Cycaling to Cambridge

Last weekend was our annual Cycale weekend away jolly - this year to Cambridge. To be honest, Cambridge wasn't my first choice, but finding one night's accommodation for 9 people on a Saturday night on a summer weekend in Southwold proved to be impossible. So, happily, we went to Cambridge instead.

The plan was simple - train to Stowmarket, six of us riding 57 miles to Cambridge, meet up with another 3 non-cycling Cycalists in Cambridge, stay overnight in the youth hostel, a night of debauchery in the fleshpots of Cambridge, then a 51 mile ride back home.

As is traditional, the boy Matt had designed a splendid commemorative t-shirt for the weekend, and here is his design (by the way, the colour of my t-shirt is, apparently, "paprika")

(you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them)

Here are a couple of Matt's rather splendid designs from previous trips

So, here we are on the platform at Stowmarket station, ready for the off

As luck would have it, our route took us through Bury St Edmunds, the home town of Nigel's parents, so we could avail ourselves of a morning tea stop

Mrs M did us proud, and Robin became so excited by the splendid spread that he chose to wear almost as much of the refreshments as he consumed. Heaven knows what would have happened if he had got hold of some custard. Robin's messy habits were a feature of the weekend, and, tragically, he managed to smear bike grease on his shiny new Paramo  jacket. Hopefully, he won't have to sell the Bentley to cover the cost of a replacement.

As usual, Nigel was navigating, and, as usual, was forced to hang around to let everyone else catch up with him

Remarkably, Mark was still able to eat his pear, despite apparently having his head chopped off

Brian. Frightening.

First pub stop was the Three Horseshoes at Barrow, decent beer despite being a G***** K*** pub

Next pub was the Packhorse at Moulton, a village with a remarkable bridge traversing nothing in particular

The pub didn't look too promising, very upmarket with a very expensive menu, but was actually very good, and despite appearances had good beer at only £2.90 a pint

Having got semi-lost going through Newmarket, we managed to be just too late for lunch at the superb White Horse at Exning, a pub complete with a help-yourself beer barrel in the bar. We had a soaking just before arriving, and the bikes were parked under cover in the beer garden.

As we were about to leave, the heavens opened, and like the bunch of wimps that we are, we hung around in the dry while eating Matt's cakes. Rarely have I seen such a huge amount of rain in such a short space of time, and many of the roads were completely flooded by the time we eventually left

Unfortunately, a young cyclist managed to bump into the rear wheel of Marks shiny new Boardman bike as we approached Cambridge on a cycle path. The lad was most apologetic, but the damage was done. Mark's buckled rear wheel was well short of being round, and was barely rideable. Mark managed to ride the last few miles into Cambridge, but that was the end of his cycle trip - he, and his bike, went home by train the next day.

Then, a couple of miles up the road, Nigel had his traditional puncture, so it was a fairly late arrival in Cambridge.

Question. How many Cycalists does it take to mend a puncture?

Answer. Invariably, one plus Matt

Our accommodation for the night was the newly refurbished Cambridge Youth Hostel

........complete with bike lockers that baffled even the keenest Cycale brains

The standard of the accommodation actually exceeded my expectations, and I've definitely stayed in hotels that were shabbier. 

My only misgiving is the way the YHA has moved away from cheap, rural hostels, to bright, shiny and more expensive urban hostels. We paid £72 for twin rooms, and the lovely old sign on the older part of the building surely remains with a hint of irony

However, the rooms were clean, the breakfast excellent, and if we go to Cambridge again I'll happily stay there again.

Keith had arranged dinner at the superb Kingston Arms, with my favourite beer of the trip, Rutland Beast

before we moved on to the Live and Let Live for more beer

By this point the day's exertions had taken their toll, and I retired for the night, while others went for more beer.

Clearly, the previous night's drinking brought out a previously unseen romantic side to Mark, and, remarkably, the next morning he splashed out on a punting trip for himself and Georgie. Mind you, the demenour of the unfortunate Chinese tourists forced to share the punt with Mark implies that they may have already felt the force of the traditional Whybrow moan-a-thon.

Meanwhile, Keith and Joke had a cultural visit to the Fitzwilliam Museum, and the five remaining cyclists set off home, to our first pub stop, the Black Bull at Balsham for an early tea stop

before continuing to the lovely village of Clare for lunch at the Cock Inn

From Clare onwards it rained pretty much continually for the rest of the day -  serves me right for arranging a trip at the same time as Glastonbury and Wimbledon

Inexplicably, we managed to temporarily lose Matt on the way out of Clare, before he found us again at what may just be the prettiest pub on the planet - the Half Moon at Belchamp St Paul.

Then on to the excellent Red Lion at Belchamp Otten, where the rain seemed to have taken it's toll on Matt and Robin

Brian left us to take the train home from Sudbury (this was Brian's first substantial ride since his dreadful bike accident last year) and we stopped at the Lamarsh Lion before heading home. Clearly Robin's training for his epic ride to Scotland is going well, and here he is in er.. full flight at Lamarsh

So, that's it. 108 miles of cycling over two days, 10 pubs, and excellent company