Today we had grand plans. We were going to set out at 9 a.m. and cycle up the Lea Valley and across to Welwyn Garden City, and then get the train back to Harringay. This would be by far my longest ride to date, and would be even more of a challenge because I still had Saturday's miles in my legs.
I woke up at 8.57 a.m., a whole three minutes before we had intended to set off. At 9.06 a.m. I got out of bed and James wasn't too far behind me. By the time we'd eaten another healthy breakfast (a sandwich made with oatcakes and caramel dessert sauce), sorted the bikes and ourselves out and fed the cat, it was gone 10 a.m.
I had a revolutionary (pardon the pun) breakthrough today - I'd done some research on the internet to try to find a quick fix to stop my hands from hurting so much; it turned out that tilting my seat backwards a notch or two might do it, so before we left, James altered the saddle and it immediately made an absolutely enormous difference. My hands still hurt, but because they were already hurting, not because of today's efforts. I also tried riding with my Garmin GPS watch for the first time today, so I actually have some pretty accurate data about our journey.
We set out along the now familiar route to the Lea Valley - it being a bank holiday, the roads were pretty clear and the only issues I had (but James managed to avoid) were a car doing a very bad three point turn and a car reverse parking without indicating, both on Spring Hill. I did some choice swearing and we carried on.
For the first few miles, I found it pretty hard going, just because I hadn't recovered from the Waltham Abbey outing, but as we went along I recovered somewhat and we were at Waltham Abbey again in less than an hour and a half. Then we went into uncharted territory (still didn't see any dragons, though). We carried along up the river bank, passing cows and sheep and horses in the fields, until we eventually got to the town of Broxbourne and it was lunchtime. We stopped at a cafe just off the main towpath before the Crown Bridge. James had a fantastic looking breakfast baguette (it even had a fried egg on top) and I had a ham and cheese panini. I amused myself over lunch by answering all the crossword clues for the neighbouring table's communal crossword and marvelling at how inept they were at crosswords - it was hardly the Times.
After our lunch stop, the towpath got significantly worse under wheel and there were frequent tree roots making me wish I had suspension. There was also a tangible increase in the number of idiots on the towpath, on wheels and on foot. We had one incident where the number of dogs involved seemed to increase threefold the closer we got to the people supposedly controlling them - there were a few people dawdling along the path towards us, dogless, and another group immediately behind (probably hoping to overtake); we rang our bells as we approached, as the dawdlers were engrossed in conversation and may not have seen us, even though they were facing us. They moved to one side and as we drew alongside, I noticed one dog behind them, off the lead, which then miraculously became two and then three dogs, all going different directions and none of them being called aside by anyone. It was difficult to say thank you to the dawdlers without the dog walkers thinking they were included, and I think I ended up more or less hissing my gratitude into the ear of one of the dawdlers!
The river led us on through Ware, and then the path took a bend to the west, towards Hertford. We knew that at Hertford we'd have to go onto another traffic-free path, but that we should be able to get onto it by continuing to follow the river. As we neared central Hertford, there were a couple of sections of path marked "no cycling", and then the path was blocked off altogether. We spotted a blue signpost for National Cycle Route 61 (now known as the Yellow Brick Road) to Welwyn Garden City and decided to follow it. We hadn't gone very far when we lost the trail, the signposts dried up and we were faced with an enormous roundabout with dual carriageways going off in all directions. At about this point we decided that enough was enough - Hertford also has a train station with trains direct to Harringay, and if we could find that, we could cut our trip a little short and be back in time for afternoon tea. Next issue - how to find (and get to) Hertford North station.
We worked out that the A119 towards Stevenage went to the station, so we went through a subway to get to the other side of the enormous roundabout, planning to join the hideously busy road on the other side. However, Hertford has clearly been hating cyclists since well before the safety bicycle was invented, and there was no access point onto the road from the other side of the subway - only lots of residential streets, (well-signposted) public footpaths and a rather large fence. In the end, we had to go through another subway back to the other side of the road and work out a route to the station via the centre of town. Eventually we got there, only to discover that the lifts aren't big enough for bikes, so we had to hoik them up the stairs. Just as we were getting onto the train, it started to rain - justification for the shortened journey, surely.
Despite the non-existence of Welwyn Garden City (it was noticeable that there weren't any signposts for it at all, not just cycling ones), this was still my longest cycle ever at 26.1 miles, just about a marathon's worth. When I think back now to the time (just seven weeks ago) when I struggled to do a whole lap of Finsbury Park without stopping, it suddenly seems incredible how far (literally) I've come!
One day I will find that mythical place, Welwyn Garden City, the Emerald City of Hertfordshire, and if you'd like to sponsor me to do so, please click on the Justgiving link on the right hand side - I'm up to £313 now, but I'd still like to get to £500 before I set off for Brighton in 12 sleeps' time.
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