Distance: 30.4 miles

Time: 3:13

Elevation: 1236 feet

The morning was slow but productive, I was intending to try and fix my gears after an ill-fated earlier attempt had left me with two gears, one that was slightly too hard for the hills, and one that was slightly too hard for the flat. Then, turning my bike over to fix the problem, I discovered a loose spoke and buckled back wheel, it couldn’t complete a full revolution, instead jamming up against the brakes. The bike maintenance had just become critical.

I set about it with my usual abandon, not quite remembering what I was doing but steaming ahead anyway. When the buckle in the wheel got steadily worse, I turned to Google, and soon got the hang of it. Wheel back in true, I gave the gears a go, trying to get a little more tension in the cable and refastening the screw. Soon the gears felt pretty good, really good in fact so I pedalled off, much more quietly down the road.

It wasn’t long before I was back on the route and meandering between some fields, crossing back over the M5, then traversing along the side of a hill. Shortly after, the route turned onto the Strawberry Line, an old railway line turned bike path that made for Clevedon on the coast. It started well on a smooth dirt surface, but it wasn’t long before it turned to loose gravel and stones.

Trying to piece together an alternative route on road was tricky and every time I stopped I realised how tired I was feeling. So, when it started raining – as I pedalled along the busy main road I was using to avoid the cycle path – I dove for cover in the Congresbury Arms.

Grabbing what I could off the bike, I headed in out of the rain. Laden with kit, I skidded on the slippy floor in my cycling shoes, the rain had given me the shivers, and sun tan lotion had washed into my eyes. I decided I was in need of a rest; I was still to decide where I’d stay tonight, but both my power banks were dead and my phone battery was down to 40%, so it seemed like a good time to book a hotel.

Considering the onwards route, I decided there wasn’t much point in following it – I knew it was mostly bike paths, which I might just avoid anyway. I also wasn’t too bothered about seeing Clevedon, but I very much wanted to see the Clifton Suspension Bridge, and as the A370 – that I’d just been following – would take me right to it, I decided that that was the plan, and I’d just book a hotel in Bristol while I was at it.

Reaching the bridge, I was stunned. Of course I’d seen photos, but I was taken aback by what a fantastic setting it had. I whiled away an hour soaking up the views, before heading down through the town to my hotel. Batteries set on charge, I headed out for dinner, eventually deciding on the Lebanese restaurant, Beirut Mezze, enjoying a Fried Cauliflower starter followed by a whole Sea Bass.

The stage to Bristol, through Cornwall, Devon and Somerset has taken 5 days, covering 243 miles and involved 16,567 feet of climbing.

Now for some sleep.

Distance: 58 miles

Time: 5:39

Elevation: 2342 feet

I didn’t have much food left for breakfast, so pasta it was, and then the tortuous process of loading up my kit began. Quarter to 11 was the wholly unimpressive start time today, perhaps my body stealing back as much recovery as possible.

Today was to be a day of two halves, with the remaining hills of Devon making way for the Somerset levels later on. I was all set for a morning as hard as yesterday’s, but luckily, that didn’t really materialise.

For the first few miles I wound my way between the fields as I made my way back towards the route, joining it at Thorverton, where I stopped at a quaint little shop for something healthy and nutritious, and came out with a chocolate orange brownie.

The going remained fair and as the miles ticked by I started to worry, where were all the hills? But, I needn’t have worried, and 14 miles in, leaving Bradninch, the road headed skywards, a 16% gradient sign staring me in the face. But, I slowed my cadence and with my heart rate in check, rode all the way to the top; redemption for the hill in Penzance I’d walked.

After picking up a chorizo and sweet pepper quiche at The Little Bakery in Cullompton, I ate it near the Uffculme wool mill, before setting off for the last few miles of Devon, which unceremoniously ended as I crossed the M5 Motorway.

Passing through leafy Bradford-on-Tone, I finally reached Taunton, where I tried to navigate its labyrinthine cycle ways before bailing out at Hubbox for sweet potato fries and a milkshake.

The route ahead was to follow the Taunton to Bridgwater canal for the next 14 miles, but a brief sortie along the towpath suggested that, if I wanted to avoid any further punctures, I would be doing no such thing. Instead, I freestyled it a little, heading further west, before making a detour into Bridgwater, to swing by SJS Cycles, the home of Thorn bicycles, and indeed, where my noble steed doth originate. Naturally, it was closed.

Out of Bridgwater, my only remaining goal for the day was to find a campsite, and when the host of the one I’d hoped to stay at emailed to say they were fully booked, I opted for the nearest one available. I’d already booked it when I realised there weren’t any showers, and the ground was so hard I could barely pitch the tent, but hopefully, I’d be somewhere else tomorrow.

Miles: 47.9 miles

Time: 5:03

Elevation: 3696 feet

After a pleasant breakfast in my room, at the Dock Inn in Penzance, I readied the bike and set off at half past 10. For the first mile – along the Penzance beachfront – I enjoyed the warm air as the sun started to break through the clouds, but there was a fiendish 17 mph headwind that clearly objected to my plan to reach Land’s End, and so did the hill at the end of the beach. The road up to Newlyn was unrelentingly steep, narrow, and littered with parked cars. At first I had to stop to let traffic clear in front of me, and then, as my heart rate soared, I had to get off and push. Not a promising start to a 1000 mile journey, but then, the reason I was here was to rebuild some fitness, so good to know that there was plenty of room for improvement!

Over the top of the hill, the route meandered along some quiet back roads as I battled on into the wind. Secretly I was pleased; after the 12 miles to Land’s End, I would be retracing my steps with a stiff tailwind to whisk me along. I passed through pleasant St Buryan and then over to Sennen Cove where the stunning sea views told me the beginning was nigh.

I rolled along the start / finish straight to Land’s End, stopping for the obligatory sign photo before realising that I didn’t really want to have to queue for anything else, so back I went towards Penzance. Reaching Newlyn, I prepared to career down the steep hill into Penzance, and was heartened to find a 16% gradient sign at the top of the hill I’d struggled up, that would always be a challenge.

Picking up a huge Cornish pasty from Warren’s bakery, I set off, back along the Penzance seafront, continuing round to Marazion and the impressive (and familiar looking) St Michael’s Mount.

Soon the road turned inland and I passed, for a while, along narrow country lanes, lined with hedges and well off the beaten track. The weather closed in and there had been a persistent light drizzle for a while, when I started pondering the problem of where to spend the night. Phone reception was extremely patchy and there was no way of stumbling upon a campsite on these quiet back roads, so I pressed on, keen to get a little closer to civilisation. By 20 passed 6 I was within striking distance of the Cosawes Park campsite, so giving them a call, I was relieved to find they had a space for me. Buoyed by this information, the final 6 miles flew by, and after a hard hilly day, the campsite’s hot showers felt fantastic.