I think I finally have the bike of my dreams...a Stanforth

[Apologies for the change in font size. I don't know why it's happened and can't seem to correct it.]

In my search for a bike that would take me on something akin to the sort of cycling adventures I had begun to read about in 2014 by authors such as Josie Dew, Anne Mustoe and others, two years later in 2016 I bought an Oxford Bike Works steel step-through tourer - which I did not keep, for reasons which you can read about here. Then, as a replacement, I bought a Koga aluminium mixte tourer here in 2017. I had come across Koga bikes through my blogging friend Brenda, who, along with her husband, rides Kogas. It wasn't that easy, at the time, to find any other step-through or mixte style tourers. So I compromised on the steel and bought a Koga. I changed the handlebars, the saddle, the pedals, and the seatpost (because some washers broke on the original and I couldn't get replacements) and although it took a while to get comfortable on it, I finally did, and had some good day and multi-day tours on it. 

However..... I always felt a sense of disappointment that I had never got that beautiful steel bicycle that I had hoped for, and when, a couple of years ago, I came across Stanforth Bikes, who sell custom steel tourers of various descriptions, I  was instantly smitten. I started following them on Facebook, thinking - 

"I know I'm being silly, but maybe, one day..."

Then earlier this year Husband took severance pay and slightly early retirement from his job, and when he mentioned he was thinking of getting a new paragliding wing, I of course leapt at my opportunity! I don't think we're the only couple where a bit of negotiation sometimes goes on in the form of - 

"Well if you're having a new such and such then can I have a new such and such ?" 

 Anyway, I cautiously mentioned that I'd been thinking about getting a new bike, and was pleased to find that he didn't dismiss my idea outright! In fact, surprisingly soon after that he agreed that we could go down to Hove, where Stanforth Bikes are, and get me measured up for one. And, even better, he was soon surprised with a new bike himself, in the form of a retirement present from Eldest Son! Youngest Son had brought it in his van, and when his 3 year old daughter said -

"Daddy's got a bike in his van" 

- we didn't take much notice, though we had wondered why he had come in his van and not his car. But there really was a bike in there, and not his either! It was a brand new one in a box. Husband was gobsmacked!! And our lovely children also bought him a new tool (a multi tool of some sort) and a voucher with which he bought himself a new Garmin.

I admit to then feeling not nearly so bad at the thought of getting a new bike myself!

So at the end of May we went down to Hove, and I was measured up for a custom built Skyelander by Simon Stanforth. I chose the colour and various other bits and pieces and Simon emailed me a day or two later with the geometry of the bike. I was quite surprised at the measurements - it seemed smaller than my other two bikes - and I emailed him with my thoughts, to which he replied in detail, putting my mind - more or less! - at rest. I have to admit I was still rather nervous - would this bike really fit me as well as I'd hoped? Would I like it better than my Koga? Was I being stupid buying this new bike at my age?! Anyway, I sat back and waited.

It was actually ready in about 10 weeks or so - less than the advertised lead time of 12 weeks. I was so excited about getting it, and pleased that Eldest Son, a keen cyclist, as is his wife, would get to see it when they came to visit later that month. But I was also very nervous, for the aforementioned reasons. We drove down to Hove again - and there it was, and there I test-rode it, and then we brought it home.

After bringing it home, we had one or two queries, and emailed Simon, who could not have been more helpful and generous in his replies.

And my verdict?

I have now ridden it several times, yesterday's ride being the longest, up to the Ridgeway, at about 27 miles, and I can honestly say that it is all I hoped it would be, including being very beautiful!! I was almost disappointed to reach home yesterday, wishing I could go further! It is much easier on hills - the gearing is the same as the Koga, so it must be the weight (it's lighter) and the geometry that make the difference. Eldest Son and Wife both had a go on it when they were here, and were very complimentary about it. I feel as if I've waited since 2016 for this bike, but it's been worth it! 

Here it is - 

And here it is, up on the Ridgeway (Harwell in the distance) -

And now I go in the garage and think -

"What a beautiful bicycle!!!"

(And by the way, Husband got his new wing...)

A little bit of wild camping in the Windrush Valley, Day 2

Day 2: Thursday, 31st July, Sherborn to home

ROUTE: Sherborn, Aldsworth, Coln-St-Aldwyns, Fairford, Highworth, Watchfield. Longcot, Uffington, home.

