dst. (km)
Today 62.41
Trip total 287.3
Odometer 146.2

Sitting in a pub in Glastonbury, the second of two pubs this evening, having a beer and watching the sun go down. The distance today was a little less, I didn’t feel so pushed for time.

Got in around in plenty of time for a shower and a wander around town. I caught the bus out to the Tor and walked up to the top — then nearly got blown off by the icy wind. Glastonbury Tor seems to be the only thing that sticks up from this part of the country, and collects the wind straight off the north Atlantic.

Glastonbury tor

Glastonbury is packed with new-agers, feral people of every description, hippies, beggars etc. All the standard “alternative” crafts you can find, all looking the same the world over. It could be Daylesford, it could be Byron Bay….

Riding along today I passed through some tiny lanes; one car wide and very dark, with the hedges meeting overhead. I learnt not to ride too close to the soft, verdant, green walls after brushing one too many protruding nettles and blackberries! Saw a dead badger on the road, and lots of foot and mouth warning signs, “Stay off this farm to prevent the spread…” A killer climb up out of one village and I discovered that my granny gear won’t work properly. Worn ring or bad tension, I later discovered that the shop in Devizes hadn’t re-adjusted my derailleur to cope with the different wheel.

“Cyclists advised to walk” sign in the Cheddar gorge

Highlight of the riding would have had to be the lane down through the Cheddar Gorge. From the top it’s a narrow country lane-way, a spectacular descent, 16.5% slope complete with a sign warning cyclists to dismount and walk. The temperature dropped between the limestone walls and I shivered as I chased a flock of wild goats down the pass.

Once the sun set, the alternative people came out in force. Some to the pubs, the poorer to just sit in the square, drink and smoke. What would have had to have been the world’s worst busker set himself up directly below the hostel window with a drum kit and a ghetto blaster playing Hendrix. Ten or fifteen minutes of appalling noise and my room mate offering to drop a plant pot on his head, eventually the manager went outside and convinced him to turn it down.


Bristol, Cheddar Gorge, Glastonbury