Friday, 10 July 2020
Peter writes: Throwing open the curtains at 7.30am, the cloudless, azure skies promised that today would be ideal for a solo ride. Midsummer's Day had just passed which meant the days were already getting shorter and the forthcoming loosening of lockdown measures on July 4th promised further increases in road traffic with its noise, pollution and general disturbance of the peace. Time was of the essence. Tempus fugit, carpe diem* and all that.
Somewhere on my laptop, I had squirrelled away a list of the routes (with maps and gpx files) of various CTC Cambridge rides which had taken place over the previous couple of years. That evening I found the sheet, printed it off, closed my eyes and jabbed a finger arbitrarily into it - and pulled out a plum, so to speak. The route was one of Edmund's and entailed a Classic Tour of Essex Villages (here it is on RideWithGPS). Equally important, it allowed for stops at Dorrington's in Newport and Parrishes in Thaxted, so refuelling would definitely not be an issue. The route also passed some of the nicest pubs in the area (all closed, of course until July 4th at least) and was not without some pleasant surprises in terms of new lanes never previously explored.
Today the big challenge would be coping with the heat. The temperature was already pushing 24C when I set off from Cambridge and throughout the day it climbed to 30C. I sped off to the official start at the Square and Compasses in Shelford and barrelled on through to Whittlesford and Duxford before turning off towards Chrishall Grange via the arrow-straight Grange Road. Looking to my right across the fields, there was a bit of activity at the Imperial War Museum but this was probably restricted to making preparations for the time when the War against C-19 had been won and the crowds would be readmitted.
Passing the entrance to Chrishall Grange and the empty red phone box, the first time I broke into a sweat was going up the incline towards Elmdon. The fields of wheat were ripening to a golden colour while the rust-brown oilseed rape had long gone to seed. Poppies and cornflowers everywhere and the uncut grass verges yielding a host of wild flowers. Why is it that grass verges can't be left uncut, other than sections where traffic visibility is impaired or there are other safety issues?
By-passing Pond Street (why wouldn't you) and onto the B1039, "Road Ahead Closed" signs started to appear. Great! Firstly a challenge and secondly all the traffic will divert elsewhere. I never did see what the problem was – but it certainly didn't affect cyclists. Bowling along at a reasonable lick created enough draught to keep the body temperature down but I started to hear weird noises coming from the wheels of the bike. Not a double flat so what, then? The sucking, rasping noise continued until the penny dropped: it was melted tar from the road sticking to the treads. Fortunately not large lumps, just a greasy black veneer. Carrying on under the M11 I approached the first of several villages with intriguing names. Wendens Ambo hove into view and after passing 'The Bell' pub (built 1570's) I turned off to Frog End and followed shady Rookery Lane down to the level crossing where 2-3 cyclists and a couple of vehicles awaited. Here mild chaos reigned as not only was the level crossing barrier closed but it was refuse-collection day and everyone was getting in each other's way in a very confined space. Once the train had passed everyone calmed down and continued about their business. Reaching Dorrington's Bakery in Newport (Oh, how I've missed you!) I swooped into the cool interior and stood under the A/C unit for as long as I dare without attracting too much attention. Five minutes later I was sitting in a shady spot in the car park area devouring a bacon bap and coffee.
Thinking the likeliest route would be via Debden, I set off towards Newport Fire Station only for Groucho Garmin to signify, in his inimitable warbling way, that I was off course. Instead this route to Thaxted took me through Wicken Bonhunt – another evocative village name - passing the former Coach and Horses Pub with the best 3D pub sign I know. It is now a Thai Food Pub called Ananti, with a good choice of real ales, apparently. Turning off the Clavering road, I headed towards Rickling stopping to look back at All Saint's Church - a 13th century flint built structure seemingly standing in the midst of swaying grass fields.
A little further on, Rickling Green boasts an enormous village green with a cricket pavilion on one side and the Cricketers' Inn on the other side with trees on the periphery of the Green offering some shady respite from which to view the men (or women) in white.
As I prepared to cross the busy B1383, my attention was drawn to the slightly surreal sight of a cloud of about 8-10 Cabbage White butterflies all mingling together for a few moments and then suddenly dispersing – nature's speed-dating perhaps? Then, as I crossed to the Ugley turn, I noticed the rather sad and dilapidated pub opposite. 'The Beautiful Ugley Chequers' is no more. The pub sign still hangs, the post box in the wall is still in use and a brass lamp is visible in the window but the lantern over the door is hanging off, one or two of the windows have cracked panes and the hanging baskets are empty. By contrast, the many thatched cottages of Ugley village are picture perfect.
It was nearing the hottest part of the day and I felt disinclined to extend my route to encompass Ugley Church. Instead I trundled on towards Henham, another pleasant, quintessentially English village. I am surprised Henham isn't included in the highly-regarded book 'Lost Lanes'** – a fairly recent book of classic cycle rides of Southern England which includes a 'Joy of Essex' route (ride no. 25).