WEATHER: Hot again.

WEARING: Same as yesterday (almost, I'm not that unhygienic...)

COMMENTS: I didn't sleep well, but I never do on the first night in any bed anywhere so it wasn't surprising. Also, I have two sleeping mats; one I bought specifically to fit in my Alpkit bivvi bag (only used in the garden so far and I do find it rather claustrophobic...anyone want to buy it?) and it isn't as comfortable as my Mountain Equipment one, but I had decided not to bring the latter as I was struggling to find space for everything and something had to give. (Incidentally, I was so glad I modified my Carradice Carradura panniers, as they would have driven me mad if I hadn't. Read about that here.) It was also a little breezy and as I had the door open and the inner flap unzipped a bit, because of the heat, I heard every breath of wind, and although I love hearing the sounds outside at night - we always sleep with the curtains drawn back and the window open all year round -  the slight flapping of the tent was an unfamiliar sound. Unusually, I didn't hear any animal sounds, which surprised me. No deer or foxes. I did catch a glimpse of a large bird as it swooped past. An owl perhaps.

Unfortunately, I kept thinking about how much water I had, too. I was slightly limiting my intake so as to have enough left for the morning. At least I now know how much I need for one night. After a while I heard the pitter patter of gentle rain, which stopped and started two or three times. About 5 o'clock in the morning I got up and covered my leather saddle, which I should have done before retiring for the night but I really didn't think it would rain before the next day. My plan was to go to Sherborn shop when it opened, as they did food and drink, and as it didn't open till 9 am and wasn't far away it was a bit early to start packing up yet. Although this is only my second ever time of camping, I know that when I get up I'm not the type to get the stove out and make breakfast, or even just a hot drink, before setting off. I just want to pack up and get going. I ate the second apple and some nuts and raisins, and  used nearly all of my water for drinking and the minimum of washing!

So at 5.40 I donned my waterproof and packed up the tent as quickly as I could, but not without getting it wet inside. Because of this I decided I would not camp another night - I didn't fancy putting up a wet tent - and slightly changed my route home to cut what would have been two days' journey down to one. How do seasoned bike tourers camp several nights in a row, when there is rain day and night, without this happening???!!! I'm sure there is a knack to packing up your tent without getting it wet inside. I know Josie Dew has written about hanging up her tent to dry in a hotel in the middle of touring.  Susanna Thornton wildcamped for six nights on a very wet journey in Ireland here.

As I said in the previous episode, I had intended camping down near the river, and I decided to go that way to the road. I set off about 7.15, and went down the bridleway to the river. I definitely made the right choice in camping where I did. 

The sun coming through after the rain

The path would have been fine for a mountain bike, but I didn't want to chance it on my bike, and I was quite happy to hike and bike and take it slowly on what was now a dry and sunny morning. I reached the road about an hour and a half later. 

An old mill near the bridleway

Part of the bridleway

Dry and sunny it might have been but the grass was very wet and my feet were absolutely soaked through. I just carried on walking feeling them squelching....I passed these amazing old farm buildings on the way -  

Never seen pillars holding up a farm building like this before.

I got to Sherborn just after the shop opened. I had thought it was actually a cafe and not just take away food and drinks, so was disappointed that I wouldn't be able to have a cooked breakfast again. However, if you're ever passing that way, they do lovely sandwiches, very reasonably priced cakes and good coffee. I sat in the garden at the front of the shop, with my wet shoes on a chair in the sun, and my bare feet drying. I rang my socks out..... A man came and sat  a little way behind me, smoking a cigarette, which I could smell. I wouldn't have minded had it been the nice smell of a cigar, or a pipe....a rare thing to smell these days. My dad smoked both the occasional cigar, and a pipe, as well as cigarettes, until he gave up smoking completely, at the age of 51, but I still remember the pleasant smell of the cigars and pipe, and the smell of tobacco from old empty tobacco tins. I forgot to take a photo of the lovely garden and shop, but it really does look much the same as when Mollie Harris visited it -

I put dry socks on, and even though my shoes were still very wet, they did eventually dry off during the day. The lady in the shop kindly filled my bottles with nice cool water from a jug, which she brought out from the kitchen. They won't take water bottles into the kitchen to fill them, a rule I have encountered before but not for a long time. All to do with the thought of "germs" I suspect.  I tried to speak to Husband on the phone, but he couldn't hear me - we'd had this trouble in the past but had tested out the phone before I left and it seemed OK. Is it my phone? It is an ancient Nokia 2330, which I think I bought in about 2009, and apart from this problem works perfectly well, so I hope I don't have to replace it. I don't use it much, and it works fine for messaging, which sufficed for now. 

