Poor Ian had been waiting at the Newton start for nearly forty minutes by the time we arrived, which meant that there was very little time to meet the 2.15 Marldon deadline. When we finally arrived at 2.23 we were amazed to discover that a rather impetuous Philip had decided to leave on time with the afternoon riders rather than wait for us. He wasn't especially popular.

After a detour through Berry Pomeroy the two groups eventually met as planned at the Totnes pick-up. And here to greet us was a Herald Express photographer, waiting for a photograph of the assembled throng to go with a story he was doing for his paper.

And so finally the afternoon ride got underway. There was a long climb along the road route to Ashprington, aggravated by the presence of some more dogs who were clearly well out of control, and then a short descent to the village square. From here the Sharpham Drive track was followed all the way back to Totnes, complete with stiles, gates, steep fields, woods, meadows and (in Michael Banks' case) punctures. It was all good fun, of course, finishing the day with a good deal of variety.

Cyclists should perform a number of regular checks on their machines to ensure that they remain safe to use. Obvious danger points are brakes, cables, tyres and lights, but saddles and chains are also important. Members attending this social should have no excuse for turning up on a ride with a dangerous cycle.

The icy air had a detrimental effect on Luke Hatherly today, who had been off school for more than a week. At Chudleigh Knighton it was obvious that he would not be able to complete the planned ride, so a unanimous decision was made to change the destination to Haytor tramway.

On the way to Bovey Tracey we came across a rather unhappy scene. Several people had congregated ahead of us at the end of a long trench which ran the length of the road. As we approached we suddenly saw what all the commotion was about - a large horse was lying on its side, covered with a coat and being attended to by its young owner who was obviously rather upset. It had made the error of walking too close to the trench, but fortunately escaped with cuts and bruises.

After welcome refreshments in the Brookside Tearooms we were ready for the long ascent to Haytor. The climb seemed to go on for ever. Once we had reached the top, the tramway led us safely across the moor to the Haytor Quarry and the promise of some shelter from the bitter easterly wind. I say safely, but in fact Ian managed to fall off on two occasions, landing squarely in the dirt each time.

Lunch was a particularly hasty affair - the quarry seemed to do little to keep us warm. We were brave (or foolish) enough to climb onto Haytor Rock before we made tracks for home, Mark Moxham even managing a little dance on top in the stiff wind.

The ride was obviously going to finish early, so there was time for a short excursion to the Ten Commandments Stone before the groups went their separate ways from Cold East Cross. Spectacular views are available from Buckland Beacon where the stones are situated, but today you needed arctic clothing to enjoy them.

The biggest surprises today came not from the weather but from the respective appearances of Craig and Warren, who had been in summer hibernation. There were no signs of cobwebs as they both kept up well with the brisk pace. Sadly, however, Jamie and Matthew were unable to join the ride as they had no transport available from Dawlish.

Following the main road to Kitterford Cross we soon reached "Graffiti House", a derelict building near California Cross with various large messages displayed on the walls. From there it was but a short ride to Reveton Farm and the footpath to Silveridge Wood.

There seemed to be a certain amount of disbelief in the ranks as we gathered at the start of the path. Everyone had been warned about the ride of course, but this looked beyond a joke. One or two would have taken the lengthy road alternative if they hadn't been so hungry and tired.

The atmosphere changed once everyone had actually started along the track. For one thing it was all downhill. And for another it was nowhere near as overgrown as Michael had predicted. There were a few encroaching brambles to contend with, and the carpet of autumn leaves concealed a few stones and pits, but progress was fast and the hedgerows were a delight. And then there was Ian's assurance that he wouldn't fall off this week - of course he did fall off, on the first corner, as everyone had expected, which added further enjoyment to the ride.

The track brought us eventually to the course of the old South Brent to Kingsbridge railway line at the point where it crosses the river Avon. The area was buried in the heart of Silveridge Wood with Autumn leaves ankle deep almost everywhere. This was to be the lunch stop: it would be difficult to imagine a more picturesque location.

Getting the bikes up onto the bridge proved a little more tricky than anticipated, since the holly-lined path was too narrow for a bike. Finally the job was done, and there was the railway track disappearing into the undergrowth, beckoning is to explore it. No-one needed any encouragement.

