As the short version says we were promised heavy rain for much of the day by the forecast but, other than a few brief light showers, it stayed away until about 3 o’clock. Even then it wasn’t really heavy - until we entered Welsh Wales! Luckily there was only a couple of miles to go into Chepstow at that point so, although we got wet, we were not out in it for long enough to get too cold and miserable thankfully.
Bridgwater looked as uninspiring as Christine remembered it but without the smell of the now closed British Cellophane factory that she recalled from her childhood. But we soon left the town behind us and, after one short sharp climb swiftly followed by a fast descent we were on the Somerset Levels and bowling along with a mostly tailwind. A passing cyclist called Dave stopped for a chat and then he turned round to join us for a spell which was very pleasant as he told us of his plans to do Lejog next year averaging 90-100 miles a day but supported by his wife in the car carrying his luggage and sorting out accommodation.
Waving goodbye to Dave, we made our way to Cheddar where we climbed into the Mendips - not via the Gorge with its 16% gradient but our route was quite steep enough thank you very much! Christine walked most of the way but Stephen toughed it out doing the first kilometre in about 9 minutes and the second in 7 before the downhill started.
This road took us onto the A38 which we followed all the way to Bristol - not a pleasant stretch with its heavy traffic and undulating profile, but certainly quicker than the back roads through the Mendips.
On reaching the outskirts of Bristol we turned off alongside the A4 through the Avonmouth Gorge having passed Ashton Gate, the home to the mighty Bristol City Football Club. Stephen was mightily impressed by his first visit to the Gorge although the roar of the traffic does take the edge off the enjoyment.
Avonmouth is not the prettiest place on God’s earth being a port but if you are going to cycle through it, then Sunday afternoon is a great time to do so. The roads are straight and, with a tailwind, you can get up a fair turn of speed, even if you are called Christine!
We soon reached the original Severn bridge which has a cycle and pedestrian path on each side of the motorway and, passports at the ready, we were off to foreign parts! The stiff breeze blowing up the river made an eerie sound as it whistled through the stays holding the bridge up and, as Dave had suggested earlier, if you get off the bike in the middle you can feel the bridge bounce up and down as the lorries cross. All in all quite an unnerving experience.
With the heavens opening as a greeting to Wales we were glad to make it to the hotel by 4.30, where, after a leisurely clean up and drying out, the highlight of the day was being joined by Lynn (Christine’s sister who lives between Bath and Bristol) for a very pleasant evening of catching up.
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