Up to about three o'clock no problem, calmly cycling upwind through the 'countryside. According to Google Maps, I had to spend the last 10km next to the A27. For about three kilometres this went smoothly on a clear cycle path, but at a roundabout this suddenly stopped. I was under the impression that it continued on the other side of the track, so I turned with it. For 200 metres or so there was a wide lane, but a little further on it narrowed to a murder strip of barely 50 cm. There I was with my widely packed bike next to a busy motorway.... I noticed a gravel path below, but there was no getting through the thorny bushes on the embankment berm.
In a car park about 1 km away was a path down next to the exit of a small tunnel under the motorway. I took my luggage off the bike, swung all bags over the crash barrier and carried them down. Last I also torqued the bike over the crash barrier and shuffled carefully down the steep path. Not pleasant, but I was very relieved to be away from the busy M-lane. Afterwards, I learned that in England you are allowed to ride a bicycle along those big, super busy roads. Incomprehensible, I felt like a suicide candidate....
After that, everything went smoothly for several km, until I crossed a steep limestone gravel path with deep furrows and loose pebbles had to drive up a cliff - or else drive very far around... Then start push. However, my shoes slipped on the cobblestones and the bike slid down even with brakes applied, so again I threw off the rear luggage and lugged the whole thing in pieces upstairs. There it wasn't finished, I had to continue over a footpath, but that was fortunately not so steep anymore and more rideable, even with a stormy headwind.
In the end, I only arrived at 20 hours instead of 18 hours in Brighton. And so it is that I am always behind with my social media updates... What a person does not have to do all to give an African boy a future....
Chalk trail on the way to Brighton
At the Brighton campsite in the morning, I wanted to get to my granola breakfast at the new pot of Greek yoghurt start which I had placed right next to the tent the night before for coolness, but which turned out to be trackless! I was sure I had put it there. So I cycled to reception to buy some milk, and there I saw on a placard what kind of thief haunts the campsite at night : a camping fox! Soit, I sincerely hope the yoghurt tasted good to him.
I left the seaside town of Brighton via the beach road. On the cobbled beach near the city centre, it is a veritable fairground, with horse-drawn mills, food and drink tents, terraces and all sorts of other games and swings. No zen silence on Brighton beach…
After about an hour of cycling, it started to firm up rain and I ducked into a beach bar where fortunately there was wifi so I could update Facebook. Campsites, even Brighton's large and expensive city campsite (£18 without electricity for cycle campers), have here hardly any wifi. Because of the rain, the wind had died down and I could cycle pretty much normally, but the route was not cool: almost always next to regional roads with heavy traffic and no bicycle lane. Fortunately, I had moved my rear-view mirror from left to right before I left in the morning. In terms of cycling infrastructure, they are vastly behind 'the continent' here.
The Marina campsite next to the River Arun in Arundel is a very spacious, open campsite with a friendly lady, but again no wifi. The sun was still shining and I cozied up outside to cook a pot.
Coloured cottages in Worthing
Rain ride, so in the afternoon in Chichester sought the heat and dryness of the recent Novum museum (2012), which is built above an archaeological site with Roman baths. You can see finds from the Roman era of this town as well as a room with objects and life-size dolls from Hollywood blockbusters about the Romans (Ben Hur, Gladiator, Cleopatra...). There was also a nice view of the cathedral, but it was almost completely packed.
After that grey drizzle day, I ended up at the superluxurious Concierge campsite, which in addition - mss because I looked so drowned - was a sponsored overnight stay offered. Never seen such fancy and spacious plumbing before. Showers as big as my bathroom at home and with all the trimmings (rain shower, designer lavabo in marble, everything jumps off and on electronically, shampoo, conditioner, hairdryer...). Oelalaaa!
Being able to test my new Hilleberg tent now in 'rain-cooking mode', with the door tarp attached to the bike as a tarp. It tasted good!
This morning I was a bit shy about what I would do. I got to write for the magazine Holiday cyclist going to interview a British (solo) cyclist and had agreed with her that I would notify when I was near Portsmouth sat, but my email went unanswered. I suspected she was on holiday as it is a mid-term school holiday here this week.
