"It’s just beautiful isn’t it? We could be anywhere and we’re just down the road"

 

Once again, Jules and I had ended up in some random mini-music festival. This time it wasn't late on a Friday night on the north Norfolk coast, but inland on the Norfolk/Suffolk border at The Gillingham Swan. It was late in the afternoon on August bank holiday Monday and it was the first time I had seen Jules in weeks. It was great to catch up, spinning along talking about what we had been up to, laughing, joking, moaning, like great friends do. We hadn't planned to go to The Gillingham Swan, we were just passing and heard some music. The standard one word question with only one possible answer left my mouth, "Beer!?". We swung into the pub car park and followed the sound of a covers band. We propped the bikes up on some fencing, "Mate, we're definitely gonna get some dodgy looks in here" I laughed as we started to make away across the rather busy beer garden to the outside bar in our lycra. 

Somehow we had escaped being the focus of the lead singer/comedian who had already been telling jokes and anecdotes between songs, a spontaneous rendition of Queen's song Bicycle Race was thankfully avoided, an obvious and assumed attempt at humour that thankfully didn’t happen.

We sat on some hay bales, sipping on our bland tasting pint of IPA, wondering how have we got to the stage where £4 for a pint is cheap. 

"I done an awesome ride yesterday, you'll love this!" I said as I got my phone and waited for Strava to load in this rural location. A dog appeared at our feet, "Allo boy" Jules quipped as he ruffled the dogs shaggy head of hair, a friendly hound whose owners were smiling at their dogs friendly personality.

Strava had now loaded, I passed my phone to Jules with the map from my ride "What the.....!" Jules commented as he laughed. Faced with the monotony of another road ride on my own, early the previous day, I grabbed the GT mountain bike/touring bike instead. I had had the idea for a while of riding as many roads in my local area as possible. The smallest area but as many miles as possible. I headed out with the aim of covering 25 miles, in the end I covered 40 miles. At no point was I more than 2.5 miles from my house. It's the most proud I've ever been of a Strava ride map, one that resembled a plate of spaghetti.

"I don't know many people, I'll start that again. I don't know anyone else who would do something as stupid as that" said Jules with a big smile. What a compliment! 

"We still haven't got away for a night have we?" Jules said a short while later. After a bit of deliberation, we had soon planned for the coming Friday night. Nothing huge in the sense of mileage or speed, this was about fun, not figures. We planned on heading south to Dunwich, take the tents and see what happens. A rough plan which was set in sand and not stone. A slight gust of wind and plans could change but not be forgotten.

During the next few days, when I had the time, I would fiddle about with the GT, the obvious choice for such a ride. I was fiddling with my new panniers, I say new, I found the receipt which was from Dec 2020. Way too long to have such a nice bit of kit (or bits of kit) and to only christen them 9 months later. I messed around with what to take. The forecast was for it to be quite warm. I decided on a thin "Mummy" sleeping bag that I picked up for £12 in Lidl a few months ago. I had used it on a recent family camping trip and it was great, and it is pretty small when packed up. We had planned to get some grub on the evening of the ride to have when we set up camp, so I left quite a bit of room in one pannier. 

Months ago I had bought a handlebar bag from Planet X and hadn't used it. My one man OEX tent fitted in the bag perfectly. Coupled up with my odd looking Planet X/On One, Mickey Love handlebars, the tent fitted on the front perfectly. A great way to even out the weight distribution, this heavy old bike was definitely rear heavy. 

The day of the ride came and Lincoln was able to make it. Although for reasons that I'm still unsure of, he wouldn't stay all night. Saying that, he was lacking a very important piece of kit, a tent. I offered a tarpaulin but strangely enough this offer was declined.

Me and Lincoln met Jules at Carlton Colville Church, where we usually meet. Jules soon arrived with his tent on the bars and panniers too, no trendy big bikepacking saddle bags (although I do have one).  Jules soon claimed that he hadn’t even got the tent out of its bag for ten years. Lincoln said how he would have to top and tail in mine, “not a chance in mine, it’s like a coffin!” I replied, it’s pretty concise to say the least.

