Pam Goodall – accomplished round-the-world cyclist – was right. A fiery start she said. Some would call it an epic. I’ll let you know when I emerge from the ’-stans’ next year. Wet I don’t mind too much, but riding into gale force winds on Dartmoor is not funny. Being blown over on the bike a couple of times smarts just a little.
Accompanied by good friend and, until recently neighbour, Peter, we eventually reached Bellever Youth Hostel just in time to drop the bikes off and join some of my old colleagues from work for dinner in Princetown. A kind gesture you might think – yes, but a lot more than that, given most of them live a couple of hundred miles away. I was very touched.
Day two of errr quite a few started rather better, the rain being closer to the vertical. We soon reached Plymouth and a chance for me to say farewell to my parents. And indulge in a little root canal work. No, really. Then off to catch the overnight ferry to Roscoff in Brittany. Waiting to board, there’s the sudden realisation that the adventure is about to begin in earnest….
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