This would be my first summer tour with the Welsh Colleges and, seeing as it was a cycling tour, I decided it was only natural to bring my bike along. This turned out to be easier said than done – not only is my bike at least 9 years old and living under a pile of junk in the garden shed but I also needed to get it from Swindon to Retford. This is not an easy proposition, so I looked at the options available.
My first thought was to cycle there. Now, my geography skills may not be the sharpest, but one look at the map told me I’d need about a month to get there. Since this was a week before the tour started I abandoned this train of thought and instead considered getting a lift. However, no one I could think of would be coming my way so that was out the window too. Bribery of the parents had already failed; they were off in the Lake District on holiday. Public transport it would have to be then.
Having never before tried to take a bike on a train, I was surprised at how easy it seemed to be – you found the baggage space and chucked your bike in, dragging it back out when you got off. If only it were that simple… there is only a baggage compartment at one end of each train and every one of the trains I caught had it on the opposite end to what the station staff had claimed. Of course you can’t cycle on the platform (or if you do the staff tend to shout as I noticed), so running with a rucksack and bike in tow became my curse for the day.
Three trains later I entered the region known to mortal man as Nottinghamshire. It looked deceptively quiet as well as flat and so I rejoiced – no hills to strain my tired legs on. This impression changed the moment I cycled out of Retford. In hindsight, I suppose it didn’t help that I went south out of town instead of east, earning me a lengthy detour via a steep hill that nearly killed me from exhaustion. Eventually I arrived at South Leverton to find a rather new looking hall with straight on the other side of the road the…local pub! Dumping the gear and recovering my breath gave me time to have a look around – plenty of room for sleeping and bikes, with a separate room for those wanting some quiet – it looked good. Now the important stuff – what was the pub like? Did they do good beers or disgusting lagers? Much to my relief there were two pumps… Bombardier and a Ruddles. No complaints here! Cars continued to arrive through the evening, depositing more WC’s in the pub as the evening went on and the beer continued to flow.
Next day dawned bright and it was time to start some cycling! Just about everyone along on the tour had their bikes, so so much for support from the cars. Although, I must add, I was the only cyclist who didn’t arrive in a car. The first tower, Rampton, was but a short ride away and provided a nice start to the day. The next tower, however, was a little further out and involved a dash across the East Coast Main Line for those brave (or foolish) enough. Two more towers completed the day, with a round distance of about 20 miles, or in other terms, more cycling that I’ve done in the past 2 years put together.
The night was spent in contemplation of the beers, of which it later emerged, we had finished off one of the barrels. Also, in an attempt to prove to the locals that the Welsh Colleges were more than just beer guzzling cyclists, we joined in the pub quiz. The team to beat were known as the Coffin Dodgers and had a reputation for being unbeatable. Needless to say, the whole WC delegation in the pub formed a single team, against the 3 oldies, and some other teams of course. We didn’t win, but did well on subjects such as children’s TV. Amusement was also gleaned from a collection of tricky little puzzles that were eventually dispatched back to the dark corner they had emerged from.
Friday was as bright and sunny a day as could be asked for and lent itself to great feats of pedalling, with the cyclists tending to split into two groups – those content with a steady pace and those who wanted to go a little faster. Surprisingly, the steady ones managed to beat the faster to at least one tower without looking even slightly flustered. Ringing at Scofton was preceded by some good food at a canal side pub that ran out of beer rather too quickly. Scofton itself was the furthest that we would get from the hall and provided some amusement (to me at least) to see replacement stays stacked by the dozen in a cabinet. I wonder what the local ringers are like? The route to Sutton-cum-Lound was decided to be via a canal tow path. Nice and relaxing you may think. Oh no, not this path. Sore backsides abounded by the time an exit from the path was found and a decision was made not to travel any further that way. Temptingly, we had just cycled past the pub we stopped at for lunch, but there was the problem of crossing the water.
Eventually returning to the hall (well, the pub), trips to the leisure centre were arranged for the use of some much needed showers. A take-away went down rather well and kept the rumblings of the stomachs quiet into the night. We’d also managed to get invited along to some sort of celebration that was taking place the next night (Saturday) in the beer garden.
The final ringing day of the tour was another scorcher and involved another 20-odd miles of not quite flat enough terrain to a reasonable collection of towers. I should perhaps take note in future that when a place is called Gringley on the hill then it is very likely that some pushing of a bicycle uphill will be required. Never the less, we all made it up and began a striking competition with WC split into 3 teams of 6. Victory was alas denied to Malcolm’s team who put in a wholly original effort despite the inconvenience of having a tenor that was set at backstroke (Nothing to do with me, honest…) Returning once more to the pub and the attendant celebrations we quickly sussed out the arrangements – free food! Alas, there was also dancing later in the night and a special request for S Club’s Reach for the Stars, just for our very own Percy.
Sunday Service ringing didn’t seem to happen on this tour, though an attempt was made by the Master to get some people along as I recall. The rest of the morning was spent packing away belongings into cars and then beginning the journey home.
The target set last year of counting the number of pints drunk was not adhered to, so whether in excess of 1000 were consumed remains unknown. Next years tour was decided on being in “Adnams country”, wherever that is ;-)
Thanks to everyone who helped organise the tour and to all the towers we rang at – much enjoyment was had by all.
- Andy
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| Peter blacks out the lights | A church (..shrug) | |||
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| On a church roof (probably a different one) | Preparing to depart for the next tower | |||
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| Puff enjoys the ringing.... | ...Helen, Kevin and Malcolm don't! | |||
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| Percy collects the "trophy" on behalf of the winning team | Relaxing after a hard morning's cycling.... |