I suggested a stop for some grub which was pretty close, Jules didn’t like this idea and told me where to go, offended I wasn’t. We instead decided to head for Southwold, get something to eat and load up with food and drink for the evening and then decide where to go, but still aiming for Dunwich, kind of, if we wanted. If we didn’t want to then we wouldn’t, we would go somewhere else.

Spinning out of Carlton Colville with very little planned was brilliant, no idea of where my head would be resting, apart from on my £1.50 blow up pillow from Asda. A rider was coming towards us, it was Titch, a mate from the local cycling scene, tucked in, aero as always, flying along. We obviously all acknowledged each other, all on bikes but rides from different dimensions.

I started to pick the pace up for a laugh, I reached the dizzy heights of 20mph! A huge effort on this monstrosity of a bike.

Expecting to have dropped the other two, Billy Big Legs, AKA, Jules, came flying passed as Lincoln was further back down the road. Jules clearing of ahead, I dropped back to Lincoln, “I thought I’d just wait here and wait for you to blow up!”, in other words, sit up and slow down. I sped up again, caught Jules up and tried to drop Lincoln, unfortunately he was on my wheel, ah well!

We got to Southwold and decided to go to the chippy, but first we were heading to the Tesco for snacks and beer, the staple diet on any camping adventure. Lincoln looked after the bikes as me and Jules went in search of our midnight snacks. Just inside the door were some reduced flowers, I would tell you what they were, but I really can’t. Not because it’s a huge secret or they were illegal or something, it’s just that I honestly don’t have a clue. I just knew that Lincoln would love them as he's a Morrisey fan and he loved his gladioli's, plus Lincoln is the Monty Don of us three . I had bungee cords, cable ties and electrical insulation tape, the essential things for tying something to anything. After grabbing some beers, crisps and chocolate we headed out and gave Lincoln his gift. He was happier than an Olympian on a podium! 

Instead of my cable ties and other essentials, Lincoln opted for some bailing twine that Jules had to tie the flowers round his chest, like you do. I questioned the name bailing twine, basically it was string.

Lincoln took it upon himself to find someone to give them too, this would be fun! We headed to Mark’s chippy on the High Street, giggling and laughing like an audience at a comedy club, we got some funny looks as we queued for our food. Lincoln decided to tell the staff in the chippy what our rough plans were for the night, “Those two are staying the woods tonight, but I’m not, I’m leaving them to it!”, whatever “it “ was! I kept reminding Lincoln that he needed to give the flowers away, a potentially dodgy act of kindness that could be taken the wrong way, but one that his infectious laugh would get him out of any awkward situation.

Lincoln disappeared, he was chatting to some bloke in a VW campervan, also telling him how his mates were staying the woods tonight! He may as well got our rough plans printed on a banner, one of those ones you see trailing behind a light aircraft, and got them flying above Southwold prom numerous times! Anyways, he ended up giving the VW man the flowers to give to his wife who was in the queue at the chippy. I wonder how that explanation went on the way back to their campsite!?

With a bag full of thousands of calories over my shoulder and the smell of chips trailing behind me, we headed towards Southwold seafront, “I must look like the worst Deliveroo bloke ever!” I exclaimed. Sitting in the shadow of Southwold lighthouse, we gorged on our food, laughing at stuff that I can’t even remember. Jules opened up his panniers, it was like an off licence on wheels. 

We talked about how we could start a YouTube channel, how down with the kids are we?! We talked about the likelihood of people finding it funny? How much would have to be edited out? Who knows, perhaps one day, but not any time soon, I love the looking back and writing these blogs after, not trying to make something of the moment there and then.

We were pretty sure that the Bailey Bridge over to Walberswick was still closed due to repairs being carried out. I was tempted to ask some of the people walking by as we ate, but then realised they probably wouldn’t have a clue what we were talking about. If I asked them if Oxford Circus was on the Central Line, then I may have more luck.

Lincoln then said one of the best things of the night, “Hadn’t we better get going soon, it’s getting late!”. Me and Jules cracked up! I then reminded Lincoln that we had no rush, nothing to worry about. For some reason, Lincoln thought that we were wanting to pitch up in the light, it’s dark soon after 8pm, it was already 7pm so that definitely wasn’t going to happen. With a stupidly bright light on my bike and a heavy duty 10,000 mAh power bank, I wasn’t worried in the slightest about the dark. Lincoln then made a remark about how cold it’s going to be as its September. More laughs followed by“…………it’s not exactly January is it?!” from me.

