The forecasters had issued storm warnings for the night before: was it this or the nine o'clock start that kept everyone else at home?  Simon and Richard had a good tail wind to get them to Chudleigh Bridge, but there was no one there either.  We went up past Canonteign Falls and climbed over the ridge to the reservoirs, regretting our lack of recent exercise.  We paused on the way to Blackingstone to admire the snow on the higher moorland.  By the time we clambered to the top the view was obscured by approaching rainclouds, so we had a quick lunch in the lee of the rock, picking a spot amidst the last vestiges of the snow.

The forecasters had got it right again - rain, rain and more rain.  However as Ken had to be at the pick up point as ride leader, he saw no reason why Ben and Paul should not suffer as well.  What is amazing is that the male Walkers decided to turn up as well.

Our party of six set off towards Westerland but had to wait for Paul who had already had enough and was insisting on a return home.  However the threat of Julie's wrath when he got home gave him new heart and we started again.

The weather got worse as we went through the lovely (and soon to be made into a by-pass) Westerland valley, so we decided to cut back towards home.  On the way there was a 'lush' off-road section that the Boys enjoyed to the full - suddenly the rain didn't seem to matter!

Our first social at South Dartmoor school was a resounding success.  We had the exclusive use of the CDT room, with eight metalwork vices and numerous benches.  Most members brought wheels, and during the course of the evening they learned how to dismantle the wheel bearings, clean them, replace damaged parts, regrease, reassemble and adjust them.  There was adult assistance to guide them, of course, and we also supplied grease, bearings and tools.

This was an excellent ride, taking us through some delightful scenery enhanced by the perfect winter weather conditions.  Neil, who had been feeling unwell for half an hour, decided to go home at Bovey Tracey - a sensible decision, as it later transpired that he had German Measles.

A steep climb past the hospital brought us quickly to the reservoirs, and thence to the Rock for lunch.  A few foolhardy members ate lunch on the top whilst the sensible ones sheltered from the wind at the base of the rock, making the most of the sunshine.  Moretonhampstead's Mearsdon Manor provided welcome warmth and refreshments before we proceeded to North Bovey and the famous ford.  The river was too high for fording today, but the muddy track offered amusement for many - the sight of Paul HW and others gingerly creeping along a high bank to avoid getting dirty was amusing.

Part way up the hill towards the Manaton road we met an interesting old lady and her two rescued dogs.  After a short chat we were on our way again, only to be subjected to a mad motorist hurtling down the hill towards us.  The icy patches which were causing us problems did not affect the car, but he very nearly overshot the bend: Paul and others were fortunate to survive!

Thanks to Luke's sterling efforts as Publicity Officer we had a photographer from the Weekender who took up about half an hour of our time.  Then, just as we were about to set off Luke had a puncture - another quarter of an hour gone!

Finally we set off through Compton, temporarily closed to traffic for pipe laying.  Ben went rushing on ahead with the 'Big Boys' but failed to negotiate a slight bend and hit a stone wall at considerable speed.  Dad's knowledge of first aid ("Can you wriggle your fingers?") was supplemented by Charlie who is a qualified nurse, and Ben was soon on his way - hopefully a bit wiser.

Soon after this we acquired a dog who followed us nearly as far as North Whilborough.  When we stopped for Luke to mend another (or same) puncture the dog amused us by teasing some Heifers into chasing him out of their field.

At North Whilborough we separated into 'trackies' and sensible people.  During the route discussion a P**t in a Ford Escort hurtled round a bend missing Julie's rear (trailer!) by inches.  It's an interesting question - who would have been at fault if an impact had occurred?  We undoubtedly were taking up much of the road, but it was a very quiet route and he could clearly see us as he drove at us like a complete idiot.  In future we must ensure that we don't block off roads when we stop, however quiet they may be.

The first ever morning ride from Buckfastleigh didn't go exactly to plan.  First of all, Michael fooled David and Matthew by being early at the start:  they thought they'd missed the group and made their own way to Cross Furzes.  Meanwhile Michael met Matthew's father, who was somewhat concerned that his son wasn't with us! 

We met Oliver and Tom at Cross Furzes as well as David and Matthew.  Oliver got permission to ride with us until midday, so we set off along the track to Hayford Hall and Lud Gate.  Pupers Hill lay in front of us, and the plan was to ride to the top and then across the ridge towards Water Oak Corner, returning to Buckfastleigh via the Avon Dam.  Two successive mistakes compounded to make this impossible, however.

