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Well we've made it home - so a few wrap up posts are perhaps in order, first this one... Lots of people ask us what the best part of the trip were, so a quick list to get you started.

Top 5 Places to Stay

- Hartington: Parsons House B&B
- Cropston: Horseshoe Cottage Farm
- Glastonbury: Chalice Hill House
- Machynlleth: Penmaendyfi Country House
- Edinburgh: 16 Broughton Place

Top 10 Experiences to have in the UK

- Go to evensong at a big cathedral.
- See a stone Circle.
- Visit a big Welsh castle.
- Climb a Munroe.
- Walk across a high moor.
- Visit Snowdonia.
- Visit the British Museum.
- Drink a hand pulled local ale in a small village pub.
- Travel on a steam railway in the welsh highlands.
- Go to Vindolanda on Hardians Wall.

And 11 when your in Ireland:
- Visit New Grange.

Reflections on being a cyclist

Nomenclature
I think I can claim to be a cyclist now. That may seem a weird thing to think about, but it's like when I started running: at what point can you claim to be a runner? Anyway, I figure 1600 or so miles in three months is enough to claim being a cyclist.

I cannot imagine having done this trip on any bike other than Argo. I named it (her!) The Argo after the ship which carried Jason and his fellow ruffians - sorry, heroes - on their trip to steal - sorry, find and retrieve - the Golden Fleece. In some of the legends the Argo is attributed some sort of sentience, helping keep the Greek toughies out of some trouble. I figured this was a good name for a bike that would be taking me on (to be a little cliched here) the journey of a lifetime; while I'm not planning on stealing a national treasure (and let's not talk about Medea), I was rather hoping she would keep me out of trouble along the way. And yes, I do have a tendency to anthropomorphise objects; spending such a huge amount of time with it seemed to make naming the bike a good idea. It also allows for some displacement activity when negotiating particularly hairy sections of track; plus, how else could she Twitter?

Built by Baum, Argo is over-engineered for anything other than a trip like this. I know I'm meant to like the gears because they're hub-gears, etc etc; I just like that they allow me to ride (slowly) up inclines of 10% or so. And I know I'm meant to like the brakes because they're hydraulic disk brakes; I just like them because they allow me to ride (slowly) down inclines of 20% or so with my main terror being that I'll fall off if I grip them too hard. And I love the loopy handle bars because they're more comfortable, and they look different.

Experience
Being a cyclist is a remarkably sociable activity. Out riding, I can almost remember the number of fellow-cyclists who haven't said hello to us; and most of them were chavs (bogans) out cruising because their other wheels got taken away from them. And most of the time pedestrians - when you're out on the real cycling trails - also say hello. Frankly, it makes being a pedestrian again, especially in towns, really weird: you no longer stand out, you're no longer exceptional, because you don't look any different from anyone else. We've passed a lot of fellow cycle tourists, but we're still something of an oddity for most people in this country, which makes people pay attention. Actually, I think we finished the cycling at the right time, because I was just starting to get the urge to pull faces at people when they stared at me and Argo - especially when we were puffing up hills.

Being a cyclist also makes you remarkably non-scary. Arriving by bike almost always starts a conversation at lunch time, and especially at our accommodation. Opening our traps in bars and pubs, revealing ourselves as Aussies, often starts a conversation too - but add in the bit about the bicycles and all of a sudden people are interested in chatting, finding out why we're so crazy and where we're going. You don't necessarily get that sort of reaction when you're traveling by car - I guess because you're not that unusual.

Sadly, sometimes it bites to be a girl cyclist. For example, let's imagine a day of riding oh, say 30 miles. You have to drink a lot to keep from dehydrating. You have lunch on the trail - maybe 2-minute noodles. And you don't pass a single public toilet for the entire day...

Inevitabilities
Despite what I drummed into my Yr12 students, some things really are inevitable.

If I put on sunscreen, it will rain.
If I take off my rain jacket, it will rain. (And sometimes, vice versa.)
When I am puffing up a hill, gasping for air, then will the greatest concentration of insects in the shire appear.
Whenever I encounter a descent, there will be an opposite - and frequently unequal - ascent in the near future.
The quantity of cream in a Lunchtime Bakery Treat is directly proportional to how long and/or steep the hill will be within a mile of the lunch stop.

In the end...
I've enjoyed being a cyclist. It was of course a very different experience for me - I am not really all that comfortable as a tourist, but at least on the bike I got to feel like I was genuinely experiencing the country, at least to some extent.

