A Long Way Round to Meet Sean Conway

 11^th June 2021, it’s  3:45am. For at least the 14,064^th time in my life I woke up, that’s apparently how many days I have been alive for and I’m going to assume that I’ve slept at least once a day. Excited at the thought of today’s ride, I couldn’t get back to sleep. I cancelled the scheduled 4:30am alarm and got up. I grabbed the already assembled kit for today in a bag at the top of the stairs, made a coffee, put my gear on, ate some porridge, got the bike out of the shed (which was ready to roll/pedal) and I was out the door at 5am.  Wonderful!

Today’s main purpose for the ride (not that I need one) was to meet the legendry Sean Conway.  Sean is an adventurer, athlete and an all round good bloke in the sports/adventure world. Sean was the first person to cycle, swim and run the length of great Britain. Sadly I’ve only read one of his books so far, Hell and High Water, Sean’s account of his 900 mile swim from land’s End to John O’Groats. It’s a fantastic read. He’s the kind of mad, crazy, off the chart kind of person that I am drawn too. Forget superstar actors and millionaire rockstars, it’s people like Sean who are the ones to motivate and inspire others to push their limits and to do stupid, crazy stuff.

Sean was in the middle of his tour of all 15 national parks. He was running a marathon in each one, every day for 15 days. Today was day number 8. Sean was starting at Reedham, heading along Wherryman’s Way to Great Yarmouth and back along the south side of the River Yare. He was leaving Reedham at 10am, I left my house at 5am. The most direct route is 19 miles, I could have got there in an hour, but this wasn’t a ride about speed.  5 hours to faff about in the countryside, lovely!

I headed out of Lowestoft  towards Beccles in the early morning chill. Unsurprisingly, at this hour there are very few people around. The birds are well awake, nature is alive. It’s the majority of humans who let the sun rise well into the sky at this time of year until they wake.

I wanted to make it a longer route to Reedham but also didn’t want to rush when I got there. I had the Reedham Ferry to catch, okay it’s not exactly Dover to Calais, but I still wanted to make sure that I got into Reedham on time, well ahead of Sean’s departure.  I headed to Ellingham Mill and stopped there for a while, taking in the sights, sounds and smells of such a beautiful summers day, a beautiful sensory overdose. I left Ellingham and headed towards Loddon, crossing the A143 on a few roads I hadn’t been on before, but probably passed hundreds of times. A road sign read Wardley Hill Road.  “Great!” I thought, I’m riding one of my heaviest bikes. I soon realised that this was an East Anglian hill, not a Derbyshire hill. In a blink of an eye it was over, a poor excuse for a hill, I’ve seen bigger mole hills, if you know what I mean?

With a tailwind I was being pushed along to Loddon, singing to myself  James’ indie anthem Sit Down,………….” Drawn by the undertow, my life is out of control, I believe this wave will bear my weight so let it flow..........oh sit down!!.....”.

“Good morning!” I said to a passing human on a bicycle, I received no reply, my cat has more manners than that bloke or perhaps he’s having a bad day? Who am I to judge? Since I left Lowestoft, the sun had been shining, it was now overcast but still lovely and warm. Heading into Loddon I was looking forward to breakfast number two, although only about 25 miles to here, it’s surprising how much effort a heavy bike needs even when going relatively slow, anyways, any excuse for some grub. Rolling into Loddon at 6:45am I wondered if the Co-Op would actually be open. Nope! 7am the shutters go up, so off I headed towards the river to waste a bit of time. I passed Rosie Lee’s Café in Loddon as a lady was putting her display boards outside for the day, knowing that they look after us humans on bikes very well, I asked if they were properly open yet, “No I’m afraid not. If the kettle was on I would make you some tea” she replied. I‘m guessing she doesn’t have many two wheeled customers at this unearthly hour.

I sat next to the River Chet on a bench,  chatted to a council worker tending to his plants and then shared my last blog about my time in The Peak District. I write these blogs and edit them about, publish them on Blogger but only share them on Facebook when I feel ready, I guess it's quite alot of myself into the public domain, so this was the time for some reason.

