BOTTOM LEFT TO RIGHT
LANDS END TO N.FORELAND POINT

The black clouds are gathering as the road continues upwards

Armageddon arrived as I reached the hill alongside the TV mast just short of Princtown

Once the initial summit was crested the vista of rolling mooreland, heather and deep wooded valleys stretched out everywhere . Sadly if someone had said
"Look behind you!"
I would have seen that Armageddon was about to arrive. It did so 5 mins later as a black swirling mass swallowed up the TV mast that I had just reached and the wind roared.

As the first hailstones bounced off the road a lesson learnt following a cloudburst last year was applied when the top bag had leaked badly and nearly drowned the electronic stuff. A high tech solution for this year - a Tesco bag fits snugly over the top bag. Not exactly class, and I accept you don't often see Lance Armstrong with a Tesco bag attached to the back of his bike, but it demonstrated another form of re-cycling. Hadn't even got the rain jacket velcro'd up when the serious hail started. In less than 5 mins feet were soaking and began to lose feeling in fingers in near gale force wind.

Princetown looks dour at the best of times, but in driving rain and hail its a real wow. Wasn't planning to stop in case hypothermia set in, but the rain was so intense even the cyclocomputer stopped working - and HAD to stop to try and fix it (as can't cycle without real-time data - what's the point?).

It worked intermittently in inverse proportion to the deluge rate as I headed to, and beyond,Two Bridges, when rain finally relented and a further photo opportunity presented itself.

Dartmoor looked bleak and foreboding. The occasional bus or 4WD splashed past with a trail of oily spray that quickly built up a black film on the legs (not the same oil that a certain Welsh rugby centre applies to hiis legs, apparently).

The descents were slow due to terrorist suicide sheep wandering across the road at absolutely the last moment. The climbs were even slower with a gusty side-wind blowing the bike across the road.

A tranquil spot just beyond Two Bridges that belied the storm of 10 minutes previously

As crested the highest point with north and east Devon in panorama below, the skies lightened and the decision was taken to lainch the "flying washing line" for the first time. Shirt and smalls were strapped on top of the panniers by means of bungey rope in belief that the gusty wind and intermittent sunshine represented excellent drying conditions.

Once again practicalities overcame street cred (and even shame) as hurtled downwards off the moor into the idyllic (but still lumpy) lanes of east Devon, with the wasing billowing behind.

Long descent down wooded valley to Dumford was the highlight, with Devon's rolling hills imposing on the delightful little village with its wooded walks, buzzards, deer and fawna (or so the walking guide said).

On the road to Exeter having descended from Dartmoor

Arrived in Exeter at 1215. Whilst in queue at traffic lights noted lady in car adjacent to me nudging husband and pointing to my washing. Expected haranging for publicly displaying cycling underwear contrary to local byelaw 687, but it never came. Parked bike in cathedral grounds with washing still proudly on display, whilst devouring brie and tomatoe baguette. Got v.chilly in blustery wind, especially when fast-moving clouds hid the sun.

Set off for Honiton and took unplanned diversion to Ottery St. Mary entailing another mile-long descent which assumed would be paid back in kind 10 mins later. Grateful it wasn't.

Reached Honiton, crawled through town choked with traffic, hat blew off with strong gust, followed by brutal climb up onto A35 afterwards. Spent considerable (and not very pleasant) time on this road which was diesel heaven. Heavy traffic queued impatiently behind me waiting to get past on single carriageway, followed by long, long mind-numbing climbs on dual carriageway with lorries trying to run you off the road.

Exeter Cathedral - venue for a windswept and chilly lunch

Eventually arrived at Axminster - only town in England without a tea-shop - the chocolate cake dream that had got me up the hills evaporated. Left promptly, then received call from Alison advising that all B&B's along the south coast were either fully booked or charging rates that even Prince Charles would have baulked at.

More ghastly A35 stuff up 2 long hills before eventually jumping off along ridge for superb flattish traffic-free run under dappled evening sunshine. Eventually descended the ridge down narrow country lane with brakes smoking, only to submit self to one last unscheduled horrible hill when thoughts had already tuurned to beer. Finally reached A35 yet again, only 1.5 miles to go, but sadly all uphill back towards ridge and into wind. Nearly got there when had chain-off event.

All dark thoughts laid to rest when B&B turned out to be 16th c thatched building with built in storeroom for bike. Owner greeted me with glass of lager and we sat int he evening sunshine discussing the history of the house and local cycling routes.

Pub only 50yds away too....

B&B - even older than my bike

Next Page: Day 3