Days 1 and 2: Surrey and Hampshire
Day 1: Nunhead to Alfold ~ 58m
Two days before I departed, I’d been stuck in a freak hailstorm cowering underneath a stranger’s porch with 6 or 7 miserable and wet children. It didn’t look good for the week ahead.
Thankfully the weather brightened, and after sloppily gathering together everything and stuffing it (badly) into one pannier, I managed to head out at about 10:30. As I withdrew some cash a friendly stranger asked about my trip and we exchanged cycling tales; he recommended I leave the country as soon as I could and head for Belgium and Holland, but wished me well nonetheless. I slowly made my way up College road in the sunshine, and along the familiar and rather dull journey out of London through Elmers End.
From the top of Tandridge
Chugging along on my heavy bike it felt a little lonely. Surrey was quiet and bright and the roads were smooth and gently undulating, constantly flanked by Oak and Beech trees and high farm hedges. Occasionally the boughs would give way to a vista of the famous Surrey hills, which I’d purposefully flanked all day. Quite by chance, much of my route took in the Surrey cycleway, as I saw signs for it all day.
I arrived quite late at my campsite, and couldn’t find any local shops that were open. I settled for some eggs from a roadside house in Alfold and made myself a simple omelette that I ate in the fading sunlight, followed by tea from my little kettle – a supper ritual that I followed most evenings. It was a pleasant place to pitch: a small site of friendly caravaners next to an orchard of fruit trees, where chickens and sheep were left to graze. Ducks waddled through the grass nearby, and I could hear a Cuckoo in the nearby woods.
Day 2: Alfold to Abbotstone ~ 48m
A relatively short day. I struggled to find campsites in Hampshire, and on top of that I’d planned a longer ride the day after. The night was cold, but the sun was shining from the early morning and soon after leaving the campsite I was peeling off layers, heading out straight into the Surrey lanes where I’d left off the evening before. I took a small diversion down an unmarked lane and descended through quiet woodland casting dappled shade on the smooth tarmac – refreshing after the potholed lanes of Kent. I emerged into Chiddingfold where the peal of church bells announced the morning service.
After some tricky navigating through Haslemere, I wound up in some more bucolic lanes and slowly made my way up a gentle climb towards Selborne. where I paused for lunch. I had to find some shade because it was rather hot. As I made my way out of Selborne, more rapeseed fields clung pressed in on the roads, and what followed was a glorious couple of miles through quiet farmland and a reasonably long climb up towards Four Marks. The climbing is slow, but all the more rewarding for it. I saw a bird of prey at this point but couldn’t recognise it – I suspect it was a Red Kite. I stopped briefly to figure out the way to my field for the night but otherwise ploughed on into what was flatter farmland outside of Winchester, followed by a fantastic cooling descent towards New Alresford. I dropped off my stuff, and as it was still early headed into town to pick up some supplies – bread, local cheese, a hearty pasta meal as well as a bottle of Old Dick (snigger). I scoffed the cheese and some biscuits under a tree in the woods surrounding the campsite, and quaffed my beer while planning the next day’s route.
So far the solo riding hasn’t bothered me – a couple of brief conversations with other campers is enough to remind them and myself that I’m not a complete nutter. ‘Normal’ people in non-cycling attire come up to me quite often during the course of the day and wish me luck. That seems enough…
(In my little journal I have a rather long paragraph whinging about the campsite. *snip*)
Oliver & Ottavio 