After welcoming Mark Lakeman out on his new bike we set off along the usual route through Harbertonford, veering right near Moreleigh to bring us to Crabadon Cross and the Curtisknowle turn-off.  We had soon found our way onto the muddy track that led steeply down through the woods to the old railway course, and there we had lunch alongside the swift-flowing river Avon.    

Then came the interesting bit - trying to get back to a road.  We were really no more than half a kilometre from Gara Bridge, but the railway course turned out to have lost much of its hard core and had certainly suffered under the recent rains.   We eventually emerged unharmed, having crossed a couple of bogs and ascended a muddy bank to an equally muddy footpath, but the bikes needed a few spins through the nearby puddles to make them ridable!   The owner of the house near the bridge turned out to be a cyclist, and was amused to see the state of our bikes!

In the amount of time it took us to climb the hill towards Lupridge (about fifteen minutes), the sky clouded over to obscure the delightful sunshine that had followed us all morning.  Now all we could see was a dark and angry cloud racing towards us from the South West and filling the whole sky as it came.  We turned tail and headed down into the valley again to Bickham Bridge, arriving just as the storm struck - but only to find nothing in the way of shelter!  Well, there was some shelter in the forest on the way down the hill, but the leading youngsters had sailed straight past it!

Poor Glen Johnson!  He had arranged to meet our Marldon group as they came through Newton Abbot, but the first group he saw was Torbay Section heading for Chudleigh!  He wondered why they didn't stop, but thought they must be the right group and did his best to stay with them all the way to the pick-up!  Finally, when he was eventually informed of his mistake, it was too late to get to Gappah even if someone had shown him the way, so he made his way home on his own!   The real Marldon group, meanwhile, were more than a little confused when Glen wasn't waiting at the arranged point!

From the pick-up we proceeded up to the forest for lunch, being delayed only by a puncture from Mark L (it had been brother Paul causing the trouble earlier in the day for the Marldon group!)  We then took the left-turn link lane across to the A38 and onwards along the ridge to Lawrence Castle.  

Some thought that the track through the forest was 'interesting' enough, but it was nothing compared with the steep track near the forest centre!  Malcolm (yes, Malcolm Sheldon, not seen for a year before today's ride) managed to skid a hole through his tyre, keeping his friends occupied for quite a while as they effected repairs!

It was after the descent through Chudleigh that Mark Williams overtook Richard Burge.   They somehow became entangled and both came off in a spectacular crash.  Both were grazed, but Mark was later found to have also broken a chunk of bone off his elbow.  In all my ten years of club cycling I cannot recall anyone sustaining a broken bone, and I hope that we never have a similar incident again.  Richard escorted him to Bovey hospital and left him in their capable hands, but tea at the Brookside Tearooms was not quite as lively an occasion as it might have been. 

It would not be honest to try to pretend that we were not influenced by the weather forecast which predicted torrential rain by mid-afternoon.  On arrival at Avonwick we decided to abandon Lukesland (well, he wasn't out anyway) and head for the snow-strewn moors via Aish and Shipley.  And that proved to be an excellent decision.

Everything seemed to be perfect on that morning.  We stopped on several delightful little bridges along the way, just soaking up the freshness of the moorland brooks as they wended their way between the trees and boulders.  Eventually we came to the Avon Dam itself, brimming over with icy cold water and set against a backdrop of snow-covered hills.  The sounds of children and an excited dog on the other side of the dam made us feel for all the world as though we were in the Swiss alps!

Of course, there was only one return route that would satisfy everyone's excitement, and so we made our way back behind the dam and over our friendly moorland hills to rejoin the road at Cross Furzes.  There was plenty of action along the way, with several people slipping on the snowy slopes, but a grassy foundation ensured that no-one was injured.

Heavy rain on Saturday evening had left severe floods in many parts of Devon, and we came across the effects shortly after ignoring the 'Road Closed' sign on the main Totnes road - a huge lake at the bottom of Weston Hill.

The three leaders (Mark M, Gary and Richard B) immediately rode into the flood, and quickly found the water lapping over their hubs and ankles with no way of turning back!   The rest of the group watched with interest, then removed shoes and socks and cycled across barefoot .. it was absolutely freezing, but at least they had dry socks and shoes to return to on the other side.

