Race-the-sun write-up Part 11 - Made it!

This compass rose on the beach at Whitesand's Bay points to various features in and around the bay. One of them is South Bishop Lighthouse. Those who appreciate the meditative cadences of the BBC Shipping Forecast - or indeed seafarers who need to listen to it - will be familiar with the name.

I arrived at Whitesands Bay, on the coast just outside St David's, to find the place buzzing with young people aiming for a beach bonfire (it was a little too large and ramshackle to call it a 'barbeque') and quite a few athletic types on surfboards. The weather turned wet and very windy, but none of them were deterred.
Me, I just put my helmet and gloves back on and sat down on the beach to wait for [the time of] sunset. They must have thought I was a right nutter, but with the helmet on, I couldn't see or hear them so it mattered not a jot.  The two guys I met at Lowestoft didn't show. They mentioned having booked a pitch at a local campsite, so I imagine they were not quite so mad after all and had decided to hunker down for the evening.

Despite having been lightly poached by the sun all afternoon in my all weather riding suit, there was nothing of it to be seen at sunset.

That's that, then. Around 400 miles and 15 hours. That includes a few of those involuntary detours, but it was still a very enjoyable day out.  I set off home straight after [the time of] sunset, stopping for the night at a Travelodge before hitting the M4 and A350 in the morning.

Now, as Bilbo said, I'm quite ready for another adventure.  Something ridiculous on that little scooter of mine, maybe. Do send suggestions.

Race-the-sun write-up Part 10 - Now there's something you don't see every day

Pelcomb Service Station, the last petrol west of Haverfordwest, is a jolly useful place to make for. Beside the groceries and charcoal and cash machine and girlie mags and so on - and petrol, of course - there was a surprise inside...

... a chip shop! I was in good time, so I sampled a portion of chips with a sausage, just as a matter of research, you understand. They were great. But when I passed again a little after sunset, about half past nine, they were already closed, so dine early!

Race-the-sun write-up Part 9 - Trecastell, Llandovery

Blink and you'll miss it on the A40 in the Brecon Beacons

Trecastell is a blink-and-you-miss-it sort of town, but it will have a special place in the heart of many an ex-pongo. It was the last outpost of civilization before turning right onto a track up into the Brecon Beacons for two weeks of mud and rain, learning how to fight a mythical enemy who had exactly the same weapons as us and attacked over temperate moorland. (So that's why we won in the Falklands!)

But Trecastell has come on a bit since I was last here. I noticed a cafe offering WiFi. And there is this street, which is no doubt where they connect to the Llan.

Llandovery gets its share of visitors, what with its wee castle and cattle market and craft shops, but I thought I'd mention this by way of a public service: the car park is overseen by the ghost of Glendower, seen here in shiny stainless steel robes. (The shiny stainless steel robes is all you see; the rest is ghostly empty space; very effective.) Improperly parked cars will be lanced.

While in Llandovery, I spotted the West End Cafe, which I had noticed on Google Streetview some while back. This seems to be a popular stop for the many visiting motorcyclists drawn to the area by the gloriously scenic roads. I thought I'd call in for a cuppa and possibly a chat. But when I arrived and did my usual cheery greeting, the three chaps out the front totally blanked me. They could've been Welsh, of course, but I think the problem was that they were what my brother-in-law, Chris, astutely identified as MAMILs (middle aged men in leathers). They ride sporty bikes very fast. Typical conversation might be 'I red lined on the B1586 and totally smoked a bloke in a 911.' I am a MAMID (...Dacron). Mamids ride ponderous touring bikes frugally. Typical conversation might be 'Oo! Look! Pwitty! Let's stop and take some pictures.' When I turned up, they looked at the bike, the Dacron, and especially the collar and tie (see previous entry, http://bigrideforcancerresearch.blogspot.co.uk/2011_08_01_archive.html, under 'Togs'), and could make neither head nor tail of me. There are many breeds on two wheels, just as there are many on two legs. Just as you wouldn't expect a baboon to have the time of day for a booby, there is no automatic affiliation between the leather blokes and the Dacron blokes, the Harley cruiser and the scooter buzzer, or the off-road puddle-duck and the chrome-polishing classic owner.

