This ride is SUNDAY 10th July from Kingston Bridge at 10.00 am. Please bring sandwiches as the pub only does roast dinners on Sunday (they are very popular but limited capacity so please ring the pub direct if you wish to book a roast dinner - 5 bells Harmondsworth). There will be a T stop on the return leg in the vicinity of Richmond or Syon Park. Please text me to book a place (07909774234)
Steph
A June holiday in Norfolk
Report by Roger P
“It is only six minutes away” said Anna, as we exited Norwich station, so half an hour later having dragged our bags up hill after hill we found our hotel.
When we told people we were meeting up with friends for a gentle ride in Norfolk they invariably commented that at least it would be flat – unfortunately we thought that too.
Ged, the club trainer, had asked us if we wanted to join the crowd from “Dundee Runners” again – we usually met up to cycle along the rivers in Eastern Germany or the lakes and mountains in Bavaria, but Covid had made booking cycling in Germany difficult, so he had contacted UK Cycle Holidays (https://ukcyclingholidays.co.uk) of Diss to organise a bespoke week of cycling. They booked hotels, provided bikes and shifted luggage to the next destination and provided a local guide in the shape of Phil – who had an encyclopaedic knowledge of every back road and byway.
Next morning bikes were issued – mostly Peugeot 21 speed hybrids but the company had arranged with a local hire shop to provide Anna with a Raleigh E bike with five power levels 9 gears and a good range.
A change of shirt did the trick and the flies immediately sought out the next poor soul to cycle in yellow! We then discovered the empty, undulating narrow potholed roads that wend their way, always into a headwind, up long ascents, dragging up one summit only to find another beyond it. The heat was building to 20 degrees when we stopped at the Workhouse Museum at Gressingham before more narrow lanes with verges of tall grasses and wildflowers lit up by poppies.
Poppies were in fields of wheat, in hedgerows and often in swathes of red covering a whole field. We dragged ourselves up yet another long slow hill with our Scots friends complaining that these were nothing compared to what they usually encountered, but I noticed that even these veteran marathon runners were glad of a chance to get their breath back at the top! After an evening at the Kings Head Inn at North Elmham we set off again towards Kings Lynn on route 1.
Locals told us that it was the hottest day of the year and we were in what they called a hay fever “Bomb” as we slogged into the wind up more “undulations” and short sharp hills, watching through eyes itching, swollen and watery, for Muntjac deer, rabbits and foxes crossing our paths.
Several stops at local Inns were necessary as by now it was twenty six degrees and a distinct need for fluids! Then back on the narrow sunken tracks which occasionally gave way to gaps in the tall hedges where we watched buzzards hunting in the fields. One swooped and grabbed a leveret in his claws but dropped it and all to a chorus of crows cawing and the delicate singing of Larks and the high pitched calls of kestrels as they hunted. We had a small delay when my chain jammed between the cassette and the frame, before we made it to Castle Rising, with its perfect example of a Motte and bailey castle.
The castle at Castle Rising
We stayed nearby and, in the morning, negotiated a pensioner’s rate for the group and visited this splendid English Heritage site, spending an hour exploring the earthworks and the stone keep before picking up route 1 again through to Sandringham. We cycled through the estate, stopping to visit the estate church so well endowed by the Royal Family and admiring its sold silver altar screen. We wobbled and slid past Snettisham along a lane freshly sprayed with tar and coated with a loose thick layer of stone dust and on to Thornham, where we had to charge the E bike overnight for the first time.
Holkham Hall
The lanes to Holkham gave way to a magnificent gateway and a mile or more of drive and then in the distance the Palladian magnificence of Holkham Hall. We freewheeled the mile down to the hall to a break under the trees.
Wondering why life was becoming more difficult and the view diminishing, we again had to sort out the shrinking seat post and unbind the brakes on the Peugeot before we made our way to Burnham Market a neat town of second homes, designer clothes and independent shops and then on via a coastal track to Wells Next the Tea and were entertained by the roar of two Eurofighters dogfighting overhead as we sat on the sea wall eating lunch. We moved on to Holt for the night.
The main track for the next day was alongside “The Poppy line” at Holt station where Martin, the owner of the holiday company, joined us on his Bergamont e mountain bike, explaining that the next mile or two might be a bit challenging on narrow tyres!
