Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
The first recorded 'End to End' cyclists were two Leeds policemen, who completed the
triponpenny-farthingsin1882.Ittookthem14days.Ifthetripcouldbedoneintwoweeks
on a penny-farthing, then I could sure as hell do it in three weeks on a child's racing bike.
Reaching the Devon county sign was a pivotal moment, and it caught us completely by
surprise. We just turned a corner and there it was.
'Devon'
, it said, as you would expect it
should.
Wehadcycledacrossanentirecounty.WehadbeenwarnedthatCornwallwastheworst
bit, and so felt a real sense of achievement having successfully conquered it. We took an
obligatory picture of the two of us at the signpost, for which I had to run back through a
nettle patch to get in place before the self-timer fired.
From then on, it promised to be easy. The contours of the land would level out, and we
would be in John O'Groats in no time.
Or so we hoped.
Devon had other ideas, however, and presented us with a huge big sodding hill straight
after welcoming us. It stretched on for about six miles until just before the town of Oke-
hampton, where it allowed us a brief downhill to gain its forgiveness.
It wasn't the best start. We had only been in Devon for a couple of hours and already
thought it was shitter than Cornwall.
Okehampton looked like Devon's answer to the Wild West. Its main high street - which
is called Fore Street, as many in Devon and Cornwall are for some reason - was unusually
wide. Imposing flat fronted buildings banked each side of the road, and we half expected
a gunslinger to swagger out from a dusty saloon. Only this was Devon, and there were no
dusty saloons, or gunslingers for that matter. Instead, a blue-rinsed granny hobbled out of
Specsavers.
The town is right on the northern edge of Dartmoor, and is considered one of the gate-
ways to the national park. The main A30 used to pass straight through the town centre,
which explains why Fore Street is so wide. A bypass was built in 1988 and the town now
enjoys a little more peace and quiet from the traffic.
We arrived in Okehampton at about 7.30pm and decided to ask at The White Hart Hotel
- a huge hotel on the edge of town - about the possibility of doing some work in exchange
for somewhere to sleep.
The manager's name was Glyn - a small bird-like lady.
'So what you're saying is that you'll do some jobs for me around the hotel, and in ex-
changeI'llgiveyousomedinnerandsomewheretosleep,'shesaidwithastrongYorkshire
accent.
'Well, yes, but you don't have to feed us.'
Search WWH ::
Custom Search