We headed through the town, looking up I saw Simon Scott, another rider from the local cycling scene, waving and saying hi, I thought it was funny how I only see Simon when I’m in skin tight lycra and wearing a silly helmet at a time trial. And here I am today, heavy bike, panniers, baggy shorts and a shirt that I recently bought in a charity shop. We all need some kind of variety in life, I especially do in regards to cycling..

Riding along Southwold quayside on the road that no local authorities want to take responsibility for (hence the huge potholes that resemble craters), I said to Jules how cool we were riding on gravel, so trendy! Arriving at Bailey Bridge, it was covered in “closed” signs, scaffolding and metal fencing. One sign even stated that it had virtual CCTV security! We laughed at what would they do and took guesses how far the nearest police officers are and how long it would take them to get here. There were huge chunks of the floor to the bridge missing, as a result we said to Lincoln to go first as he had the lightest bike, although we all knew that it wasn’t possible at all.

We decided to head along the north sure of the river Blyth and come out at Hen Reedbeds. We rode along on the corrugated baked mud, even with the arms and legs bent, it was pretty horrendous, we were shaken more than James Bond’s Martini. We watched loads of Grey Mullet (a species of fish), swirling about in the shallows as the high tide covered the muddy shoreline. “Is this the frog route?” Lincoln asked me. I knew exactly what he meant, a few years ago we rode along here at night time and it was covered with frogs, loads of them. “Yep! Didn’t you realise?!", he’s easily lost that bloke. Along the estuary we could hear some music, it was coming from the nearby Old Hall, a café/venue type set-up. We laughed how we often stumble across these types of places. There was a bridleway that headed in the direction of the music, but we fought the urge to explore further.

We reached Hen Reedbeds and came across some bird hides, I hadn’t seen these ones before so stopped for a look. Due to vandalism, hides like these are often locked at night, but these ones surprisingly weren’t.

We reached the A1095, the Southwold/Blythburgh road. Lincoln decided to water the grass, me and Jules laughed how he jumped when a car suddenly appeared, although he was well and truly out of their sight..

We discussed the idea of stopping at The White Hart in Blythburgh for a pint but decided on heading towards Dunwich, more specifically The Ship pub.

Heading into Dunwhich Woods, Jules nearly stacked it on some gravel to which we obviously laughed at. A roe deer appeared from the roadside infront of us before jumping back into the undergrowth. Pipistrelle Bats flittered above us, some heading straight towards us, seemingly attracted by our lights, or more specifically, attracted to the insects that were attracted to our lights. I recounted a ride a few years ago where a bat literally flew into my face and I wiped it away like a spiders web getting in your personal space when you walk in a shed or garage. I used to be under the impression that bats were masters at navigating their environment due to their use of sonar, but I guess some are better than others. Like humans, we/they all have different skill sets.

We arrived at The Ship, “If only there was something heavy and sturdy to lean our bikes against!” I sarcastically said after seeing a huge anchor, resting infront of the pub. Where would we be without sarcasm? When someone says, “Look! There’s your best mate!”, we all know that it’s never your best mate, but someone who you would rather ignore than acknowledge.

The pub was pretty busy inside, couples out for their posh nosh, many peering through the windows at this trio of giggly blokes arriving on bikes. I guess we were a bit different, if we arrived in a Range Rover or a Tesla, no one would batter an eyelid.

 As Lincoln’s debit card hadn’t appeared from his jersey pocket yet, Jules told him it was his turn to “dig deep”. I’d never been in The Ship, but now I know how a Stoat feels when it runs in a rabbit warren, looking for it’s next meal. There were doors everywhere, corridors to who knows where. We eventually found the bar, got our drinks and retreated outside.

Instead of buying some overpriced, salty, flavoured slices of baked potatoes, we decided on the already purchased ones from Tesco. We sat and commentated on those that passed us, some acknowledging us and saying hi, some ignoring us and some getting to know our overnight plans from Lincoln.

It got chilly sitting there, the cheapo Asda Duffle coat/Down Jacket came out of the panniers along with the wooly hat, I was prepared for it to be chilly, but not the cold September that Lincoln expected.

