South Dartmoor Section's first excursion into Dorset got off to a wet and miserable start. The rain, which was falling even as we arrived at Newton Abbot station, lashed the side of the train all the way to Axminster. As we disembarked at 1145 the prospect of a dry afternoon appeared remote to say the least.

Our worst fears were realised. Having consumed our lunch under the frontage of an Axminster supermarket we settled into the only cafe for a prolonged refreshment stop. When we could stay there no longer we browsed through the shops. There was some amusement here: we watched in amazement as Phillip Harler purchased a £3.50 Dandy Annual in the newsagents and then asked Mark Moxham to carry it for the rest of the weekend. Even more amusing was the fact that Mark agreed!

Decision time had, unfortunately, arrived. We needed to allow 3½ hours for the 18-mile journey to Litton Cheney. The rain was forecast to stop during the afternoon, but at 1330 we could wait no longer. Steven and Mark, who knew the way without checking the map, set off when no-one was looking, and the rest of us spent the next twenty minutes riding around Axminster trying to second guess where they might have gone. When we finally found the right road we were nicely wetted. The weekend was not looking promising!

We didn't find Mark and Steven until we had climbed an interestingly steep hill to the B3165, followed the latter along the ridge and descended into Marshwood. Fortunately we had agreed a route on the train, and this was the spot where they felt sure they would meet us.

The lane route through Broadoak to Bradpole was, thankfully, mainly flat or downhill. Progress was hindered only by the presence of some unusually deep and wide lakes on the road, but as we were already wet these just presented opportunities for entertainment - provided mainly by the mountain bikers of course. Neil wasn't quiet so amused when his "puncture-resistant" tyre went flat after riding through the lake near Shave Cross.  Neither was Michael, as he had to repair it! An elderly gentleman looked on as the repair proceeded, and finally suggested an alternative route which would avoid the lake. Michael thanked him kindly, informing him that his advice was a little too late.

Steven got the next puncture, near Bradpole, but decided it was slow enough to pump. However, after passing the pretty village of Loders and the strange fortress ridges of Uploders, Mark Moxham picked up two punctures at once - a large piece of flint and a thorn - just when we didn't need them.

Darkness fell as repairs were effected. Taking the level, southern route to the hostel through Shipton Gorge we proceeded at maximum warp. And just as we arrived, the rain finally stopped! Still, we didn't mind. We were wet through, but the thought of a warm, dry hostel, hot showers, comfortable beds and good meals had kept us going.

We were about to be disappointed. The dormitories were cramped, cold and poorly lit (just two dim bulbs, the light of which didn't extend far beyond the bunks immediately beneath them). There was no hot water in the taps or showers. The toilets were in a shed across the back yard. And to complete the disillusionment, the bike shed was full of building materials so our precious machines had to spend the night under the stars (or rather, clouds). This was a very basic hostel. On the positive side, there was some warmth in the common room:  two pieces of glowing coal were huddled together in the open fireplace. Unfortunately, there was already a crowd of hostellers around the fire, so even this luxury was denied to us.

Once we were in dry clothes things began to look a little better. There was a good drying room, even if it was a little on the small side.  Many of us spent happy periods in this little room, just enjoying the luxury of warmth. And the meals were home made and first rate, with as many helpings as you needed. The rest of the evening was spent playing table football, monopoly and Philip's role-playing adventure game, book-style. Simple hostels nearly always have the best atmosphere (and this one is no exception), but we'd recommend Litton Cheney for summer visits only.

Next morning was bright and sunny as forecast, although the sky looked a bit watery. We could now see that the hostel (which was originally a dutch barn and later a cheese and milk factory) was located in a delightful setting, just outside the equally delightful village of Litton Cheney.

We made the most of the conditions by setting off early, as we were expecting further rain by late morning.  The easy lanes brought us to Burton Bradstock and West Bay, where we stopped briefly to buy refreshments. We then skirted Bridport, tackled the big hill out of Chideock and eventually reached our planned lunch spot - the coastal track high between Morcombelake and Charmouth.  Here there was plenty of grassy space for the younger members to practice jumps and other stunts.