Race-the-sun write-up Part 8 - Malvern Hills, again.

The Malvern Hills, of course, are much loved and much visited, but the last time I was here I couldn't see more than a hundred yards for mist and I wanted to test the truth of a local story that you can see all the way to Chepstow from the top. I still don't know; too hazy.

All the way to Chepstow? Who knows...

From here on, through the Herefordshire Marches and the mountains of South Wales, it is unspeakably beautiful. So I didn't plan to speak about it.  At this point, I got the sat nav out to do the map reading for me and let me concentrate on the glorious roads for a few miles.

Race-the-sun write-up Part 7 - Southam; Gateway to the Midlands?

I was about to swing around the little town of Southam and go on my way when I realised I'd never heard of it, which is a primary selection criteria for places to visit on these journeys.

In the town, I came across this first specimen of a half-timbered house I'd seen on the journey, and when I walked around, I noticed the people all sounded like Jasper Carrot. This must, I reasoned, be the start of the Midlands.

I came across a very pleasant, no-frills cafe with charming staff. The coffee was good, but the main attraction was...

...Pippa (that's the one in brown, not red), possibly the fussiest, slobberiest dog in town. She gave every passer-by the goo-goo eye treatment to ensure they took a couple of minutes out of their day to make a fuss of her and get slobbered. They all went on their way only minutes later about their business than they would otherwise have been, and slightly damper, but feeling so much happier with the world. Stirling work, there, Pippa!

...
Oh, and Upton Snodsbury. How could I pass by such a glorious place-name?

As it happened, I was passing just on lunch time so stopped at The Oak, Mark and Louise's excellent pub, which has great food and coffee, and a ceiling full of wine bottles! (http://www.theoakuptonsnodsbury.co.uk/) If you're West of Worcester in need of a break, I'd recommend it.

Race-the-sun write-up Part 6 - Watford Gap

Watford Gap is a low point (physically, not emotionally, for all the baggage the place name has acquired) between some inconvenient Midland undulations. It has hence been much favoured by wayfare builders over the centuries.
Just outside the village of Watford there is a little B road running West that, in the space of a few hundred yards, crosses four major lines of communication.

 
The Romans, who famously went for straight roads, to show natural objects who's boss, contrived to make one of their major routes go through the Gap.  Somewhat broadened but still arrow-straight, this bit of the road is in use today as the A5.

Later, canal and railway builders, who have very good reason to favour level ground, aimed for the Gap when building their major North-South connections.

Most recently, the M1, shown here with eponymous Services, has jostled through the Gap heading North. (Or heading South, depending on your geographical allegiances.)

Race-the-sun write-up Part 5 - Technophilia and the A14

The joy of technology. With WiFi almost everywhere
- like a service station on the A14 -
you can get on line and hold forth at the drop of a hat.

I'm sometimes astonished at how far behind the curve I have fallen with technology... I was one of the first to get a home computer in the days when 64k was massive. A phone graced my briefcase long before that of many a colleague. And yet I have only just figured out how to make my smart(er-than-me) phone connect to the Internet (and therefore Facebook) in the absence of a WiFi connection - surely a key capability on a blogged journey like this one. Fortunately, there is generally no shortage of WiFi providers, and in any case, I regard this more considered write-up while sitting calmly at a proper keyboard to be the real account.

The A14.... now there's a level of technology I understand: roads.

The A14 is certainly well visited though not particularly loved, which is a great shame. It is a very rare thing: a safe, fast highway that goes across the country instead of to and from London. It connects the ferry ports to Europe with the remains of our industrial heartland. I cadged a ride for a bit of it to speed me along into the Midlands.