Will I now be a 'real' cyclist when I get home? Insofar as cycling to uni, sure; and around Melbourne a bit, absolutely. I'm keeping Argo as my normal bike; no way am I giving up those gears. But will I be out racing with the lycra loonies on their road bikes? Hell no.

Thank yous, acceptance speech, etc

Dear Mum
I hope you can sleep better now that we're not on our bikes riding around like crazy things.

Dear Justin
I hope you have stopped frantically refreshing this blog now that we have indeed completed our circuit.

Dear Gillian
I'm not sure whether this trip will have turned me into a 'real' cyclist. I still hate the idea of riding a road bike, I hate drafting, and I think Argo on Beach Rd with all those nutters would be... interesting.

Dear Dave
Although we've stopped riding, I'm going to make James come running with me now. So I hope you're upping your training for the Degani.

Dear Kate, Tansy, and everyone else who thought this was a nutty idea
I hope you're happy now that we've stopped riding and are back to being slightly more sensibly tourists.

Dear Tansy (again)
Thanks (again) for setting up the LiveJournal feed for us. I'm sure the seven subscribers appreciated it ;)

Dear Bron (and Mike)
Does the map make you happy? Turns out it was a very good idea after all! :D

Dear Kathryn
You did such a good job giving us ideas for Edinburgh, got any suggestions for London?

Dear Kim
Sorry we haven't given you any more opportunities for snarky comments. I do hope Tennant F Creek is treating you well.

Dear Wilski (and Gina)
We'll be home soon(ish) for pizza and brewskis. Promise.

Dear everyone who read but did not comment
...

The End

1610 miles (2592km) and we return back to where we started. The final stretch of riding from Hathersage was comfortingly familiar, between a few days walking out here and a ride almost to Hathersage when we first arrived in the UK 3 months ago we'd been on most of the roads we would need to travel today. A hard 3 mile climb to wake up the legs and get up and out of the town and over the ridge into Sheffield starts the day, after that it's just downhill through the farms, and then parks right into Sheffield we were are back to staying with Martin and Liz for a bit.

Rolling up their back driveway was quite a different feeling to the one we had leaving in the rain with our bikes a bit overloaded with books and so-on. We'll follow up with a few more posts on the best places to see, some of the things that worked well for us etc, but expect less regular updates as we just play at being tourists now for a bit before we come home. Sheffield, some more time in the Peaks, Cambridge and London are the main agenda from here.

So thank you loyal readers for following the adventures of Henry and the Argo around this small island, we apologize for the lack of calamity in the last few weeks, I can assure you that we thrive on our misadventure just as much as you do. It feels like a good TV soap opera where all the story lines get a bit weak at the end before the network cans the show.

On a happy, and yet bitter-about-all-the-things-I-carried-and-didn't-need note neither of us had a single mechanical problem on the entire trip, not even a flat tire. The Joe's No-Flats solution seems to work well, I stopped even bothering to pump up our tires for the last 6 weeks, they just weren't loosing any air.

Henry and the Argo would like to give their thanks too, but we already took them apart and stuffed them back into boxes.

The Peaks are beautiful

As James said, the Peaks District really is beautiful. The ride to Hathersage included scenes like this:

and like this:

Bakewell was disappointing, both because of the number of people and the disappointing lunch we had. However, Hathersage is much more interesting, especially for James because it's got three outdoors stores. Today, we went for a walk along Stanage Edge. We've been along here before, but not in the same direction. The views included this:

and this:

Impressive, no? And we managed not to get rained on, which was delightful. It was a good, three-hour walk - up hill and down dale, through a nice variety of landscapes. And the rest of the day... well, quite restful, really.

Stalled

The more observant of our dear readers will have noticed that the two ends of our circuit appear to have met, but of course you also zoomed in abit to find out that we appear to have stalled just outside the gates of Sheffield. This is true. We've put up in the little village of Hathersage for a couple of days before we finally complete our circuit tomorrow.

Riding over to here from Hartington was spectacular, particularly the long descent into Bakewell with villages and farms visible in all directions... I do believe Alex might even upload some photos of it later. The second section after lunch was not quite so spectacular, a long 10 miles section on a hilly B road which the public had seen fit to drive up and down constantly. Anyway we survived. A long walk in the hills today and then we'll pack our bikes up one more time to finish our lap !

And then there was Hartington

Derby to Hartington (yesterday): 33 miles

We escaped Derby and eventually made our way into the Derbyshire Dales, which is basically part of the Peaks District.



