The rain, it seems, was running a day late. We rode back to Sainsbury’s superstore to buy lunch, but eventually we just had to take the plunge and hit the road, heading for the lanes through Mautby and Stokesby. Once again the windmills marked on the map were disused and sail-less.

We’ve ridden in rain before, but today it was just torrential all day. When we arrived at Ranworth Broad (the Norfolk equivalent of lake) we were all drenched to the skin and worried about getting cold if we stopped for lunch. Michael saved the day by finding the Ranworth Visitor Centre at the end of a ten-minute nature trail on the edge of the broad. It was a thatched house with an interior balcony on the first floor, and we were given special permission to make ourselves at home upstairs for lunch.

It was very cosy in there. The little windows and binoculars offered excellent views across the broads, and there were conservation-type games to keep us amused inside. It was some time before we realised that the whole building was floating on the broad: it had been built elsewhere, towed across the broad and then secured to the bank with steel ropes.

Somehow the afternoon turned out to be quite enjoyable despite the rain pouring down even heavier than before. There was a brief puncture stop at Wroxham and then another brief toilet stop at Wroxham Barns Craft Centre, but for the rest of the time we just kept moving and warm. The route to Sheringham took us through the hamlets of Scottow, Swanton Abbot, Tuttington, Banningham, Erpingham, Aldborough and Gresham. The lanes were all very interesting, but the best features (according to the youngsters anyway) were the many lakes that had filled up dips in the road. Being wet already they just couldn’t resist splashing through the water at the highest possible speed. Perhaps this is why some members felt that today was the best day of the tour!

Sheringham hostel was stunning by any standards. It has been converted from a large detached house standing in its own gardens, and was modern and immaculate inside. In addition to the very welcome drying rooms there was a modern dining room (with pizza on the menu for supper), a table tennis room, a tv room, a study room (where some of us played cards) and very comfortable dormitories. A few people spent some time with the hairdryers in the washrooms, drying out their youth hostel cards!

The morning was very different to the previous day: the sun was shining and everyone was busy preparing their bikes on the lawn outside the hostel. It was gone 10am when we finally set off.

By the time we’d visited a motoring parts shop to buy some engine oil for our rusting chains it was too late to explore Sheringham’s beaches, so we left the resort without ever seeing the sea!

Neil ran into trouble before we reached Weybourne: his rear wheel, which had been suffering from loose spokes for some time, suddenly became buckled and unridable. The rest of the group explored the lane route to Cley while Neil effected what repairs he could. The windmill was closed until the afternoon, so we waited in the local cafe until Neil arrived.

Lunch was purchased from the supermarket at Blakeney and consumed on the picnic tables at Langham Glass in glorious sunshine. There was time to play in the adventure park and take a brief look at the interesting specimens of coloured glass on display in the shop before we had to press onwards.

The map showed that we needed to follow the B1388 from Binham to Walsingham, so Michael instructed the leaders accordingly. At about the time that we had expected to arrive at Walsingham we found ourselves entering Hindringham: evidently the B-road had continued along a right turn and the road we had followed had become a lane! It just goes to show how you should never make assumptions about roads - check them every time!

Having passed the shrine at Little Walsingham and followed the almost straight road through Egmere we soon found ourselves at the entrance to our planned three-mile track. The only problem was that that access was blocked by a large muddy lake that spanned the width of the lane. Tao, being Tao, decided that he wasn’t going to pick his way around the edge like the rest, so he rode straight through the middle: naturally it turned out to be far deeper than he expected, so he was totally soaked when he emerged at the far side.

The track was excellent in many ways, being wide, scenic and reasonably flat. Unfortunately it also had thorns large enough to cause three punctures in mountain-bike tyres, and this was going to be a problem because we wanted to get to the working windmill at Great Bircham before it closed. The only solution was for the main group to press on to the mill, leaving the puncture crew to catch up as soon as they could.