I wasted a bit more time before heading back to the Co-Op for some grub. Standing outside afterwards eating some Soreen and some dodgy tasting iced coffee, I text the wife to say good morning and stood there people watching. One bloke left with his sandwich and 4 cans of Budweiser, he was either planning his Friday evening or perhaps he liked beer on his cornflakes.  Either way, enjoy!

Off towards Reedham I passed an abandoned barn at the side of the road, I turned round to explore. There is something that draws me towards old buildings, the unknown history and environment I guess. What is in there? Why has it been left? Am I the only one there? I pulled the bike through the grass verge, got stung by the nettles and through an opening in what was a wall of the barn. An old fridge, bags of rubbish and scattered pots and pans were scattered about inside. I looked around to see if there was anyone else here, if you had to find shelter then this would be a good place to choose, as far as I was aware there wasn’t anyone else. There was a Blackbird’s nest being protected by an adult bird, it didn’t like me being there, I could hear it’s young twittering away, begging for another mouth full of worms. I took some photos and left the Blackbird family in their tranquil surroundings.

One thing I like to do on slow rides like this is to buy something from an honesty box, not eggs or flowers, but something fun. If you have read my previous blogs, you may have seen the clock in the shape of a plane that I strapped to my bars on one ride. Heading towards Reedham I passed a stall with some knitted animals, an owl caught my eye. For the ridiculously cheap fee of £1 he was mine, but only for a few hours as I planned to give him away, more on that later. Ollie the owl then  perched infront of my pannier box thingy, cable tied on so he didn’t move. 

Off towards Reedham Ferry, on the road leading upto the ferry, a few cars started to come the other way, a bloke on a road bike came flying passed me,  I assumed he was wanting to get the ferry before it departed this side of the river. As I rolled upto the riverside, he had missed the ferry. If you aren’t familiar with this ferry, it wouldn’t be much of a delay, the crossing is about 1 minute to get over, if that,but without the ferry it’s a pain to get over the river Yare. You have to go 10 miles to the east to Yarmouth or a bit more than that to the west towards Norwich to cross. I started chatting with the bloke who missed the ferry as we waited for the ferry to return, “Going far I asked!?” and conversation flowed, we both shared our intentions for the day. And that’s the great thing about cycling or any hobby that is visible, a shared interest in something can spark off a conversation. As soon as you are onto the ferry you are near enough off it. Rolling off the ferry, the bloke on his road bike sped off. Good on him, if I was on my road bike, I would be doing the same, but I wasn’t.

I arrived in Reedham at about 8am. Sitting on a bench next to the river I heard “Hello Mr Hawes!”, it was a fellow cyclist I know who works for the Broads Authority. We chatted for a while, I told him about Sean. He knew about Sean and looked forward to meeting him later in the morning.  I headed off for a spin around Reedham, it’s somewhere that I’ve always just passed through and never spent too much time here. I headed up a slight hill/bump and passed a box on a drive way, a note on it read “If you need something, take something”. I’m never one to turn down a freebe, so I removed the lid and had a look. Mushy peas, sweet and sour sauce, noodles and porridge didn’t really take my fancy, let alone being impractical. A pack of shortbread on the other hand looked great, in the pannier they went for later on, result!

“Good morning Isaac!” I heard. I turned around to see a member of staff had just parked up next to the tiny Reedham Primary School and she was welcoming one of her pupils who was already in the playground, playing a game with his mates.  There’s something great about tiny schools like this, that something is how well the staff must know the children. 