Michael made the first mistake.  The leading riders were half way up Pupers Hill while the tail enders were still close to Lud Gate.  Looking at his watch, Michael decided to direct the stragglers along a more direct route to the ridge, veering to the left.  This should have enabled the leaders to see the spectacular views from Pupers and then meet the others along the ridge.  Unfortunately, however, the stragglers took various different short cuts, and several of the leaders changed direction to intercept the stragglers.  After a few moments, Michael could not be sure if anyone had gone up to Pupers.  He had to spend ten minutes going to the top to check.  When he found nobody there he proceeded to rejoin the others along the ridge.

As he approached, he saw a few cyclists riding off towards Water Oak Corner.  The others were waiting as they had been directed.  When heads had been counted and questions asked it became clear that David and Matthew had been followed by four other members.  As we watched them in the distance they turned down the hill towards Cross Furzes, and Michael was powerless to stop them.  The rest of us had no choice but to follow them, so we missed out on the Avon Dam.

The mistake here was made by David and Matthew, who should have waited with the main group until Michael arrived.  They did not know Michael's proposed route, and moving off made it difficult to see if anyone had gone missing on the previous short section of riding.

Uninspiring weather did not deter the entire Walker family or the other twelve participants from taking part in this enjoyable ride to Exeter along the canal path from Powderham.  Conditions at Turf Lock were so cold that we shortened lunch to just fifteen minutes, but once moving again we soon became comfortably warm.

Although there was still snow on the ground the council crews had done a good job and the roads were ice-free.  Martin and Dayle joined Richard at the start and after picking up Richard B at Alston Cross we found Luke waiting for us at Chudleigh Bridge with new rider Seb.  Luke demonstrated his understanding of the word cool by wearing shorts and cycling mitts.

Once we left the road at Steps Bridge the snow on the path became both a visual delight and a challenge to staying upright.  The forestry track from Clifford Bridge presented new problems: the deep puddles had thick ice on them, but was it enough to take our weight?  Most of the time, yes.  Enjoyably Fingle Bridge had only a handful of motorised visitors, and here Dayle found that the Ribena in his water bottle was undrinkable - it had frozen.

Hunters' Path was the usual strenuous struggle to the top, but we were rewarded by excellent views of Castle Drogo in the snowy landscape.  Tea at Moretonhampstead allowed the thawing of extremities and fortified us for the return home.

When everyone had assembled at the Totnes pick-up we made an impressive sight for the locals - a huge throng of cyclists that filled a large portion of the Plains.

Our favourite route to Ashprington is along the Sharpham Drive track, but this doesn't suit everyone, especially in the winter period when the track is muddy.  Today, just nine of our number opted for the road alternative, and paid a penalty with a prolonged half-hour wait at Ashprington.  It wasn't that the trackies were being unusually slow:  the track boasted several muddy patches, much to the excitement of many younger riders who managed to get filthy, and there were a number of styles to be negotiated - not an easy matter with twenty bikes!  Then there was the gate which looked like a barbed wire fence:  several had struggled to carry their bikes over the top before Neil pointed out that it could be opened.  And then Christian broke a chain in the middle of a particularly muddy patch - quickly repaired, but causing slight delay nevertheless.  To round off the fun there was a steep-sided field to climb (with an awkward style at the top of course), at which point Andrew Walker would have lost his new cycle computer had Dave Robinson not spotted it lying in the leaves.

Recent snowfall over the south-west had meant that the final decision about whether or not the weekend should proceed as planned could not be made until the Saturday morning.    The forecast was good and the wardens assured us that all main roads were clear, so we decided to go ahead.

The weekend began early for the Walker family:  we were using a Luton van to transport the bikes, and the lot fell to the Walkers to collect it from the hire firm.   Ken was bringing his personal mini-bus for the passengers, so when the Paignton contingent had loaded up, the strange convoy set off for Buckfastleigh and Heathfield to collect the other participants.  The loading was not straightforward because Charlie took great care to secure the bikes with blankets and ropes, but the whole operation still proceeded right on schedule - much to the surprise of David and Jamie, who are used to waiting for an hour or more for the South Dartmoor brigade, especially on cold mornings!

