Day THREE: Cambridge to Doddington (10 June 2021)
Distance: 70 km (44 miles)
Ascent: 310 m
Legs: Having adjusted my packing and enjoyed a rest day I was feeling fresh; helped by the flat landscape
Today I got to enjoy the Cambridgeshire fens. In addition to the anticipated agriculture there was a nature reserve where they keep Konik ponies to help maintain the habitat in a manner that suits wildlife. I stopped to do some bird watching from a bridge over one of the many dykes. From my viewpoint I see egret, marsh harrier, marsh warbler, barn owl, lapwing and peewit. I am no twitcher, and my teacher for the morning was a keen birdwatcher who, whilst cautious at first, was soon keen to instruct me on the birds I was spotting. His main focus was a bittern and the local otter; neither of which emerged.
I had swung this far east from Harrow to pick up one of the National Cycling Trails (No. 11) and this was to be my reward, in addition to beautiful Ely. Planning this adventure did not come naturally to me as I was out of touch with bikes, cycling, cycle touring, camping and England's network of cycle trails. One of my better decisions had been to try and pick up cycle trails where they would assist me in getting to my destination. And that brings me to the best advice I received from my research which was to know what your destination is. No, honestly, I'd be putting alot of effort into transporting myself and baggage so the goal had better to be worth it.
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| Cambridgeshire fens |
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| The coffin I'm towing now looks lighter |
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| Lilly pads |
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| It is flat, very flat, and my legs are enjoying it |
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| Komoot says "keep right at the fork" |
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| A thoughtful and fragrant rose hedgerow |
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| The joy of the road less travelled; though I had brought the wrong bike |
The joy of relying on a navigation app was that it sent you along roads, tracks, and bridleways that are less travelled. My road bike coped well with dry and flat off-road sections but there were limits, and sometimes I had to walk or risk a fall and possible equipment breakage. After one such section, and after walking along a grassy spit of land between two ditches, my way was blocked by a family of swans. We all know about swans and the importance of not coming between them and their signets. But my way was blocked. I paused, I tried to edge forwards, I paused, I slowly inched on. The swans hissed and bunched their shoulders to show their displeasure. I very slowly inch forward trying to skirt round them. As you will have seen by now my rig is not that maneuverable. It has a large turning circle, weighs alot and is not design to be off road. I wish I could recount in detail what happened next, but I can't, because I don't remember. One minute I was creeping slowly forwards on foot, painting myself into an increasingly tight corner I couldn't possibly maneuver out of, and the next I had completed an immediate U-turn and was running back the way I came with bike and trailer in tow. I can only suppose that one or both of the swans had finally lost patience and attacked and that I affected a hasty retreat. I can only leave it to you to image some hissing, flapping viscous charge that left me running for the hills. A one mile detour, a struggle to get bike and trailer over a solid locked gate, and I am back with the swans, though this time on the right side of them.
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| Angry swans |
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| Ely cathedral |
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| Doddington |
Today's campsite near Doddington is very smart and specialises in fishing having its own stocked lakes. Couples come here to fish and relax. The wind has picked up, though only a little, and I struggle to pitch my tent. First the ground sheet, then the framework of poles over the ground sheet then the flysheet goes over. Without the inner tent hanging off the poles the flysheet is free to blow under, over, and around the framework and it was to take me a few days to perfect the art of pitching with the slightest breeze. After a hot shower I get lost in the maze of small 'fields' that provide an intimate and private feel and have to retrace my steps back to the showers before trying again to find my tent. As the BBQs are lit I feel hungry, decide that noodles are no match for the delights coming off my neighbours stoves and walk two miles into the local village for a meal. I hadn't factored in the four mile walk most days to explore and find food.
Day 4: Doddington to Parsons Grove