We did this on a Sunday, a very sunny Sunday, and like our entrance into Whitby waaay back in May, we rode into a traffic jam in Ashbourne. Ashbourne is a fairly cute little market town, with lots of antique shops. It seems to be The Place where people come on sunny Sundays - maybe take Grandma out for a jaunt, maybe eat an ice cream, maybe ride or walk sloooowly along the cycle track that other people also want to use.


Other things we had to negotiate on our way. Fortunately, we were going in the opposite direction... unlike quite a line of cars...

We got to Hartington mid-afternoon, and it too was crawling with people eating ice cream and sitting outside baking in the sun.

Fast forward to Monday, and we woke up to the sound of rain. Which continued on and off for the entire day; no sunscreen required today. Only a little deterred, we ventured out into the Dales for a walk that ended up being a fair bit longer than we expected; it took about two hours to do a circuit that included the site of a Norman motte and bailey castle (all that's left is the motte, or earth mound) and a remarkable number of sheep pastures. Also waterlogged shoes.

However, it was very pretty, as promised by James' cousin on whose recommendation we are here.


Additionally, our B&B is probably winning in the breakfast stakes. My porridge was so good, it probably had something illegal in it.

The West Midlands: from Oxford to Derby

Stopping at: Winslow, Castlethorpe, Market Harborough, Cropston and Derby.

The Midlands. What is there to say? There was a lot of this:



and this:



BORING. Flat, and boring. It finally got more interesting yesterday, but seriously this is the most boring area of England - of Britain - scenery-wise that we have ridden through so far. Meh.

Perhaps the only interesting bits of the last few days (all about 30 miles or a bit more, for those keeping track) have been the towns we've ridden through - and how they compare with our expectations. Milton Keynes, as the prime example: we had expected it to be utterly, utterly dire: the middle of nowhere and a real nowhere town. However, almost because of being the middle of nowhere it seems to be the middle of everywhere - you can get to a lot of interesting places very quickly from there. Also, I don't know how but they have an amazing green belt, following a series of streams and canals; and fortunately for us the bike path followed through that belt. So it was a really lovely ride, and we saw more canal boats in that area than I have ever seen in one place before. Northampton and Leicester, though: both awful.

Of Leicester, let me tell you one story. As we entered the town, we rode along this trail:


If you look very carefully, you will see that every single pole has a white blob. Those blobs looked like this:

front and back.

For more than a mile, every pole we passed - left and right - had a wraparound sticker, identifying it as Route 6. Let me be clear: there were no turns along this path. None.

And then (I do hope you are all aware enough of narrative techniques that you knew there had to be an 'and then' coming up), just on the outskirts of Leicester - near the National Space Centre which we ignored despite the Soyez because it was too expensive - there were a series of turns and not-necessarily-that-tricky sections... which had no stickers or signs.

Gargh!

Anyway - we are now in Derby, which as far as I can tell is well on the way to being the Paisley of the South. Good thing our accommodation is lovely and has a selection of DVDs. Tomorrow we hit the Peaks district, which will at least be prettier, if also hillier.

We are not dead

We are however in the midlands, so nothing at all exciting has happened for a few days. Unless you count getting a bit lost and having to ride along a canal for a few miles one day, or riding through a long (450m) unlit tunnel using our wimpy little dynamo lights which stop if we stop. We'll be back in the peaks in a few days, we promise some more pictures and stuff then !

What's so great about Oxford ?

Oxford for all the apparent romance of this center for learning isn't really a very nice place. It's full of cars, rusty bicycles and worst of all students. But all is not lost, it has some redeeming features, the fabulous Blackwells Bookstore an excellent Sushi train and two very special museums.

The first is the Natural History Museum - it's taken me three visits over 3 years to understand what's so special about this place. It's not the biggest natural history museum I've been in, it's not the smartest either, most of the collection here is simply presented in identical wooden framed glass cases about 12 feet high and 12 feet wide. What is special is that by just walking around balcony of geological and fossil specimens, by walking up and down the rows of glass cabinets filled with stuffed specimens and dinosaur skeletons you journey through the entire natural history timeline of our world much like speed reading Bill Bryson's 'A Short History of Nearly Everything' but with much better pictures.





The second is the Museum of the History of Science - 3 floors of working scientific instruments carefully organized again into large wooden framed glass cabinets. One of the earliest flasks of Penicillin, Marconi's experiments with radio waves and electricity and so on and so on, it's all the instruments used to conduct all the experiments you (ok perhaps mostly me) read about as a child, in school science through university physics and chemistry. It's not pretentious, a cabinet might contain 100 microscopes, but only the most eye catching or historically significant two or three will even be given a label. It's beautiful and inspiring without being overwhelming.