Following the steep descent to Charmouth it was Simon's turn for a puncture. Eventually we set off again through the pretty lanes near Wootton Fitzpaine, hoping that the additional delay wouldn't result in us getting wet again.  Today, however, the forecast was wrong in our favour.  We even had time to fix Steven's puncture whilst waiting for Simon's gang to return (they had gone past the selected turning). We had a 1½ hour wait at Axminster station for the train, but at least we didn't get wet again.

And so, the end of an interesting weekend. Some people don't like the idea of winter hostelling, but it can certainly be an adventure.

While Michael and associated members were exploring the Dorset wilderness, a rather depleted number of members (2) set forth from Buckfastleigh towards Torbryan via the notorious Green Lane, Landscove, Halswell and Broadhempston.

From Avonwick we took the muddy lane past Cannamore Farm.  Luke Hatherly, who had just been informed that it was now unfashionable for mountain bikers to be seen with a "skunk stripe" during the winter months, remained undeterred:  he rode through all the mud he could find and refused to accept that mudguards could serve him any useful purpose. 

Plans to continue directly to Hillhead Cross had to be revised when a number of impetuous youngsters missed the right turn.  They didn't stop until they had descended the long hill to Ugborough, so the rest thought it would probably be quicker to change the route.  There was an extra hill to climb, but on the whole the detour added variety to the ride. 

There was a further delay at Ivybridge when the majority accepted Martin Hills' offer to buy refreshments at his family's video shop in the town.  Eventually, however, we returned to the Harford road to commence the long climb past Stowford House:  everyone wanted lunch, of course, so the effort wasn't given without complaint. 

Lukesland is a large house which afforded few opportunities for such a large group to enjoy lunch.  The Twydell family had joined us in their van and suggested that Harford was the most suitable spot.  A mile or two later we were settled on the grass outside Harford church, relaxing in the warmth of the sun and enjoying the peaceful setting.  This really was a perfect spot for lunch. 

From Harford a lane leads up to a small car park on the open moor, and this is where Ken, Julie and family had settled for lunch.  We quickly joined them, and spent an enjoyable half an hour riding around with the youngsters on their BMX bikes, and enjoying Julie's delicious hot chocolate, served from their VW camper van.  There was time for a few repairs before we set off once again towards Hangershell Rock, across the open moor. 

The moor wasn't quite as open as we had remembered.  Michael was delayed with some repairs, and when he had ascended the first ridge he was met with the sight of numerous cyclists picking their way across a bog.  He remembered that the stream started from a spring a little distance to the north east and, judging that they were by now all wet, took his single charge around the dry route.  Dave Humphreys moaned "like a big girl's blouse" because his cycling shoes, being riddled with holes, had let all the water in.  He pointed to his brown socks, which could be seen through the holes, and stated that they had been white when he left home.  Someone mentioned that the holes would at least assist the drying process, but he was not amused. 

When Andrew's puncture had been fixed, courtesy of Stephen Larkin who loaned him a tube, there was yet another delay when Martin Hills led half the group too far along the track - partly due to unclear directions from Michael, it must be said.  Having recalled them to Spurrells Cross we set about the descent to Owley, which nearly everyone found great fun.  There were some obstacles to avoid, however, in the form of rocks:  Dave reckoned they were cruising around under the bracken looking for cyclists to dismount. 

We trusted the weather forecast when it promised light showers of drizzle giving way to a dry afternoon, with heavy rain following by early evening.  What a mistake that turned out to be.  We had got distinctly damp by the time we reached Bovey Tracey.  The usual track to Lustleigh provided plenty of amusement (although some were sure it was uphill), and eventually we arrived at the Primrose cafe, which had opened the previous day after the customary Christmas break.  Surprisingly there was space for all of us.

As we left we were reasonably confident of finding that the first sunny periods would be evident.  Instead we were dismayed to see that the drizzle had changed to steady, driving rain, whipped up by the strengthening winds.  Dave Robinson tried a nearby friend to see if we could lunch in his garage, but sadly he was out.  Michael then had the bright idea of asking the cafe proprietor about hiring the village hall for an hour.  After a few telephone calls we were given the go-ahead - and the keys - and everyone bundled into the hall with considerable relief.  It wasn't over-warm, but nobody minded that.  The cost was 25p each.

