite.

Speed Kills
I waited for Julie to arrive, rose from my seated viewpoint, clipped in, and the ride began. After a short while the track widened to a mingling mix of dirt trails flowing like an unravelling rope down the hillside. I picked my line, let go of my brakes and held on for a fast ride. Ten seconds later my backside was as far back as I could get it (should have dropped my seat'), I was trying to keep my arms unlocked to let the front wheel find is own route along the rocky track, but my muscles were tired and my left forearm was becoming rapidly pumped from the continued pressure required to stem my speed. I needed to lock my arms and put all 8 fingers around the bars to control the bike properly, but I dare not let go of the brakes and I knew that locking my arms wouldn't help my bikes ability to handle the terrain. For the second time today I was going too fast, out of control, down a hill that was far too steep and complex for my ability.

But, the sun warmed my back and the view continued to pull me down ever faster until I finally entered the trees and passed a family at a non too sensible speed. The game changed to a familiar one. Survival. I stopped worrying about my arms as the adrenaline kindly took care of them for me, and instead I lifted my eyes and forced them to pick a path far ahead of my front wheel as if I was riding my motorbike over the desert. By this point I was just beginning to feel I could trust my bike to take care of the terrain, and so it proved as my eyes flicked back and forth, up and down. A little front lift here, weight the bike, lift the bike, back brake, weight back, and so it continued, weaving in and out of the trail line over and over and over until we popped out of the bottom onto a level forest trail. I have no idea how high my heart rate was when I reached the bottom, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't healthy! The metallic taste in my throat told a story of its own too, as I painfully unwound my left hand from the grip and flexed it against the lactic acid. Julie arrived grinning like a Cheshire cat and we sat and basked in the adrenaline and endorphins until we started to chill in the evening shade of the trees. The final 25km section over yet another ridge (this time on the road) was as hard as any climb to date. Not only were my legs refusing to turn but my hip was grumbling and my left hand was set like a claw and increasingly stiff. As Bristol finally came into view I remembered some of the old shortcuts I used to take whilst dispatch riding in the city and guided us towards my favourite pub, usefully no more than 5 mins ride from Julies Sisters house. After 117km our day was nearly at an end. We were both happy and relaxed as we cruised through the quiet streets looking forward to our waiting dinner. 

Pssssssssssss
Typically life's just never quite that simple. Over the last 3km Julie had 3 punctures caused seemingly by worn rim tape allowing the tube to rub on the nipples of the spokes. Why this happened here after 500km we had no idea. Why it happened three times when we had only three spare tubes, we have no idea. But we thanked out lucky stars as we rolled up to the front of the address we had been given. It felt like the summer holidays when I was a kid. It may only have been one day off, and we may only have been cycling for 5 days but JESUS I felt like I needed a holiday! 

Part Three Online soon...

Until Then why not read another multi day Epic story? The Lakeland Loop (Off Site Link).

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