Sitting there, me and Jules were just chilled. A spot that we had mentioned setting up camp at was only about a mile away. A few drinks, snacks and a quick spin up the road. Lincoln had a good 17 miles to go and he was getting worried, no idea why, he just was. I think he’s been watching too many horror films. Plus, he wasn’t the one sleeping in the middle of nowhere. The more worried he got, the more we said how we didn’t have far to go and he did.

All of a sudden Lincoln jumped and pointed to the wall behind me, it was a big Speckled Bush Cricket. I put a finger infront of it as it climbed aboard my hand. I was hoping it would jump in Lincoln’s direction so he would scream. Sadly it didn’t, it just jumped on the floor, never to be seen again.

 After a couple of hours, Lincoln headed home. We told him that we hoped that he fell off, but when he did eventually get home, make sure he gave us 3 rings, not as if we would have any signal for that to happen anyways, we’re so thoughtful! We really do care and don’t wish that bad things happen, but it’s that stupid humour that makes us tick.

After finishing the remainder of my Ale and Jules finishing his double Jameson’s (which cost me an arm and a leg or two), we started to sort the bikes out. Some people leaving the pub seemed intrigued and asked what we were upto, without Lincoln here to promote our plans with the local population, Jules shared our intentions for the night. This was met with some hesitation as I think that they thought Jules/we were joking. I guess it is a bit odd, but not to us.

We headed out of Dunwich and to the spot that I had been thinking of in the woods. It was ideal, a slight clearing between the trees. We propped the bikes up, “Just listen to that!” Jules said as we stood there looking up into the nothingness, the only thing we could hear was silence. We starting to unpack our panniers, “Don’t say I don’t give you anything” as I chucked Jules an inflatable pillow that I brought for him. Expecting him to ridicule it and tell me how he didn’t need such pleasantries as this, he actually thanked me and started to blow it up.

We claimed our slightly grassed bit of ground each and started to pitch our tents. Jules was worried that he would forget how to set his up. Before long the tents were up and everything we needed for the night was put inside and zipped up ASAP to stop any bugs getting in. It may not be the Amazon rainforest but the forest floor is covered in lots of curious,amazing creatures.

I had anticipated that it would be cold, but it was warmer than sitting outside the pub. We sat on a log, telling stories, talking about future plans for adventures/stupid stuff, eating chocolate and crisps, drinking beer and wondering how many times Lincoln had fallen off or had he been wiped out by a deer. Jules checked our group chat and he made it home okay, nothing exciting to report there then!

 Before we knew it, it was 1:30am and we decided to try and get some kind of sleep. Laying there in the silence, the only thing I could hear were the trees moving in a breeze, it was like a Mexican wave of branches and pine cones as the movement swept over us. I brought the thinner of two lightweight sleeping bags, but I didn’t even need that. Lincioln’s prediction of a cold September night was far from correct.

I couldn’t sleep as my tired mind started playing tricks, thinking about the trees possibly falling, a herd of deer rampaging through, trampling us in our tents or had we camped on top of a mine shaft? I also thought about Lincoln’s conversation about The Blair Witch Project film outside the pub earlier. Stupid, crazy things went through my head. I wasn’t worried or scared at all, I just managed these irrational thoughts, the chimp (my subconscious, irrational mind) was out to play tricks on me. Trees falling, of course it’s possible, but not likely on a still evening. The deer, well, once again, possible. The mine shaft, we aren’t in Wales or Yorkshire. Blair Witch Project, it’s a film.

I started doing my usual trick, pick a theme and go through the alphabet;   “Aberdeen,Belfast……..Colchester..........Doncaster…………………….Ellingham…………………....................Felixstowe……......................………Grimsby………………….”. The next thing I know I’m waking up a couple of hours later to the sound of a deer/muntjac/Chinese water deer (one of them anyways) calling. If you’ve never heard any of these call, they sound distressed but they generally aren’t. It’s just the tone of their call that makes it sound negative, as if something is wrong. It wasn’t close, in the silence it could have been a long way off. I could hear something moving close by, no idea what it was but I wasn’t bothered.

