To the Forest of Dean from my backdoor
The idea hit me, it flew into my brain with such force it took me by surprise, it made me tingle and feel a little bit sick. The little voice in my head said “Could I cycle there?”.
A date had been set for the ‘Local Wilders Weekend’, where volunteers for the Love Her Wild- women’s adventure community get together. We were meeting at a field centre in Mitcheldean in Gloucester, it would take me 2 hours to drive there covering about 80 miles. I had some leave booked just before the get together so I briefly thought I would head down early to check out the local area. This is the moment the idea came flying into my brain.
I replayed the question in my head “Could I cycle there?”. In that moment my mind whirred with logistics and possibilities, I felt excited at the prospect of my two legs and two wheels getting me to my destination. Then fear set in, the excited voice in my head was replaced with an angry “no, no, no. There is no way you can do that, it’s way too far, it’s way too dangerous”. Just like that the excitement fizzled away and I tried to pretend the idea had never even entered my head. A fellow ‘wilder’ has a great way of describing this fear that sets in, she says “it’s like a monkey that sits on our shoulder, telling us that we can’t do something. We have to punch that monkey!”
In reality, it was a long time until I punched that monkey about this specific idea. In fact I am not sure I even did until the morning that I left my house. I kept this idea to myself for months, quietly exploring route options on my phone and maps laid out on my living room floor. Once I had a route and campsites planned, it felt like I had come too far to go back. This was happening!
I still didn’t tell anyone and flitted between being super confident about the ride to absolutely cacking myself! On a day I was feeling a little more confident, I decided to tell a carefully selected close friend. It was the first time I had said it out loud, and once I had I instantly wanted to take it back. I scanned her face and I could see worry as she absorbed the information she had just been told, there was also fear there as it’s not something that she would ever consider! Thankfully, as I knew she would be, she was interested and supportive and eager to know more about my route and plans.
In the weeks leading up to the ride I did share my plans with a few more people but I was really careful who I told, knowing that one fear ridden comment could affect my confidence. The night before leaving, every bit of kit laid out on the floor, I almost changed my mind. I battled with myself and the monkey on my shoulder, so decided to reach out to my fellow wilders for support. This gave me more confidence and also some accountability to actually try at least.
The next morning I packed and re-packed, I paced around, checked my tyres about 10 times, had 7 nervous wees and even swept my kitchen floor in full bike gear. I was stalling, if you are sweeping the kitchen floor in bib shorts and a helmet you are definitely stalling!
These two moments I describe were the hardest parts, telling people about the ride and actually leaving my house on that first day. The cycling was the easy part. However, I did punch that monkey and I did leave my house and as soon as I did I was excited about what was to come. Even if I don’t make it, who cares?! In the words of Coldplay “If you never try then you’ll never know”.
I had perfect weather, sunny with a cool breeze and cycling the first stretch from my home in Nesscliffe to Ludlow was beautiful. The ascent was hard and there was some stopping, pushing and starting again but I was loving it. When I made it to the top of the Long Mynd and looked out at the rolling hills, I felt proud for starting and eager to see what was to come.
After Church Stretton I had miles of quiet country lanes and less ascent to Ludlow. Seeing the Ludlow sign, I had to stop and take a photo. It was in that moment that I thought “I might actually be able to do this!”. I enjoyed a coke and an ice-cream by the river and then went in search of my campsite, which of course was right at the top of the town up a massive hill.
Some swearing followed but on arriving at the campsite I was greeted by a lovely lady, a warm shower and a beautiful view of the Shropshire Hills. With this and a Fire Pot meal, what more could a girl ask for?
Day one complete: Nesscliffe-Ludlow
42.5 miles
3,320ft of ascent
4 hours moving time
The next morning I packed up my tent and set off for my next campsite in Hoarwithy. As I was packing all my items into the bags that attach to my bike, intrigued campers approached and asked about my trip. It was nice to share my journey with them, now feeling much more confident in my ability. I was also quick to confirm that no it was not an e-bike!
I passed through Leominster and Hereford, stopping for the odd photo and ice lolly supplies. The roads were mostly quiet lanes and the sun shone down, I really could not have picked a better time to do this trip. I arrived at the sleepy village of Hoarwithy and instantly saw a pub at the entrance to my campsite, my stomach growled. I set up my tent with views of the river and headed straight to the pub. Whilst waiting for my burger, I sipped my cider and thought about the last two days. I was over half way now, I was actually going to do this thing!!
Day two complete: Ludlow-Hoarwithy
35 miles
2,146ft of ascent
3 hours moving time
Campsite at Hoarwithy
I was a bit smug and probably a little complacent about day three. I could have done the route in two days but I wanted to make sure I gave myself some leeway in case any issues occurred. Day three was planned to be 13 miles...easy! However, the ascent which didn’t look too bad as a total figure was over a short distance and involved a 13% incline.
After 6 blissfully flat miles, I had 2 miles of incline ranging from 2-12% and then shortly after this was another half a mile ranging from 7-13%. Now that might not be a lot to some people, but with tired legs and a bike laden with kit I struggled. I pushed, I wobbled and I swore...a lot. When I reached the highest point on my elevation screen on my Garmin, I gave a sigh of relief. It was all downhill from here, or so I thought!
I made it to Mitcheldean, with cloudy skies and a chill in the air. I was instantly on the search for a hot drink and cake, a lot of cake. There didn’t seem to be any cafes nearby so I turned to Google, chose a café and started the route which was about a mile away. I pictured a huge hot chocolate with whipped cream and something equally as sugary to eat. I was so distracted by these thoughts that after a few minutes I had the sudden realisation that I had been going downhill for a while. “Oh crap” I thought. “I should have checked if this café was enroute to the field centre”. It was too late now, I arrived at the café and decided that that was a future Harri’s problem.
The best cake ever!
The cafe was as good as I imagined with an amazing hot chocolate with all the trimmings and a banoffee bun that quite frankly was the best cake I have ever eaten. After both were demolished, I tentatively got out my phone and opened my maps and had the moment of realisation that I already knew was coming. I was going to have to go back up that hill, a busy A road with lorries whizzing by. I looked for alternatives, other roads were going to add miles and miles, so I settled on the most direct route. This was 3 miles on a walking path, it might involve a bit of hike a bike but how bad can it be?
The next 3 miles were a slog, the path was blocked by fallen trees, covered in bracken and I had an climb up steps- which is not ideal with a heavy bike. What was also far from ideal, was the stiles on the route. I had to lift my loaded bike over around 7-8 stiles, at first I cursed myself and then thought about my alternatives.
The one of the many obstacles!
The 91 miles prior to this had gone so smoothly, no mechanical issues (my main worry), hadn’t got lost, no weirdos trying to kidnap me (ok extreme!) and the last 3 miles had been worse than the 91 put together. I had to laugh.
I arrived at Oakraven field centre in a bit of shock, I’d made it! In the last 3 miles, I had lost my jacket, my chain had come off (I later learnt I had oil all over my face from getting it back on) and I was scratched and battered from all the stile hopping but I was ecstatic. I had made it!
I was greeted with open arms by my Love Her Wild family and basked in the feeling of contentment and utter exhaustion. I had well and truly punched that monkey and I could not wait to punch it again and again.
Day three complete: Hoarwithy-Mitcheldean
14 miles
1,496ft of ascent
2 hours moving time (more walking/pushing/carrying my bike!)
Total: Nesscliffe-Mitcheldean
94 miles
6962ft of ascent
9 hours (ish!) moving time
My final destination!