England – Part VII

Friday, May 29, 2009
The Barge Inn to Newbury

Today I rode the canal in a new direction. Some is familiar because Mark and I rode it in the opposite direction only a week ago. Once I pass Wilcot it is all new, however the path gets old really fast. It is narrow at times crumbling into the canal with only inches of slanted dirt to ride on. The scenery in parts is quite beautiful dense forest land filled with mystery. Miles of field slop up to meet the blue horizon with puffs of white clouds slowly appearing here and there. Each field seems to be a different color green, some are dark with plowed earth, others a swaying yellow carpet. Canal boats decorated with multitudes of designs and colors are docked to floating along. As each pass we say “Good morning” with a smile and a wave.

I’m passing a boat that is just heading out wave as I ride by. I stop for something then catch up to them again, we wave and laugh, this happens three more times, it is an unspoken joke between us now. A lock stops the fun as I ride on with no such inconvenience, I think. Looking at the canal something is off, the water seems lower, and the sloping, muddy bottom is being revealed. Some had joked about me falling in, which he said “would not be much of a problem since the canals are not deep.” Now I could see this was really true and my fear of falling in and going 40ft straight down was something my mind had created with no bases. However, the slippery mud and slop of the sides could still be very dangerous.

A man approaches and tells me someone has left both locks open up ahead causing this part of the canal to empty and the part below to flood. “Not good going for a push bike.” He tells me. Great now what I think, he tells me there is a road that goes around to the next lock and all will be good there. The road actually takes me to one of two 1800 pumping stations that move the water back up to be used again. Each as two steam beam engines, still working, built in the 1800’s. Two or three days a week the engines are powered up to pump water to the top of the canal, but not today. I ask one of the caretakers how far the next lock is to get me back on the tow path. He points me in down to where I’ll need to go to cross over. He fails to tell me that part of crossing over means walking one railroad tracks.

Now I had to do this once before and it is a bit nerve-racking. When you reach the gate there is a red and green light, no yellow, to tell you if it’s safe to pass. There is also a phone which you use to call someone somewhere who’ll tell you if a train is emanate. Then you have to quickly open the gate get across the track open another gate and get off the track. Trains doing anything for 80 to 100 miles an hour don’t give you a heck of a lot of time to do this. O.K. safely on the other side I find that the tow path has been blocked so now I have to go back across the tracks again. How much fun can one person have! Finally back on the tow path and riding there is a realization that I’m not going to make my goal, not even close. The ride, which is not over yet, has been draining emotionally and physically.

The tow path ends at a tunnel leaving me looking up a very steep hill with steps in it. There is no way I’m going to get my fully loaded bike up there so I’m set to unload everything and carry it up one at a time when an angle appears. From around the bend at the top of the hill comes a giant walking toward me, followed by his wife. We talk for a bit about an abandoned rail line he is looking for the she says “How you going to get up there?” After explaining my idea of dragging each piece up the hill she turns to her husband “Help him carry it up. NO?” He looks like he could carry me and the bike up the hill we go up seventeen steps. I’ve got the light front end; he’s got the heavy rear. I thank him profusely he says “Not to worry” and is gone.

Prior to this I had picked up a hitchhiker I named Larry who was a snail. Now Larry really didn’t have his thumb out for a ride. Stopping to allow some tow path walker by I spotted Larry on a leaf, picked him up and put him on my handlebar bag. Nothing happened for awhile then he stuck his head out and started to explore. He was wandering about while I road down the path for awhile it looked as if he were studying the map. Then he made this really long stretch, there was more of him then I thought, and moved down the side of the bag. I stopped to take his picture and he look, obligingly, in to the camera. I had forgotten about Larry upon arriving at the hill and looked for him once the giant and I reached the top of the hill. He was gone probably brushed off by the plants on the narrow path. So long Larry it was good to meet you.

On and on riding for 6 hours Hungerfor is finial reached. No campgrounds, no Pubs, no inns ride on to Newbury another hour away. After 7 hours I’ve ridden 52 Kilometers and have no place to stay. I have scoped out several places that look promising along the canal. After picking up some food for the morning I head back to a Lock where I’ll set up camp for the evening hoping I don’t get chased. It is really a half camp only the bear necessities, tent, rain fly, sleeping pad, and blanket. It is quite cool sleeping next to the canal and finally have to use my sleeping bag warmer.

Saturday, May 30, 2009
Newbury to Oxford

I’m up and packed by 5am and ride into town to see about getting some information. Of course nothing’s going to be open until 7 or 9, checking the information office tells me they will not open until 10a. There is a town map which shows the Oxford Road or A34. So I figure if it heads north it will take me to Oxford. Since waiting until 10am is a waste of good riding time I’m off to follow the Oxford Road. This is really hilly country, and the hills are packed in quite closely. The road manages to steer clear of a 4 lane highway at time pretending it is going to connect but does not. Upon reaching a section that does connect I bravely walk my bike along thinking the A34 will again return to a sedate country road.

