dunwich heath

Another trip to Dunwich Heath this week, our third of the year, and almost certainly our last camping trip of the year.

The camp site at Dunwich Heath is reassuringly familiar, and our routine on these trips rarely changes - an hour or so of driving (it actually takes longer to load up the car with camping gear and bikes than it takes to get there), usually on a Sunday, a quick drink in the pub, put the tent up, a stroll through the heath to the National Trust tea shop, then back to the tent for dinner and a bottle of wine. However, disaster struck at dinner time - I'd forgotten the custard. So, we had our traditional camping pudding of fruit cake and custard, without the custard, which wasn't quite the same.

Invariably, it's a cream tea at the tea shop

and the walk back through the Suffolk heathland never disappoints, especially in the autumnal riot of colour courtesy of the heather and gorse

The setting of the camp site is exceptional - pitching in well established woodland, and literally just a few steps away from the beach

Next day, we had a gentle cycle ride down to Aldeburgh and back, stopping off at the the tea shop at Thorpeness on the way, complete with crocodile

Normally, I'd take exception to  a lump of metal being dumped on an otherwise pristine beach, but "Scallop" at Aldeburgh is rather impressive - sort of Suffolk's version of the Angel of the North

After a brief wander around the Aldeburgh shops (my attention span with shops is less than minimal), we cycled back to Thorpeness for beer at the Dolphin

then on to the rather fantastic Eels Foot at Easthorpe for a pint of Gunhill

Then back to Dunwich Heath, having stocked up on custard at the shop at Leiston.

The pictures below show that the new tent is particularly spacious. In fact, it's rather too spacious at present, a result of me accidentally taking the inner tent to the dump the other day while clearing out the loft. I did check with Joke before taking it, and she positively identified it as belonging to an old tent that we hadn't used for years, and that it was OK to throw it out. OH NO IT WASN'T!! and I really should have checked

So, we now have a brand new £500 tent with no sleeping compartment. I'm currently waiting on the very nice people at Vango to tell me if they can supply a replacement inner. Fingers crossed...

Incredibly, after decades of problem free camping, this was our second tent disaster of the year. Our trip to Derbyshire in April was cut short, when, on a not particularly windy day, our previous tent blew down. It was an especially poor quality Blacks tent with flimsy fibre glass poles, purchased by Joke for no other reason than it had "integrated lighting" (this consisted of four fairy lights on a length of wire), and had shown tendencies to flap about in the wind on previous trips. On this occasion, one of the guy lines snapped, causing a domino effect of more broken guy lines and snapped poles. It's actually incredibly difficult to rescue a car load of gear from a hideously distorted and flapping tent that's designed to be six feet tall, but is actually now only two feet off the ground. I'd seen this happen to other people, and always assumed it couldn't happen to me - how wrong I was. To make matters worse, we had an appreciative audience of bemused looking Duke of Edinburgh Award youth, just to maximise my embarrassment  Our old tent was last seen residing in a skip just outside Bakewell, and the new one is MUCH more sturdy, albeit with an important part now residing in a skip in Colchester.

Day three was our traditional walk to Southwold and back. Our route is always the same, through the woods, past the ruined windmill, over the heathland and the golf course to Southwold.

On arrival at Southwold, our routine is familiar. I buy a paper and a pie, and sit on bench reading and eating while Joke peruses overpriced shoe shops, happy in the knowledge that she hasn't got any money on her and so can't actually buy anything. She then returns from the overpriced shoe shop, enthusing about some "bargain" footwear, we return to the shop, look in the window, I point out that said footwear is "hideous", and we go for lunch. Happy days.

This time lunch was in the excellent Lord Nelson, an enormous coronation chicken sandwich and a pint of Gunhill.

On our way back, unusually, we took the ferry across the river at Walberswick, a bargain 90p to be rowed across, saving about a mile and a half of walking, before stopping at the Bell

Then back to Dunwich village, for dinner at the Ship and a walk back to the tent in the dark, then home the next day

five visit the Big City

Another cycale trip this month, this time, unusually, a city ride through London, from Liverpool St station to Richmond and back.

Robin, our leader for this one, had not so subtly tagged this ride as one for "experienced and confident cyclists only", presumably in the hope that no-one likely to get lost or left behind in central London would turn up. The tactic appeared to be successful  and a manageable party of 5 cycalists stepped out of Liverpool St station in the drizzle and into the traffic of central London.