It was already hot again, and there wasn't a lot of shade on my way to the village of Aldsworth, to the south. On my way, in the middle of nowhere, I passed the Grandstand at Lodge Park (National Trust) - 

All to do with the "kingly sport" of deer coursing apparently. And the gardens were designed by one Charles Bridgeman, who later became a Royal Gardener. It sounds quite an interesting place to visit.

I reached Aldsworth and went on my usual hunt for water at the church, but there was no tap. (I still maintain that most churches do have one!) I still had enough but it's always good to top up, or completely replenish supplies with cold water rather than have to drink what quickly becomes warm in this heat. I knew there was hope at Coln-St-Aldwyns though, as I have previously visited there on a day trip. The village shop is also a cafe, with a garden. I bought a pot of natural yogurt there; I make yogurt at home and Husband and I have it usually twice daily, and I was missing it. They filled a water bottle for me (no rule about not taking bottles into the cafe here!). There is a tiny green triangle where the four roads meet, which provided lovely shade and a place to sit and eat my yogurt. Some ladies were sat there drawing, and I listened in on their conversation -

"I'm 58 now you know." (Hmmm, yes, she does look considerably younger than me.)

"I'm 80 next week." (Hmmm, yes she does look older than me! Still in good nick though!

I didn't catch the third lady's age.

I was feeling now as if I was just cycling to get home. Pouring water over myself to keep cool was a frequent occurrence. If I had been able to take the route I'd originally planned for my second day, I think it would have been more interesting. As it was, I soon got to RAF Fairford, which I find rather a mysterious place, as indeed are all MOD places, with their security fences, "keep out" signs, and strange buildings. What are all those bunkers for? What have they got in them? 

Bunker in the distance

The Royal International Air Tattoo takes place there every year (why is it called a "tattoo"?!) - I've never been but Husband took our eldest two children years ago. We always know when it's on because we see some of the planes from where we live. Occasionally we get our own private Red Arrows display. As I passed this time, I heard the low growl of some monster of a plane, and watched it rise up and disappear. 

The phone problem was going to rear its ugly head soon. I passed round Whelford and came to Kempsford, where - success! - a tap at the church. I filled my bottles, washed my face and went inside to look round and generally have a rest. It started to drizzle a little, having been thundering on and off for quite a while. I'd had about 4 messages come through from Husband all at once, and when I didn't answer all his questions, such as this one -

"Have you got enough water?" "(Er, yes, and what are you going to do if I haven't?!!")

I got this -

"Answer my questions!" Bossy!

So I did, more or less....

Earlier in the day he had asked where I was, as he had thought of cycling out to meet me. When he said no more about it, I did think -

"What's happened to that idea then?!!" 

I found out later that, weather fanatic that he is (because he is a paraglider and is constantly looking at weather websites) he had been watching the rain around where I was and wasn't going to risk cycling in the torrential rain that he could see there!! As I said, it had drizzled briefly earlier, but I was apparently on the very edge of that storm! So I cycled gaily on, unaware of this....

I got to a road closure near Hannington Wick (in Wiltshire now) but carried on anyway, as cyclists can usually get through these things, and indeed I saw three coming the other way, so knew I'd be OK. Once again I think I did quite well, managing to get up the hill into Highworth. Then to the Co-op for some refreshments - some ham and a pint of milk. I sat in the sun merrily eating and drinking and thinking -

"Not far to go now."

Little did I know what was coming....

I crossed the A420 to the village of Watchfield, where the military has a "strong presence" as the village website says, next door to Shrivenham, home to the Defence Academy of the UK. More security fencing.... Then on to Longcot, and straight on towards Uffington (one time home of Sir John Betjeman). However.......... after I had crossed over the junction, it started to rain. Let me say that again - IT STARTED TO RAIN. Not drizzle this time. In fact - the heavens opened, to put it mildly,  and I had to quickly get my waterproof pannier covers on, draping my waterproof jacket over the saddle to protect it while I did so, then put the jacket on, and cycled off. I got about a mile down the road and then attempted to shelter under some trees by a house, but it was no shelter at all. The rain, almost hail, was bouncing off the road, and pouring down through the trees. Visibility was terrible. I was soaked. And that's when I remembered chucking water over myself to keep cool....I was certainly cool now. 

