More records were broken on this midwinter hostelling sortie to North Devon - the largest attendance for a midwinter weekend, and the first hostel weekend to attract new riders. In view of the large attendance from the Totnes area, Richard Hopper kindly cycled out to provide an official starting point at the Plains, with Jeremy and Eugene selecting an interesting route which seemed to pass through every nearby village.

Experienced cyclists will no doubt be aware of the problems that can be encountered when taking bikes by train. There can often be problems with six, so how would we fare today with eighteen? The 1235 service to Exeter had a cavernous guards van, as anticipated. The bikes were almost lost inside, and Craig even managed to cycle around inside (albeit briefly, and presumably when the guard was otherwise occupied). Problems were expected on the next service to Barnstaple, but with a two hour wait we had planned an excursion along the new Exeter cycleway, starting near Exeter St. Davids and continuing right across the heart of the city to the Country Park near Countess Wear.

The idea was a real hit with everyone. For those who haven't ridden it, the track is like a Tarmac path. A white line runs along the centre, with one side marked for cyclists and the other for pedestrians. They change sides every so often, apparently when the cycle section would otherwise run alongside the river Exe, so you have to keep your wits about you. Perhaps the most amazing thing about the whole experience was the high proportion of green open spaces that we passed through along the way. One might have the impression of a city-centre cycleway wending its way behind terraced housing blocks and along the side of busy main roads, but all we saw was parkland, rivers and maritime museums.

It was at the Country Park that we finally stopped for lunch, surrounded by a rural scene of woodland, river, ducks and apes (sorry, it was Craig hanging from the tree). Then, when one of the threatened showers appeared to be looming in the distance we set off for the return route, sadly just five minutes too late to miss the hailstorm.

Timing was perfect for the train. But here was the problem. The youngsters ran up enthusiastically to the guard, who told them that the DMU van could not take more than seven bikes. Horror-struck they called for Michael, who parleyed with the guard for a while. Eventually he agreed to let us see how many we could squeeze in, provided we kept a free passage through the centre and allowed him access to doors on both sides. The team set to work with the usual efficiency, and managed to get the whole lot inside. The guard stared in disbelief, asking us to repeat exactly how many bikes had been installed and wondering how Gestapo HQ could possibly have provided him with false information. Next time he is asked he will remember the impossible, which takes South Dartmoor CTC just a little longer than the possible.

The journey was an ideal opportunity to collect fares and just relax, enjoying the delightful rural scenery of mid and north Devon. One of the highlights of the journey came when Michael passed around a translation of a letter he had received from the Soviet Union. It read as follows:<i>


Dear friend!

It is an honour for me to convey through you my best wishes for a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all British cyclists!

I hope that this year will be a year of many cycling tours, trips and journeys around the USSR and Great Britain. I wish you happiness in your personal affairs, joy in everyday life, success in your work, patience and persistence in the cause of developing international cycle tourism!

Leonid Rzhepishevsky </i>


Arriving at Barnstaple just a few minutes before 4pm we found ourselves almost immediately on another cyclepath, this time taking us straight to Instow. The weather was still sunny, but a strong headwind off the sea mad the ride a lot harder than it should have been. Arrival at the hostel followed within the hour, the leading group rushing to squeeze their bikes into the tiny bike shed. How pleased they looked as the others arrived: "Sorry, you'll have to leave yours outside!" Then the warden pointed to the huge, dry garage at the end of the track.

Our new Guide to Youth Hostel Weekends, given to all members before the event, seemed to be having the desired effect already. Signing in was very orderly despite the large number of membership applications and sleeping bag hires that had to be processed. And nearly everyone made their beds and washed before rushing to the members kitchen to burn their respective meals.

The atmosphere throughout the evening was very pleasant, the television attracting as much attention as the other hostellers and the Trivial Pursuit. OK, so there was one problem when Philip H took Michael's reserved vegetarian dish (by mistake?), but we all have our crosses to bear!

Highlight of the evening was the Crazy Post game, usually played at Maypool in March. After all that running around it was difficult to settle the newer members to sleep - just remember that we had special permission to run around the hostel like that; normally members should follow the YH guide to the letter.

Most people sleep at night, particularly after a day of cycling. There is usually an exception to the rule, however, and on this occasion it was Lee, who entertained everyone all night by throwing his blankets on the floor from his top bunk and then shivering loudly until Laurence threw them back up again. To top it all, he got dressed at 5.30am and wandered downstairs to watch tv! Clearly nobody had told him that wardens don't approve of such behaviour.

After an orderly breakfast and some doorstep photographs (some taken by our new friend Michael Stringer from Launceston) we set off into the morning. And what a morning it was. The sunshine and temperatures were enough to convince anyone that spring was here, and the abundance of primroses and snowdrops seemed to prove the point beyond doubt. The Torridge estuary formed a delightful backdrop during our descent to the village, with boats glinting in the sunshine and Appledore rising up behind.

North Devon Section had kindly agreed to meet us this morning to guide us around their territory. A few were waiting for us as we arrived; when the others turned up there were twenty five cyclists in the group. North Devon Section are all adults at present, so we had plenty of variety in the final group.

We took the cycle path back to Barnstaple - much easier now without the headwind - and then followed our friends to the fabulous St. John's garden centre near Newport. No, we hadn't all turned into gardening fanatics overnight. The centre boasted a superb cafe facility, situated to the rear of the retail area and surrounded by plants of all descriptions. This had to count as one of the nicest environments for a cafe. To make things better, the food was good and the prices were excellent.

Craig used the garden centre to good effect by buying a pair of gardening gloves. He had left his cycling gloves at home and had been suffering all morning from cold hands.

The lanes through Herner offered delightful scenery as they followed the river Taw towards Umberleigh. When Laurence broke a brake cable near Hawkridge the proposed extension route was abandoned, the group descending instead past Hoe farm to Umberleigh station. Mark couldn't help noticing the lambs "gambolling in the meadows".

Lunch was enjoyed in continuing sunshine at the station. We were early enough to see our homeward train on its outward journey to Barnstaple - and fortunately it consisted of two DMUs linked together, with two guard's vans. We were able to warn the guard, so he was ready for us when he returned.

Saying goodbye to our Barnstaple friends we settled down to enjoy the ride to Exeter. The train was so comfortable that some were sent to sleep - except those in the forward carriage who were entertained by a young gentleman wandering around bottomless (not one of our group I hasten to add).

I'm not sure whose idea it was to use the lifts at Exeter station, but it took a lot longer than carrying the bikes over the footbridge. To make matters worse, the lift could only accommodate about four bikes at a time. It was definitely more fun though. As the doors closed on the innocent cyclists, those queuing outside could here the gas filling the chamber. When the doors opened a few minutes later, the cyclists were gone ..

The next train back to Newton was not due for three hours, so the group elected to make the most of the good weather and cycle home. The route took us along Cowick street to Ide before depositing us at the bottom of Dunchideock Hill. This climb felt like mount Everest to some members. It was during the final ascent that Craig broke his rear derailleur. He said he was "just cycling along normally and it broke", getting itself caught firmly in the spokes of his wheel. There was nothing else to do except remove the offending item, shortening the chain so that he could ride the bike home in mid-range gears.

Everyone got home safely. Michael took Lee and Eugene home by car from Buckfastleigh to Totnes as it was getting rather late. And so it was that a great weekend came to an end. It had been a little tiring, but I'm sure everyone thoroughly enjoyed themselves.