Birmingham

My mother is currently in the UK indulging her inner cricket tragic; she was at the Lord's test, and is now attending the Edgbaston test. We arranged our itinerary to be within easy train distance of Birmingham, with the idea of stealing her away from a day of the cricket.



Fortunately, it rained all day, so she didn't actually miss any cricket! And, from what I've heard, it's a good thing for the Aussies that it rained all day....

When we met Mum in the foyer of her hotel, she was surrounded by bananas: the Banana Army, who - upon seeing that little cricket was likely to be had for the day - decided to start in on one-pint-in-each-hand at 11am. Classy.

Aside from talking, and getting rained on, and making snarky comments about the feralness of Birmingham, we actually did manage to see some stuff. First off, the Pen Rooms. Set up in a former pen factory - don't laugh, at one stage three quarters of the world's writing instruments were manufactured in Birmingham, almost entirely by women - it's two rooms stuffed to the gills with writing paraphernalia. Most of it pen nibs of the most amazing variety, including a set with 5 nibs for drawing a musical stave! And they still have some of the machinery used, which I got to have a go at: they're all fly presses, which means that once your piece of metal is in the right spot you give a big weight a mighty heave - and the blank is pressed, or it gets embossed, or the metal gets curved... it was an incredibly labour-intensive process, and the woman in charge of pressing out blanks, for example, was expected to cut 28,000 in one day in order to make a decent living.

From the mundane to the sublime: next we went to the Museum of the Jewellery Quarter. The Jewellery Quarter was a really important area of manufacturing, way back when; these days it's almost exclusively retail, and the jewellery is imported. But the museum is set up in the workshop of Smith and Pepper: a company founded by an uncle/nephew team, continued by three of the nephew's children... who then, in August 1981, walked out and closed the door. Nine years later, the Birmingham Council got around to doing something about it. We went on a tour around the offices and workshops, and they were just fascinating. Again, so labour-intensive; also, OHS was unheard of - fly-wheels and acid fumes and blow-torches...

These two museums meet our criteria for 'free' and 'awesome.'

The rest of the day involved getting rained on, sitting, drinking beer, eating Indian, and then catching the last train back to Oxford (fortunately sans rowdy cricket fans).

Oxford

We arrived in Oxford today and neither of us seemed to take any photos, so you'll just have to check out my big set on flickr for a visual update (check back a few posts). Oxford is just as I remembered it, snarling traffic, pretty pedestrian unfriendly even right in the center; loads of rusty bikes and bad cycling. BUT - The History of Science Museum and the Oxford Museum are out of this world still.

We're off to Birmingham tomorrow, and then back to Oxford after that for a few days, I promise more photos and a more interesting update.

Winchester, all day

One of the reasons I, personally, was very keen on coming to Winchester is because Matilda of Flanders, on whom I will eventually write 30,000 blood-stained words - or "Your Girl," as James insists on referring to her - was crowned here. O! such a connection!


We like fancy ceilings

Yeh, right. Turns out she would have been crowned in the Old Minster, which was demolished to make way for the new, present cathedral in about 1093. Normans and their determination to have shiny new-fangled things, I say. She wasn't even mentioned in the City Museum! Nor anywhere in the cathedral! Humph. Just because basically no one has heard of her...


13th century tiles, upon which visitors are asked to 'tread with care'

We liked the cathedral nonetheless, attending Evensong twice and going once to gawk as tourists. It has a mighty impressive stone screen, with lots of statuary in it, at the end of the quire; Jane Austen has a plaque somewhere in the place, but I never found it. There's a little section off to the side with the Winchester Bible - glorious illuminated pages; most of the pictures in the New Testament aren't finished, probably because they ran out of money, and maybe nine of the picture-capitals have actually been cut out at some stage: possibly for well-to-do ladies to put in their scrapbooks. There's also a Triforium - in what's basically a mezzanine level - with bits and pieces of statuary that was largely destroyed thanks to the Reformation and Bully Boy Cromwell.

We also visited the City Museum. We're big fans of this sort of museum, by now: it's free; it's not very big; objects have been carefully chosen to give a good overall impression of different stages in the city or county's development; there are little hands-on activities for kids; and it's not overwhelming. To get a sense of the development and achievements and history of just one are is incredibly valuable, I think. Even if they neglected Matilda. Winchester, of course, was the site of an Iron Age settlement - there's a nice river nearby - and also a Roman settlement:


A mosaic discovered basically intact, just out of Winchester

The rest of the day was spent organising the rest of our trip, lazing around, and then drinking beer on a patio next to the river. Delightful.