The first half mile was deep loose pea gravel, then a meander through a campsite and forestry roads before a steep decent onto a heathland track consisting of narrow rough paths cut through the surface into the thin sand, and all overgrown with bracken, ending in a steep descent through thick woodland on a muddy track laced with tree roots. We made our way to Sheringham and on to Cromer where we again rejoiced in the freewheel down into town. Looking out to sea and the broad horizon we could distinctly see the curvature of the earth and we were glad of a rest on the sea wall before a nearly vertical climb against a head wind and on to Overstrand for the night.
Public loos at Croham pretending to be beach huts
The next day as we set off, one of the bikes emitted a loud noise and slithered to a halt with the chain jammed against the frame and a spoke broken. Martin was called and took bike and rider to the nearest bike shop. The wheel could not be remade that day and the missing member of the group joined us later. We carried on towards Horsham St Faith and the final hotel at Norwich Airport.
We averaged 25 – 30 miles most days at a relaxed easy speed admirably led by Phil on his electric bike – the hotels were good as was the food and the bikes were well used hire bikes each with its own quirks. Martin and Phil went out of their way to make the week enjoyable and we would do it again.
post script by Roger
I have to grin when I hear the quotation from “Private lives” about Norfolk being flat – it may be in the middle but is positively crinkly round the edges!
I do not think that Coward was a cyclist – though it is possible that by almost killing him, a bike may have saved his life. He ran out of the front door and was very badly injured by a cyclist zooming down the hill in the same reckless way they still do. He would have been about seven or eight then and had just done his first gig at a hall in the high street. Later when he was sixteen or seventeen, he tried to enlist in the Artists Rifles and was graded unfit for duty due to the head injury he had sustained. The Somme offensive and the near defeat of 1918 were to come and he may well have become a war casualty and never penned “Private Lives “ or “Very flat – Norfolk”
Written by Tony Hooker
2 groups left Nonsuch on a bright day seen off by Colin
We met Stefs group at the Cafe next to Walton bridge for coffee and rearranged the groups after a mix up at the start. We lost Matthew and Thomas due to losing a toy on route ,but met up again for lunch inc said toy. John Bellamy left to make his own way home.
Both groups stopped for tea at Shepperton but at different cafe
Thanks to Stef for leading and Helen for back marking
44 miles door to door
Photos by Sue Bellamy and Tony Hooker
By Paul
The rain was supposed to clear up by midday or so on Saturday and sure enough it was cool and grey and wet when we set out for the rendezvous at Nonsuch, but not actually raining. By the time we got there, there were two dozen or so riders, the sun had come out, and layers of clothing were being shed.
The short riders were discussing a relaxing afternoon down the river when Nigel did his German train act. A short, clear announcement of his destination (Cobham) and then precisely on time, leaving with no further fanfare, no whistles, no warning.
Eight of us were paying sufficient attention to jump aboard as he smoothly pulled out of the station, and when we assembled at the edge of the park, decided to abandon our putative plan to split into two groups. In the nick of time, as ever, Steve W turned up to tag on the back and ride tail gunner for much of the way there so, including young Thomas in his trailer, we had eleven riders, ten bikes (actually, eleven bikes if you count the one that Thomas carries on his trailer, see photo below). We were strung out along Fairoak Lane through differences in pace, so the size of the group did not increase the risk and apart from the couple of miles along that pot-holed, debris-strewn racetrack for impatient SUVs it was a pleasant ride out, especially because Nigel favours the scenic route past the old mental hospitals outside Epsom and to turn off Fairoaks when we can, and head for Stoke D'Abernon.
Sue and Maggie follow Matthew and son west of Stoke d'Abernon, picture by Matthew
We opted for the country route at the other end, too, over the Mole and the green and entering Cobham Village from the west along Cobham Park Road to begin a tour of closed coffee shops, ending up at the Juice Smith, one that we had not tried in Cobham Village. It's vegan but hey, it was open and the coffee was pretty good even if the oat milk did not quite go with the tea. Anyway, I was mending Maggie's puncture, and had just sat down when the heavens opened to make a mockery of the weather forecast and cast a dampener, literally, on the Jubilee fetes we had just passed in Potters Field.
So there we all sheltered until the cats and dogs had turned to tiny kittens and puppies, before making our way home against what had become a strong, none-too-Summery East wind.
It was fits and starts on the way home, and we were so late we met with Epsom racegoers trudging home at the bottom of Chalk Lane on Derby Day. The Platinum Jubilee street party in Ewell Village provided another temporary obstacle but it had been an enjoyable day, even if we did not get home until a quarter past seven, by which time we were pretty hungry.
A hazard of Jubilee weekend; negotiating a street party in Ewell; picture by Sue
Thanks, Nigel, for leading as you so often do.