I decided that I couldn't safely go on. Even if the rain stopped and I did get started again I had another 5 miles to go in my drenched condition, and although I didn't feel it at that moment, I was getting colder. I knew Husband would be concerned about me too, so I decided to make the Call of Shame that cyclists talk about. Never had to do it before! I just about managed to text Husband and then I looked at the house and knew I'd have to seek shelter, so I left my bike on the verge and went and knocked at the door; a girl answered, who I found out later was about 17, and I asked politely if I might shelter. She kindly let me in (I disturbed her watching the Olympics) and I explained the situation. She lent me her phone to ring Husband, and thankfully he did answer, even though he doesn't normally answer unrecognized numbers. He had thought it might be me. In my text I had just about managed to type the name of the house I was standing outside, and after some googling he had found the location. I stood dripping on the doormat while chatting to Heidi, my shelterer, as I awaited the arrival of Husband. When he came, he told me that there had been no rain at all where we lived, i.e. 5 miles away! 

I thought we'd probably have to ask to leave my bike at the house, but no -

"You put your panniers in the car and drive home and I'll ride your bike home." !!! By then, it had stopped raining just about, but even so, I wasn't expecting him to say that!  My bike doesn't exactly fit him....

So, I drove the last 5 miles home, with the heating on as I was beginning to shiver. I passed a rather familiar looking cyclist on a bike and did think he looked rather funny on it....... 

Home to a hot shower! Unpacking later, I found that everything in my panniers had got wet - so much for the waterproof covers! I normally put the contents of my panniers inside plastic bags, but for some reason this time I hadn't. Another lesson learnt. Kind Husband hung the tent out on the washing line to dry.

What an end to my first wild camping trip! Will I do it again? Oh yes - I loved it!

A few days later, Husband and I had a walk over Widford and Swinbrook way - it seems so odd getting somewhere so quickly and easily by car that by bike takes so much more time and effort! That's how I know that the pub at Swinbrook gets busy at weekends, with cars parked everywhere. We also went to the Three Horseshoes pub at Asthall, but won't go again. We stood waiting at the bar waiting to be served (we just wanted coffee) and four members of staff ignored us completely. I nearly walked out.... What a contrast to the helpful and smiling staff at The Fox at Great Barrington, where I only wanted water!

Miles: another 29.

A little bit of wild camping in the Windrush Valley, Day 1

 It must have been back in 2014 when I started reading books about touring by bicycle. I have done several multi-day trips since then, staying in B and Bs, but I have always dreamed of cycling and camping. Over the last few years I have been collecting equipment, and this year finally bought a tent, and a camping quilt. I had some trial runs in the garden, trying to get the warmth and the comfort sorted out, and then when the forecast looked good last week, there really was no reason to put it off any longer!! It took me two days to plan where I was going and get everything together, fitting it in with  my usual household and wifely tasks. I seem to remember that Josie Dew, one of my cycling heros, when she was going off on one of her long trips, at the last minute thought she'd better wash the kitchen floor before leaving. I'm a bit like that....

I decided to head for the Windrush Valley, which I have cycled through before, and fancied revisiting, and it's not too far away. I was also partly inspired by a book I've been reading by Mollie Harris, who played the character of Martha Woodford in The Archers on Radio 4 years ago. I used to be a regular listener, as my parents were before me, but no longer am since I realized it was a bit of a vehicle for BBC propaganda. In fact I used to listen to Radio 4 all day long if I was at home, but not any more. Anyway, Mollie had worked her way from the source of the Windrush near Taddington in Gloucestershire , to where it flows into the Thames about 30 miles later, with delightful descriptions of her journey. 

From the book "Where the Windrush Flows", by Mollie Harris, illustrated by Gary Woodley

The forecast was for quite high temperatures on the first day, and some rain, possibly thunderstorms, on the second. I planned the route so that I could camp for two nights if I felt like it, or just one if I didn't! 

