After changing our direction once again, we pushed away from the hotel just before nine, passing many more churches that “someone” has mentioned “someone” should stop taking pictures of….they do all look the same.  Though we traveled on a “B” road, it was quite busy for about 15 miles.  Breakfast was not included with our room, so we dropped in to a small village for a coffee and breakfast sandwich.  North Walsham is a charming village, like so many we have been traveling through. 

Once out of town, we wound around on “quite lanes” laced with beautiful poppies.Except for the occasional tractor and other riders,it was truly quiet.  Enjoyed fresh picked raspberries at a stand along the road; then got our first glance of the North Sea.  Immediately, we notice the difference in building material used; we know it as River Rock, but imagine this came from the sea.  Rode past a stunning golf course right on the sea and the Cromer Country Club; this is obviously an affluent town.  Cromer is also a tourist town, but they all seem to come in on buses; so while people are everywhere, the streets are not packed with cars.  We turned down a narrow road to lead us to the sea which was quite a way down from our vantage point.We declined the steps down to the concrete pier and restaurant.Today was a short day and we could not check in until two, so we found a nice pub with a beautiful garden and enjoyed the rest.  Five miles down the road we pulled into our wonderful B & B;unexpectedly fabulous.We had only done 33 miles, but were having camera/computer issues that needed to be worked out.  This little town, though still on the sea, had a much more local flavor; which we tasted with a crab sandwich, no filler just crab meat on bread…..Wonderful.  Of course, that little morsel only made us more hungry; which we managed to quench with one of our new favorite meals, sausage and mash.The evening air had warmed, perfect time for ice cream, locally made and delicious.On our stroll back to our B & B, we enjoyed a great chat with Jeff.  Standing in the middle of the road, as the cars worked their way around us, we told stories and laughed out loud.  A perfect ending to our day.

Our room last night was exceeded only by the breakfast they offered in the morning.  Beside an incredible offering of fruit, they served a full English breakfast; thankfully, we asked for the reduced version….even Morgan can gain weight eating like this.After that size breakfast, we should have no excuses for not flying through a long ride.  No excuse until we step outside to wonderfully warm air and a stiff wind, in our face.  But we could hardly complain as it was a beautiful morning.Our rolling hills became a bit more aggressive,but the scenery remained stellar.Several miles down the road, we were waved to a stop by two individual motorists; apparently our laundry hanging from our bikes to dry was running astray…..too kind.  Even with the monster wind, we were enjoying the interesting sites, including a windmill or two.Just off the coast, too far to photograph but easily close enough to ruin the sea vista, was a huge windfarm.  As one Brit told us, “They don’t work when the wind blows and they are useless otherwise!”

The villages and hamlets were charming; the churches abundant.

Stopped for a mid-day cappuccino among lilacs and cooing ring neck doves that we’ve seen everywhere.  Since we had just had coffee, we did not stop at The Duck Inn, but did stop for the ducks.Passed a construction college, that was originally built as barracks for the RAF.

Running low on energy, we stopped for a sandwich and the ever ready conversation.Though the lunch served to help, we were ready to get there.  Our navigator gets an A+ today for keeping us off the busy road for our last eight miles into town.  Instead we enjoyed peaceful paths,meant strictly for bikesand country laneswith many walking paths.Our last stretch into town directed us through an immense park, filled with kids just getting out of school; uniforms directly from a Harry Potter movie.  A quick turn onto a market streetand then our hotel.We were beat after our 51 mile ride into the wind……we needed a plate (or three) of pasta; our first since arriving.

A (must eat crow) note to my father, who for years has insisted we ride the UK; my main objection was the poor food that England had a (terribly misplaced) reputation for.  Not only are we not starving, we are enjoying the food immensely….Thank You for your persistence. 

We hope our British friends are not offended, as we are enjoying your wonderful country, but we would like to wish our fellow Americans a Happy Independence Day, USA.