The mill turned out to be excellent. The whole group was allowed to climb the many cramped stairways to the top for just £10, passing numerous exhibits and video presentations on the way. The view from the top showed us just how flat the surrounding land really was. Afterwards there was a cafe, a hen and chicks that greedily ate our leftover bread and a children’s play area designed for under sevens - our youngsters couldn’t resist playing in it of course, and they were promptly told off by the management!

Now we really had to keep moving to reach the hostel in time for supper. We took the lanes through Fring and Sedgeford, were nearly overcome by the smell of lavender at Heacham and arrived at Hunstanton hostel just ten minutes before supper time. Our welcome was a little less than warm: first we had to ride half a mile to get to the bike shed at the back of the hostel, then we were told that we were too late to have soup (what is the point of booking in advance if it isn’t to make sure your supper is waiting for you when you arrive!).

Neil should have done some major repair work to his wheel, but instead he chose to join the rest of the group for a closely-supervised walk to the beach and fairground. All the rides were very expensive, so we didn’t stay very long.

One or two ladybirds landed on us as we gathered in the morning sunshine, but there was little sign of the plague of ladybirds that had apparently descended on the village during the week. Daniel decided that the weather was now dry enough to remove the waterproof cover that he had fitted over his handlebar-mounted cuddly toy.

First stop today was Sandringham, the Queen’s winter residence. For the rest of the year it is open to the public, so when we had sampled the delicious cakes on offer at the newly-completed visitor centre, half the group took the tour of the house and grounds while the rest played cricket on the parkland outside using Daniel’s soft bat and ball (which had been confiscated on several earlier occasions when he used it to hit people instead of balls).

We ate lunch outside the visitor centre and then set off through Hillington to join the Peddars Way, a roman route that headed directly towards our destination and offered many sections of interesting track along the way. There was time to look at the castle in Castle Acre before setting off again for North Pickenham, Little Cressingham and The Arms.

Our intention was to continue across an enormous area of heathland marked on the map as a Danger Area, but we soon discovered that the whole area had been sealed off by the military. There was no alternative but to take the detour around the edge via Bodney and Mundford at breakneck speed.

It was here that Neil’s wheel finally gave up the ghost. He was forced to walk the several remaining miles to Brandon, arriving just as the rest of the group were tucking into their last provided meal of the tour.

Brandon is situated in the middle of Thetford Chase, one of the largest wooded areas in the country, so there were delightful gardens and trees all around the hostel. Being in the village, however, there were also some housing estates nearby which detracted a little from the scenery. During supper Michael was approached by another hosteller who remembered seeing him on a previous tour two years earlier: it seems that almost every year we are recognised by some hosteller or another.

The evening was spent washing the dishes by hand (this was the first hostel that didn’t have a dishwasher), sorting out Neil’s transport arrangements for tomorrow (why do these problems always happen on a Sunday when the bike shops are closed) and settling down into our single large dormitory.

This was going to be the longest ride of the tour at 64 miles, so we were grateful for the good weather. Neil tried the bike/toy shop in Brandon, but they couldn’t rebuild the wheel, supply a new wheel or a new rim and spokes, so he decided to walk to Thetford, take a train to Peterborough (he wasn’t allowed on the first two because there was no space for his bike) and take a taxi to Thurlby.

The rest of the group cycled through Weeting, Methwold, Stoke Ferry and through a “Road Closed” sign to West Dereham and Downham Market before taking a brief rest to search for the local Gateway supermarket. Daniel was out first, so he made use of the time to befriend a sensitive little black dog with sad eyes whose name turned out to be Sweep - see the Tour Video if you want to see him for yourself!

Immediately we were off again, crossing the Hundred Foot Drain and the River Great Ouse to enter the Fens, Britain’s largest area of totally flat land. Everywhere fields of crops met our eyes: wheat, sugar beet, carrots, fruit trees, cauliflowers - you name it, there it was growing for as far as the eye could see. The lanes tend to go round the edges of the rectangular fields, so if you need to cross at an angle (like we did) you have to follow a rather zigzag route.