This was certainly an eventful ride.  First off, Elliot collected three punctures all at once within ten minutes of leaving Buckfastleigh.  And as Michael repaired them, one of the early showers did its best to drench them both.  All this made us late at Totnes, but at least the showers stopped as we arrived.  When we had chatted with Eugene at the Plains we set off up the High Street, deciding for once to go outwards via Bow Bridge and Tuckenhay - even to the extent of climbing Corky, which didn't amuse Paul HW.  Lunch was taken at the top in a stiff and cold wind, whereupon Paul commenced selling his chocolate bars.

Continuing the climb, the next incident was Luke Hatherly's explosive puncture, caused by a split in his Farmer John tyre's sidewall.  To make matters worse, he didn't have a spare tube!  There was consequently a slight delay while the puncture and tyre were repaired, and then again while Luke went back in search of a metal dust cap which apparently had sentimental value. 

Next stop was the Forces Cross cafe - which for once was closed.  We weren't too disappointed as we had recently had lunch, so we then continued through to Blackawton.  Here there were more problems, as Stephen Larkin collected another puncture near the church.  This was quickly repaired with some assistance from Paul, but he then got another one along the track to Millcombe, this time in the rear wheel.  What fun we have in the CTC!

There are some delightful lanes alongside the river Gara, but eventually one has to climb up to the main road again.  This took a while, but we were soon speeding towards Moreleigh, on course for a reasonable return time (having decided to skip Topsham Bridge in view of the delays).

It was at Moreleigh that both Elliot and Alan Skinner, both under eleven and both without cycling proficiency training, failed to look or signal on a tricky right-turn manoeuvre.  Elliot narrowly missed one vehicle, Alan was hit by another.  Fortunately he was unharmed: the car was travelling slowly on the corner and only caught Alan's rear wheel.  His pedal crank was bent so as to make the bike unrideable, however, so his father was called to collect him.  Michael stayed with him while the rest continued homewards in the capable hands of the two Daves.

This is one of the most serious incidents in the Section's history, even though there were no injuries.  One of the boys could easily have been seriously injured.  We are reminded of the fact that no matter what precautions are taken by the club, a cyclist can still be seriously injured if he or she makes a mistake.

Parents can feel more confident in their child's safety if they have taken part in a cycling proficiency scheme, but this training is only the first step, and does not mean a child is safe on the road: they feel safe, but have not had sufficient practice to guarantee their safety in all circumstances.  Many later forget the procedures they have learned, and look or signal only when they feel it necessary, relying on sound to tell them if a car is coming.

Despite the large quantities of mud and debris on the roads (in the wake of the recent storms), Marldon and Newton Abbot contingents met at Coffinswell church as planned.  Newsletters, brought out by Martin Luke, were duly distributed by Sir Kenneth, but that was the last duty he performed on the ride.  A few minutes later, after climbing the steep hill through Daccombe, his hub spindle broke and he had to retire from the ride.

We were fortunate enough to have Martin Hills' video suite available as the venue for our viewing of the pilot episode of Star Trek - The Next Generation, entitled "Encounter at Farpoint".  This high quality science fiction series, which will begin showing on BBC television later this year, has just started its third season in the States, so members have at least another 77 episodes to look forward to. 

Making the most of the weather we rode from Bickington to Cold East Cross, enjoying a delightful lunch beside the river near Pudsham Down.  Continuing through Cockingford and Ponsworthy (where David, Jamie, Phillip and others demonstrated their ATB skills over some steep humps) we were soon at Dartmeet.  Sadly the cafe was closed, but we thoroughly enjoyed the walk up to Pixie's cave - especially the boggy section in the field!

The return to Buckfastleigh via Hexworthy didn't impress Eliot ("Too many hills"), but the rest of us enjoyed it.  Phillip kept complaining that he was hungry and had no food left, but he refused everything he was offered on the grounds that he didn't like it!  Some said he couldn't have been very hungry!  Joseph's puncture near Hawson Court delayed us because he didn't have the right size of spare tube, but when everyone finally got home there were refreshments at Crofters.

We were soon speeding through the lanes via Westerland to the Blagdon road and thence over the Totnes road and on towards Stoke Gabriel.  Ken had broken the habits of a lifetime and actually prepared a route!  This was meant to run parallel with the main Stoke Gabriel road through a track - despite Gary's protestations that it might get his bike dirty!  In the event we shot past the Long Lane turnoff (was Gary leading at that point?) and stayed on the roads. 

