After a sodden start and a closed café at South Brent, the day opened into a surprise: a thrilling hedgerow descent to a tranquil glade by the river Avon and the old South Brent–Kingsbridge railway. Lunch under sheltering trees, geese drifting by, and Joe losing a shoe to deep mud made it memorable.

We set out for Venford Reservoir, but Oliver’s bargain chain kept snapping, leaving him short of the goal while the rest pushed on. The evening also belonged to Keir, who climbed strongly and, after swapping bikes with Joe, went quicker still.

Teign Valley tracks led through sweeping bluebells and along rocky riverside miles, past a busy Fingle Bridge to high views with Castle Drogo and a favourite twisty descent. In Chagford the tea room was expensive and the proprietor ferried a tiny watering can; we flew home on a tailwind.

On a perfect summer evening we climbed to Avon Dam, rewarded with a blissful dip in the River Avon’s deep pools—some even went in fully clothed. Dusk revealed a hushed, hazy reservoir before a thrilling moorland descent, the fading light sealing an unforgettable ride.

We rode the Plym Valley to Morwellham Quay, where the day was defined by a farcical lunch: a pasty shop closing at 1.20 and serving grudging, pastry-heavy pasties. Buoyed by a gleeful raid on the dressing-up room, we flew home, enjoying the unusual treat of descending the cycleway.

Bike swapping defined the evening, as Keir left his too-small bike for Michael’s spare before he and Jamie finally settled on the right bikes. Hembury Woods offered sheltered tracks, a rope swing by the river, and heavy rain from Buckfast to finish.

Sunshine from Bickington gave way to an unseasonal hailstorm on the final climb to Haytor, turning a simple outing into a bracing lesson. Huddled by the refreshments van with soup and hot chocolate, the youngsters thawed out and learned to pack wet-weather gear for next time.

With showers threatening, we pressed on to a moorland river, a brisk climb giving way to open moorland. Two small moments set the tone: the youngsters’ curious pause over a dead sheep, and the rich smell of damp grass on the way back as the rain held off.

With the fast riders away, Michael, who dislikes solo riding, took a short, quiet spin to Gidleigh Bridge in superb weather. The day also brought a change: from next week, Sunday rides will be half-day morning rides to encourage younger riders.

A hot midsummer dash to Spitchwick ended in a refreshing river dip, briefly curtailed by midges. The ride had its drama too: Daniel misjudged the final steep descent and somersaulted into the woods, and later Will’s brush with nettles brought Ben down as well.

Three of us marked the first of the new Sunday morning rides, the heat steering us to Avon Dam for a cooling pause as thundery clouds gathered. The day was punctuated by Tao’s painful tumble before Shipley Bridge; we were home before the rain.

A warm evening turned into a gentle quest for water, ending with a brief, welcome dip in the River Avon by the old Avonwick station. An unexpected Post Office sign in Diptford raised smiles, and the younger riders kept a brisk pace—apart from Keir, unusually subdued.