Things went fine for a while. The track was again very leafy, and vegetation encroached from the sides in places, but the path was level and the scenery unspoilt. Then came a big problem in the form of a fence - an electric fence to be precise, as Steven found out to his cost. After some consideration the bikes were passed (cautiously) over the top of the fence whilst the owners squirmed (equally cautiously) beneath it. There was then a second fence to tackle, the two fences together lining a link lane between two fields to stop the animals straying along the track. This time Craig was not so lucky, performing a spectacular leap into the air after receiving a hefty belt from the unfriendly fence.

Members were warned to watch out for other traps which might have been set for us. A few moments later we encountered the quicksand, and finally noticed that a bridge had been taken out to stop our progress. Seriously though, this was the end of the line as far as the railway was concerned, and there was just the little matter of following the footpath on to the road at Topsham Bridge. This was no easy task in itself: a steep path descended to the bottom of the valley, with the promise of an icy ducking in the Avon for anyone missing their footing.

Back on solid ground once again progress was swift. From Hendham the group rode the easy lane route through Moreleigh to Diptford, returning to the Avon Valley once more for the last lap to Avonwick. And here was the old station, Ham Mill Halt, now a private dwelling but still retaining many of the features that make it obviously a station.

The Copper Kettle cafe at South Brent was a perfect place to finish the day's ride. Young Paul Ledingham was counting up the miles, as he was being sponsored in aid of Children in Need. And Craig was counting up the Cafe Award Scheme votes on the new voting form. Ian may have been counting his bruises, but I think he had enjoyed the ride.

Richard Burge kept the group well entertained at his house near Ashburton, the chinchillas making their usual appearance part-way through the evening.

A morning of heavy rain had left Dave Humphreys fairly confident of a zero attendance for the Marldon afternoon ride, but just when he was going home for a cup of tea at 2.30, two mad riders arrived on the scene.


The merry little band took the lanes to Newton Abbot, continued up the long climb to the top of Twickenham Road and then took the track on the left that leads down to Haccombe. It was downhill all the way, and offered good views of Teignmouth.


Haccombe itself consisted of a tiny chapel with a large mansion nearby. There was time to look at the chapel, which was very beautiful, but it was beginning to get chilly so the threesome set off for home. There were a few climbs along the way, and some confusion about which way to go, but eventually they were on the lanes between North Wilborough and Compton at the end of a very pleasant ride - better than any cup of tea!


No-one braved the rain at Buckfastleigh, which was just as well since Michael was laid up in bed with flu for the day.

Our pick-up point at Totnes is on the Plains, which is probably the only place in the area where such a huge group of cyclists could meet without causing an obstruction! Michael, who was still nursing a cough, took the car as far as Totnes, and when Martin and Jonathon had also arrived by car the day's contingent was complete.

Seasoned members will be familiar with the route through Harbertonford and Moreleigh towards Slapton, but may not have ventured dowh the steep and twisty descent to Gara Mill, situated (not surprisingly perhaps) on the delightful River Gara. The mill is now a tasteful house conversion, buried deep in the woods at the bottom of the secluded valley. A path leading down to the river made a delightful lunch spot, where members could spread themselves out along the river bank to read their personal copy of Newsletter 7, hot off the photocopier.

There are only two ways out of Gara Mill, and both of them are up. Not wishing to leave by the same route we climbed the lane on the east side of the valley, discovering plenty of mud and other dubious semi-solids outside Burlestone Farm. Arriving shortly afterwards at Blackwell Cross the afternoon was still young, and there was plenty of time to enjoy the coastal views across Landcombe Cove on the way to Blackpool cafe.

Things had changed a little at Blackpool since we were last there. The cafe, which was now in new ownership, seemed to have gone up market to such an extent that there was no room for us to sit down in its luxurious warmth. We had to content ourselves with eating outside - which wasn't so bad as it happened, since the sun shone for the first time while we were there. Jonathon decided not to go swimming on this occasion, however.

The rather leisurely return was via Bowden and Tuckenhay, with more delightful scenes along the way. Luke Hatherly was really looking forward to trying Corkscrew Hill - until he got there that is, discovering that he had been down it before but hadn't known its name!

There was talk of Norway in the air as we neared Totnes in the descending darkness, but when all is said and done, the local rides can be every bit as much fun as the most expensive tour abroad, can't they?

Members taking part in this social were introduced to (or reminded about) the principles which are taught in Cycling Proficiency courses up and down the country. They seemed to have learned a few things, but we'll be watching on the rides to see if they have really taken it all in.