After Galmpton we had a delightful LEVEL ride along Buscombe Lane and then on down into Brixham.  From there we took the coast road to Berry Head where a few enthusiasts cycled right down to the bottom of the cliffs whilst most of us shivered in the high winds. 

We took the usual route through Totnes, up Parliament Hill and into Galmpton.  Arriving at the hostel we met Ken's enormous family and five members of Plymouth Section.  The wardens kindly allowed us to play our usual noisy and energetic game of Crazy Post, and we showed our appreciation by contenting ourselves with board and table games for the remainder of the evening.

Good weather returned next morning.  The YHA benevelant fund / Twydell family made their way back home via Galmpton.  Although only three vehicles in the party they managed to get seriously separated.  Paul was rushing on ahead, Dad not paying attention and poor Ben lost sight of the others.  When he passed a side road and was not sure what way they had gone he sensibly stayed put, slightly tearfully, until the others, having stopped for refreshment, decided to go back.  Ken thought Ben behaved very well. 

Meanwhile the main group set off through the lanes to Kingswear, enjoying some good views of Dartmouth and the Royal Naval College along the way.  There was some confusion over the choice of ferry, but eventually the passenger ferry was selected on the basis of the extra discount offered (some still watched the vehicle ferry enviously, thinking that it looked more fun). 

After a visit to the Spinning Wheel cafe we investigated the closed coastal road near Stoke Flemming (having been advised by Kevin that it was ridaeble).  The storm damage was particularly evident from the beach: the familiar cafe and its associated buildings had completely disappeared, and a large section of the cliff had fallen away beneath the road.  Toby, Neil and others got wet feet of course.

Today's route took us through Totnes, Harbertonford, Moreleigh, Slapton (a change of plan, because we didn't make it there last week), Strete, and Tuckenhay.  Dave Humphreys' made a startling revelation during the morning session:  "My one ambition in life is to get Budgie's bike dirty!"   It's just as well Budgie wasn't there today! 

We witnessed a car crash on the Slapton Road.  A car stopped around a corner, and a following car didn't.  There were some unpleasant words exchanged between the male drivers while the respective females remained seated, looking slightly embarassed! 

This was the warmest March weekend for more than 20 years - we were even warmer than the Mediteranean!   It was somewhat annoying, therefore, that all the popular cafes should be closed - there was a bloke painting the outside of the Torcross cafe, apparently oblivious to the lost trade!   Some of us made do with treacle puddings from the local Inn and later regretted eating them! 

Eliot and Alan performed very well indeed, especially during the morning session when they were to be seen powering up the steep hills, sometimes ahead of the older members.  We made such good time that we were able to do a short CATS session at Moreleigh and still get to Slapton in time for lunch (1.15).  On the return route Eliot, who was slowing down, got special treatment from Michael, receieving 8 pieces of chocolate when the others only got one each - they watched incredulously !  It had the desired effect - he went so fast along the next stretch that he came off on a gravelly corner!  Fortunately he was unhurt. 

This was not an easy decision for Michael.  Martin Rushworth lay face-down on the ground, his limbs splayed out awkwardly.  For the fifth time Michael had asked him to try to move his right leg, but he was still unable to do so.  The symptoms all seemed to suggest the possibility of a broken or fractured femur, and yet how could this possibly have happened?  Martin had been riding with the club along the forest track in Houndtor Wood, about 800m from Becky Falls, and had fallen from his bike.  The track had been wide, relatively smooth and only gently sloping where he had fallen.  He must have been riding a little too fast, hit a root or small stone and lost control.  It seemed unlikely that he could have sustained serious injuries, and yet his inability to move was inescapable. 

Access would be difficult to say the least, but expert opinion would have to be sought before Martin could be moved.  Paul Hamlyn-White stayed with Martin while Michael rode on towards the Becky Falls cafe.  The winter storms had, however, left their mark on the woodlands: the path was obstructed by a series of fallen trees, and the wooden bridge had been boarded off.  When Michael eventually reached the cafe, he discovered that it was closed for the winter. 

The proprietor, who was busy redecorating his lounge, had to get a bubble out of a piece of wallpaper before he would escort Michael to the telephone.  He turned out to be quite helpful, and the ambulance was soon on its way:  the other members of the group were rounded up whilst it travelled from Newton Abbot. 