I soon nodded off again, waking up to the urge of the beer making a polite return. Head torch on, I unnzipped the tent, a huge flying ‘something’ whacked me in the face. I say huge, it was big for an insect. It made me jump, I then noticed a beetle scurrying around in the leaves, it was the sound I heard earlier. It proves the silence as I could hear this small beetle doing whatever it was doing for its survival. I quickly zipped the tent up in my dazed state and stayed inside, before realising I didn’t really have a choice and got out.

 I was soon back to sleep and then woke up again around 6:30am, surprised that I wasn’t woken up at first light, by this point the sun had been up for nearly 30 minutes. I heard a Woodpecker (I’m not sure which), calling in the early light, as well as a Magpie. I heard Jules move around, “Morning!!” I called. We soon got up, stretching and groaning after a few hours on the forest floor. I had used a thin inflatable roll mat in the tent but it didn’t provide much comfort, Jules is made of tough stuff and didn’t have such luxuries. 

We packed our gear up with no sign of our brief stop, apart from two areas of flatten grass. “You know there will be a family through here later saying “Look Daddy, you can see where the deer slept last night!” said Jules, his stupid humour that I love.

 The previous evening I mentioned the Two Magpies Bakery which was about 4 miles away, perfect!  We headed off at about 7:30am on a lovely warm, late summer/early autumn morning. I love this time of year, I love every time of year, positives and negatives for them all. The leaves are starting to turn, the Swifts, Swallows, House and Sand Martins are on the way back to Africa, escaping our winter. The evenings seem longer as they are darker, the washing isn’t on the line so much and the winter coats are getting excited at their imminent release out of the front door, possibly.

 September always reminds me of Scotland, I visited The Black Isle, just north of Inverness with my parents and an auntie in September 2012. Just before this, life had been pretty rubbish for many reasons that I won’t divulge, bit I felt as though I was on the crux of something special, and in hindsight, I was.

This holiday in Scotland was very special, amazing memories from a beautiful, mesmerising country. In contrast to the long days travelling and exploring the country, one night I went to see a band called Sucioperro at The Inronworks in Inverness, the only gig that I’ve been to on my own. Late that evening/early the next morning, I was walking back to where we were staying, I had to cross the Kessock Bridge. I had ear phones in, listening to the amazing Australian band, The Jezabels. With the Beauly Firth flowing beneath me, I listened on repeat to their song, entitled Deep Wide Ocean. I’m listening to that song now while typing and I’m back there, I’m on that bridge in my mind, it just shows the power of music to take you back to a time in your life. In hindsight, standing there in the middle of the night just looking into the immense void infront of me from the footpath of a 45 metre high bridge, probably wasn’t the best thing to do for any possibly concerned drivers on the A9 behind me, fearing for my safety. Life may have been difficult around this time, but not that difficult. I felt completely the opposite of what anyone may have thought, life was good after a time of life being, shall we say, not so good.  

Before this holiday I looked into bike hire while I was up there as it wasn’t possible to take one up there. The prices of hiring seemed a lot to me. Instead of hiring I was the highest bidder on a bike on Ebay. the bike was near Inverness. It was a Schwinn MTB with slick tyres, ideal! It was about £50 and I picked it up while I was up there. The best ride was around 30 miles down the east shore of Loch Ness early on a Sunday morning. I rode the bike quite a bit over the holiday and became quite attached to it. I had planned to donate it to a charity shop before the return home as I hadn’t lost anything when I compare the price of the bike to the price of hiring. Instead of donating the bike, I decided to take it to bits and bring it home. The frame went behind the rear seats, I put components in every spare bit of space available in the car and built it up again when I got home. I sold the bike a few years later but I still have the tyres. is it possible to feel sentimental over some circular pieces of rubber? Yes.

 

Back to Suffolk in 2021……………….“Jeez! Look at all those Starlings. Do they have to be flying to be a murmuration?!” I asked Jules about the hundreds of Starlings, resting on a power line, momentarily forgetting that I was the Bill Oddie of our group. Underneath the Starlings was a field, one of many which are home to many pigs. We stopped and watched them, commentating on their behaviour, making up things that they were saying to each other, wondering how they had learnt to suckle from the metal valves on the water bowser, laughing how the contrasting mud on their pale skin made them look like they were wearing boots after they had waded through their semi-flooded field. Two of them started scrapping near the electric fence, one of them squealed in discomfort with a shock to its bum. We were quite mesmerized by them, very intelligent and inquisitive animals, all destined for an inevitable future. But in the meantime, they seemed well looked after, happy to come near us as we stoop on a well-trodden bit of land that would normally be host to their owners. 