For those who don’t know, the whole area lies below sea level, so how do they keep the seawater out? They build man-made drainage ditches that run in straight lines and then pump the water out to sea at the pumping stations.

Our route took us across Stow Bardoulph Fen, over Middle Level Main Drain, past the delicious-smelling fruit orchards of Emneth and then straight through the large town of Wisbech to the villages of Leverington and Gorefield where we enjoyed a brief lunch stop in the shade of some roadside trees near the church.

Several of us could have used a good long rest at this point, but of course there was no time. On we went, over North Level Main Drain, across Tydd St Giles Fen and over South Holland Main Drain to Holbeach St Johns. Everywhere here the ground was table-top flat, which made the cycling easy but ensured that everyone got sore behinds. The chance of a rest came at Moulton Chapel, when Michael got a blow-out in his rear tyre. A woman living in a nearby house kindly allowed all of us to troop through her kitchen to use the toilet and refill our water bottles while Michael effected repairs.

We skirted around Spalding, then stopped briefly at a garage so that Chris could pump up his tyres (he’d been going on and on about garages all day, and now at last he was happy). The final sprint to Thurlby hostel took us through Pode Hole (where Daniel did his water fountain impression in the middle of the road), Tongue End and Bourne (because we couldn’t find the track shortcuts marked on the map). We finally arrived at 6.15pm and found Neil already there after an expensive day on public transport.

The hostel was very basic, but cosy nevertheless, with private gardens where the kids played chasing games until darkness fell. Most of the evening was spent queuing for the shower, recording video interviews (for the tour videotape) and walking to the telephone (remember to turn left out of the hostel for the nearest telephone if you ever visit Thurlby, not right like Michael did).

We’ve had all kinds of night-time noises in our dormitories, but tonight was the worst of all: with Tristan’s snorting, Paul’s scratching and Chris’s snoring Michael got no sleep at all!

British Rail was suffering one of its longest ever rail strikes at the time of our tour, but Michael had been relieved to note that train services were running on all the lines that we intended to use. This morning, however, his worst nightmare came true: Mrs Talbot rang to say that she had just read in the papers that all trains on the Peterborough to London line would not be running today.

Michael spent more than an hour on the telephone establishing that the report was indeed true, that the nearest working line to London was at Cambridge and that the only way for us to get there was to hire a van at a cost of £94. Some members were being collected from Peterborough so most of us rode the ten miles or so to the station while Neil got on the van at Thurlby. The traffic was very busy and it took us some time to find the station, even with the aid of an OS map. The van was even later though because they had taken the time to remove six seats to make room for the bikes.

It was a tight squeeze, so tight in fact that we weren’t able to offer a lift to Matthew who had arranged to cycle back to Bury St Edmunds, but eventually we were off, saying farewell to Matthew, Tristan and Peter and hoping that we might make it home that night after all.

To our surprise, everything went smoothly. We had to wait an hour for the next train from Cambridge to Liverpool Street, but there were no problems on the underground and we got all the bikes onto one Plymouth-bound train. We dropped Daniel and Peter T off at Reading, and finally arrived in Newton Abbot just thirty minutes later than originally planned.

So what were our feelings about the tour? The cycling was easy, the scenery was rural but generally uninteresting (because it was so flat), the tracks were good, the coastal areas were a bit touristy, but it had been a fun week. Norfolk could never match the majesty of Scotland or Norway, of course, but it’s good to say that we’ve been there and seen it.

Incidentally, British Rail were very helpful after the event and eventually provided £50 in compensation for the problems caused by the strike.

If you think you’d enjoy taking part in a tour like this, see the details about our forthcoming tours elsewhere on this website.

Dayle delayed us by being late at the start, but we still got to the Ilsington House hotel by 12 noon after taking a short-cut road that we’ve never used before. Seven members used the pool, four went on a short ride and the rest spectated or chatted until the meal was served at 1pm.

