Sunday's ride was more of an achievement than a pleasure. We wanted to avoid an expensive train fare from Plymouth to Totnes if we could, so we set our heads into the wind and drizzle and rode for all we were worth along the main roads. Somehow we all covered the 55 miles to Buckfastleigh by 6pm - quite an achievement for Eliot, Paul, Chris and Richard.

This was our first chance to try out the almost-completed cycleway from Dartington to Totnes before its official opening next weekend. We were very impressed, and looked forward to the day when it would run all the way to Buckfastleigh.

This was another quiet meander around the Staverton-Broadhempston lanes.

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In view of the inclement weather we diverted to Bovey Tracey and the warmth of the Brookside Tearooms.

Toby had turned out on his touring bike hoping for a good road ride, so where did Michael lead us? Up the long, rough track to Lud Gate, down a steep stretch of open moorland to Chalk Ford, through the mud and along a very stony track to Scoriton. Michael had a touring bike and he liked tracks, so I guess he didn't expect Toby to think differently!

This was an excellent ride. From Marldon we took the Westerland Valley route to Collaton St Mary, then the Stoke Gabriel road and back lanes to Northern Telecom and Churston, where Kevin and his friend from Plymouth just happened to meet up with us. There were more back lanes to explore before we stopped for lunch in a grassy park overlooking Brixham harbour and the sea.

Brixham itself was bustling with tourists, so we hastened through the crowded market place and ascended a road which Michael hoped would eventually lead to Mansands. Remarkably, he got it right first time, although a few people (notably Ken) complained a little about the rough nature of the tracks.

We enjoyed a short rest on the beach before setting off for the long journey homewards.

This was the major junior tour for 1992, taking us to the Yorkshire Dales. A good way to start any tour write-up is to list the participants in order of age, so here they all are: Andrew Walker (11, Paignton), Tristan Wooller (12, Liversedge), Paul Evans (12, Chesterfield), Matthew Muir (12, Lancaster), Robert Walker (12, Paignton), Richard Goss (13, Buckfastleigh), Timothy Guard (13, Solihull), Ben Collins (14, Wigan), Matthew Pryer (14, Wigan), Mark Evans (14, Chesterfield), Lukas Wooller (14, Liversedge), Richard Sudworth (14, Wigan), Neil Ault (16, Buckfastleigh), Matthew Crabtree (16, Bridgnorth), Thomas Crabtree (16, Bridgnorth), Nicholas Guard (16, Solihull), Paul Smith (17, Basingstoke) and Michael Jones (32, Buckfastleigh).

If you've been counting, that makes a total of eighteen - a good size for a tour. Seven were completely new to CTC tours ... but enough of the statistics: you're probably dying to know what happened!

Our first problem, in the tradition of all junior tours, was British Rail. Only four bikes are allowed on each train from Devon to the north, so poor Neil had to travel on his own to Birmingham, incurring additional costs. We tried to persuade BR that there was enough space for five, but they insisted that the rules should not be broken. Neil took the 0705 train to Birmingham, where he met up with Paul Smith and the twins for the last leg of the journey. Meanwhile Michael, Richard and Co had to wait an hour for the 0805. At least the trains were on time, so everyone finally met at Preston at the agreed time of 1315.

The traffic in Preston was nowhere near as bad as we expect in Torquay at this time of year, so we quickly found the road to Longridge. We had been cycling for several miles when Tim and Nick manoeuvred to the front and asked Michael when we'd be stopping for lunch. Of course, everyone else had eaten lunch on the train or at the station. Conveniently, there was a problem with Matthew Muir's mudguard within five minutes, so while Paul and Neil fixed the mudguard Nick and Tim ate lunch near Gibbon Bridge.

As we approached Dunsop Bridge we found ourselves behind a herd of cattle, driven along by an elderly farmer on a Quad (four-wheeled motorbike). We were so early, however, that we still had time for a detour to the Trough of Bowland. Michael had some repairs to attend to along the way, so the leading bunch reached the top first. Instead of waiting, like any other sensible tour members, they turned about and set off down the hill again to rejoin those who had waited at the bottom. They passed Michael so fast that he didn't even have time to say "Stop". Just around the corner, Tim ran out of road and found himself half-way down a stony bank with some nice grazes on his face and arms. At last they realised why Michael always leads down hills and why he never takes any notice when they ask him to go faster.

We hobbled back to Dunsop Bridge and onwards to the primitive hostel in the pretty village of Slaidburn. Here there were no carpets or bedside lamps. There were also no showers, so everyone had to wash in the sinks.

Supper was adequate, and relatively uneventful except for Andy's questionable table manners. The rest of the evening was spent on the opening stages of our marathon 18-player whist league, played on the nine bunks in our dormitory with all partners changing every five minutes or so. Michael has spent a lot of time working out sheets that told him how to arrange all the pairs for each heat so that all possible combinations were played in the minimum number of heats. It certainly got us all talking to each other.

Poor Tim suffered a bit during the night, as his arm had sustained a friction burn in addition to a graze: groans of relief rose up out of the darkness every so often as he dipped his arm into a pan of icy water he had brought up from the kitchen!

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