Michael had explained the situation quite carefully to the emergency operator, including the access problems.  When the ambulance finally arrived, the situation was explained again. 

"Do you think the helicopter would be able to get through?" said the ambulanceman.

"I'm not sure," replied Michael, amazed that he would even have considered such an option at this early stage.  "I'm not even sure he's badly injured.  I think the best course of action is for you to have a look at him first."

"Well, I only asked because the chopper is in the area," replied the ambulanceman.  And with that, the police helicopter flew over the nearby trees with a sudden rush of noise and hovered overhead! 

The other youngsters in the group suddenly realised that the afternoon had quickly turned into a real drama.  The pilot landed the helicopter in a nearby field, spoke to one of the ambulancemen and then took off again to locate Martin and attempt to land nearby.  Meanwhile the two ambulancemen and Michael lugged several items of equipment back along the tortuous route through the woods, climbing over the bridge and crawling under numerous fallen trees.

When they finally reached Martin the police were already there, having landed a few metres to the north in an open field.  The ambulance crew confirmed the diagnosis as a "suspected fracture" and proceeded accordingly.  Martin was carried back to the helicopter on a stretcher and airlifted to Torbay hospital casualty unit.

Suddenly everything was quiet again.  Back at the cafe, two parents had arrived to take the younger riders home.  The rest set off for an energetic return to Buckfastleigh via Haytor, arriving just after 6.30pm.

This was an unexpected end to an interesting ride - which got off to a late start because Marcus and a few others forgot to put their clocks forward.

During our customary stop at the Primrose cafe we met fellow cyclists Alasdair Robertson and friend, who agreed to meet us at the Cleave for lunch.  This they did, and our members spent some time admiring his £1179 Roberts mountain bike - and getting each other wet in the river.  Ï

The track through the Cleave was rough, but older mountain bikers derived considerable pleasure from the initial descent.  Younger riders needed some assistance with the climb after lunch towards Manaton.  Once they had reached the top, there was plenty of downhill riding through the woods ... but you already know the rest of the story. 

The first Buckfastleigh evening ride of the new season got off to a shaky start when Michael's Romany (ridden by Neil) became unridable near Buckfast.  Closer inspection revealed that the bottom bracket had seized (lack of maintenance I'm afraid) and Neil's own cycle had to be brought out before he could continue the ride.

This energetic grade 3 ride attracted a good turnout, including Alan Skinner and Phillip Harler who coped very well with the fast pace despite their tender years.

An unusually friendly tailwind blew us along the A38 from Avonwick to Ivybridge, from where we took the cross-country route to Cornwood.  There was just time for an ice-cream-and-photo stop before we were forced to continue to the reservoir via Cadover Bridge.  It was the last hill that really wore us out:  we were now riding into the wind, and suddenly it didn't seem quite so friendly.

We had arranged to meet the two Rushworths by the reservoir.  During the approach we had spotted the police helicopter circling high above, so we guessed that Martin must be somewhere nearby!  In the event they failed to find us, so after enjoying a well-deserved lunch on the reservoir's eastern bank we continued along the rocky track to Princetown.  The track involved a fair amount of climbing, but the younger riders were often with the leaders.  Poor Martin Hills was last, because he had cut himself at the start of the track and was now nursing a wounded knee.

This was the day of the Dartmoor Prison riot, so there was plenty of action at Princetown.  While we were enjoying refreshments at the Foxtor cafe (ruined only by Warren and Andrew Simmons who upset the proprietor with their bad behaviour) the authorities took possession of parts of the affected wing of the jail:  the large white banner we had seen as we arrived had been removed by the time we left the cafe to look at the numerous satellite dishes and tv cameras that surrounded the scene.

Click on the link below to read the full report on this 5-day senior tour to Mid Wales.

There were a few mechanical adjustments at the top of Green Lane, but we were soon speeding down the track towards Caddaford - Martin reckoned several members wanted a pile-up.  The next track was the one at Beaston.  Fortunately the large muddy lakes had largely dried up, so it was possible to get through with nothing worse than slightly clogged mudguards.  Dayle and Martin's coats were filthy, but they reckoned that was what tracks were all about!

Bradley Wood, near Newton Abbot, always provides plenty of cycling fun.  Today it turned out to be the mystery destination for our Easter Special - although anyone who can read maps could have discovered the destination for themselves from the grid reference.