This year we’d been given the main restaurant: the tables looked superb as the sunshine flooded through the front windows. At the end of the meal, Andy Guy had ice cream with no pudding and Dayle and Budgie finished up all the clotted cream between them despite Michael’s generous health warnings.

When certificates and trophies had been awarded we set off for Haytor against a stiff and cold headwind. Several didn’t have gloves (Michael included) and paid the price. Poor Charles got a puncture near Cold East Cross, but nevertheless we managed to reach Buckfastleigh just before dark. The hotel had put on an excellent spread for us this year, so I’m sure we’ll be returning again next year.

Our last event of 1994 had its specially warm and friendly atmosphere captured on videotape this year. There was four-player Skidmarks, Pictionary, and of course the greatest bunch of people you could ever wish to meet!

In marked contrast to previous years our junior tour of the Cornish Coast attracted three cyclists from the national advertising but only one from our own Section. Michael’s view was that this would allow everyone to really enjoy the holiday, and his prediction turned out to be absolutely correct.

Matthew, Nick and Jered were already at Crofters after travelling down from London and Reading by train the previous evening. Eliot arrived at 8.30 and the whole crew played computer games until Julian arrived (somewhat late) at 9.45. After loading the six bikes onto our two cars we drove to Plymouth, crossed the Torpoint ferry and parked the cars in prearranged parking spaces in the village of Antony. Now at last the cycling could begin.

Our ride took us along the coast through the sleepy villages of Downderry and Seaton. Here we settled down for lunch in the shade of some trees, but the owner had to come up to satisfy himself that we weren’t doing any damage.

Next stop was the Monkey Sanctuary at the top of the hill. As luck would have it, today was the first day it had opened this year, so when Michael had negotiated a special short-stay entry charge we spent a happy hour watching the woolly monkeys and playing in the adventure park. Matthew almost bought a cuddly toy monkey to match the koala (he called it a mouse) attached to his handlebars, but financial considerations eventually persuaded him to give it a miss on this occasion.

The track descent to Millendreath Beach was fun, although the many steep steps that followed were somewhat less enjoyable. This was Michael’s short-cut to Looe! The section of coastal path that brought us right into the busy fishing village turned out to be great fun, however, so Michael was forgiven.

The Tasty Corner cafe provided us with high-quality refreshments, albeit at a stiff price. Julian was very pleased with the chocolate cake! As we were preparing to leave the village we discovered that the gents' toilets were closed for the season while repairs were effected! We weren’t sure what we were supposed to do, so after we had climbed the very steep hill to the fields above the village, some nearby farm gates were pressed into service.

The option to ride the coastal detour through Polperro did not appeal to most of the group, so we sped through the lanes to the Fowey ferry and arrived at Golant hostel by 5.45. Matthew, who had never ridden his bike seriously before, found the pace a little fast for his liking, but he didn’t say anything and kept up very well. As Michael said afterwards, if he’d said he wanted to go a little slower we would have obliged.

Golant hostel is a converted mansion situated in its own grounds overlooking the river Fowey. When we had settled into our six-bedded dormitory, showered and eaten (some weren’t impressed with the size of the orange juices that they’d been given as an alternative to soup), we spent the rest of the evening playing with a Frisbee and tennis ball in the gardens, and (when it got too dark to play outside) pool in the games room.

By the time Jered had fixed his puncture from yesterday evening it was 10.30 before we finally set off from the hostel. The day’s ride was relatively short however, so we weren’t at all concerned.

After a brief stop at the Spar in Par we took the back-lane route that by-passed St Austell and brought us quickly to the port of Charlestown. Here the posh restaurant above the museum provided excellent refreshments (yes, Julian had two more pieces of chocolate cake), and then the museum itself kept us amused for another hour with its radio-controlled boats and talking models. Nick caused us some concern by shooting through like a bullet when nobody was looking: we spent some time trying to find him. Then Eliot drew attention to himself by winding the manual foghorn loud enough to wake the dead!