The van's engine had only just warmed up when the crew in the mini-bus decided it was time for a pit-stop and promptly rolled into the Happy Eater on Haldon Hill.  The youngsters definitely wanted a café stop, and this seemed like the only place we could be certain of getting it, but Charlie was not a happy eater today!

The closer we got to Crowcombe Heathfield the whiter the fields became, but the main roads remained clear and safe as the wardens had predicted.  The half-mile lane from the main road to the hostel, having recently been salted, was covered with various textures of snow and slush, but Ken decided it was too white for the vans.  We parked opposite a nearby garage and coasted precariously down to the youth hostel, only to find that the warden's 'opening after lunch' was actually going to be 4.30pm!   We shivered on the doorstep as the warden walked off and left us - his heart must have been made of stone. 

A short ride was attempted in order to keep warm, covering a roughly circular route around the hostel.  The lanes we used were thick with snow, which offered plenty of scope for amusement.  One of the amusements was the sight of Matthew riding over a snowy mound and discovering a steep drop on the other side which ended in a gully.  He somehow managed to avoid serious injury, but ruined his front forks.  Meanwhile, Ken decided to risk bringing the vans into the hostel grounds: they offered welcome comfort when we returned, keeping us warm until we were eventually allowed into the hostel.

The warden gave us a belated 'warm' welcome.  We all clamoured round a glowing Parkray fire in the common room - except for one illustrious member, initials KT, who was doing his 'Scott of the Antarctic' routine as the snow fell.  Apparently, where there's no sense there's no feeling!  He finally returned as darkness fell to find everyone enjoying board games, magazines and quiet conversation in the cosy common room.

The dormitories were very cold, but that didn't stop the inevitable blanket fights from taking place.  Perhaps the most memorable sight of the evening was that of David Waldron consuming vast quantities of food after supper!

After a comfy night's sleep we arose to a little confusion in the dining room: apparently Michael had ordered a 'veggie' breakfast even though he was self-catering.  He returned to the members' kitchen to finish off the remainder of Ken's porridge - not one of his better concoctions.

We were greeted by a fine but cold day and decided to make the most of it by cycling to the sleepy fishing village of Watchet for refreshments, exhausting all the 'watch-it' jokes along the way.  On arrival we descended upon the unsuspecting proprietor of a local tearoom who, when he had pulled himself together, provided us with excellent fare.  As we were preparing to leave for Dunster, David Platt, clearly disappointed at the lack of tracks on the ride so far, decided to wallow in the mud of Watchet harbour!  There was considerable delay while he changed his attire.

After a steep pull out of Blue Anchor there was much high jinks in the deep, drifted snow by the roadside: several people received snowy missiles from their 'friends'.  When we finally reached Dunster we had to agree that it was picturesque, but all the tearooms were closed so we gathered under the famous yarn market and dug deeper into our remaining provisions.

The road through Rew towards South Dartmoor School was delightful today.  We had just begun the steep climb towards Whiddon Farm when a loud explosion signalled the end of the ride for Keir.  Closer inspection revealed that a particularly bald patch on an otherwise good tyre had finally given way.  Keir is not the only young member who enjoys skidding on his bike.  Be warned, all you skidsters, that skidding costs a lot of money in new tyres, ruins your enjoyment of a ride, puts someone to considerable inconvenience to collect you, and holds up the entire club.  Don't do it!

We chose a route through the back lanes to Ipplepen where we were stopped by an intrigued resident who said he may come out with his family in the future.  As he had six children (and a white minibus) the Twyfam may yet be outdone.

Nobody felt like riding to Bantham once they had been drenched by the unfriendly downpour, so the Copper Kettle café at South Brent seemed to be the obvious alternative.  They had been expecting us after seeing the Buckfastleigh starters half an hour earlier, and some old carpets had been laid out in strategic positions to protect the café furnishings!  We felt a bit miserable with such wet feet, but the proprietors did their best to make us feel better.

Jeremy Ford won an award from the members today when he asked whether there was any water at the destination.  Luke Hatherly explained (rather sarcastically) that a single drop of rain landed there a few millenia ago and caused a splash, hence the name Ponsworthy Splash.

Our route took us through Hembury Woods, New Bridge and Spitchwick, where the river Dart flowed strongly with an abundance of clean, fresh water.  Unfortunately many people were swarming in the sunshine like bees around a honey pot, so we quickly set off for the peace of the Leusdon lane - too narrow for the vehicles to follow.   We were greeted along the way by the friendly gaggle of ducks that reside in the pond, and by three pet goats tethered to a wooded verge.