It was a warm morning with a brutal wind, 20+ with 30 mph gusts.  The ferry we needed to catch was only two blocks from our hotel,but the 19 Foot tide was out and there was not ramp down for our bikes.  We headed out of town directly into the wind for four miles to reach the bridge that would lead us over the canal. For 26 miles we faced the wind on busy roads; no small hamlets, villages or pretty countryside.  Each town blended into the next,  Homes showcased flowers and families walked their children to school; these twins were particularly adorable.We had another bridge to cross and the only way to get there was on a very busy highway with NO shoulder; we pedaled hard (18 mph-tough for our 60 pound loaded bikes and Tired legs) for five miles.  Just as soon as we crossed the River Welland, we dropped onto a very welcome country road; quiet was restored.Once again we could hear the birds sing, enjoy the countryside and with a turn in the road, the bruising wind reached our backs.

We reached Boston by one o’clock.  In search of a Sam Adams Lager, a bite to eat and some free Wi-Fi we headed to town centre.  Passing the impressive Church of St. Botolphwe found a corner pub.

Unfortunately, the darling pub satisfied only fish & chips of three requirements.  With our earlier start this morning, our plan was to check out a place to stay further down the road once we reached Boston.  However, after spending over two fruitless hours on the internet looking for a place 10-30 miles away, we decided to bunk here for the night; which took us another hour to find.  We checked into one of the last two rooms available in the entire town.  Little did we know, we would spend another three hours plus, looking for a place to stay for tomorrow night.  We think we’ve found something, unfortunately, not toward Lincoln (that we wanted to see), but there are NO choices.  Exhausted from our searching, we stopped to have dinner at 7:00.  Though we only rode 43 miles today, the endless searches on the internet wore us out. It should not be this difficult to find a place to stay and August is supposed to be busier. Hopefully, a good night’s rest will restore the spirit.

p,s.  For the record, we would much prefer an extra 10 to 20 miles, rather than spend hours looking for a blasted (English slate) hotel.

It was raining as expected, when we awoke this morning, so we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast waiting for the predicted stop.  As soon as we saw the break, we went for it, trying to ignore the dark clouds behind us,
but prepared for them, nonetheless.  The wind was still blowing, but not the gusts of yesterday and it was slightly off our shoulder; so it was not a hinderance, but an occasional assist.   A last minute change on our course took us along a scenic canal. We had only gone a half mile before the downpour reached us.  It was a soaker, but soon tapered to a shower/drizzle.  It was a perfect day for riding, not too hot, not too cold and the scenery serene, if not spectacular.

Notables of this country:  All the homes here have names and all the villages have a Church Street.  There is a strict code/law to the roads; Everyone stops at a stop light/sign.  If you dare to cross a road (whether by foot or bike) without a green, the cars have no obligation to stop or slow to allow your completion.  Though the drivers don’t seem keen on turn signals, they are Very considerate of bicycles, even on very busy roads.

Our entire ride was in the country, passing interesting (antique) shops, homes displaying colorful flowers and an occasional hamlet large enough to warrant signageand one very old (1220) Bolingbroke Castle, birthplace of a King.

About mid-day the sky began to clear and the flat countryside we had enjoyed for days began to roll.We are sure some of our new found British bike friends will laugh, but these “hills” were tough; the grades brutal.A quick stop on a park bench for a much needed orange, as the villages were not large enough to support a sandwich shop, and then a push to town. It was a short ride today (37 miles), as it was the only choice (that included a roof and hot shower) we had within a 100 mile radius.  But the town was worth the stop, quaint streets, pretty markets and the Church of St. James.A great day and a good pick-me-up from yesterday!

