Kent to Land's End: Day 4 - World Beyond The Fog

The first 15 miles of the day were slow, I wasn't really pushing on the pedals at all, my average speed only just made double figures. I rode across the northern edge of Bodmin Moor, and out on these wiley, windy moors the sheep carried on, hardy as ever, whilst I was still trying to get my head around the contrast of weather I was experiencing. A few cars overtook me along that stretch and within seconds I saw them just disappear, as if driving into another world beyond the fog.

I decided at the start of the day that progress was going to be slow. I wouldn't make it to Land's End in 4 days. I would take today easy, I did have 3 very good days behind me. I had my first pasty skulked in a Londis doorway watching the traffic whizz by, followed by 6 custard creams. I could see on the map I was close to the coast but I didn't even bother looking in that direction. At one of these map stops a man asked if I was lost, just wet, I answered. After 20 miles of riding I reached Rock where I would catch the ferry over to Padstow.

I descended onto the gangway down to the beach and stopped next to the harbour masters shack and peered in. A bald headed man with a not so bald chin sat upon a chair. I asked if there was a ferry and he gave me all the details I needed, that was probably the millionth time he'd given that speech of the morning so far. It turned out that because of the tide the ferry was a half mile walk across the beach. I wasn't exactly sure what to do but there was really only one option. I took off my shoes, put on my flip flops and lifted my bike and its baggage atop my shoulders and started walking, aiming for the yellow boat that would float me to the western side of the estuary.

The boat was nearing capacity when I reached it. Every single pair of eyes onboard was aimed at me. Thanks for waiting I said quietly to the captain. There was room for me to sit and after a few more passengers boarded the boat pulled away. 4 bloody quid that cost me, I should have swam across. I climbed the steps the other side, pushed my bike through the crowded Padstow where Rick Stein didn't make an appearance, and sorted myself out to continue further.

      

My GPS bleeped at me again. 'MEMORY FULL' it read. 'Crap' I said. It wouldn't let me get into my ride history to delete anything. That was it, I couldn't record anything else, I wouldn't know how far I was going or how fast, the rides I'd done were lost, unrecorded, never happened. I eventually calmed and managed to reset it to its factory settings. I could at least begin to record the rest of trip. But it annoyed me to think I'd lost the data of some of my best rides. The ride from here to Newquay was miserable, the low cloud swooped fast over the cliff tops, it was quite a sight. Things didn't improve once I reached the seaside town, because I could have been in some ugly London suburb, though the chips were good.

I decided to camp early. I found a campsite near to Perranporth. The reception was closed but the vacant pitches were written on the wall. I decided on my spot, under a tree, it was meant to rain that night. I showered and got into my tent to have a short doze. I heard a bird land right above me and flittering around outside, the audacity! It was a Robin who was darting all about. After a long time of waiting with a custard cream crumb on my hand it suspiciously snatched it away, its red breast big and bulbous and dampened by the wet grass.

I later poked my head out again, like a tortoise meeting the day, it was actually quite a warm evening. I looked up over the hedge, seagulls were hanging in the misty air, you could hardly make them out for the sky. A family of wrens followed one another along the hedge. There was a blue tit nest in a cigarette box outside the showers, I peeped in, it looked more snug than my set up. I wasn't sure how the chicks were ever going to fledge, not the easiest of exits.

Two ladies walked past me whilst I was reading my book. They looked at my covered bike and said I must be mad and asked where I was cycling. I said I was cycling from Kent to Land's End. As soon as I said Kent they seemed surprised and said that's where they were from. I asked where? A place called Dartford they said. What?! I replied. It turned out we lived only a couple of miles apart and even knew of the same people, yet we were 300 miles away from our hometown. There really was no escape! It was a lovely moment of serendipity and we chatted for a while about our respective adventures.

The morning was hot and sunny, the rain of the night wasn't enough to have an impact. Thankfully that grey mist had gone. It was the 5th day on the road and the final push to Land's End. I estimated it would be a 50 mile ride of ups and downs. Although I was certain of the forthcoming undulation. My knees were beginning to tell me of their displeasure, but I wasn't listening. I was finally ready for that coastal road and those sea views. I said goodbye to Denise and Deb and said I'd probably see them back home! I descended into Perranporth for breakfast.