Michael had some difficulty figuring out how to use Julian’s portable can-opener as we enjoyed lunch overlooking the harbour. He assumed it was one of those weird models that cut the can from the side, but in fact this one was supposed to be used from the top. He ended up with a very jagged edge at the top of his baked bean can.

Next stop was the fishing village of Mevagissey - or Mega-Busy as we named it today. The aquarium was still closed, but we were able to buy a little fudge from one of the many tourist shops that lined the seagull-infested harbour.

The remaining two stiff climbs seemed to present no problems at all to our fit crew, so we arrived early at Boswinger (around 4.30) and had plenty of time to explore nearby Hemmick Beach. Julian nearly missed it when he aggravated a local dog by staring at it while wearing his cycling shades: it bounded out of its garden and barked as though it was ready to go for his throat!

Hemmick beach really has to be seen to be believed (if you want to get an idea of what it’s like, check out the tour video). We whiled away two contented hours just playing with the Frisbee and tennis ball, climbing the rocks, getting wet, and (in Jered’s case) building sandcastles. We had some of the best fun of the tour here, in the glorious sunshine that seemed set to bless us for the whole week. If you didn’t come on the tour, you just don’t know what you missed.

The hostel showers were welcome when we eventually returned, and the hostel meals were surprisingly good. When it came to washing up, however, Matthew had to be carried down from the dormitory before he would carry out his allotted task.

The remainder of the evening was spent playing Frisbee outside the hostel (the dog had been moved inside the house now, so Julian was OK), and playing liar dice and cards in the common room. Once again we had a dormitory to ourselves, although some complained that they were sleeping against a rough stone wall.

Nick proved that he was a useful lad to have on a tour this morning: he had laid our places for breakfast by the time we arrived in the dining room. If only more of our youngsters could be so helpful and well organised. Eliot, once again, was the last to get his panniers packed.

This morning’s ride took us to the round houses at Veryan (unusual mainly because they aren’t rectangular) and then on to St Mawes, where we took the ferry to Falmouth. The boat was quite small, so our bikes had to be packed on carefully. Just after the ferry had set off, Michael produced a mouth-watering Danish pastry that he had purchased from a shop at St Mawes while no-one was looking, and proceeded to eat it while everyone else looked on in envy. When they realised they weren’t going to get any they turned their attention to the oil rig located in the Fal estuary and held a debate on whether or not it should have been put there.

A Burger King restaurant provided food for all of the crew - except Michael, who had set his heart on a pizza. The next part of the journey would take us to the Helford Passage ferry, which does not run at high tide. Michael made a telephone call and established that the tide was OK and the next ferries would leave at 3pm and 4pm. We cruised casually through the quiet lanes and arrived coolly at the jetty at exactly 3pm.

The beach was packed with people. We pushed our bikes along the wooden platform to the place where the tiny boat was moored and proceeded to load the bikes and luggage. Eliot expressed grave concerns about the positioning of his precious bike, but he really needn’t have worried. Jered, who is of US origin, didn’t like the arrangement at all and thought seriously about asking to see their licence! He’s obviously not used to the small-time operations that exist in Cornwall.

The Post Office on the far side provided much-needed refreshments before we climbed over the hill to Coverack, on the Lizard Peninsula. Here we were treated to a garden barbecue for our evening meal which included chocolate bananas for dessert. Michael wasn’t too impressed with the vegetarian burgers, which were fried in the same fat as the meat burgers.

Evening entertainments were provided by the well-equipped games room and a walk through the village to the beach. We had hoped to find some nice-looking swings that we had seen from our second-floor dormitory window, but it took a second walk after dark before we finally found them. Nick, who likes swings, went quite silly when he found them, and couldn’t stop laughing.

For the third evening in a row we had a dormitory to ourselves.