In which the Epic nature of the ride continues on small roads across Hampshire and Berkshire with a stop on The Watercress Line.
In a straight line, it is 90 miles from Cosham to Chez Bonkers. It would be very easy to turn this into a simple, joyless delivery ride, taking quicker straighter roads – a direct route through central London would take two 90-100k days. But Sid and Doris need to remember to carry on being Epic. We resolve to look at late-summer England with the same childlike curiosity that has powered the other 105 days of the ride. And to that end, the route skirts widely round London and over the edge of the Chilterns.
Childlike curiosity is all well and good but first we turn left out of the Red Lion and immediately have to climb Portsdown Hill.
It feels OK. Maybe we are slightly fitter than when we left. The views from the top show the huge naval harbour of Jack Aubrey, where Uncle Bill worked, the marina development at Port Solent, Roman Portchester castle and the light industrial estate where Sid worked for National Mutual.
In 1945 the villages behind the hill were all swamped with troops and supplies for Operation Overlord. On the wall of the Golden Lion in Southwick we find this note on Eisenhower and Montgomery.
So that is Lions Red and Golden. We also see a White Lion and a Black one. Was the Lion a nod to Richard the Lion Heart and his crusade? We make (and forget) a mental note to look it up on Mr Google later.
Today is National National Parks Day and the South Downs is (are?) the youngest National Park, declared in 2010. Rather irritatingly the South Downs have as many Ups as Downs, in fact probably more given that we started at sea level. We end up with 1056 meters of climb in just 80 k of riding. We do get some huge views [which as usual do not come out well in pictures – D.] and some very chocolate box villages. We go through several Estate Villages, easily recognisable because the colour of the door and window paintwork are (is?) the same across all the houses. We also start a small collection of Cute Old Signs.
Our plan is to take first break at Alresford which is one end of the Watercress Line, a volunteer-run steam railway. We ride into town under the rail bridge and immediately realise that a steam railway station is bound to have a proper station buffet. More than that, there is a train in the platform making ready to leave. The locomotive is BR92212, a 9F which is a 2-10-0 built in the 1950s and in service until as late as 1968. Much more powerful than duties on the Watercress Line will ever require, though the Santa Special from Lapland may be an exception.
We go to talk to the crew and Doris is offered a photo opportunity on the footplate. The engine driver has a mouchoir in classic Cholet pattern, very satisfying.
We wave the engine away and make friends with the station buffet [I had to break the #nopicturesoffood rule to celebrate their proper Breakfast Roll – D.] while thoughtfully pondering how many interesting opportunities there are for volunteering nowadays. Might take a while before we are allowed into the Holy Cab however. Food for thought, ha ha.
We pass Micheldever, mostly famous for the tyre shop we used to use. This time we went to Church instead at nearby East Stratton. The door has brilliantly detailed carvings of a rather startled Queen Victoria on one side of the door and a grimly satisfied bishop on the other. Sid has looked for more information but found nothing more so far.
However, we do find the New Testament reading for today, 1 Thessalonians, 2:9, which seems to be written for Sid and Doris: “You remember, brothers, with what unsparing energy we used to work, slaving night and day…”
For today’s psalm Sid is inspired by the Vicar of All Saints to choose Psalm 121: ‘I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills’. We pedal onwards and, it feels, mostly upwards.
Our afternoon tea stop is at Overton. In the tea shop Sid reads the Daily Mail over the shoulder of one of the inmates. The columnist’s headline is ‘What do Corbyn and his rag tag opposition not understand about democracy?’. This on the day when Boris Johnson, a PM elected by fewer than 100,000 members of Conservative Associations, attempts to prorogue parliament and leave all power with the executive that has a majority of one. When the Leavers campaigned to ‘take back control’ was that what anyone had in mind? Sid bristles with umbrage at the columnist bristling with umbrage.
Doris takes the opportunity to capture a couple of #virtualsouvenirs as the tea shop also sells a collection of pottery. Sid and Doris memorial teacups.
We cross the Kennet and Avon canal. We cross the GWR mainline to Bristol. We join the old A4 road. We are having a splendid day in Industrial Revolution England and we are still being Epicly [Epically?… – doesn’t look right either – D.] Bonkers.
The Berkshire Arms is a rather tired formula ‘pub with rooms’ for white van man, much like the establishment at Beaupreau. The hotel management offers no cycle shelter; a passing ex-cyclist warns us of the local thievery, which he puts down to Gyppos (a word that the cautiously polite have exchanged for ‘Travellers’). Two days from home it would be dull to have the Epic cycling journey disrupted by a loss of bikes. Sid and Doris fold up and store the unwanted spare bed, then there is room for his ‘n’ her bikes in room 34, which fortunately is on the ground floor of an annex.
So we will ride again tomorrow, that’s what we like to do.