Sean had made all his marathon routes public on his website, I had looked this one up beforehand so I thought I would just ride the first part to see exactly where it went and how much I would ride with him. Just after leaving the simplistic shortbread vending machine and the school, I crossed a railway bridge, well, I say crossed, I stopped again. I dread to think how many times I must have been under this bridge in a train, but never over it. The view looking south over the River Yare was lovely, the sun had just started  to break through the clouds again and the day was warming up nicely. “Cor, you look loike a prooooper cyclist!” a gentlemen commented as he passed, “Well, er, I try….” I answered, not knowing quite sure what to say until we obviously talked about the lovely weather, a must for any conversation in the British Isles. What is a proper cyclist anyways? I carried onto the Wherryman’s Way which weaves it’s way out of Reedham and along the north sure of the Yare to Great Yarmouth, I wonder when Great Yarmouth dropped the E in Yaremouth.

I looped round the village and back to the river side where I was earlier. I ordered  a coffee from a little shop, the kind of place which serves afternoon tea in crockery that my grandma used to use. It had a tiny Post Office kiosk, completely out of place but I’m assuming also completely necessary. While the coffee was being made, I spotted some postcards, excellent! Another task for today near enough completed.  I sat on a bench next to the river, drinking coffee and watched someone trying to moor their boat while going with the tide. I don’t know much about how to moor a boat, but surely you would go against the tide so you have more control? You wouldn’t reverse park a car on a hill, going down it with no brakes, would you? They were soon told to turn around by the Broads authority staff and control of the boat resumed.

I wrote the postcard to my parents, I had a pen and a stamp packed on my bike “Hi Mum and Dad. I’m sat in Reedham by the river, it’s lovely! I’m out on the bike, heading over your way later, I’ll pop in. By the time you get this, I would have been and gone. Love , Jonathan”, (only my parents know me as Jonathan).  I posted it in a post box outside the coffee shop/Post Office and they received it the next day, laughing at my stupidity, mission completed.

Since getting to Reedham, I had been looking out for Sean’s mustard yellow Land Rover that he calls Colonel Mustard, which he’s weaving his way across the country in. I hadn’t seen it as yet and by now it was about 9:30am, he was leaving Reedham at 10am. By now, I had spotted a couple of people in running gear, assuming we were there for the same reason, I started chatting with them. We checked Sean’s social Media pages to make sure that he hadn’t changed his route/time etc. At about 9:45am, Colonel Mustard appeared and parked up just down from where us small bunch of wannabies had gathered. I walked up and saw Sean “Welcome to Norfolk!” I said, we started chatting, Sean quipped that I wouldn’t be running far in my cycling shoes to which I said I would just be riding for the first part and when appropriate I asked for a selfie to which he kindly obliged, although I do look like I’m holding him by his wedding vegetables.

A few more people appeared who obviously knew what was going on and Sean chatted with everyone while getting his gear ready for the run, by this point there was a bit of a gathering which must have looked odd for sleepy Reedham.  As soon as he was ready he just said “Right, let’s go!”  and Sean and his newly formed entourage headed out of Reedham. We passed the school near the shortbread stall, I began to think how such an inspirational bloke was about to pass this school and they knew nothing about it. Sean had a photographer/film maker called Ed with him who was riding the routes on a mountain bike. We rode infront of the runners and started chatting, Ed asking me about the area, I apologised about some areas and praised others and I asked about the trip and his role in all of it. Where the Wherryman’s Way left the tarmac, I said my goodbyes and wished Ed and Sean well as they continued through the reedbeds. I was temped to continue, but even with my heavy old MTB and today’s mentality of a slow ride, this really would have been slow, sometimes quality of time is better than quantity. I left Reedham and headed for Acle, en route I noticed a lovely old Fingerpost up on a high grass verge. I thought it would make a great photo, so I stopped leant the bike against the post and took a photo. Just after the photo (below) was taken, a huge gust of wind came from no where, I Iooked up to see the bike fall horizontally  onto the road. I was obviously worried about the bike, I was also glad a vehicle wasn’t coming along at the same time, a disaster avoided, I lifted and checked the bike. It was absolutely fine, a sight scuff on the pannier but that was it, with the weight of that thing there was probably more damage to the road than the bike! 