We carried on through country lanes, we passed a man with his young daughter on her bike. The daughter was wobbling along, I’m guessing soon after finding the new found freedom of a stabiliser free world in the palms of her hands, with a basket on the front of her bike, possibly for some blackberries.

We were soon at the bakery and made our way into an array of freshly baked goodies. I love Greggs, but this was great for a change. 

A man in front of us ordered his range of scrumptious food. His 2 small bags of stuff  didn’t look like it equated to his £32 pound bill he received. I ordered  some kind of  Moroccan inspired veggie pasty, a raspberry muffin and a cappuccino. We stood and waited for our orders as Tom Odell’s 2012 hit Another Love song played on the speakers. I talked about my love for the song, once again I’m transported back to a time in my life, a time filled with excitement, worry, fear and joy. In hindsight, I could now stand there and smile. 

 We sat outside eating and drinking, chatting with another bloke with a bike kitted out with panniers. Me and Jules discussed the ride back, a quick look at Google maps and we decided on a route. We headed through Bramfield and into Wheneston where Jules said exactly what I thinking, “It’s just beautiful isn’t it?  We could be anywhere and we’re just down the road”. Spot on, you don’t need to be far away to have an excellent time. I said about stopping at my favourite bench, a bench that I near enough always stop at, I find it hard to pass it. No idea why, nothing exactly special has ever happened here, not for me anyways. It’s just in a beautifully random place. 

We stopped and chatted and ate some more grub, carried on then stopped again at an honesty box near Sotterley. The two choices were beetroot or sunflowers. We opted for the sunflowers, unfortunately Lincoln was going to miss out on these as they were for my wife. Onto our panniers racks they went, shaking along the country roads. “I wonder what they thought of our sunflowers” I mentioned as we passed a couple on their bikes. 

Onto Sotterley and into the back end of Ellough and I found myself riding off the road, through a bit of no man’s land to a pillbox with Jules following me. I have stopped here a few times before and passed it hundreds of times. It looked very inviting and we didn’t need much, actually, no excuse for us to stop and explore again. After a bit of research, I’ve found out that it’s a type 22 pillbox. More information here (click here) . The Suffolk Heritage interactive map is a great way to find out about local history.

We chatted about what the soldiers may have thought  then and wondered if they would have thought that these would have been standing all these later. My dislike of litter was being tested here as there was quite a bit of rubbish in the pillbox, but I had no means to clear it, I’ll return at a later date to do that. To me, it’s complete disrespect to the people who fought in World War II.

 

We carried on for the last few miles home through Mutford. Doing the maths, I realised if I went straight home then it would just be under 50 miles for the circular route from leaving home the day before. Although this wasn’t about numbers, I said to Jules how I may just have to round it up.

We stopped in Oulton Broad, told each other how much we enjoyed it again and said our goodbyes. I took a longer way round and just ticked over 50 miles by the time I got home.

I'm currently reading Mark Beaumont's book, The Man Who Cycled the Americas. A fantastic story of his journey from Alaska to Argentina, a 15,000 mile epic journey. Writing the introduction to this blog in my head, I wasn't sure that we had done enough for me to write about, but we did. Adventure doesn't have to be far away or for days, weeks or months on end to be fun and memorable. 

A huge pizza doesn't taste better than a smaller one. It depends on the quality of the ingredients, how it was made and who made it. It's the same for riding a bike. A long ride doesn't make it good, a shorter ride can be more fun. It depends what you do in that ride, who you are with, where you go and what you see, hear and feel. 

But what a great night, full of laughs, stupidity, randomness, nature and fun. We didn’t go far, didn’t spend much and the gear we used was cheap stuff. I could have been on an expensive bike, using the top notch stuff and I would have had the same experience. 

On a final, material note, Derek/Ricky puts it all into perspective in a very brilliant way…………