Back to Page 3
The next morning we took stock. We stopped too often, we weren't very fit, we found navigating such complex routes on 1:50,000 maps really hard and slow, our kit needed organising better, our bikes needed some TLC that we hadn't managed yet (we were too tired), we got up too late, we had concerns about our daily calorie intake, and JESUS our arses hurt! We had quite a lot if issues to deal with'. Our battle with the calorie problems began immediately at the local Sainsbury's about 9:30am. We needed complex carbohydrates and a shed load of them. Small sugary snacks just gave us a bad sugar spike and an even worse crash. Extensive hunting through the various food sections brought us to a halt in the bakery department. Here began a love/hate relationship with one of the most evilly dense and calorific foodstuffs known to man. The Irish Soda Farl.

Tasting a bit like unbaked concrete powder dough they pack a highly improbable 66g of complex carbohydrate into a single serving half the size of a slice of bread (that's 22% of your average daily intake for 2500 calorie day!). With four in a pack, if you can stand the offensive texture and taste, they are a lightweight daily power pack for a pretty good price. Whilst Julie was paying at the checkouts I was sorting out the bikes, repacking my sack, and wondering how long I could avoid sitting on my saddle. Not much longer was the answer.

A 10am leave was two hours later than it needed to be, and we had a lot of micro navigation and really sore backsides to keep us company for today's 95km. Almost immediately we discovered another interesting fact about 1:50,000 maps. If they are hard to use for navigating detailed country track and trails, trying to use them to cross a town or city in nigh on impossible. I took us out of Truro Northwards but quickly turned South without double-checking the map. After 30 mins, 4km, and a steep hill, we arrived back at the B & B' To say I wasn't popular was perhaps a minor understatement. I was immediately relieved of map reading duty and put at the back. I didn't argue!

The roller coasting downs of the Cornish countryside kept us sweating all day as temperatures climbed into the 90's and baked us up hill after hill. You soon figure out that the faster you come down the hills more time you spend going up them, and thanks to our early detour and late start the day turned into a minor epic. Although never lost we struggled onward through sloppy mud dips, farm tracks, and long forgotten bridleways. A lunch of Soda Farls was the first of many and by the time our water ran out 8 hours later we had covered 100km and over 6000ft of climbing. But the day wasn't over yet. Our B&B for the day followed a pattern that was to become all too familiar; it was at the top of the biggest hill in the area. We slowly ground up it with numb legs and I cursed Julie's choices (well she booked them all!).

The new breakfast carbo-loading plan came into force for the first time in Launceston. We'd banned the cooked breakfast and piled down cereal, museli, toast, and juice at a ferocious rate. Although I felt sick for the first 30mins of the ride I knew I'd be needing the calories later, and hell, anything was better than eating farls (interestingly after a few weeks my body seemed to develop the talent for consuming VAST quantities of food and then immediately afterwards exercising really hard with no side effects, handy really, it usually happened four times a day!).

A quick 35km sprint alongside the A30 saw us with 40% of our daily distance done before 11am. The navigation was easy, but the riding hot and hard. Nevertheless, it was our first successful mornings riding and although we knew there were no technical sections to slow us down, we were secretly pleased that something was falling into place. As a congratulatory 'pat on the back' we popped into Okehampton steam railway station and crammed down a massive cream tea, which nearly gave us both coronary's (no matter how much you like clotted cream the human body is only designed to consume so much!) and even though our backsides were begging for no more saddle contact we ignored them and carried on due North only to be met with the 8th Wonder Of The World. 

The Tarka trail is an old disused railway that finally stops climbing over the downs and follows a valley base from 200m altitude at Okehampton down to sea level at Barnstaple over 70km later. It was the easy day we had been dreaming of. We freewheeled, stopped, slept, and listened to cheesy 80's rock music as we coasted 50km of perfect railway gradient down to the sea at Bideford. Life suddenly seemed great. The sun shone and I couldn't help but feel secretly proud of our destination as we shot past numerous other bikers all pottering along aimlessly. Ice cream after ice cream disappeared, and it all began to feel a bit like a famous five book really. What was all the fuss about, how hard could this trip really be' Next Page>

Go To Page 5>

Print Text! the whole feature in text only form.