The Giants Causeway (More Photos)

The Giants Causeway, originally uploaded by Third Glance.

Thanks to MG's efforts back in Australia I have another batch of photos - This set covers quite a bit more time than the last lot, most of Northern England, Scotland, Ireland and the very top of Wales.

Click here to see the second batch.

We must be near London

Everything has got more and more expensive recently, plus the cars have got bigger and flasher... We seem to be squeezed off the road here a bit more by Ranger Rovers, Audi Hummers (Q7s) and Jeeeaaaaggggsss (You'll have to wait until you see this seasons top gear to understand that one - or click here and watch it). Still this is the very bottom of our loop, next we turn North up towards Oxford.



30 miles or so from Salisbury to Winchester, and sadly no funny stories to recount apart from the cute duckies at lunchtime oh and the point where our route just stopped ... That was hilarious.

Salisbury

The whole purpose of coming to Salisbury was to visit the cathedral:



And St Jude's Carlton thinks it has problems... the work here began maybe 10 years ago, and won't be finished until 2015

We got ourselves a B&B just outside the cathedral close, which was awesome. The first thing we did once we were in was head over for Evensong, which was delightful even though it wasn't the usual cathedral choir (it's holiday time). Apparently, some of these guest choirs rehearse all year for their week's appearance here. As you would, frankly. Also, some of the choristers were so little they could barely see over the rail of the seats.

The next morning we headed back to the cathedral to be tourists:



This font was consecrated on the 750th anniversary of the cathedral, last September. One of the very awesome things about this place is that it was the only medieval cathedral built all in one go. There had been a cathedral at what is now called Old Sarum - but it was apparently quite a windy spot, and when it got hit by lightning the diocese grabbed the opportunity to build a glorious new building in this new-fangled style called Gothic. Et voila - new cathedral in just 38 years. Amazing! As the font testifies, it's still a living building in many ways - see also this window at the eastern end:



It's dedicated to prisoners of conscience, and there's a huge Amnesty candle in the corner too. The window is only about 20 or so years old; not sure what happened to the glass formerly known as...

Other things we did around Salisbury:
walked along the river in the sun to have a pint and a Pimms&lemonade in a pub that used to be a mill;
visited the Salisbury and Wiltshire museum, which has a cool exhibit on Stonehenge - including the bones and artefacts of the Amesbury Archer, whose burial had the most impressive set of archery paraphernalia of any neolithic burial - and who apparently came to Britain from the Alps;
finally got my hands on Pride and Prejudice and Zombies;
wandered the town centre, much of which is pedestrianised - it's really lovely.

Back to the cathedral for Evensong again the second night... this section of our trip really deserves the name Cathedral Crawl.

Glastonbury to Salisbury

49 miles (79km)

Sun, Rain, Sun, Rain, Sun, Rain ... The trip across from freak town to spire town is pretty uneventful, takes a while by bike though. We're staying almost on top of the Cathedral in the center of town, spire view out our window. Looking forward to exploring tomorrow, more photos then !

Glastonbury

Things we did not do

Get our auras read
Attend a psychic healer
Have our tarot cast
Get our fortunes told
Go to the crop circles symposium
Buy a wand, or crystal, or a £329 cashmere dress

Things we did do

Attended a service at Wells Cathedral - here's another picture, just because:



Climbed Glastonbury Tor:



It's a hill rising some 150m or so above the plain, capped with the tower you can see here that's part of a medieval church. James mentioned yesterday that Glastonbury attracts a certain amount of nuttiness... this website about the Tor will give you a better idea of what that's actually about. It makes me giggle every time I look at it. What I loved was that people hike all the way up... and then there's cow pats everywhere. Doesn't do a whole lot for the place's atmosphere.

Things we didn't do: Glastonbury Tor edition
Invoke the King of the Fairies
Form a Deep, Personal and Emotional Bond with the hill
Participate in, or witness, any neo-pagan nuttiness
Get blown off the Tor
(One of these things actually did nearly happen. I leave it to you to figure out which.)



Went to Glastonbury Abbey:



... sadly, in the rain. The Abbey is another reason for a certain degree of nuttiness in the town. Legend says (and isn't that just a loaded term) that Joseph of Aramethea visited, possibly bringing Jesus as a lad; then came back after the crucifixion, maybe bringing a certain item... (we stayed on Chalice Hill, if a bigger hint is necessary). Add to that the medieval monks who claimed to have dug up Arthur and Guinevere's graves - oh, did I forget to mention that traditionally Glastonbury is the Isle of Avalon? - and there is THIS MUCH potential for crazy-ass trinket shops.