After about a mile I figure this is not going to happen anytime soon. The wising by of Lories, cars and buses I’m getting a bet nervous that if I stay on this road I’ll have to walk to Oxford. I’m heading north and come across a “By Way” sign that points along a dirt road heading West. Heading east on a dirt road between green fields having no idea where I’ll end up. There are deep ruts in the road which make it almost impossible to ride so it is a combination of the two. The “By Way” is intersected by a “Walk Way” heading north and south. The rules are you can ride a bike on a “By Way,” but you cannot ride or walk a bike on a “Walk Way.”

I’m not quite sure who’ll catch me out here, but you never know so I continue on. The “By Way” comes to a road which is heading north, off I ride. It is now 9am and I’ve been riding for about three hours already. My odometer tells me I’ve ridden 21 kilometers already, Oxford is suppose to be 19 Kilometers north of Newbury; this is going to be a long day. The road which was heading north is now heading east and back toward the highway. Being up higher on the hill I can see the path that took me west below, now I’m parallel to it and heading East, might as well have stayed on the highway. There is a wide spot in the road so I stop to cook up some breakfast with my new cook set. I’m off again and do eventually end up back at the highway which I have no intention of getting back on.

There is a road heading west which will take me to Wantage which I vaguely remember for a map as being south of Oxford, but I am heading north again. At Farnborought I ask a lady leading a beautiful horse the way to Oxford. “Go up to Farnborought, at the top of the hill, then down in to Wantage.” Off I go up and up and up when she said up she meant up. Up here is not necessarily really high, but it does mean steep as in 12 to 18 degrees. I finally reach Farnborought and follow the sign to Wantage. Now when she meant down she meant down, I’d doing 28 to 38 kilometers an hour coming down this hill. Upon reaching Wantage I see a sigh telling me that Oxford is only 17 miles away looking at my odometer tells me that I’ve already ridden 30 kilometers. I’m told to take the A338, which I’m on, straight into Oxford, but stay off the A420.

Choosing no longer to ride 30 kilometers to get 2 kilometers it will be straight north no matter what. So I do ride on the A420, well walk as close to the side has I can get. It is now 3pm and a sign states that I’m 4 kilometers from Oxford. Riding into Oxford 10 hours and 50 kilometers later with an average speed of 8 miles an hour leaves me exhausted. I know where I am, recognize the street and head right to the Y, as finding the campground could take a bit. My butt is just a bit sore and I have no reserves for dilly dallying around looking for a campground that I might be able to remember from two years ago.

Dinner is at a restaurant, The Jam, I hope was still in business from my last visit. They offer good meals, low prices, and don’t allow you to use their free WiFi as long as you wish. I Skype Mark and chat for awhile talking about the twists and turns in everyday life. I attempt to reach my daughter but have no luck so send her and my son an email. Check in of Facebook, answer some emails then create a map of my travels for my blog. My body is slowly regaining its energy and I’ve been wondering why I push myself to make such long arduous rides. There will be no answer tonight unless some message come to me in my dreams.

Sunday, May 31, 2009
Oxford

Today is a day of rest, no bike riding, nothing more strenuous then putting something food in my mouth. To that end I buy a ticket to a city tour bus riding it enough times to be able to repeat the tour speech by heart. I did get off once to take a nap, then back on for a couple of more rides. The bus was a Double Decker with the top down for taking in the sights whiles listening to the guides point out thing of interest to them. There is a cool breeze, warm sun, blue skies with puffs of white cloud floating makes for a very lazy day. I do not quite understand why most of the cars have the windows closed to such a beautiful day. Yet the bikers abound pedaling briskly along seemingly oblivious to the cars and buses within inches of them. There are pole boat, and canoes on the river Tames, along with sun bathers on the grassy slopes. The outdoor cafes tables are all full with people chatting, laughing along with eating and drinking in no rush to be anywhere.

Dinner is at The Jam again for yet another fresh lamb burger with some wonderful crispy fries. Online again to answer emails one of which is from the Roy, who I met on the train last Sunday. He has tracked down my grandfather’s and grandmother’s birth records along with several other relatives. It looks as if he has gotten my grandfather dead on, but is off on my grandmother. I’ll write him tomorrow to see it he can dig up some more, how very nice of him to do this for a stranger. After dinner I check in at the rail station to see about a ticket to my next destination which will be Delamere.

At the Y I chat with Hanna, one of the women who work the front desk, while doing laundry. She is from the Check Republic working in the UK. We have a nice chat about traveling and then needs to tell me she is well balance after I tell her I teach Psychology. Then it is a chat with a gentleman who is in the same dorm room as me. He is here from Buffalo NY and thinking for moving to the west coast. I’ve not decided if I’ll move on tomorrow so I’ll sleep on it.