Poor Luke H! He was suffering from heat exhaustion right from the start of today's 55 mile ride, and things didn't get better as the day went on.

Our two anticipated new members did not arrive at the Gappah pick-up as expected, although Philip's friend Craig made up for the loss in many ways. Having collected Steven on Haldon we descended through Mamhead to Starcross and thence onto the towpath that ran up to Exeter. Sadly, certain members didn't stop until they got to the canal itself, riding straight past the proposed lunch stop, but one had to admit that the availability of iced drinks at Turf Lock was a definite bonus.

The canal was lined once again with fisher folk, making life very difficult for any fish that happened by. Richard B mentioned that the clever fish had only to swim along the far bank, where there were no fishermen, but then he observed some extra long rods that scuppered that idea.

There then followed another mad dash to the end of the canal by the leading riders, which would have involved someone in a long return search had anyone been found missing at the end of it. A short lecture from Michael on the subject seemed to do the trick, and the ride then continued through Shillingford St George, where a tiny little dog rushed down its path and barked itself silly behind its gate for a few moments as we rested outside in the shade of a tree. Clearly it had nothing better to do with its time! Eventually it packed up and walked hñome again, so we did likewise.

The long drag up from Dunchideock was thirsty work, and so all speed was made for Bovey and the Brookside Tearooms. Iced drinks were definitely the order of the day before the groups split to make their separate ways home. Some parents may not have recognised their offspring when they returned home, bright red in many cases.

At last! Andrew, Mark, Luke and Gary got their Spitchwick ride! But their request was granted on the understanding that there would be no more such rides for at least four weeks. The funniest thing about it was that none of the lads went in for a dip! The air had become distinctly chilly during the outward journey, and the river had somehow lost much of its appeal!

Return was via the long route, through Buckland and Ashburton.

Whooping Rock? Well they couldn't really call it Rocking Rock, could they? Visions of a gigantic boulder balanced precariously on a moorland tor which could be rocked with the slightest pressure of a little finger encouraged us onwards through Bickington and Haytor.

Just after Manaton we found the dead-end road we were looking for, turned off onto the footpath and soon reached Easdon Tor, site of the aforesaid rock. Hunger seemed the first priority, but not before several people had discovered that it was particularly difficult to hold one's position on the triangulation post in view of the strong winds that blew across it.

A group search for the rock uncovered a letterbox (Dartmoor variety in a plastic box) hidden at the base of a large rock formation. True, the large lump on top appeared to be touching the lower one in only a couple of places, but even Budgie couldn't get it to budge! Still, there were good views to be had by anyone who could withstand the force of the wind long enough to admire them.

Returning to the road we decided to make for Widecombe, but the group was evenly split on whether to try the long track through Heathercombe and Hamel Down. Eventually there was a kind of mutiny, and the track supporters were defeated. And it was just as well as it turned out, for part way down the hill to Widecombe who should turn up but Luke Hatherly in a car. He had been at the Buckfastleigh start at the specified time and left at 10.05 when no-one was there, not knowing where the pick-up was. His parents had spent much of their lunch time searching the rocks for us, and had been fortunate enough to discover us at last.

At the Wayside, Budgie wanted lots of tea. He even returned his teapot and asked the waitress for more, as he often does. Sadly she interpreted this literally, delivering a fresh set of 'tea for two' within a few moments, along with the appropriate additional bill! It's not often one sees Richard get angry, but today was the exception. Fortunately the incident was cleared up amicably after Michael's intervention: the cafe agreed to refund half of the extra bill, and asked Richard to request more water in future to avoid confusion.

The hill from Ponsworthy brought us once again to Bel Tor Corner, from where we all took the fabulous track to Poundsgate. Descending Poundsgate hill we quickly got caught in a traffic queue, and discovered that the whole Spitchwick / New Bridge area was like an ant heap (ants as well as tourists)! Having fixed Philip's brake cable we decided to return home along our more peaceful lanes, agreeing to return to Spitchwick on evening rides only during the summer.

Young Toby came out to the start in the sure knowledge that he would be offered an evening of computer drawing at Crofters .. and he was not disappointed.

A shower on the way to Erme Mill failed to dampen our spirits on this bright sunny day. Mothecombe beach offered plenty of entertainment during lunch: the huge expanse of sand was covered at such an amazing rate by the incoming tide that the lads had to go and measure it in centimetres (or was it metres) per second. Mind you, they also had to run over it, and through it, before they had finally exhausted themselves.

We made a hasty retreat before our last remaining patch of sand became submerged, returning largely by the same route to Erme Mill. When water bottles had been refilled we took the Ivybridge road to South Brent's Copper Kettle cafe, where Simon eventually caught up with us. (He had gone on a little too hastily back at Ivybridge, missing the turning, but knew where we were heading and found his own way there.)

A number of muddy, overgrown tracks formed the basis of this evening's ride, much to the delight of young Alan. A few isolated complaints, arising mainly when one particular track ended up in some corn fields, were outweighed by the sheer fun of the evening, although some parents may not have been quite so amused about the mud.

An unexpected turnout from Paignton members took attendance into double figures for our climb over the hill to South Brent's Copper Kettle tearooms, where four large scoops of delicious ice-cream could be had for just 70p!

The ride continued through Avonwick to the peaceful hamlet of North Huish, where very little was happening (until we arrived). There was a Treasure Hunt disrupting the anticipated tranquility of Diptford, but our planned excursion through Stert Barton's picturesque lanes left no time to observe the goings on in any great detail.

When the younger members had amused themselves by throwing sticking plants at each other, the two groups separated near Blue Post, returning homewards via Totnes and Rattery respectively after one of our most tiring afternoon rides of the year.

This short ride took us along the riverside path at Staverton, offering us the chance to test our skills at stone-skimming on the Dart. Incredibly we managed to return along another 'new' lane, bringing us home via Abham and Caddaford.

The climb to Haytor was performed relatively quickly today, leaving us time to include an unplanned detour along the granite tramway track. For those readers who might be unfamiliar with this scenic gem, the track wends its way behind Haytor's quarry and then drops steeply down the side of a rock-strewn valley. Lunch was enjoyed beside the stream at the bottom amidst water fights that got a little out of hand.

The ancient village at Graetor offered further magnificent views as we climbed to the road at Hound Tor. We then took the track past Jay's Grave before setting out along the final track of the day - Hamel Down itself. Hang gliders were making the most of the stiff wind that swept across the upper reaches of the ridge, but we preferred to enjoy a speedy descent to the more sheltered reaches of Widecombe's Wayside cafe and shops.

Spitchwick was the last stop of the day, where Craig demonstrated his swimming prowess on the tarzan rope, watched by many tourists who lazed around in the sunshine.

A general consensus that we hadn't been up on the open moor for a while led us to undertake the long climb to Cross Furzes and Lud Gate, from where everyone enjoyed the rapid descent across bumpy moorland to the river at Chalk Ford.

The climb had not been without its mishaps, notably the 'puncture' in Joan's tyre which turned out (after lengthy inspection) to have more to do with Paul's inability to use a pump than with any leakage of air! Similarly, the return along the track to Scorriton was somewhat ill-fated: young Rohan's rear tyre exploded just when everyone with a matching pump had disappeared around the corner! Fortunately the cavalry were with us (in the form of Richard H) who set off in hot pursuit and eventually returned with the appropriate pump.

Return was via Horse & Cart (sorry Mark, Hawson Court).