Our initial destination was Ugborough Beacon and everyone seemed happy about that. We rode up Dean Hill and through South Brent, getting to Golf Links Road at Wrangaton by 11.30. As usual the strict dress code in operation at the golf course provided some amusement (no t-shirts and all shirts must be tucked into trousers) but we didn't hang around long enough to risk getting struck by a golf ball. The youngsters needed a rest halfway up the Beacon, and we stopped again near the rocks at the top for a short lunch while admiring the extensive views across South Devon.

After riding a short distance into the moor it was 12.50 and Michael presented the options for the second part of the ride: either take the track decent to Owley and head home via South Brent, or take the adventurous option along the Redlake Tramway, emerging eventually at Cross Furzes. Hallam was a little anxious because he had arranged for his father John to collect him at 3.30 and had been instructed to ring if he was going to be later. The mobile number to ring had been written in large numerals on his lunch box, but every time he rang he got a strange and increasingly-annoyed person answering. Everyone wanted the adventurous option however so we decided we should go for it and would hopefully get back by 3.30 anyway.

The track was not especially rough so we made good progress. Despite the mainly grey skies Callum quickly ran out of water (as usual) and was trying to take everyone else's - Michael made him promise to bring two bottles in future, but he still did a fair amount of whinging.

Eventually we neared the point where Michael knew we needed to strike out across open moorland to join the Abbots Way track near the Avon. He got to what he felt sure was the right spot but couldn't see the gully that he had expected in the featureless moorland, so we pressed on a little until we caught sight of Redlake spoil heap itself. This confirmed our location, so after a short backtrack we left the track and waded through the long grass past some of the ruins of old mine workings. Hallam was convinced Michael was lost, but quickly we reached the top near Petres Cross and headed down across the hills to the clapper bridge over the Avon, now bathed in bright sunshine.

A small side-stream was clean enough to quench the thirst of the few who were desperate. Soon we had traversed the rough section of the Abbot's Way and came up behind the Avon Dam, looking magnificent in the afternoon sunshine. Everyone enjoyed our familiar downhill to Cross Furzes, although Callum went a little too fast and took a tumble on the soft grass. It was 3.58 when we finally reached Buckfastleigh: John had been waiting, and when he saw the number written on the lunchbox he said "I dictated the number to Steph and she wrote it on the box: I don't know whether I dictated it wrong, but that's not my number!” So Hallam was forgiven and everyone felt pleased to have taken part in one of our most adventurous rides of the year.