Arriving at Leusdon Lodge, the venue for our annual Christmas Lunch, we were greeted by the proprietor's son James, who interrupted his painting to supply us with various items of confectionery.  We also had to see his new bike, of course.

A change for the better in the weather saw the magnificent total of 16 members at Five (now only Four) Lanes, Marldon.  Drama began almost immediately with Mike and Christian Bryant having to return home by car to fix a loosened crank.  They were able to rush back and catch us up within a mile or so, we having delayed our start as long as possible - Dave used the time to mend his first puncture of the day.

By the time we reached Red Post Dave had had another puncture in the same tyre.  Luckily these were the only mechanical mishaps in an otherwise lovely day.

Staverton Bridge, our published destination, was soon reached and we took the path down by the river to rest and eat.  Jenny told us of an earlier career as a raft racer on the River Dart.  Also it turned out that both she and Dave H had worked together some 20 years ago.  It was about then that Rob pointed out that he had last seen his father outside the Sea Trout Inn at Staverton some 20 minutes earlier.  Gary was sent back to find him but by then it was too late.  Apparently Charlie and his son Andy had been delayed by a detached chain, and by the time they got to the bridge we were all down by the river out of sight.  He waited a bit but assumed that we must have gone to Dartington as there are cafés there.  He got back home safely but it was a shame that we 'lost' him.

Lessons learnt:  1.  When left or detached from the group stay put: the leader will always send someone back eventually.       2.  Leaders should check that everyone is present when deviating from the route.

After further search parties had returned without success we set off back to Staverton village and on to Ipplepen via Fishacre Barton, from where we observed some abseilers on a distant cliff.  From Park Hill we took the non-Compton route that is more pleasant, safer and just happens to pass the Robinson abode.

Martin and Richard faced a strong headwind as they made their way over the moor.  By Two Bridges the threatening rain had become steady, and several heavy bursts were quite dampening, of both body and spirit.  The adverse weather didn't deter some clay pigeon shooters from peppering the moorland with pellets, and Tavistock Wheelers bowled down the hill the other way looking quite happy.  What a difference a tailwind makes.  We had a brief chat with a tandeming family on the descent from Merrivale, and Martin then scoured Tavistock looking for acceptable food.

We welcomed John Stuart, Simon Hopper and Andrew Simmons back to the fold, home for the Easter Holiday.  We certainly made an impressive sight at the Bovey Tracey pick-up.  Those who went into the Primrose café at Lustleigh were rewarded with a special menu offering 50% discount on many items - see the noticeboard in this newsletter for details.

There was some competition amongst the older teenagers to see who could ride the fastest along the narrow lanes, despite Michael's attempts to encourage self-discipline.  Today's casualty was Roger Johnson, who came off on a gravelly bend and damaged his elbow: his parents collected him and took him to the local hospital for treatment, and he then had to return to Totnes hospital regularly for a few weeks before the wound was fully healed.  Next time the damage could be even more serious, so please try to put safety first!

Click on the link below to read the full report on this 5-day senior tour to the New Forest and Dorset coast.

Poor Eliot!  Having ridden past Buckfast Abbey Eliot had elected to go with the five other 'trackies' through Birchetts Wood, but when he reached the ford at the end he fell in and ended up soaked from the neck down.  Fortunately the weather assisted with the drying process as the afternoon progressed - Tao and Dayle weren't exactly dry or clean either, as the track had been just as muddy as Michael had predicted.

Following a tractor into Holne we realised just how difficult it is for farmers to carry out their daily work during the tourist season.  And there certainly were plenty of tourists about today: we took one look at the crowds in the Old Forge café and decided to go straight to Venford, where Michael gave everyone two pieces of a Chocolate Orange - better than Easter Eggs any day.

We took a convoluted route through the Westerland Valley to Collaton and then on to the Stoke Gabriel road.  At Long Road Gary led the trackies for a rough stuff diversion which they did at such speed that they almost beat the rest of the group back to the road (just as well, as Ken had already forgotten them and had sailed past the relevant junction).

At the weir, busy with Sunday Afternoonies, we met Dave Humphreys with family (including "It's Phil Humphreys!!" complete with weird DJ rap King haircut).