Today Mick and I set off on a cycle ride down to Cornwall. It is a friend's 40th birthday party on Saturday which seemed a good excuse for a ride down there. We were, as usual, late setting off and didn't leave until one o'clock. Mick then immediately decided that he was hungry so it was gone two by the time we finally picked up Sustrans Route Three at the back of Temple Meads station. We had decided to follow Route Three to start with and then see how it went. It starts alongside "The Cut", the section of the Avon which was dug in 1809 to allow the water in Bristol Harbour to remain at a constant level rather than leaving ships hanging off the side of the dock wall twice a day. The Cut is not the prettiest of rivers, but at least it does not stink as it used to in the seventies. When I was a child we used to live about two miles away from The Cut, and on hot days you could smell the effluent, the aroma combining with the smell of hops from Courage Brewery, quite a heady mix I can tell you!
After winding our way through South Bristol we were soon on quiet lanes to Chew Magna, where Mick once again decided he couldn't possiby go on without something to eat. So we stopped at the village stores on the road to the lake and had a delicious pasty before heading on past Chew Valley Lake and into West Harptree, the same route I had taken a few weeks earlier on my abortive solo cycling trip. As before I turned right but this time, instead of then doubling back to Priddy we headed down one of my favourite roads, the winding descent down through Cheddar Gorge. I love this road, it is superb. It twists through the Gorge which towers above the road. Goats chew on the grasses on the side of the gorge whilst, above the cliffs, birds of prey wheel on the thermals. Nearer the bottom small groups of climbers gathered at various points at the foot of the cliffs, the Gorge is a popular area for rock climbing.
We headed on to Axbridge where we pondered our options. It was late afternoon now and I wasn't terribly keen to stay in Bridgewater for the night. We thought Glastonbury would be a nicer venue despite it not really being on route and so we headed south east. On the way we passed the Mere Fish House, a Medieval smokery. At that time the levels had been flooded and the monks of Glastonbury had accessed the fish house by boat.
We had no plans of where to stay but I knew there was an independent hostel in Glastonbury so we decided to try that. We asked at the bar attached to the hostel.
"I don't know about the accommodation side," said the Oz woman who was serving behind the bar. I only arrived an hour ago, I'm just helping out."
It turned out that the two members of staff had walked out that morning, we had no idea why. We hung around until the owner returned. he confirmed that he had vacancies. We decided to book into a shared dorm. I am glad we did, at least it meant we did not waste too much money on the place. The owner scrabbled around for linen for the beds, but could only find enough for one.
"I'll get some more," he said, disappearing off. When, half an hour later, no linen had appeared Mick went in search of him and found him drinking a lager and watching the football. The accommodation was, to say the least, basic. The place needed some money spent on it, clearly.
Up in our room, I decided that my bags needed a repack. Mick looked on in astonishment as I pulled a large jigsaw puzzle out of my pannier bag.
"Erm, I don't think we'll have time for that en route," he said.
I pulled a pirate outfit out of my bag.
"And you'll never fit in to that!" he exclaimed.
"Don't be silly, these are presents for the children when we get there," I said.
After sorting our stuff we went to look at the local pubs, but none of them looked great. We finally picked one and were ripped off with two pints of 6X at £3.40 per pint in an empty pub with no atmosphere.
"Glastonbury is shit," said Mick.
I nodded glumly, it was indeed shit. I suddenly recalled that I had been to Glastonbury only twice before, and both times I had not enjoyed it. On one of those occasions I had had the disturbing experience of being confronted by a rotund woman in her fifties, dressed as a fairy with pointy ears, trying to throw "fairy dust" on me. It's an odd place, Glastonbury.
We did cheer up when we got to Knight's Fish and Chip restaurant though. This is an excellent fish and chip shop, one of the best, with a nice seating area, friendly staff and excellent fish and chips. It claims to be the oldest fish and chip shop in the UK which is still in the same family; it's been open for over a hundred years so they're obviously doing something right. This was more like it. We stuffed ourselves on fish, chips and mushy peas and then waddled across the road to the hostel. At least Glastonbury had got something right.
Miles cycled today 34
You can check our route here
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