This year's mix of games, mince pies, computers and music proved very popular with the members. Perhaps the most amusing event of the afternoon was when Andrew upset the Risk board halfway through a two-hour game. He was not too popular.

A disappointing first ride for our newcomers - we had only got half-way up Dean hill when the heavens opened. The debate at the top ended in a split, with Richard Hopper and Mike Giles leading the brave ones on to the Copper Kettle and Michael pursuing the faint-hearted back to Crofters to preside over another game of Risk.

After welcoming Mark Lakeman out on his new bike we set off along the usual route through Harbertonford, veering right near Moreleigh to bring us to Crabadon Cross and the Curtisknowle turn-off. We had soon found our way onto the muddy track that led steeply down through the woods to the old railway course, and there we had lunch alongside the swift-flowing river Avon.

Then came the interesting bit - trying to get back to a road. We were really no more than half a kilometre from Gara Bridge, but the railway course turned out to have lost much of its hard core and had certainly suffered under the recent rains. We eventually emerged unharmed, having crossed a couple of bogs and ascended a muddy bank to an equally muddy footpath, but the bikes needed a few spins through the nearby puddles to make them rideable! The owner of the house near the bridge turned out to be a cyclist, and was amused to see the state of our bikes.

In the amount of time it took us to climb the hill towards Lupridge (about fifteen minutes), the sky clouded over to obscure the delightful sunshine that had followed us all morning. Now all we could see was a dark and angry cloud racing towards us from the South West and filling the whole sky as it came. We turned tail and headed down into the valley again to Bickham Bridge, arriving just as the storm struck - but only to find nothing in the way of shelter! Well, there was some shelter in the forest on the way down the hill, but the leading youngsters had sailed straight past it.

It did stop, after we had all got drenched, and this made our return through the picturesque lanes near Diptford a real pleasure.

For the third year running this proved to be one of the best socials of the season, with everyone getting involved from the most senior (Richard) to the most junior (Toby). The teams kept changing, so most people found themselves in winning teams at one time or another.

Poor Glen Johnson! He had arranged to meet our Marldon group as they came through Newton Abbot, but the first group he saw was Torbay Section heading for Chudleigh. He wondered why they didn't stop, but thought they must be the right group and did his best to stay with them all the way to the pick-up. Finally, when he was eventually informed of his mistake, it was too late to get to Gappah even if someone had shown him the way, so he made his way home on his own. The real Marldon group, meanwhile, were more than a little confused when Glen wasn't waiting at the arranged point.

From the pick-up we proceeded up to the forest for lunch, being delayed only by a puncture from Mark L (it had been brother Paul causing the trouble earlier in the day for the Marldon group!) We then took the left-turn link lane across to the A38 and onward along the ridge to Lawrence Castle.

Some thought that the track through the forest was 'interesting' enough, but it was nothing compared with the steep track near the forest centre. Malcolm (yes, Malcolm Sheldon, not seen for a year before today's ride) managed to skid a hole through his tyre, keeping his friends occupied for quite a while as they effected repairs.

It was after the descent through Chudleigh that Mark Williams overtook Richard Burge. They somehow became entangled and both came off in a spectacular crash. Both were grazed, but Mark was later found to have also broken a chunk of bone off his elbow. In all my ten years of club cycling I cannot recall anyone sustaining a broken bone, and I hope that we never have a similar incident again. Richard escorted him to Bovey hospital and left him in their capable hands, but tea at the Brookside Tearooms was not quite as lively an occasion as it might have been.

Malcolm's tyre needed further treatment before he could ride back to Ashburton, so by the time we all got home it was a good deal later than it should have been. Mark is now making a good recovery, and we are pleased to report that he is looking forward to returning to his bike.

Many members had been looking forward to this mid-winter hostel weekend, which had originally been booked with Gidleigh. YHA regional office contacted us eight days before our visit, however, with the sad news of the death of the warden, who had made our youngsters welcome on a number of previous occasions. Reluctantly we had to re-schedule the weekend to Instow, using rail assistance to keep it within the capabilities of our primary-age participants. We still lost a few bookings as a result of the change, however.

In view of the distinct possibility of rain and other unpleasant weather features we decided to take the train right into Barnstaple and try the 'new' cyclepath along the old railway track towards Bideford. A stiff headwind made progress difficult at times, but the journey was punctuated by occasional stops to investigate beaches. One of the spookiest sights along the way was that of a huge derelict power station being dismantled by a single machine operator, the crashes echoing weirdly in the mist.

Arriving at Instow with plenty of time to spare left us with the option of continuing along the track to Bideford and then returning to the hostel through the surrounding lanes. There was not unanimous support for the idea at the outset, but the interesting scenery eventually persuaded them that it was a good idea.

Instow hostel was in the throes of major alterations designed to improve fire safety. Before supper could be prepared we had to clean a layer of dust off the utensils and kitchen surfaces. We really had an excellent evening, however: we were the only bookings, so the youngsters were allowed to run around the spooky corridors and empty dorms that evening without restriction.

A rough night was followed by a bright sunny morning, although occasional showers were still in the offing. When duties had been carried out and photographs taken, we set off through the maize of lanes towards Kings Nympton railway station, the route taking us past North Devon's major TV transmitter at Huntshaw Cross. The descent into the steep-sided Taw Valley was grand, bringing us to the station with an hour to spare before the train was due.

After a short lunch we decided to make the most of the sunshine and cycle down the valley to the next station at Eggesford. Sadly we still had a wait, as the train arrived 25 minutes later - on its way up! We amused ourselves for the next hour playing silly 'I spy' games in the ever-chilling air, and certainly appreciated the warmth of the train when it eventually returned.

This evening's video, Mannequin (PG), was the youngsters' own selection, and certainly proved to be quite entertaining.

It would not be honest to try to pretend that we were not influenced by the weather forecast which predicted torrential rain by mid-afternoon. On arrival at Avonwick we decided to abandon Lukesland (well, he wasn't out anyway) and head for the snow-strewn moors via Aish and Shipley. And that proved to be an excellent decision.

Everything seemed to be perfect on that morning. We stopped on several delightful little bridges along the way, just soaking up the freshness of the moorland brooks as they wended their way between the trees and boulders. Eventually we came to the Avon Dam itself, brimming over with icy cold water and set against a backdrop of snow-covered hills. The sounds of children and an excited dog on the other side of the dam made us feel for all the world as though we were in the Swiss alps!

Of course, there was only one return route that would satisfy everyone's excitement, and so we made our way back behind the dam and over our friendly moorland hills to rejoin the road at Cross Furzes. There was plenty of action along the way, with several people slipping on the snowy slopes, but a grassy foundation ensured that no-one was injured.

We arrived home shortly after 3.30: the rain began at 3.40. And so it was that a perfect day was concluded in a perfect way in a cosy room at Buckfastleigh.

Well, the rain started ten minutes after we left and showed absolutely no signs of stopping. Various routes were taken, but everyone ended up at Crofters in the end for a fabulous session of entertainments.