Day 8

Heading out of Ironbridge, it was very painful getting back on the saddle. It’s a funny sort of pain, a little bit like putting your ski boots on, you know it’s going to be sore but well worth doing none the less.

We started the climb out of the gorge at a much slower and easier pace than that we descended in the night before. We stopped at a nice country pub which was delightful as well as stomach filling. As pleasant as the break was, the muscles enjoyed the rest a little too much and seizing started.

Arriving in Gloucester we were greeted at Cafe Nero by a lady who had more questions regarding our ride than I thought possible. Certainly I didn’t possess all the answers she was looking for and soon I realised neither did Mark. After the fifth iteration of “But why would you ride all that way?” I knew it was time to go and buy the tea.

It was then I learnt the lesson that a nice cup of tea with chocolate shortbread was not the food and drink to power me up the 200m and 250m hills which lay between Gloucester and Bath . . . . .The hill climb into Bath felt never ending and when I thought the challenge was tough, the skies opened and a deluge of heavy rain pounded. I actually like the rain and generally find it quite soothing. Mark on the other hand detests the rain and I understand was plotting his emigration.

The descent into Bath was a speedy treat and quite beautiful as we were greeted by the splendid architecture of this grand city. Our hotel on Wells Road was on on another hill which caught us a little by surprise! However, this was soon forgotten as we soon enjoyed the luxury of our hotel.

An evening spent enjoying good Italian food and icing my knees up made this a good stop over.