I didn't intend to go to Devon when I set out yesterday morning, it's just how it panned out. After surviving Cogden in a gale, I had come round to the idea of cycling to Lyme Regis where Dipper is reliably seen on the River Lim. So with a week off, and good weather ahead, putting a day aside to make the 40 mile journey seemed like a good option. So the plan was: (i) avoid the bank holiday weekend traffic (ii) go early the next available day (iii) spend rest of week recovering. Tuesday looked ideal with a sunny day forecast and a fresh easterly breeze to push me there and cool me down on the return journey.
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Grey Wagtail (juv), Lyme Regis |
Psychologically, I had broken the journey down into thirds - home to Dorchester via Tincleton would, I knew, be a quiet first 15 miles. And indeed it was - 2 Lesser Whitethroat and a couple of singing Woodlark cheered me along the Puddletown Road. The middle third (Dorchester-Bridport) would be a more challenging 15 miles on what I hoped would be a relatively quiet A35. It was indeed fairly quiet, and while lorry and bus drivers were invariably considerate, a few car and van drivers came close enough and fast enough to cause some discomfort. Camper van drivers seem particularly oblivious to the width of their vehicles, perhaps being car drivers mid-week they 'forget' the extra foot or two of girth they are packing at the weekend.
Anyway, once I had reached the zenith of this stretch at Askerswell Down with spectacular views of the Jurassic Coast, the long descent into Bridport was a breeze. I clocked a respectable 36.7 mph with the following wind on the steepest part, ticking Corn Bunting and Yellowhammer for the day list in the process.
The final third (Bridport-Lyme Regis) was the shortest at 10 miles but also the most daunting - it would be later in the day and the hills up to and out of Chideock, and the final push up Raymond's Hill to Lyme Regis, would be a struggle in the rising heat. And so they were, though there was just enough 'hard shoulder' to push the bike where needed and feel reasonably safe on the narrowest parts.
Having left at 0500, I arrived on the outskirts of Lyme Regis just after 0900. The obvious thing to do was start at the 'top' of the river and make my way down through town, a strategy that usually doesn't fail to produce a Dipper. It did on this occasion unfortunately, but no matter, I thought, I will just go back up that way having first paid a visit to the Harbour for the chance of another year tick: the long-staying drake Eider.
I knew this bird was still around following recent news from another Purbeck resident, Garry Hayman. Sure enough, he was, sitting on a dinghy, and I enjoyed a late breakfast/early lunch in his company whilst catching my breath and contemplating my strategy for the return journey. I had hoped to see Dipper fairly promptly and be away by 1000, but it was already that time so I decided to head back up the river slowly towards Uplyme, for as long as it took to see this river-dwelling speciality.
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Eider, Lyme Regis Harbour |
It was now a pleasant morning but warming up rapidly so I was glad of the shade by the river and the smell of wild garlic added a spring-like feel. Juvenile Grey Wagtails called from the banks but of Dipper there was no sign. I continued on up and realised I had gone too far, literally and metaphorically, when I came across a sign saying - 'No cycling: Devon County Council'! I crossed the border, mainly so I could say I cycled to Devon in a blog post, and headed back down.
Coming to Lyme Regis and not seeing Dipper would have been a disaster, so although I knew it was only a matter of time, I also had my eye on the clock and half a mind on the gruelling return journey. Garry had seen Dipper by a small footbridge above town, away from the crowds, which had been a Dipper-free zone on the way down and up, so as I reached this point for the third time I resolved to stake it out until one appeared. As I walked to the centre of the bridge and looked upstream a tiny bow wave in the water caught my eye. Then through the wave broke the unmistakeable shape of a Dipper. It sat up on a rock mid-stream, bill full of prey, bobbed as if to curtsey after a bravura performance, then flew literally underneath me downstream to where I presume young birds were waiting to be fed. Success!
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Dipper, Lyme Regis |
To add Dipper and Eider to the list now required one more small thing: get back in one piece. National cycle route 2 is the 'official' cycle route for this part of the south coast, but the stretch from Lyme Regis to Bridport involves a fairly massive detour, so I thought I would retrace my steps on the A35 and see how it went before rejoining route 2 there for a quieter journey home. The Charmouth bypass was easy enough - a broad hard shoulder felt like a luxury - but I knew the road would narrow on the long climb to Morecomblake. I needn't have worried though as traffic was by now at a standstill and I was able to crawl past in first gear! A few motorists gave me dirty looks, as if I, not they, was the cause of the congestion. Remember chaps: you're not stuck in traffic, you are traffic.
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Not the best way to see a Weasel but it was on the road next to... |
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...a Field Vole. I presume the Weasel killed the Vole but got run over whilst dragging it across the road. I avoided the same fate by only snacking in lay-bys on the A35. |
Steaming down the hill into Chideock, I realised I needed more water and fizzy drinks (there you go, if you were wondering where the title of this post fitted in) before the hellish ascent out of the village. The local shop for local people had run out of big bottles of water, so a Lucozade Sport (downed in one) and a Lemon Fanta had to suffice. Traffic was again crawling up the steep incline, and while I did my best to keep pace the early start was taking its toll, and I had to take advantage of the only pull in half way up to let a truck past. It was more of a drain than a lay-by, just about big enough to get the bike off the road, but an appreciative double thumbs up and blast on the air horn from the driver made me smile. Once at the top, I rolled down into Bridport and knew that the worst - in terms of traffic if not distance - was behind me.
The start of cycle route 2 east from Bridport involved another massive detour so I followed a likely looking shortcut on a bridleway from Bothenhampton to Shipton Gorge. This started well enough, but the bridleway was not one of those nice gravel jobs, rather a proper horse track, deeply pitted with hoofprints, and petered out into a footpath which was barely more than a dry stream bed overgrown with vegetation. I pressed on and was relieved to reach the bright lights of Shipton Gorge soon after. Route 2 from then on was a delight - although a bit up and down, it avoided the fierce climb up to Askerswell Down, and took me past inviting country pubs and the chocolate box villages of the Bride Valley. An idyllic place that should be full of purring Turtle Doves and jangling buntings, it was slightly depressing to find it relatively birdless.
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Portland from the Hardy Monument |
After a final long climb up to the Hardy Monument, I knew the worst really was behind me now and I could take the rest of the journey easy. One more quick stop in Dorch was required for additional soda intake and I was home shortly after 1830. 88 miles had been travelled, 10 hrs 40 mins in the saddle, with a monster elevation gain of 7,710 - the equivalent of going up Snowdon twice from sea level. I consumed about 3 litres of fluids and almost as much sun block, knowing that dehydration and sunburn were probably my two greatest health risks, after getting mown down on the A35 of course. I'll probably never do it again, at least not via the A35, though I'm glad I did!
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In a previous job I had the pleasure of looking after the Dorset AONB team - one of their many successes was bidding to get these monster pylons removed from the landscape. It's taken many years but work is now underway - the 'scar' on the right shows the route of what will now be the underground power lines. Taken near Black Down. |