Cornwall, which forms a sort of toe in the Atlantic Ocean for the British Isles, is not really a cycling friendly area.
I found this out during the past week whilst on a late-ish summer holiday with the family.
The base for our vacation was just outside the coastal village of Tintagel, best known for the castle ruins on the a rocky promontory of the headland reputed to have been the birthplace of the mythical King Arthur. Many will know of the legends surrounding the persona of Arthur from his extraction of the sword from the stone to his collaboration with the wizard Merlin, creation of the Round Table of Knights and the inseperable association with the pursuit of the Holy Grail.
The English Heritage information boards at the foot of the steep walkway and aerial bridge leading to the cliff hugging steps, to their credit, do themselves cast doubt on whether Arthur indeed visited the location let alone citing it as his early years home.
The physical attributes of the local granite geology especially when arranged in vertical cliff-crags make for an impregnable stronghold and the ripples of the ancient landforms spread inland for many miles.
This makes for very dramatic scenery and our rental cottage had a magnificent aspect over the deep valley leading to the cove at Trebarwith Strand and with the outcrop of Gull Rock in view just offshore amongst the white capped choppy Atlantic breakers .
Pretty indeed and we appreciated it coming from a flat flood plain area.
In terms of suitability for cycling it represented a bit of a nightmare even allowing for a wide range of gears on a mountain bike.
On most road journeys with bikes mounted on the car roof there are always many other similar set-ups to be seen coming and going. Cycling has gone through a major upsurge in popularity since the London Olympics when the two-wheeled sportsmen and women cornered a good percentage of the Great Britain medal haul. This renewed interest has been no more evident than through a tally of the number of roof racks, in active use or not. On entering Cornwall, through Somerset and Devon the nearest neighbours, there seemed to be a rapid dropping off in the sighting of bike activity using the aforementioned straw poll method.
The first obstacle encountered was not technically whilst riding but actually in the unloading of the bikes and putting them into the recreation room at the cottage. Being built out of a steep slope the hobby room was in effect occupying a lower ground floor position. It was awkward wheeling the bikes down cerrated concrete paths to the side of the cottage and below the level of the conservatory. Frequent use of the brakes was essential to prevent losing control and to avoid a perilous drop over the retaining walls of the terraced, landscaped garden (A quite attractive feature).
It took a couple of days to summon up enough motivation to tackle the imposing terrain , well,not really but there were a lot of things to do in holiday mode of a far less strenuous nature. I suppose I could partly blame it on some unpredictable weather although to be expected for late September.
The inaugural ride from the cottage started with a short, sharp uphill section.
This was on a very busy road, albeit of "B" designation but to be avoided because of the traffic but also hazards including unannounced narrow squeezes between sticky-out houses and walls which created havoc with the road users, in particular, a high proportion of tourists, many from overseas in subtley branded rental cars. I was accosted by American or Canadian visitors seeking directions for their accommodation but being a stranger myself I was, to them, frustratingly useless.
The side roads were nothing more than lanes and were obviously ancient being set down well into the flanking fields and ground giving the impression of being sunken. At the base of the thin lanes were not the roots of hedges but yet more surface rocks of startling irregularity. Mud and debris on the tarmac or forming a central reservation indicated a dominant use by agricultural machinery and a cause for increased concentration in picking out a route to ride.
Groups of cottages and farmsteads had very Cornish names and, within a handful of miles, we rode through Trewarmett, Trenale, Trethevy, Trevalga, Treknow and Trebarwith which sounds quite a procession of settlements but must have been made up of no more than 30 or so properties in all.
The first couple of miles after the initial uphill struggle were, admittedly either level, false flats or downhill -the latter including a hair raising plummet of at least 25% gradient. On the return leg using the same route I had to dismount and push my bike up the same slope which was disappointing.
In between we had been enticed to seek out a local landmark waterfall which involved off-roading along the floor of the valley over potholed and flooded sections but a welcome change nevertheless. A rather cynical ruse to bamboozle tourists was to locate a notice board some 2 miles upstream announcing a charge of £4.75 per person for the privilege of seeing the natural feature.
We turned back at that point.
Fatigue was setting in from the exertion of climbing and yet more climbing and this led to a rash decision to take a short cut across meadows towards Tintagel itself. In a county famous for dairy products such as ice cream and clotted cream any lush meadow was bound to be occupied by cows. We were deterred, being city dwellers, by the sight of a long, orderly line of cattle making their way across our pathway towards the milking parlour. To avoid the animals we took an alternative, well worn trail but this ended abruptly at the edge of the towering cliffs just to the north of the Atlantic View Hotel.
There was no option but to backtrack and wait for the dairy herd to negotiate the gateway towards the farm. The meadow was tough going with thick grass, boggy channels and the unpleasant splattering effect of cow pats as they were thrown out from under the chunky mountain bike tyres.
The main street through Tintagel was a chance to pose a bit although our mud spattered (and worse) faces and attire must have been both amusing and disconcerting to bystanders.
Another submerged lane ascended towards our cottage but we shot past, gleefully, down the hill to take a right turn to plunge down to the aforementioned Trebarwith Strand beach and cove.
The day before it had been crowded and the craft, surf and snack shops had been doing a brisk business but typically, when in need of food and drink they were all firmly shuttered with no sign of life.
The ride back highlighted my lack of recent form and fitness but I did manage to stay in the saddle right up to the front door of our residence for the week.
As I said, Cornwall or at least where we were is not really a cycling friendly place.
I remained, however, open minded having been won over by the beautiful scenery and surroundings.It would be a case of just searching for another flatter route................if such a thing existed at all.
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