Wednesday 29 August 2012

Due South

It would be an exaggeration to say we slept. We lapsed into unconsciousness for an all too brief period in a stuffy room with a distinct odour of wet labrador. We regained consciousness with fuzzy heads and an urgent need for caffeine. Clambering up and down several flights of stairs with aching thighs was worth the effort and we encountered real human beings at last. Luckily none of them complained about the arrival of 2 muddy bicycles in the middle of the night so I guess we got away with that one. We wondered about the very young couple breakfasting with us and concluded that they had to be runaways...
Suitably refuelled we discussed the plan for the day and had both concluded that option 2 for this day would be both wise and more enjoyable. We needed things to go rather more smoothly and to be less physically challenging. So having packed up our nearly dry clothes we headed downstairs and started to negotiate our exodus from the narrow hall and 2 doors to outside. I took my bike out first. Lesley followed with a couple of bags. The internal door slammed shut. Our key was back in the room and Lesley's bike and half our luggage were locked inside. As before, no real human was answering either the doorbell or 'phone. We didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The adjacent shopkeeper had no clues as to how we could get back in and we were reaching the tipping point where despair seemed appropriate when out of the blue the manageress appeared. Without batting an eyelid at our despoiling of her hallway with our road worn bikes she let us back in and helped us depart with all the right stuff in the right place this time. Perhaps we were destined to continue as we had started....
Gleefully I posted our first maps back home then we headed for Greenwich Park . In daylight it was surprisingly near.We did a few classic touristy things like straddling the Meridien and photographing ourselves with tout Londres behind us. We marvelled at the speed with which the Olympic stands and arena were appearing . So exciting to think that the whole world will be looking at London very soon. But that's the next adventure. Today's mission was Route 4 to the Tate Modern and London Bridge.
We found the route easily and discovered it to be a total joy - clearly marked and an interesting and diverse tour along small streets, the Thames Path and through secret parks like the Russia Docks Woodland Area....
Onwards to our cultural reward for all the hard slog of yesterday.Lesley was determined to see the Damien Hirst exhibition. It was certainly a welcome diversion but we each went into it with differing amicably opposed viewpoints. I think he is a very clever man who has manipulated the art market to his great advantage. The retrospective exhibition did not alter my views and I am still witholding my subscription to the fanclub.
Time was ticking on so a quick pedal around the corner to Borough Market and a snatch and grab excursion for a picnic lunch. So many delicious things to choose from especially the veg patties with spinach , nuts  and all 5 a day bases covered. At London bridge Station, after dropping my post prandial coffee all over the concourse , we hopped onto a Southern Train with easily located bike rack and headed South for Crowborough.
As soon as we emerged from the station -after negotiating the quaint Railway Children style wooden footbridge- we knew we were in the Downs. The first step was Castle Hill and the contour lines on the map did not lie. Which is more than can be said for "Downs" because I am sure there were more "Ups"....
We soon hooked up with Route 21 and once again delighted in it's clarity. Our faith was slightly shaken when slavishly following the signs suggested we should follow a steep dog walking path through a horse field and a boggy wood but a lone cyclist coming in the opposite direction confirmed we should not stray from the marked route. A couple of miles later we emerged from the woods, through a farmyard on to a track very reminiscent of my own home run. We blessed our hard shell tyres and in bright sunshine and brisk wind continued onwards and upwards until we found tarmac. In a short space of time we also found the "Cuckoo Trail" - a clearly marked , smoothly tarmaced former railway line. Bliss. And it was better than flat ie it inclined very slightly downhill.
We had a delightfully easy cruise until we found the village for our requisite cup of tea stop. On parking and locking our bikes we were chuffed to be able to offer trackside assistance to a teenage lad with a flat tyre. As our timing was a bit off kilter we discovered that the renowned tea stop was shut but the village pub was open. The landlord was a genial fellow who was sorely disappointed in our staid choice of beverages. He was intrigued by our expedition and couldn't wait to offer advice on our onward route. His physique suggested that he was probably not a cyclist and this was confirmed by his suggestion that our best route to East Dean was to cycle along the hard shoulder of the lovely straight A Road....
When it became clear to him that time trialling was really not our style he did offer sound advice about when and where to leave the Cuckoo Trail to optimise our chances of arriving in daylight for a change.
We did as he suggested and found the route easily. We also found more wind and more hills. Tired legs and heavy bikes made for a gruelling final push to the coast. I'm sure Grace Jones must have done a cycle touring holiday before displaying her hula hooping thighs for the Jubilee celebrations. My delight at reaching the apex of the final hill was tempered by my sensing of a double decker bus right on my tail. My descent down the 1:10 rain wet other side was executed as cautiously as possible. There was no hard shoulder just a solid stone wall. My heart remained in an anatomically incorrect position the whole way and all I could hear was the hissing of the air brakes every time the bus got too close for its comfort.
Thankfully the beautiful and very welcoming Tiger Inn was just around the corner. With shaky legs we parked the bikes under cover and congratulated ourselves on seeing our surroundings before sunset. We had time for a little walk, a call home on the payphone ( no mobile reception so a definite hideaway to return to), a comforting shower and clothes wash before installing ourselves in the dining room for a delicious supper. We took advice on our route to the ferry and after discovering that it would involve  at least 10 miles of hills opted for a taxi ride even though it required a certain amount of bike dismantling. Our hosts were fantastically helpful and arranged both the taxi and an early hearty breakfast.
I slept like the densest log in the most foresty forest ever, relieved at the thought of no more English hills...





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