Day 1: Wednesday, 30th July, from home in south west Oxfordshire to Sherborn in Gloucestershire

ROUTE:  Stanford-in-the-Vale (of Pam Ayres' fame - she was born and bred there), Buckland, Bampton, Brize Norton (popular with plane spotters), Swinbrook, Widford, Burford, Upton, Little Barrington, Windrush, then Sherborn.

I did not use my Garmin this time. I have read lately about the huge number of satellites there are in the sky. Obviously a Garmin uses satellites, and although one person stopping using theirs might not make much difference, I think as a matter of principal that, having read what I have, I should not use it any more. I do miss it - it's incredibly useful in many ways, but we all managed without them once, and I, especially as one who loves maps, can manage without it again. And it's one less thing to think about, or take a charger for! If you want to read about satellites, try here - INTERNATIONAL DARK SKY ASSOCIATION vs. FCC AND SPACEX

So, I had my OS map, but I also like to have a list of the places I'm going through in front of me, so I made a route list. Then -  "What this bike needs - is somewhere to attach my route list...." Last year's fell off my bike after a few miles, never to be seen again, so as I would not be needing my sticking-out Garmin holder, I made this route list holder out of a sign that I had found at the roadside, and attached it to it - 

Husband's bike wheel hanging up above...

WEATHER: Hot!!

WEARING: Vest top, cotton shirt, old Craghopper trousers cut off below the knee, socks, Hi-Tec shoes. Rab windproof jacket, removed very soon.

COMMENTS:  I set off about 7.30, having eaten just some yogurt and a few nuts, and got to Bampton Garden Centre, about 13 miles away, just after 9. Here I had planned to have breakfast. It was already pretty hot by the time I got there. Their once small café is now much enlarged and more of a restaurant; breakfast was expensive compared to many places - £12.95, but I have to say it was very good. Coffee was not good in my opinion, and an absolute rip-off at £3.70!!! I couldn't manage the toast but wasn't going to leave it behind after paying all that so wrapped it up in napkins, along with the three packets of butter, and took it with me.

The route so far was familiar to me, and it wasn't until I had left Brize Norton a bit further on that I really felt as if I was "on holiday". Heading north-west out of Brize I was amazed to see a huge development of unbelievably ugly new houses on my left, opposite some much older ones. They looked as if they had just been plonked in a field. I couldn't believe this had been allowed, particularly in the Cotswolds. I wish I'd stopped to take a photo. I find I dislike most modern housing estates. It doesn't seem to matter what area of the country they are in, they all look the same. One thing I hate about them is the lack of front gardens, which to me give a welcoming look. They seem to be just places where people are home in the evening and at weekends, but no-one is in all day. 

I crossed over the A40, and then over a bridge for a brief look at the river Windrush at Swinbrook - so inviting! As in many other spots along my route, I couldn't get near enough to it to touch the cold water. A couple sat outside the pub opposite. I happen to know (I'll tell you how tomorrow) that this place gets very busy at the weekends.

I think the next stop, along the wonderfully quiet NCN Route 57, was the most delightful part of the day. I had planned this ride not to be too long, precisely so that I could do what I now did, and explore a turning off my route. (Note: I bought the camera secondhand in a charity shop and I have not got round to altering the date that was set on it!) Once again I crossed a bridge over the river -

The river at Widford

and then saw a sign across the road  to a footpath, which led to an amazing tiny church in the middle of a field. It is St Oswald's. I just had to go and have a look - 

I spent ages looking round inside and outside the church, and reading a little of its history - 

Imagine the number of feet that made those indentations!

Boxed in pews on both sides, and a crooked pulpit

It had been abandoned for a period and used for agricultural purposes, but had been restored and there are now services there. Mollie Harris wrote - 

"In the fourteenth century there was a small community of thirteen houses there, clinging close to the church. Was it the Black Death that struck this lovely place, leaving only the church, the mill and the manor and manor farm buildings, and a shepherd's cottage in a field, and the humps and the hillocks and the cold January wind whistling through the brown grasses?"

I pushed my bike further along the footpath across the field towards the river, and met a family I had spoken to earlier. One of their daughters called out to me - 

"We couldn't find the stream!" 

