clairedavieswriter

I want to start today’s entry with a thank you to a fellow guest at my B&B, whom I’d never met until this morning. As I was loading my bike, she first asked where I was going, then whether I was fundraising, and then disappeared into her room, coming back with a £10 note. Betty Thompson – in the hope your daughter finds this blog – thank you for your support.

In the cool of the morning, under threatening skies, I wended my way through salt marshes, past caravan parks, and across the Axe without going on a main road, thanks to a local cycling organisation, among others…

Part of the deal involved building a screen to prevent walkers and cyclists disturbing the bird life.

Again, it wasn’t a day for views, but at least it stayed dry, unlike just about everywhere else in the country.

In a housing estate in Weston-super-Mare, the famous beach donkeys are remembered, in the spot they used to pass on their way to winter pastures.

And that’s the last photo of the front tyre with the inner tube I thought I’d successfully replaced yesterday. Shortly afterwards, it exploded in dramatic fashion, blowing the tyre right off the rims. It seems my puncture repair skills still need some work.

Luckily this happened while the bike was parked. And even more luckily when I was 5 minutes’ walk from a bike shop, and in the company of my cousin, who gallantly manhandled my bike down the road on its only usable wheel. Glad you were there William!

With a new inner tube, competently fitted, it was on to Bristol, via the Clifton Suspension Bridge, where I was photo bombed by Che Guevara. Thank you Laura for putting me up!