“Broken Bodies”

Day 1

“Broken Bodies”

Route – Lands End to Golant

Stats:

Distance: 64.5 miles

Time: 4hours 54 mins

Top Speed: 41.9 MPH

The seven alarm wake up call did not go down well with all members of the team. Jerry spent the night in the van outside the hostel carpark, but seemed remarkably chirpy when he joined us for the first of many fry ups this trip. We were joined by a young guy who was setting off for a carefree 160 miles stint that day, which made our 64 mile ride seem a little less impressive (but he did shave his legs, so was obviously a serious cyclist – my suggestion that Joss and Camillo followed his lead was met with a firm negative). Rosie bonded with the Youth Hostel man over the constant need of icepacks for her sore wrist, which after what was supposed a quick trip to the Doctors to get some strapping for her now rather large wrist, turned into a disaster. Rosie has broken her wrist! This is terrible news, considering we had yet to embark on our trip. After being told by Camillo last night that is was ‘probably all in the mind’ we were all really upset that Rosie is not going to be able to carry on with the trip, and none more than Rosie herself. How she managed to cycle 10 miles yesterday with a broken wrist is testament to Rosie’s ever impressive determination to complete whatever if is she has set her mind too. Forget Shackleton, forget Lance Armstrong, Rosie is made of pretty strong stuff.  So the three of us limped on from Penzance as Rosie got her wrist strapped in a fetching blue plaster cast. The first few miles for us cyclists were pretty nice, and we got up to speeds of about 16 miles per hour (well, maybe not me, but the boys did). After that it was not quite as breezy as we hit the Cornish Hills. We spent the morning traversing wave after wave of inclines/descents, which our thighs, calves, arms, bums, backs certainly felt.  We met up with Rosie and Jezza half way through the morning and again at lunch with 35 miles under our belt, which was a bit of a make shift affair (and when I say this, take it literally – we were sat on the floor of the hotel carpark in Penningwell Station assembling ham, Philadelphia and tomato sandwiches; a classy affair). The post lunch stretch proved even more hilly than the first, and the warnings we had received prior to our departure from fellow cyclists that the first two days were ‘punishing’ started to ring true. We had a brief sojourn on the King Harry’s ferry, then it was more hills – but we did reach the top speed so far of 41.9mph on one of these stretches so maybe it was worth it…..?! There was one last, and incredibly long, hill up to Golant where we reached our pit stop for the night. Rosie and Jerry had arrived earlier and settled in, fairly luckily as it turned out as apparently our booking had gone astray somehow but we managed to get the last room in the hostel. Maybe luck is finally on our side. Copious amounts of Mint Ease and Deep Heat have been applied in preparation for what is said to be the most punishing day of the trip through Dartmoor Park. Wish us luck….