Once again I was off towards Acle, passing through Freethorpe I noticed an old water pump with a wooden framed shelter over it. I sat for a few minutes, sipping some water. Next to me was a gentleman in his garden, shirt off, doing whatever he was doing, he looked over at me, “Pitty it isn’t working, I could do with a top up!” I said as I raised my bottle as if I was a best man toasting the bride and groom, I just about received an acknowledgement from him, a nod. Ah well, on the bike again on roads through Moulton St.Mary on roads I had never been on. They were lovely, windy roads through the fields that were blowing in the cooling breeze, under the A47 and into Acle and towards another Co-Op.

Leaving the shop with hands full of calories, I stuffed my pannier bag thingy and my pockets with my lunch and headed across the road to the church yard. I passed one bench as it was near the road, it ended up being the only bench. I propped the bike against the church door and just stood having my lunch. I opened up a pasta pot, first mouthful in my mouth, looked up and saw the remains of quite a big bone on a grave infront of me. I don’t get put off my food by much, but I’ve never been tested by potentially human remains, there’s obviously lots here in a graveyard just hopefully out of sight, all of a sudden lunch wasn’t that appetizing.

With lunch eventually downed, I headed out of Acle and towards Stokesby on the A1064, the busiest road I had been on today. I had a tailwind and wound the heavy old bike up to around 20mph, a big effort on that thing, to get off there as soon as possible. I turned off the A1064 onto the gentile Stokesby Road. Before the ride, I had thought about stopping in Stokesby, but as I had just stopped in Acle I decided to continue, although I was in no rush, I still had to keep spinning. Well, until I saw a sign for St.Andrews Church which was up a dirt track. Without even thinking about it, I was heading up the track to the church. Sitting on a bench I started to think why I always seem to end up in a church yard, the thing I was sitting on was the answer, a bench. There’s always at least one bench (apart from Acle church), wonderful architecture, loads of history, lots of nature and just peace and quiet. Standing in the churchyard and enjoying the tranquillity, I jumped at the sight of something moving infront of me behind a bush. A groundsman was tending to the graveyard, I don’t think he saw me, but if he did I guess he would have been surprised to see me as I was to see him in the middle of nowhere.

Swinging the leg over the bike again, I headed towards Runham. The road runs near enough parallel to the River Bure. Planning todays ride, I looked at possible bridleways onto the river bank of The Bure. I reached a sign for Runham Swim, this wasn’t the route I had planned but I stopped, checked Google Maps and decided to go for a look. The tarmac turned to gravel and went through a farm yard, I’m always a bit nervous of going through such places, but as it was signposted so it definitely had public access. Even still, my ignorant, apologetic mentally was switched on incase anyone had a problem with me being there. After the farm, the river appeared, an absolutely desolate part of the Norfolk Broads. The quiet was only interrupted by a passing leisure boat and the flying wildlife, wonderful! The near nothingness means everything. Once again I started thinking about our inspirations in life, perhaps an obvious reaction after meeting Sean earlier in the day. The conscious inspirations, the ones we purposefully find out more about and the ones we don’t even realise. Perhaps family, friends, the people around us, the people we read about and listen too influenced us when we were kids, but that doesn’t necessarily change in adulthood. Without learnt behaviour we would be big childlike figures, perhaps to a certain degree, that doesn’t stop on your 18^th birthday either and why should it? The responsibilities of adulthood may restrict our childlike ambitions but they shouldn’t stop our adventures.

After a while, I headed back up the track onto the Stokesby-Caister Road.  Onto the A1064 again and turned right into West Caister. I had never been through here and new there was a bridge over the Caister bypass. I’ve probably passed underneath it hundreds of times in my lifetime but never over it. It had slightly stepped ramps either side, I’m guessing the architect was unsure of their design, a design that wouldn’t be allowed (and rightly so) after the Equality Act 2010. Lifting the bike up and over the bridge wasn’t impossible but hard work. For someone in a wheelchair or mobility scooter, not a chance. Riding through Caister I spotted a bakery and stopped for a cheese and onion pasty and a can of coke and headed for the beach for a paddle. 

