May 3, 2014

Not sure which way the weather’s going to go this morning – it’s cloudy and cool again. Our first task – to find our way out of Exeter. There are cycle paths but no signs to tell you where they are going, so we select one that seems to be heading where we want to go. With only one minor deviation round in a circle, we find our way out of the city and onto the road we want. The sun is starting to make an appearance, only a few weak, hazy sunbeams, but enough to light up the countryside to a brilliant green. We’re passing through agricultural fields, gone are the wild moorland scenes. There is a subtle scent on the air, instantly recognisable as the English countryside, no, not the smell of cow manure, but a mix of hawthorn blossom, cow parsley and nettles. It is very reminiscent of our cycling days when we lived in Aslockton.

The road is kinder to the legs today – gentle ups and downs. There has been a fairly constant amount of traffic all day – not enough to be too unpleasant, but sufficient for us to need to be very careful. It is not a day for ambling along contemplating the meaning of life. Actually, Ken hasn’t done as much of that as he normally does on these trips – he is very fond of using the time on the road to develop his theories. So far on this trip he has been distracted by a trivial incident that happened way back on our way up through Spain. We were sitting outside a bar having a cup of coffee where there were about a dozen or so plastic tables and chairs set out around us. We were the only ones there, when suddenly, we heard the noise of a chair tipping over. The strange thing is that only one chair was upturned and it fell forwards. An insignificant event to most people, but even I have to admit it did seem to defy the laws of physics. So we’ve had theories on how one chair out of dozens suddenly falls forwards – worm holes, parallel universes, you name it, we’ve had it. And you thought cycling was a simple pursuit.

As we get nearer to Taunton and onwards towards Bridgwater, however, the traffic builds up to become very unpleasant indeed. The road starts to have sections of dual carriageway ever so often, where the drivers travel at the speed limit without slowing down and instead of moving over to the outside lane to pass us they seem to want to stay in the inside lane and squeeze us into the gutter. With grates and potholes every few metres we are bouncing around doing a crazy dance with death. We can no longer enjoy the cycling, we just have to concentrate on staying alive.

With great relief we spot a small three star hotel just as we get to Bridgwater, however, the price of a room turns out to be 98 pounds a night – wow, what is going on here? When we were here in 2011 a place like this would have cost about 50 pounds. We decide to carry on as we can see the town just a few hundred metres ahead. Luckily, we soon spot another hotel where a room is the bargain price of 75 pounds; strange how your perspective changes so quickly – a couple of days ago I thought that was extortionate for a very average room.