Being just a few miles north of Stansted Airport there would usually be the perpetual backdrop of aircraft noise. Today however the quiet was palpable and very welcome. Being in the flow, I happen to know that comedian Ed Byrne ('Have I got news for you'; 'Mock the Week' and 'Unbelievable Truth') lives in Henham but he was keeping a low profile as I swept by. Apart from its generous quota of thatched cottages, Henham also has a fine church and, directly opposite, an exceedingly inviting hostelry, The Cock Inn. But the main thing I remember about Henham is its obsession with dragons. The village sign and various others signs all bear a dragon motif and the village magazine is also called The Dragon. Apparently the dragon legend first appeared in 1669 in a pamphlet issued in the area. It spoke of the terror of the 'Flying Serpent'; life was so simple yet superstitious in them days.
Moving on briskly (just in case!) I headed south out of the village and picked up the main Elsenham-Thaxted road. This was less busy than in pre-lockdown days and I was able to relax a little and 'get into the zone'. Heading towards Broxted my mind wandered to matters of great import in these difficult times until, predictably, more superficial thoughts interceded. I started musing about 'My Top Trumps of Cambridge CTC Rides'. So: What are the three best coffee stops? The three best pubs with gardens? The three best afternoon tea stops? The three best cycle routes? The three best villages? Time flies when you are preoccupied with matters of such gravity. So much so that, having passed through Broxted without taking much notice of it, I almost missed the turn off to the most beautiful section of the whole ride which took in Tilty and Duton Hill.
Tilty is a delightful hamlet set in rolling countryside. It has a Grange, a derelict Mill, a ruined Cistercian Abbey and an eccentrically-constructed church. Apparently, King John attacked the Abbey during Mass on Christmas Day 1215 and Lady Jane Grey (The '9 Days Queen') would have visited her uncle in the abbey's guest house in the 1530's or 1540's. Like many abbeys of this era, it was dissolved by Henry VIII and now only a couple of walls remain.
After nosing round Tilty for a bit I continued on my way along the lane past Duton Hill towards the lane's convergence with the B1051 which led me into Thaxted Central. This is a lovely town with its timbered Guildhall, cobbled lanes and Georgian buildings lining the wide main street. I was mighty pleased to see that Parrishes on Watling Street was open for (take-away) lunches and ordered a bottle of Fentiman's Rose Lemonade (perfect quencher for the occasion) to accompany an apple, cucumber, lettuce and tomato salad and a tuna and sweetcorn baked potato.
I retired to the open, timbered ground floor of the Guildhall (the ideal packed-lunch venue for cyclists) and gazed along Stony Lane up to St John the Baptist Church. Here, Reverend Conrad Noel watched for many years over his, sometimes bemused, flock. Known as a socialist firebrand, he hung the red flag and the flag of Sinn Fein alongside that of St George in the Church. He also championed folk music traditions and morris dancing in particular. He was a friend of Gustav Holst who lived in Thaxted while composing his suite The Planets and together they organised music festivals in the town.
It was extremely hot now and it was a bit of a wrench to leave the cool shade of the Guildhall. On another day I would have struck out in an easterly direction towards Great Bardfield and Finchingfield in order to 'bag' more of Essex's classic villages but instead the route took me north-east towards Great Sampford, yet another very picturesque village. Strangely I couldn't spot the pub: perhaps there wasn't one. Perhaps the village is a model of temperance. Checking out the village website, I see that during WWII, around 200 enemy bombs fell on the area around Great and Little Sampford. Why was that? There were no armaments factories, railway sidings or scientific research labs hereabouts. One of the casualties of the bombing must have been the pub!
Pushing on, patches of wet tar appeared once more on the road surface and were to be avoided at all costs. The section of the road to Radwinter was strangely bereft of traffic: this really would be a memorable day's cycling. I returned to my earlier contemplations about the CTC Cambridge 'Top Trumps'. In my view the (pre-lockdown) honours go to Swavesey or Clavering Baptist Churches (for 'best Thursday coffee stop'), Braughing Village Hall (for 'best Sunday afternoon tea stop', The Fox in Aspenden (for 'best pub with garden') and Hopley's in Much Hadham (for 'best outdoor lunch stop'). I hadn't got as far as deciding upon the runners up: that's for another solo ride.
Radwinter was fast asleep as the bike hummed along. The fierce heat was abating slightly as I approached Bartlow, famed for its seven Roman tumuli (large mounds), St Mary's Church (one of only two churches in Cambridgeshire with a round tower dating back to the 12th Century) and, of course, the 'Three Hills' pub which I have yet to visit since its refurbishment. In days gone by, one might also have added the railway station, but the line was axed in 1967 and the ticket office is now a private dwelling. I had now crossed the Essex-Cambridgeshire border (Bartlow was originally in Essex until the boundary changed in the early 20th century) and the roads were becoming familiar. It was a short hop to Linton, which appeared to be waking up from a long siesta, and then to Hildersham (I still mourn the loss of the Pear Tree pub) where some children were splashing about in the ford. After passing the Abingtons there was the rather unpleasant dash up the cycleway next to the A1307 to Pampisford and from there along another cycleway to Sawston and Great Shelford. By the time I crossed the home threshold, I had completed 66.9 miles, drunk just under three litres of water (plus lemonade and coffee) and burnt over 3,200 calories. Only after 4pm did the intense heat of the day start to diminish: a good time then for another drink in the garden. Peter Wilson.
*Time flies, seize the day!
**Lost Lanes - 36 glorious rides in Southern England by Jack Thurston. Wild Things Publishing, 2013.