The father explained that they had got down to the river but couldn't get very close as it was muddy, and there was barbed wire across. I could see on the map that you should be able to get down to it, so I carried on and had a look. Where the family had looked was where cattle obviously go down to the water, and the barbed wire was to stop them going too far in presumably. I looked round and found a stile where, if you forced your way through overgrown trees you could get to the river, but it was deep straight from the bank and no good for dipping my hot feet in. After a call of nature in the same spot the cattle obviously used, and a text to Husband, I pushed my bike out of the field and cycled on.

Next stop was the big church at Burford, and I went looking for a tap to fill my bottles. I reckon that 75% of churches I have visited have an outside, or even an inside, tap, but I couldn't see one outside and there were so many people around that I didn't fancy going in to look for one. Burford has a very steep and very typically Cotswoldy high street, and was heaving with people, as it always is in the summer, and I couldn't wait to get out of it!  

This is the third trip over the last few years that I have made in very hot weather, and as before I found myself constantly trying to keep cool, and to find places to refill my water bottles. As well as drinking the water, I trickled it over myself to keep cool. On a later occasion, I would find myself laughing at this....more of that tomorrow! No tap further on at the church in Little Barrington either. I cycled on and sat in some shade where I had refreshments - Baby Bel cheeses. I didn't bring a lot of food with me, purely because I was quite heavily loaded and hadn't got room for it.  I did have nuts and sultanas, and a snack bar, but I should have got food at Burford but because it was so busy I didn't want to stop. I knew there was a shop/cafe at Sherborn, and had also been fairly sure that I'd find something in the hedgerows to forage - apples, early blackberries, plums, damsons - but I hadn't found anything. However, it was so hot that I didn't really get hungry. A young mother passed me several times, as she went up and down the road, pushing her baby boy,  perhaps trying - unsuccessfully! - to get him to go to sleep. He didn't mind staring back at me from his pushchair! I wonder what was going through his little head..."Who's that funny woman?" perhaps.

Incidentally, this is a part of the country where you can see miles and miles of dry stone walls, including this new one (with the river tantalisingly me just down below in estate grounds.) I am always amazed at how they are built -

I finally found somewhere to cool my feet, - oh what bliss! - a stream at Little Barrington -

Foot washing done for the day...

Mollie Harris wrote - 

"In the green hollow a small spring flows out of the hillside and eventually over a field and into the Windrush. It was in that hollow, during the war, I used to gather the watercress which grew in great abundance there."

It's still growing, though not in great abundance.

Once again I explored a tiny steep and narrow lane which went down to the river, and which joins the D'Arcy Dalton Way, to which I will add a link to a video by one of my two favourite You Tubers, Sandy Jack, aka Wiltshire Man, who lives not far from me in Swindon. The other one is Susanna Thornton, who tours on a Brompton, and who has inspired me so much.  They are both an absolute delight to watch!

Still on my quest for water, just over the river towards Great Barrington I asked at a pub - The Fox at Barrington - for some. They were very welcoming to this hot and sweaty cyclist (a contrast to another pub - more of that tomorrow) and filled both my bottles with iced water. 

And now to the village of  Windrush, a little further along the river. It was only after I'd been here a few minutes that I realized I'd stopped here in 2016, on my first ever bike tour. I was on my elderly Trek at the time, and here it is loaded up, outside the church - 

I remember eating lunch there, thinking that although I wasn't really hungry and didn't want what I was eating, I ought to be re-fuelling. I have learnt not to do that now. I eat when hungry. Old Lady Trek is still with me, as my faithful shopping bike. This time I was on my Koga, and here it is loaded up outside the church, near that same bench -

Here there was a tap just inside the church gate, and I loaded up with water, this time filling my two drinking bottles, a third bottle, and the Platypus 2 litre water container (hanging on the side of the bike) to which I can attach a Bottle Shower. The night before I had cut holes in the reinforced area at the top of the Platypus, so that I could hang it up, but had accidentally cut into the water container itself, meaning that it leaked.... However, clever Husband managed to stop the leak with duct tape (see the orange bits on the top of the bottle?) so I was still able to use it. 

I cycled on to the last of these beautiful honey coloured stone Cotswold villages, for my day, Sherborn, where I knew there was a shop, although I had already suspected it would be shut by the time I got there - about 4 o'clock - and it was. I have to admit I was quite tired by now; I had quite a heavy load, plus it had been very hot, and while the journey hadn't been overly hilly (or even all that long) the hills there had been were made worse by the heat and my load. Actually I don't think I did too badly considering these two things. The last hill, on the way up to where I knew there was a good chance of somewhere to camp was a killer though, and I just had to push and rest, push and rest...