The plan was simple - down Bishopsgate, over London Bridge and turn left onto the Sustrans route 4 all the way to Richmond Park. There is something undeniably daunting about cycling in London, especially if you aren't familiar with the roads, and inevitably there was a fair amount of faffing and riding around in circles before we found the cycle route to Richmond. However, we were soon on our way, past famous London landmarks on either side of the river, out to west London.

The signage was excellent, even if some of the cycle paths weren't.

There were two incidents of note, the first involving myself. We were riding through a particularly affluent part of Chelsea, when we came across a barrier across the road - presumably a bus gate, or just a barrier to keep the poor people out. As we approached, magically, the barrier raised to let us past. The first four cycled on, but sadly the rider at the back (me) wasn't quite quick enough and suffered the indignity of being whacked by the lowering barrier as he cycled through. I thought I did rather well not to fall off, but there was some damage inflicted (to the barrier, not me).

The second incident involved our leader on a cycle/footpath in Putney. Robin was leading the way, failed to negotiate a loose dog on the pathway, and fell off. There followed an exchange of pleasantries between cycalists and dog owners, in which bad language was remarkably absent. Robin was OK other than a broken light and dented pride, and we were on our way to Richmond Park.

Cycling through Richmond Park was superb, and it was heartening to see so many people enjoying outdoor activities in a chunk of countryside within the city. Our first pub, and lunch stop, was probably the best of the day - the Roebuck on Richmond Hill, with glorious views down to the Thames. This was a proper pub, with excellent dark beer, good food, and with a proper dark interior.

Then it was down to the riverside to the White Cross

The pub was very busy, and clearly popular with it's riverside location, but we didn't stay long - just a quick half of the most tasteless beer I've ever had. Youngs London Pale was described on the pump clip as being "fruity" and "hoppy", but just tasted of water with a hint of beeriness, despite being a respectable 4%. Opinions of the beer varied between "insipid" and "very insipid".

Last of the Richmond pubs was the Red Cow, after a slippery climb up a steep cobbled street,

before we made our way back to Liverpool St. We had a small diversion at Pimlico to visit the Cask, a decent "craft beer" pub, although somewhat pricey.

A brief photo-opportunity stop at the London Eye

Our final pub was superb - the Black Friar at the north end of Blackfriars bridge, a fantastically ornate pub that was apparently saved from demolition by Sir John Betjamin, and a fitting end to an excellent day.

cycale ride to the Chappel Beer Festival

A gentle ride of about 26 miles to Chappel and back with the Cycale folks, to the World's Best Beer Festival (well, the best I've been to).

The novelty of Chappel never disappoints, a combination of the steam railway museum and engine sheds, well-behaved beer drinkers with eccentric facial hair and headwear, a spacious indoor/outdoor venue that's not too crowded, and plenty of beer. I missed our usual Thursday evening walk out and overnight camp, so I had to be content with a Saturday afternoon visit this year.

As usual, Keith didn't disappoint in the ridiculous shirt department

As ever, the day's highlights included ferret racing........

...and the Red Barrows synchronised wheelbarrow display team.....

My fitness must have benefited from our coast to coast exertions, as on the way back myself and Matt set our fastest times up Fiddlers Hill, into a bit of a headwind, without apparently trying too hard.

However, on the way out there the perennial problem of how fast to ride in a group reared it's ugly head again on an otherwise lovely ride. One of our group was having difficulty in keeping up with a fairly sedate pace, and was moaning to our rather perturbed leader about not waiting for him (even though he did, albeit out of sight around the next bend). This is a problem that will never be resolved, unless we designate someone who know's where they're going to always ride at the back (not much fun) , or get everyone to ride much slower (not much fun), or persuade those who struggle to get themselves a bit fitter (not very likely).

my knee is knackered

My left knee has been giving me jip for the last 2 or 3 months, so I thought it was about time someone took a look at it. Apart from the usual aches and pains I generally have, and the loud creaking noises I'm used to hearing from my joints, I've been having a sharp pain when running, and sometimes when walking. I've also had a vague feeling of fragility in the knee when cycling, as well as some numbness.

So, I made an appointment to see a physio at the Sports Injury Clinic in the hope that they might do a bit of manipulation / stretching / pulling about (or whatever physios do) and make the pain go away. They did indeed do a bit of pulling about, and apparently the ligaments are fine. They pointed out that the muscles in my right leg are rather larger than in the left (I knew that already), at that I need an arthroscopy to repair the worn cartilage that has been causing the pain in my left knee. So, I'm to be referred to the NHS for keyhole surgery. How annoying.