It really is an impressive set of ruins, though; it was one of the longest monastery churches in Britain in its day, and at the Dissolution was second only to Canterbury in dollar value. I really hope wise heads prevail and they don't put up an Arthur statue...

Had pizza at a Lygon St-esque joint:
again.

Bath to Glastonbury

30 miles (48.3km)

I hadn't really considered that this southern part of the UK would be hilly, in my mind, Scotland was hilly, Wales was hilly, the Pennines were hilly but not boring, flat old southern England. Whoops, the first mile of the day was a 10% climb and that was a pretty good indication of things to come.

Up, down, up, down, long up, long down - Oh look, the Glastonbury Tor in the distance, and a 30 miles per hour descent for the last couple of miles in to Wells. A quick lunch stop at the Cathedral to have a look around and chat to my bike nerd buddies in Melbourne (who were all partying/watching the last mountain stage of the tour, and some what incredulous that I'd not timed the day better to be watching as well). We raced to Glastonbury to try and catch the end of the race, which we managed, the last 6km anyway. Turns out not much happened up Mt V anyway, the three leaders were split by too much time and Armstrong was never going to take Andy Schleck.





Glastonbury is eeerrr, different. If anyone needs me to pick them up a spare wand, a new spell book or perhaps a template for 'make-your-own-crop-circles' just drop me an email today. We finished up the day with wonderful Italian pizza made by a small army of elderly Italian gents in a bustling little pizzeria.

Bath

Bath achieves a remarkable sense of light through one main factor: the vast majority of its buildings are built from, or at least faced with, cream-coloured sandstone. This uniformity of colour can sometimes be bad - Edinburgh, because it's so grey, felt awfully gloomy when it was overcast. Here, because the colour is so light and because it's offset with darker roofs and dark roads and a variety in the cream - well, it's just stunning. When you add that it's a bit like Rome in that the town seems to be built on at least seven hills, and that more modern buildings still often follow the Georgian trends for terraced houses: Bath is a very attractive town.

Of course, the big attraction of Bath is THE baths, Aquae Sulis - the Roman bathhouse complex that I believe is one of the best preserved in the world.



The bath complex is a wonderful museum. It would have been so easy for it to be either overwhelming, with too many artifacts, or entirely cheesy. It's neither. There is a good, relatively small, selection of things to look at: reconstructions of mosaics, and the Gorgon pediment, were my favourites. I also like the tiny little gems which may have been offerings, but were more likely lost by their owners because the glue in the setting was loosened in the water; many of them have tiny pictures etched on them, like a discus thrower or animals. Then you go out and through the different sections of the bathhouse itself: massage rooms, the cold-plunge room, etc. Of course, the centrepiece is the grand pool itself:



Tourists get an off-kilter view of the site, really, because the pool would have been roofed, for the Romans - there's a bit of the arch left, at ground level - and part of the museum which shows the courtyard and main temple area, which is now contained within the building, would have been exposed to the elements. Still, it's another occasion where you get to see something that's survived - in some form or other - for 2000 years. The other thing that makes a visit to the baths very special is the audio guide. We've eschewed the guide everywhere else, but there's a good reason for getting it here: the Bill Bryson commentary. Which he clearly recorded as he walked around himself, because you can hear background noises like the springs in the recording as well as right where you are.

Interestingly, we think that the experience was somewhat better in winter. This is partly because in winter it's easier to see the steam rising off the water; it's also because there were fewer people. Having said that, we were amongst the first people through the doors this morning - it was only as we left that there were lots of people crowding around.

The other thing I loved about Bath is the Abbey.



That previously mentioned sandstone helps here, too, because Bath Abbey manages to evoke an immense sense of light and majesty, for me anyway, because the flying buttresses and soaring columns seem somehow lighter in weight because they're lighter in colour... something like that anyway. It's aided by this incredible window:



... which has something like 56 panels showing seems from the Bible.

And of course, we love ceilings:



Finally, I tried really, really hard to buy Pride and Prejudice and Zombies here, because I've found it nowhere else. Sadly, here too it was sold out. Darn it.

Two days in one: Abergavenny-Chepstow-Bath

Abergavenny to Chepstow: 34 miles (54.4km)

A final hurrah through Wales that included one massive climb, with a section at 16% incline for what felt like a very long time (me, I piked early and walked). Perhaps the coolest thing we saw was the view out over the Severn inlet. It's incredible tidal, and the tide was well out as we looked down on it. The bridge is an amazing structure... but more on that later. We also saw a castle in Chepstow, which was much more impressive than I had expected; it looked from the outside like just a single section of a keep, but it turned out to be about three times longer than it is wide. I also got the chance to get a mad picture of the spiral stairs:



OK, so this was actually taken by James, leaning out and endangering my camera. Whatever. The other cool thing about Chepstow Castle is that they stage Shakespearean plays (and hopefully others) in the grounds.