This indeed turned out to be the case. By noon, I received an email that she is cycling at Isle of Wight. My decision was quickly made: tomorrow I will go there too, because the Portsmouth area is crowded and not at all pleasant cycling. If I meet her there, great, if not I will see her next week when she is back home, and then I will also have an idea of Isle of Wight.
So today I've already gone down some way in the right direction, to Hayling Island. Tomorrow first a river ferry to get to Portsmouth harbour, and then from there a ferry to Isle of Wight.
Whereas yesterday I was camping in the greatest luxury, I am now back on a weekday British campsite with dilapidated mobile homes and the sanitary facilities in a building that looks more like a horse stable. But my opposite neighbours, a couple from South Africa who have lived in London for 15 years, came to bring me a fresh can of Carlsberg because they assumed I didn't have it with me on my bike. And the sun is back out here today!
Ferry Portsmouth-Isle of Wight
On Hayling Island, I first drove via a great coastal road to a river ferry to Portsmouth. There it was a short wait with a greasy portion of 'fish & chips' - fuel to continue my bike ride on Isle of Wight - until I could get on the ferry to Isle of Wight.
Ferry from Hayling island via Portsmouth to Isle of Wight
From the moment I arrived at Isle of Wight appeared back there steep hills, but the roads there are much better and quieter than on the mainland. A real breath of fresh air.
To take some time to soak up the atmosphere on the Isle of Wight, I stayed two nights at a campsite in Bembridge near Whitecliff Bay and made a beach walk and a bike ride there/back to the capital Ryde (25 km - 266 m climb).
Video Isle of Wight
After a relaxing day in Whitecliff Bay and surroundings I left around noon, on the recommendation of camping warden Kevin, for Chine Farm On the Isle of Wight's south coast. A farm campsite atop a cliff overlooking the sea.
Unfortunately, I could already see from afar that the cliff in question was beginning to shroud itself in mists drifting inland from the sea. So a beautiful sunset would not be in the cards.
Like the previous days, it's going up and down here all the time, and when I downshifted to the smallest blade at the front to start yet another climb, my chain came off. Not bad in itself, I put it back on repeatedly, the only inconvenience being black fingertips from the chain grease.
This time, however, that was disappointing: the chain was clamped between the cam wheel and the frame and she could not be pry it loose. I thought I could create more space by loosening the pedal a bit, but didn't have an Allen spanner with me that was big enough. Across the street was a house (thankfully) and the occupants were present, so I rang the doorbell asking if they had an allen spanner.
The lady of the house looked for the key and came along to help me, but even between the two of us, we couldn't get it fixed.
I planned to walk to the campsite on foot, about 12 km or 2.5 hours of bike pushing further, but because of the clamped chain, the rear wheel blocked. No pushing it so.
Astrid- that was the name of the helpful lady - offered to carry me to the campsite. The bike would fit in her car if I removed the rear wheel. I luckily got that out, and 15 minutes later I was at the farm campsite with pack and bag and a broken bike.
After the tent was set, I started fiddling with the bike again. I turned it upside down, and because the rear wheel was off I didn't have to relax the derailleur with one hand and there was more play on the chain. After a few minutes of light prying and tapping, the wedged link finally came loose and I was able to put the chain and wheel back on and re-tighten the brake.
Miraculously, the bike also driveable, but just to be on the safe side, tomorrow I will ride unpacked to the nearest bike shop - 14 km away - for a check-up. I'd hate for my rear wheel to suddenly go haywire during a fast section...because women and technology....
Afterwards, anyway, a 'cathartic' cliff walk done in a brisk sea breeze.
Warning for low-budget campers: Chine farm is a quiet and beautifully located campsite is overlooking the sea, but shit expensive: 15£ for a pitch without electricity and with only very basic sanitary facilities, little pressure on water.
En route to Freshwater
A drive along the south coast of Isle of Wight with incredibly beautiful seascapes to Adrian's Bike shop at Freshwater. After the free (!) repair of my bike, there was still plenty of time left for a walk to the imposing Tennyson Cross in the far West of the island. That is a monument in the shape of a Celtic Cross, founded in 1897 in memory of Victorian poet Lord Tennyson. It stands at the highest point of the 'Tennyson Down', an elongated limestone rock edged with perpendicular cliffs.
16 September: Opening the door at Diamondway Buddhist Centre in Tallinn The centre's meditation sessions are open