As I said, I had hoped to forage some fruit on my journey, but hadn't found any all day long - no early blackberries, no plums, damsons or apples, so when I turned onto a bridlepath I was overjoyed to see an apple tree, and picked two. They were ripe as well! The tree was in the garden of two empty farm cottages, and I very nearly camped there as it looked so nice, but it was evident that work was being done on them and I didn't want to be discovered in the morning by workmen., though perhaps they wouldn't have objected to this not-in-the-first-flush-of-youth lady camping there. 

 

Would have been a good camping spot. 

I went on down the bridlepath, heading towards the river where Husband had suggested there might be a good spot to camp (he'd looked at google earth) but in the end I decided to stay in a field I came to. The grass had been cut, and cleared, so I didn't think any farmer was likely to appear. I was by a large oak tree and almost out of sight of the public paths that ran nearby. And now came the challenge of pitching the tent somewhere other than our garden! I actually did it fairly easily, but then realized that there were lots of ants right by the entrance, and decided I'd have to move it. The tent is free standing so I could just pick it up, take up the footprint and move that, then fasten down the tent again. By the time I'd done that  my bare legs had been badly bitten by the ants, and scratched by thistles. I had picked this spot partly because there were logs to sit on, but when I got out my Trangia Burner and made coffee, I couldn't sit down and relax as I had to keep moving around and stamping my feet to stop the ants crawling up my legs. With my coffee I had one of the apples, a snack bar and some nuts and raisins. The toast that I had saved from breakfast had gone rock hard and the butter rancid!!

Helm Compact 1 tent

Coffee making area

Washing area!

I mentioned at the beginning that I had bought a camping quilt. I hate being enclosed in a sleeping bag - I feel trapped - so a quilt seemed like the answer. This is it - Mountain Equipment Helium Quilt. I looked at loads of camping quilts, and watched You tube videos reviewing them. I actually sent off for an Alpkit one to start with, and when it came, it seemed just what I wanted, but I could feel something on my hands after handling it, so sent it back and got the ME one instead. However, the majority of camping quilts and sleeping bags are, of course, synthetic, and I find myself thinking -

"Why am I sleeping under something synthetic when I wouldn't dream of doing so in bed?"

Remember nylon sheets in the 1960s? I do, and they were awful! When my family and I went on holiday, and got to whatever B and B we were staying in, the first thing we did when we got in the bedroom was look to see whether the sheets were nylon or cotton. (And in the days when it was just me and my sister, I always bagged the bed by the window.)

Of course the reason for using synthetics is that they are lightweight. But I had to do something to improve matters, even if it meant carrying extra weight, so I made a cotton cover for the top 10" or so of the quilt (and carefully sewed, very lightly, tiny patches of cotton to the stitching on the quilt, with tiny poppers attached to them, to fasten it to) so at least my face would not have something synthetic next to it. I also made myself some nice big cotton pyjamas (from a duvet cover - the same material I used for the cover), the idea being that I'd be covered in cotton. When I practised at home I also encased my mat in an old cotton sleeping bag liner (and even tucked a wool blanket inside that - ! - which was a wonderful combination!) but unfortunately that would just have added too much weight to my load. I  took the pyjama bottoms with me but I wore a cotton shirt in bed, as that doubled up as daywear. Tell me I'm nuts if you like...

I have to confess to being very curious as to how people keep themselves clean when wild camping. Some of it is just common sense really, but it's helpful to know how other people go about it. This video was useful - Hygiene in the Field. And also Ray Jardine has some good ideas in his book Beyond Backpacking. Let's face it, cycling - especially in weather this hot - is a sweaty business, and I for one don't like to remain sweaty (at least not in certain areas!) when going to bed, even if that's only in a tent. And how do you do any necessary washing without being seen... ? Well, I managed it, very quickly, with the help of the bottle shower, which I didn't have strung up high as you can see, but nevertheless it did the job! For the record, I had about 4 litres of water when I arrived at my camp spot, for drinking and washing, which was just about enough.

And so to bed.....but before I settled down for the night in the tent I spoke to Husband on the phone; from my description he knew exactly where I was - in which field and by which tree!! 

Tomorrow - ever heard of a call of shame?

MILES: 29