Chepstow to Bath: 46.5 miles (74.4km)

Actually, to say we were in Chepstow itself is somewhat misleading; we were staying in St Arvans, about 2 miles out of Chepstow. But that's ok, I won't hold it against James; these mistakes are easy enough to make.

Our journey today would have been 8 miles shorter had we not recklessly decided to visit Tintern Abbey as well. Tintern is north of Chepstow, so we sweet-talked our (Irish) hostess into letting us leave the bags there while we zipped up and back. We took back-roads to get to the Abbey; we took the A road back, which was faster, and not as steep to climb, and didn't have mossy sections nor wet leaflitter to negotiate. Tintern Abbey itself was incredible, and worth the extra 8 miles:



After we reclaimed our luggage, we headed out through Chepstow and threw ourselves across the Severn. There are two bridges over it (it's weird they have a website for that, yes?): this is the one we didn't ride across.



Fortunately there is a dedicated, barricaded-from-the-cars cycle path; otherwise this would have been a decidedly hairy ride, since it was a bit windy. It's nearly a mile from end to end. And there were blokes out painting it while we rode... Paul Hogan, anyone?

From the Severn we rode to Bristol, which was an entirely uninspiring and basically boring ride through ugly countryside, boring suburbs, and hair-raising inner-city streets. Give me Newcastle any day. Or Glasgow. Fortunately, the last section from Bristol to Bath was along one of our favourite things: a disused railway. It was basically flat the entire way, so we managed to do it in decent time.

Ensconced in our B&B (Kiwi hosts this time), I'm really looking forward to tomorrow - Roman Baths! Woohoo! I can almost guarantee we will disappoint those Jane Austen fans in the audience; author-tripping is not something that appeals. And the Georgians are waaay too modern.

Finally, because I can never resist the Kates:

I also like puddles

By The Argo
Transcribed, and spelling corrected, by Alex

I do not like gravel paths;
I do not like not-flat paths.
I do not like mucky wet leaf litter on the path.
I do like smooth bitumen;
I also like puddles.

I do not like bridle ways;
I do not like A-roads.
I do not like bogs.
I do like little country lanes, especially with smooth bitumen;
I also like puddles.

I do not like steep ascents;
I do not like steep descents.
I do not like tricksy oh-you're-nearly-at-top-oh-no-you're-not corners.
I do like nice flat little country lanes, especially with smooth bitumen;
I also like puddles.

I do like starting out;
I do like finishing up.
I like following Henry,
And I like zooming past him.
I also really, really like puddles
(As long as they're not too deep).

Alex's view on Wales

Just call me Dory; it's a good thing I have a bad memory.

I love Wales. It really is a beautiful country. Even the riding has been... mostly ok.

Hay on Wye

This one is for Kate

As James said, Book Town: a big secondhand bookshop was opened here in the 1960s, I think, and in some way that I don't entirely understand the town eventually got itself a reputation as the secondhand book capital of the country. There are apparently over 30 bookshops here, and The Guardian Book Week (I think it's called?) floods the area in May each year. I was mildly paralysed when it came to figuring out exactly how to exploit the place without being sent mad. The answer turned out to involve basically ignoring the two really big places (especially the Hay Cinema Bookshop: imagine a cinema that's converted to holding books...), and having a deliberate section of books to look over thoroughly. Unsurprisingly, for me that was the SF section, and I picked up eight old paperbacks - mostly feminist SF I've been meaning to get for ages. This was good also because I arrived in Hay with no books left to read. The horror!

Brecon Beacons



We loved this area when we were here last time, so it was good to see it again. Even if, when we announced our plan to go this way, our hostess in Hay looked slightly alarmed on our account; looking at the graph in James' post below you'll understand why. However, hopefully my photos will give you some idea as to why it was (basically) worth it.


Llanthony Priory

This was our lunch spot on the way to Abergavenny. Feels like ages since I've seen something medieval!

Challenge the Dragon - Lon Las Cymru

We're back faithful readers, stymied by lack of internet and flooding for a while, we've emerged out of the electronic darkness and into the light. We've also challenged the dragon and won.

The major cycle route down the spine of Wales is called Challenge the Dragon - depending on exactly where you go it's about 300 miles. We've just arrived in Abergavenny which marks the last of the climbs (I'll include a couple of recent profiles for the bike nerds to enjoy).