Simon Hopper was following on behind us, having been delayed at home by puncture problems.  We waited at Totnes until nearly 1130, but in the end discovered that the flood had proved the last straw when he was already convinced that he would miss us.

Taking the main road from Harbertonford to Stanborough took us through some delightful scenery.  One of the right-hand tracks near Halwell proved so tempting to Richard Hopper that he decided to try it on his homeward route (he had to be home for a late lunch).  It proved decidedly muddy, but made a pleasant change from the more usual methods of return.

A brief lunch on a verge near East Allington was followed by a hard push for the sea, bringing us to Slapton Ley in time for afternoon tea.  But what was this?  Our usual cafe was closed, and so were all the others!  There was plenty of refreshment to be had from the surf on the beach, but in the end we had to find something.  Eventually we discovered an excellent little establishment at the end of the promenade which agreed to open early so that we could sample their toasted fruit loaf and other goodies.

Everything was looking at its freshest best today.  As we returned through Strete and Tuckenhay, refusing to stop even at the Forces Cross cafe, we all began to appreciate just how fortunate we are to live amidst such beauty.

The highlight of today's ride was the visit to the Old Bakery at Stoke in the afternoon.  We had telephoned a warning from Babbacombe, so the proprietors were well prepared for the onslaught.  There was a welcoming fire in the hearth and a set of tables especially reserved for us, all helping to make the stay a very pleasant one.

Of course, the rest of the ride was also enjoyable.  The Buckfastleigh contingent rode through the Staverton lanes to meet the Paignton brigade at Marldon, and there was then a brisk descent to Cockington before proceeding along the sea front through Torquay.  When Brett had finished advising about the best routes to Babbacombe (the reply was 'it's all right' to every suggestion) we eventually chose one which took us beside Meadfoot Beach, a new one for many of us!  There was then time to enjoy the superb views and fresh sea air at Babbacombe Downs over a well-earned lunch.        

What a wind:  coupled with a delayed start it resulted in us missing Graham and the Highwaymen at Drum Bridges.  Kevin left us here - we hope he caught the others up at Chudleigh Bridge.

Colston Road upheld its reputation for being somewhat rough and ready when Simon hit a pothole near Velwell.  His injuries turned out to be relatively minor, but the owner of the nearby farm was understandably furious that the holes hadn't been repaired by the council despite her many months of complaints!   

Maypool hostel was in a state of turmoil when we arrived, the electricians having been in residence for some two weeks on a massive rewiring programme.  The weekend proceeded only after extensive warnings not to touch any wires that may be found poking out of wall sockets or attic covers, but sadly the warnings failed to stop a certain group of individuals from fusing the hostel immediately prior to the games!

Now joined by Philip we set off from Maypool for the Dartmouth ferry and light refreshments at one of our favourite establishments in the town.  A fabulous climb and subsequent descent brought us to Blackpool Sands just in time to see a courageous gentleman remove his clothing and dive into the icy sea - the same gentleman, in fact, whom we saw on this very ride last year!  He told us then that he had a dip on every day of the year regardless of the weather, and now we began to realise that perhaps he was serious after all!  

Toby, Gary and Co managed to get wet feet in no time at all while other more sensible souls enjoyed their lunches, and then it was time to set off once more.  Delightful lanes near the destination successfully managed to puncture Jason's tyre, but otherwise our progress to Hemborough Post was unimpeded.  

Whilst this beautiful Sunday weather attracted only a few riders (GCSE revision is beginning to take its toll), it provided a fabulous day's cycling for those who turned out.  Much of the morning sunshine was wasted, however, during a major overhaul of Philip's bike .... his bottom bracket bearings had seized up part-way up the hill from Avonwick, necessitating a return to the local garage for a hammer!

Once repairs had been effected, we set off once again (under Mark's excellent map-reading guidance) through the back lanes behind Ugbourogh, ending up at Ludbrook for a well-earned lunch.  Judging by the numerous droppings which covered a nearby van, the grassy verge beneath the big tree was not the best of places to settle for lunch, so we allowed Philip to lead us on a wild goose chase up the lane to a sunny little spot he had discovered there.  Lunch-time amusements were provided on this occasion by Warren, who decided to dam up a stream that flowed out of a nearby gateway.