London to Louth, England

8 days in the first week

366 Miles

4 Days with Rain

Breakfast is late on the weekends at most inns, so we did not leave until just before ten.  Perfect for the weather prediction: “spitting until ten, then cloudy and clearing in the afternoon.”  It was dry as a bone when we left so we thought we had dodged this one, but that quickly changed.  First we had spitting, then showers, rain then pouring and back again.  Somewhere in the progression, we donned raincoats, too late for our rain taps, but it was still in the 60’s and we were generating a lot of heat.  Our country roads were rather nondescript and only an occasional church made it interesting.Around noon we stopped for a cappuccino and some sweet; not sure if it was good or bad, we hand ordered before we saw this window of sweets. Somewhere during our navigation out of this large and highly industrial town the rain ceased, but the skies remained very grey…..we were not in the clear yet (pardon the pun).We kept the industrial filled riverbank to our right and pushed on through the fields overtaken by huge power lines.  The occasional town offered a few flowers,  and churches but for the most part it was a rather boring ride.  Our goal was the bridge over the River Humber; thinking it was bridge to a bed, but it was stunning……Yorkshire’s impressive answer to the Golden Gate Bridge.  The impressive goal is a really good thing, as it took us ten miles to reach it once we had our first glimpse.   it inspired the tired legs pushing into the wind for the last few miles.  The foot path on the bridge is wide, but well used by bikes and pedestrians.Of course, the view from the top is stunning and you could feel the movement as the cars sped past.  It was late once we crossed the bridge, so we stopped for a quick internet search for a hotel.  We had seen a spot right on the river as we’d crossed the bridge,, but could not imagine it would work (too good to be true).  But it was better than that!  Not only did they have a room for us, they had a restaurant that served an incredible fare; of which we picked the best…….Pasta, Steak & Ale Pie (OMG) with a side salad.We dined as a thunder storm raged outside; hopefully getting the rain over with.  After 54 miles, feet finally warm and dry and our tummies full, we were happy.

A crisp 52° and the wind blowing off the river quickly chilled us as we loaded our bikes, just after 7:30 this morning.  We donned our jackets and headed off on our dirt path squeezed in between the railroad tracks and river.Last evening’s downpour had packed the dirt, so puddles were minimal.Just as we emerged onto the the pavement we met Brian, who helped with directions and informed us that the park we had just come  through was originally a brickyard.  We wound our way through the pretty town, paying particular notice to the bricks on the homes.  Not sure how we found it, but managed to climb the only hill around; great vista

but not so good on the legs.  At nine as we came to the edge of a small town, we decided to pop in for breakfast.  The trek to the restaurant was a mile longer than the two block promised and service not the quickest.  A half hour down the road, as we stood at a crossroads, where “almost 80” year old George stopped his car to offer help.  Once our direction was established, the boys chatted for a couple of days (or so it seemed).  So by eleven, over three hours into our ride, we had barely gone 15 miles. But the villages boasted beautiful homes and the countryside was grand. At noon, twenty five miles under our belt, we pulled into a gas station for re-fueling as there would be no place before our destination.  Five minutes was all the break we allowed ourselves as the clouds we had watched build all morning, were beginning to look very threatening.  With a slight turn in direction, we were finally aided by the wind.  The afternoon ride proved as beautiful as the morning half.  We passed fields, farms and a movie crew.   This however, is a favorite; we often pass young foals playing in the fields, but rarely are we quick enough to get a shot.  Though mom was very protective, her babe was curious.  

There was no doubt we were approaching York;  Tour De France yellow bicycles were everywhere.  We even had our own dedicated bike (and bus) lane for most of our ride into the city.  A quick stop at the gates of the old Roman city and then check-in.  We had totally dodged the rain today, though many of the roads we rode were still wet from the showers.  We were anxious to see the city before the rain hit. York is a walled city at the confluence of the River Ouse and River Foss, established by the Romans in 71 A.D.  History

and bicycles were everywhere.But unquestionably most impressive is the Minster Cathedral.  First built of wood in 627 A.D., it has gone through fires, emperors and kings conquests, rebuildings and expansions. Unfortunately it is impossible to step far enough away to get the entire building in the camera lens.

Everyone was enjoying the afternoon and sunny skies.But the day had grown long (sun sets about 10:30) and after 50 miles we were tired and hungry.  A stroll back to our hotel along the river, dinner and bed.