Spring has sprung and the need to up the mileage with it. The big rides of summer are just around the corner and it's time to blow the cobwebs out of those winter legs. That's why I find myself snatching a quick snack and espresso outside a barn in the shadow of Cadbury Hill on a bright Saturday morning, with worryingly fit looking Nick Bourne, resplendent in his Pendragon CC strip. On the last weekend of May there will be several hundred riders setting out at two minute intervals from nearby Sparkford in Somerset to ride this route, no doubt to cheers of encouragement from friends and family. But the only thing sending us off as we climb out of the tightly hedged Sutton Montis (1) is a mean easterly wind. There is a silver lining on this cloud though – literally – with the sun already straining through the overcast sky.
The beauty of riding with another cyclist in his own back yard soon becomes apparent. We cherry pick the best lightly trafficked lanes, weaving in and out of steeply sloped grassy hillocks on the way to Sherborne, leaving the hills of Arthurian legend behind. This landscape is scattered with hilltop forts, castles and abbeys; steeped in medieval history. It’s no wonder there are the tell tale brown National Heritage route signs crossing our path as we spin quickly southwards.
I say spin, but it’s clear that there’s only one rider here taking it easy and it’s not me. Sherborne (2), its castle and triathlete spawning lake comes and goes as we head out on what Nick tells me is part of the Ironman circuit. These undulating roads through forests and farmland make for wonderful riding. But then I haven’t just finished a four-mile swim in an English lake, nor am I riding112 miles (although almost). And I’m certainly not going to get off and run a full marathon after. More likely a bath.
Once round Sherborne estate we get back into the lanes heading for Aweston, then out and down into the patchwork dairy country of the Blackmoor Vale, as immortalised by Thomas Hardy – this is quintessential England and a joy to ride through. Up ahead loom chalk hills blocking our path down to the sea. Skirting through Glanvilles Wootton (3) we climb round the top of Dungeon Hill to a sharp, rewarding descent, then up again to Buckland Newton and on into the delightfully named Piddle Valley. Villages line the B3143 then B3142 all the way down – Piddletrenthide… Piddlehinton – with inviting pubs every quarter of a mile or so. How apt then that Puddletown is what you find at the bottom of Piddle Valley
|
A quick left and right across the B3390 takes us over the River Frome and then back into the lanes, through Moreton and past Winfrith nuclear facility. Built in the 50s to try and find a less deadly use for the incredible power they had discovered in the New Mexican desert, there are now nine nuclear reactors here in various states of decommission. From deadly to drop dead gorgeous, we’re now wheeling through Winfrith Newburgh (4) up and over the coastal ridge for the first sight of the sea and Lulworth at the bottom of a fast descent. In May the racing snakes on the Tour of Wessex will head straight back inland to East Lulworth, perhaps more concerned with a quick time than one with the best views. But a trip to the lookout above Stair Hole on the one side and the Cove on the other is definitely not to be ridden straight past in my book.
Pain is close to pleasure, they say, as the visit to the seaside is immediately followed by the longest climb of the day. Just before East Lulworth you turn off into a tank firing range. No really, it’s quite safe – as long as you don’t try to sneak round the barriers when it’s occasionally closed for target practice… And apart from the odd peacefully burnt out tank by the roadside, this climb up Povington Hill gives you some of the finest and most far reaching views of the day, back across the flats to the chalk hills you just came through.
The Isle of Purbeck is clearly an area worthy of two-wheeled exploration in its own right but this day’s only half done. Descending to the southern edge of the Purbeck Hills ridgeline, we head east for the natural giant gateway of Corfe defended by its equally impressive castle, across Middlebere Heath and through Wareham.
Somewhere in the Purbeck the promise of sunshine must have come good and the fact that the 25 mile-an-hour easterly is now more at my back than my front doesn’t escape me either.
The next 10 or so kilometres climb steadily through Wareham forest. This is one of those roads that everyone assumes is Roman because it is so stubbornly straight. In this case they’d be right because there’s only one corner about half way through at Sugar Hill – these Romans clearly didn’t cycle. Just after Bere Regis you’ll need to navigate about a kilometre of the A31 (5), before turning back into the lanes and heading north east to Milton Abbas with its school in the huge pile next to the Abbey and famous street of thatched semis. The story goes that in the 18th Century the original village was just east of the big house but its owner took umbrage with his poor neighbours’ proximity. So he commissioned Capability Brown to demolish the village, build another ‘model’ one further away and then flooded the valley to create an undeniably picturesque lake that is there today.
Skirting round the school’s playing fields laid out in front of the Abbey, the only obstacle between me and that hot bath is the 120m or so climb of Bulbarrow Hill (6). A sting in the tail but with the pay off of a cracking descent on the other side, back down and across the Blackmoor Vale that we crossed what seems like an age ago. Here we recross Cornford bridge, which we crossed this morning, and which could link up a shorter 80 mile loop should you want to start from somewhere further south on the route.
The last 10 miles count themselves down on my computer as we criss-cross through the backlanes that Nick seems to know so well, linking up Bishops Caundle (7), Milborne Port (8), Charlton Horethorne (9) and finally back to Sutton Montis, the spring sun now dropping ahead and to the left of us. Just before we get back we stop for one last sip of yet another jaw-dropping panorama, with Cadbury hill in the foreground and the pointy hat of Glastonbury Tor on the hazy horizon. It’s not hard to imagine a turreted Camelot here, but maybe that’s just misty-eyed tiredness talking… Time to run that bath. |