Cwrt to Rhayader - This was without a doubt the hardest day in Wales, the major climb is 13km and just gets steeper and steeper as you go up. For us it also started raining at the bottom and just got heavier and heavier before it set in for the rest of the day. The last section of the big climb on the profile above is sort of deceptive, the reality is it's lumpier and steeper, so there are short 200 or 300m sections at 13 and 15% with shallower climbs between. Very hard on the legs and difficult to keep a rhythm.

From there it was a long undulating descent to our lunch stop at the 30 mile mark (49km), I don't think I've ever been so happy to see a hippy cafe. REAL FOOD, I had one of the best baked potatoes I've ever had in my life, and everything there (like all good hippy cafes) was CHEAP. We still can't quite get over just how expensive food is here, and normally good food is really expensive.

Onwards; as usual, if we've enjoyed a big lunch there is a large climb just to help it settle, today was no exception. We arrived pretty wet and tired after our 45 miles (72.5km).

Rhayader to Hay-on-Wye (Book Town) - A flat(ish) 40 miles (64.5km) down the river Wye to the town of Hay and we arrived in Book town. I think I'll let Alex write about that in another post lest this one become a book itself. Highlight for me though, seeing 1 day old duckling at the place we stayed on the river.



Hay-on-Wye to Abergavenny - Perhaps my favorite of the Welsh hilly days, only 23 miles (37 km) and most of that downhill. After leaving Hay the road turns upwards straight away for a steady 6 mile climb to the highest point in the Welsh part of the National Cycling Network at something over 500m high. It does get pretty steep in the middle, but then eases off again, so just when you think you might pop the road shows some mercy and up you go. The descent down the other side is a little hairy, for 25km it's a one lane road with 10 foot hedges on either side. I think quite a few people thought they would take the 'pretty' road to the Welsh Royal Show because we passed loads of cars coming at us, and only got passed perhaps once or twice all day. Now here we are, in Abergavenny which is a super little town having challenged the dragon and won. A rest day here and then we're off to England again.

Alex's Aborted Pilgrimage

Editors' Note: Events may have transpired some days previous to this post, however fickle internet in Wales along with some flooding has seen us silenced for a few days. But fear not loyal readers, today we have 3G again and will post with vengeance.

When we were enjoying the luxuries of our B&B near Pennal, it occurred to me that I should check the location of Bron-Yr-Aur. Bron-Yr-Aur is a cottage that Robert Plant and Jimmy Page lived in for some months, with their families, and wrote half of Led Zeppelin III. I knew it was in Wales somewhere.... When I checked, and discovered that it was just four miles from where I sat, I had quite a Moment. When I check our cycling map and discovered that our route the next day would take us past the track leading to it, I had another Moment. Seeing this, James had basically no choice but to agree to taking me "on my damned Led Zeppelin pilgrimage."

The turn off to the cottage had a sign announcing it as "unfit for motors." We walked up a hill, pushing the bikes, around a corner, and through a gate. At that point we ditched the bikes. We walked up another hill, around a corner, and at the point where Google Maps said Bron-Yr-Aur was, we found a little sign: "Bron-Yr-Aur" and an arrow, pointing up another track. We followed this sign up another hill, around another corner, and eventually we got close enough to see a cottage, which might have been Bron-Yr-Aur but also had a caravan, solar panels, and a Dalmatian.

As we left might-have-been Bron-Yr-Aur and the (now barking) Dalmatian behind, James sad gravely: "You know what that was, Lex ?

"That was experience."

(Experience is what you get, when you didn't get what you wanted.)

Good thing I have several hours' worth of Led Zeppelin on my phone, frankly.

Around the Welsh highlands

29 miles (46km) from Dolgellau to Cwrt (go on, I dare you to try pronouncing that in front of a Welsh person)

Today was perhaps the most consistently beautiful day we've had to date, in terms of the scenery. Leaving Dolgellau, we climbed up - fairly steeply at first (2km @ 10% average), then a bit more gradually with a few steep bits - for around 8 miles. This brought us up onto a ridge that we followed for a bit longer, and then eventually we plummeted into a valley. We wound our way in a fairly crazy loop around the valley, and didn't quite get to the coast; then we headed back up another hill, through a valley, and ended up at one of the nicest B&Bs we've stayed in yet.

For dinner, we walked to a nearby town - in the rain - and managed to score a lift in a very nice Jag with a very nice couple for the last quarter of a mile or so. It was an uneventful day, but a beautiful day, so why not a pictorial post to celebrate.