By now it was really hot and sweaty, so a stop on the beach was ideal. I propped the bike up on the sea wall and sat on the beach, everyone else in beach wear and me in lycra. I was tempted with a swim but the sea resembled a muddy puddle, the temptation soon went and a dip of the feet was enough. Eat the pasty, dry the feet and of again, heading south and homeward bound.

Heading out of Caister was a huge traffic jam. Being on two wheels and with a cycle lane at my disposal I passed the traffic with a smile, laughing to myself, until I looked ahead to see a huge puddle, well actually, a flood across the road and the cycle lane with utility vehicles everywhere. I’m not bothered about getting wet, especially on a hot day, but the best option I could see was in the middle of the road at the top of the camber. I filtered into the traffic and as I was about to go into the water at full gas, I then questioned if this was water before going into toilets or after. I was assuming that it was clean water as traffic wouldn’t be allowed to pass. Thankfully it looked kind of clean and it didn’t smell, a nice cooling sensation on the legs all the same. Into Great Yarmouth and along the shared path with the horse drawn carriages, take a right at The Flamingo arcade, a favourite of mine for the 2p machines in my youth and over the river yare into Gorleston.

It seemed rude to pass a seaside resort and not to have an ice-cream. There’s a car park on Gorleston cliffs where an ice cream van always parks. Assuming it would be there, I headed that way and there it was. A can of coke and a big 99’, I sat on a bench and said hi to strangers that passed.  I was happy, some others were, some weren’t. I don’t ever assume everyone is having a good day but I’d be more than happy to chat with those weren’t having a good day.  Once again, the song Sit Down came to mind “Those who feel the breath of sadness, sit down next to me…..”.

Leg over the bike and the last few miles home. There’s a path that joins Gorleston and Hopton, it’s off the beaten track and no one seems to know if it’s public access or not, but it’s a great shortcut. Through Hopton, into Corton then Lowestoft and as I promised on the postcard, I ended up at my parents.  Even just a few hours on the bike and it’s great feeling returning to your home town, but also a feeling of disappointment that it’s nearly over.  “I’m just about to make a cheese toastie, d’ya want one?!” dad asked as I arrived. Wonderful!

Obviously taking him up in this offer, I talked about the ride and the stories of what had happened, the same as I always have and the same as I always will. I presented mum with the Ollie the owl to which she was very grateful. Leaving their place, onto Lowestoft Promenade and home.

65 miles altogether, a beautiful day, wonderful memories and met a person who I admire on the way. One of those rides that I dream of in the depths of winter, when I look back at photos and dream of those hot days on two wheels.

Finishing this blog off, exactly a month after the ride, it’s the day after Richard Branson’s maiden voyage into space (or not, depending on what interpretation of space you want to believe)in his Virgin Galatic rocket plane, a feat of technological evolution that I couldn’t care about in the slightest and physically proves how grounded people like Richard Branson aren’t. There's depths in our oceans that are yet to be explored. During the flight, Branson said “To all you kids out there — I was once a child with a dream, looking up to the stars. Now I'm an adult in a spaceship...If we can do this, just imagine what you can do," he said.  To Isaac and all the other children in Reedham Primary School, I hope they see the beauty that surrounds them in a wonderful part of the world. They don’t need dreams and aspirations to do things that only a ridiculously small amount of people can do to feel a sense of fulfilment. Look at small and achievable goals and aim for them, go and explore and be happy with very little, not goals of being on the X Factor (is that still a thing?), or longing for millions of views on Tik Tok, or becoming the best at something. It's only apparent success (whatever success is?) and popularity. People can have both of those in abundance and still be unhappy with all that they have. 

Billionaire’s with more money than sense will now be able to get further away from earth, an Uber space flight of sorts, to look at their home, their planet from above. Without getting all deep, let’s just embrace it all with our feet (or wheels) on earth. We don’t need to go to space or even in a plane to some far flung destination, adventures and beauty can be (near enough) on your doorstep with new places to see.

Until the next time, have a look at the video below and ta ta for now!