The Erme Mill centre offered a good range of fattening cakes, including a delicious raspberry cheesecake that was reminiscent of Primrose Cafe quality.  It was the attached fish farm, however, which occupied us for the greater time.  The water which used to work the old water wheel was now feeding through a number of huge outdoor tanks in which swam thousands and thousands of rainbow trout.  We were able not only to watch them at close quarters but also to stroke them in the water!  Other visitors seemed more interested in catching them, although we weren't quite sure why they paid good money to hire a rod!

The real joy of the day was the lane to Harford, the climb to the moor and the rough riding across open moorland to Owley and South Brent.  Even Michael hadn't ridden this particular route before, and amazingly we didn't get lost!  The ground was in its best riding condition despite the efforts of the moorland cattle to damage it, although the final descent proved somewhat difficult where the numerous boggy streams crossed our path!

The old track through Hembury entertained us again this evening, much to the delight of our three youngsters (Wayne, Toby and Matthew).  On our emergence Toby's view was that there hadn't been enough mud, but Catherine and Paul did not agree!

Our first ever visit to the cafe at Canonteign Falls in the Teign Valley certainly went down well.  If only the voting forms had been ready I'm sure our members would have awarded this clean, modern establishment high marks on nearly every count.

There were lots of people at the Rough Stuff this year.  The course was thoroughly enjoyable, with the possible exception of the track from Lowton towards Bridford Wood:  here, brambles encroached almost to the centre from either side, making it almost impossible to pass without collecting numerous scratches!

The Summer season must be with us again, for almost half of our members were under twelve years old!  Evening rides have always been popular with the youngsters:  this year it took them just a few more weeks to catch on!

The moorland lanes were full of such delightful scents and fragrances this evening that even the most hardened youngster could not fail to notice them.  Even as darkness fell, sensations were everywhere around us.  Mrs. Juste's sensation was one of horror when she saw fifteen hungry youngsters appearing at her Scorriton home from the darkness outside - and then of relief when she realised that they were only saying goodbye to Julian and had to be back at home in just a few minutes' time!

An enthusiastic climb past Hawson Court and Scorriton brought us eventually to Saddle Bridge on the moor.  Here we left the bikes and walked along the footpath to the stepping stones at Week Ford, enjoying lunch amidst perfect surroundings.

When the inevitable water fights had been concluded there was time for a brief exploration of the nearby blowing houses, remnants of an age when tin mining was a thriving industry on Dartmoor.  Amidst the other structures one can see the tin moulds and mortars which were used to pulverise the ore.

Returning to the bikes (some with wet feet) we continued towards the Dartmeet cafe, pausing only at Huccaby Bridge for more water games (well, it was fairly warm today).  It was at the top of Dartmeet hill that we met Stan and Jeremy Ford and family.

They were out in the Land Rover, and slightly envious when they saw us on our bikes.  One can understand, then, why they were so disgusted when five eighths of our lively youngsters chose the road to Spitchwick instead of the magnificent "Dr. Blackall's Drive" track with its breathtaking views across the River Dart in the woods far below!

This pleasant ride around the pretty lanes of Dartington was dominated by Paul's do-it-yourself saddlebag replacement - a large white vegetable rack strapped to his rear carrier!  As the evening progressed it became adorned with numerous sprays of leaves and other vegetation, much to the amusement of onlookers!

A record turnout caused record confusion at Pridhamsleigñh when a number of individuals sped past the turn-off.  After re-grouping had taken place we discovered a rare treat in the form of the track to Bulland Farm - a new one for most of us.  Bathed in rich evening sunshine and surrounded by lush meadows the track climbed gently around the sweeping contours of the hill, offering new views of Buckfast and Buckfastleigh as it proceeded.  It all proved too much for Luke, who broke out in a rash of 'photogenia' - aided by his wonderful new camera of course!

Everyone was now in the mood for off-road riding.  The next track started conveniently from where the first one finished, leading us eventually to Parkfield Cross.  I say eventually because we came across a fork in the track which left members in a dilemma:  the left turning was the recommended route to Parkfield;  the right turn dropped steeply and (we had been advised) became very muddy at the bottom.  About half the group wanted the mud, including Luke ... it was rather amusing to see him racing back along ñthe left route a few minutes later!

Re-grouping at Parkfield was delayed somewhat by Jason's puncture (nothing whatsoever to do with his taking the muddy route of course).  It was then only a short time before Jason caused a further delay, coming off spectacularly on the steep, right-hand bend near Lower Lake Farm and landing squarely in a clump of nettles.  Poor Jason!  His back was covered in stings, and people couldn't help but remind him that he had been a bit rash during the descent!

When Jason had been rubbed down by his friends we began the journey homewards through Landscove.  And here the sunset was breathtaking, with the most perfect mix of colours set amidst fascinating cloud formations.  Everyone noticed the spectacle, even youngsters Toby and Simon. 

A glorious day - a hint of the full summer to come, perhaps.  Three started from Buckfastleigh to pick up three more at Alston and Philip at Bovey.  Along the railway track to find that the Primrose had put their prices up!  Michael still thought the quality was worth it.

Poor Luke H!  He was suffering from heat exhaustion right from the start of today's 55 mile ride, and things didn't get better as the day went on.  

Our two anticipated new members did not arrive at the Gappah pick-up as expected, although Philip's friend Craig made up for the loss in many ways.  Having collected Steven on Haldon we descended through Mamhead to Starcross and thence onto the towpath that ran up to Exeter.  Sadly, certain members didn't stop until they got to the canal itself, riding straight past the proposed lunch stop, but one had to admit that the availability of iced drinks at Turf Lock was a definite bonus.

The canal was lined once again with fisher folk, making life very difficult for any fish that happened by.  Richard B mentioned that the clever fish had only to swim along the far bank, where there were no fishermen, but then he observed some extra long rods that scuppered that idea.

There then followed another mad dash to the end of the canal by the leading riders, which would have involved someone in a long return search had anyone been found missing at the end of it.  A short lecture from Michael on the subject seemed to do the trick, and the ride then continued through Shillingford St George, where a tiny little dog rushed down its path and barked itself silly behind its gate for a few moments as we rested outside in the shade of a tree.  Clearly it had nothing better to do with its time!  Eventually it packed up and walked hñome again, so we did likewise.

The long drag up from Dunchideock was thirsty work, and so all speed was made for Bovey and the Brookside Tearooms.  Iced drinks were definitely the order of the day before the groups split to make their separate ways home.  Some parents may not have recognised their offspring when they returned home, bright red in many cases!

Whooping Rock?  Well they couldn't really call it Rocking Rock, could they?  Visions of a gigantic boulder balanced precariously on a moorland tor which could be rocked with the slightest pressure of a little finger encouraged us onwards through Bickington and Haytor.

Just after Manaton we found the dead-end road we were looking for, turned off onto the footpath and soon reached Easdon Tor, site of the aforesaid rock.  Hunger seemed the first priority, but not before several people had discovered that it was particularly difficult to hold one's position on the triangulation post in view of the strong winds that blew across it!

A group search for the rock uncovered a letterbox (Dartmoor variety in a plastic box) hidden at the base of a large rock formation.  True, the large lump on top appeared to be touching the lower one in only a couple of places, but even Budgie couldn't get it to budge!  Still, there were good views to be had by anyone who could withstand the force of the wind long enough to admire them.

Returning to the road we decided to make for Widecombe, but the group was evenly split on whether to try the long track through Heathercombe and Hamel Down.  Eventually there was a kind of mutiny, and the track supporters were defeated.  And it was just as well as it turned out, for part way down the hill to Widecombe who should turn up but Luke Hatherly in a car.  He had been at the Buckfastleigh start at the specified time and left at 10.05 when no-one was there, not knowing where the pick-up was.  His parents had spent much of their lunch time searching the rocks for us, and had been fortunate enough to discover us at last!

At the Wayside, Budgie wanted lots of tea.  He even returned his teapot and asked the waitress for more, as he often does.  Sadly she interpreted this literally, delivering a fresh set of 'tea for two' within a few moments, along with the appropriate additional bill!  It's not often one sees Richard get angry, but today was the exception.  Fortunately the incident was cleared up amicably after Michael's intervention:  the cafe agreed to refund half of the extra bill, and asked Richard to request more water in future to avoid confusion!

The hill from Ponsworthy brought us once again to Bel Tor Corner, from where we all took the fabulous track to Poundsgate.  Descending Poundsgate hill we quickly got caught in a traffic queue, and discovered that the whole Spitchwick / New Bridge area was like an ant heap (ants as well as tourists)!  Having fixed Philip's brake cable we decided to return home along our more peaceful lanes, agreeing to return to Spitchwick on evening rides only during the summer.