To Minehead

Reading is becoming my new favourite station.  It's the gateway to West Wales, and ialso the south west.  However GWR is not my favourrail company.  I gad a good journey there, leaving Southall at 8 on the Elizabeth line.  I seemed to have dodged the rail strikes, and also the promised 20 degree weather.  I shivered on Reading Station for an hour awaiting my train, which was a bit of a disaster bike-wise.  The platform guard was lelping a lady with two very large suitcases, and wanted to store them in one of rhe bike storage spaces, so directed me to the other tiny space at the other end of the platform, after the train had arrived.  I sprinted the length of the train, only to find two bikes and a drinks trolley already janned in there.  I forced my bike onto the train, completely blocking the gangway, and the train set off.   Very unsatisfactory. 

Eventually the train guard came across the bike-jam, and, after checking we all had reservations, found an unadvertised bike space for me, so another sprint down the platform at Westbury had me travelling comfortably for the final hour.

North Petherton, of M5 services fame

Just round the corner from Taunton Station, I joined the towpath of the Bridgwater canal, which was lovely, and took me most of the way to, er, Bridgwater, visiting a few nice villages on the way.  Much warmer by now, the air was thick with the scent of cow parsley and hawthorn blossom.  I spotted a kingfisher dashing along the canal towards me.  I've booked a hostel in Minehead tonight, so I couldn't linger too much.

Bridgwater,  Fisherman's Wharf

A late lunch in Bridgwater set me up for the main ride to Minehead, zigzagging on quiet, pretty roads to avoid the main A39 road.  It was nice to hear Westcountry accents in the cafe and to be addressed as "my love". 

The sun was out by now and it was warm  with a fresh headwind.  After a couple of miles I was stopped by a chap on a rather muddy bike.  It wasn't mud.  A slurry tanker had overturned on the lane ahead, blocking the road and spreading its contents liberally.  I asked if I could get through, and he looked at my clean yellow panniers doubtfully.  It wasn't a good idea, so I detoured around the spillage, cycling with a local lady for a while until the pretty village of Cannington.  

Cannington

Is it this way?

Cycle path ...?

Tiny church in the middle of nowhere

Pews seat maybe eight people

A lot more lanes and a few short stretches on the horrid A39, and about 20 miles after Bridgwater I had my first view of the sea.  My first seaside town was very safety-conscious, as they had signs everywhere saying "Watchet".  I saw no accidents while I was there, and I was very lucky to get the last cup up tea and cake from the last cafe to shut, at 5pm.  Watchet is a pretty, old town with quaint back streets, inexplicably with no seafront, just a large and boring marina.  Where the town touched the sea, there was a large hoarding, maybe a site for exclusive seaside apartments.   It would be totally out of place if so.  Watchet also has a steam train line to Minehead, the west Somerset line.  I would have shown you an action photo of a steam train chuffing out of the station, but I was on the phone leaving a message for my hostel at the time.

Watchet!

Radio museum,  ironically in Watchet

Despite the attention to safety, there was a problem.  Part of the B road to Minehead had fallen into the sea.  Careless!  The diversion was via the horrid A39.  I wasn't looking forward to toiling up some big hills with impatient drivers queueing behind me, and luckily the café proprietor offered an alternative,  torn between his desire to help me and his desire to get me out of the café so he could close up.  A few back roads, and I could follow the Mineral Path out of town.   It turned out to be a disused railway, lovely right up to the point where he said cross the (actual) railway and follow the path back to the B road.  It was nearly as bad as one of David Ward's off-road adventures!  When I came to a stile, I knew the game was up  and continued on the mineral path instead, which was fine and maybe saved me a hill.

Mineral path

Not this way ...

Soon I was in Blue Anchor, a seaside town which seemed to consist of a pub (the Blue Anchor) and several caravan parks.  Minehead was visible in the distance, so I passed through quickly and headed to Minehead.   I had to bypass Dunster, which lilooked interesting, with a castle on a hill,  as it was getting late.

Blue Anchor

Minehead 

Minehead 

Minehead.  Nice, big place.  A Butlins holiday camp to the east of the town, but the town itself is a proper town.  It looks sort of Alpine, against a backdrop of big steep hills.  All that's missing is the snow - thank goodness.  The hostel was up the main street, The Parade, past lots of shops which would be worth a look around if you like that sort of thing.  I don't, and anyway I had things to do.  I found the hostel, a run-down house, and tried to phone to say I'd arrived.  Voicemail.

Hostel

No doorbell.  Was there anyone in?  I briefly contemplated camping in the overgrown front garden, before noticing an envelope pinned to the door frame.  It had keys and instructions for paying  so all was good.  I showered, did my washing, and went out on the town.   I needed somewhere doing basic food, not too pricey, with a pint for rehydration.   Fortunately there was a perfect place just on The Parade, the Duke of Wellington, converted from a vast, grand hotel by the look of it, and still operating as a Wetherspoons hotel.  The Simple Scampi was exactly what it said on the tin, four pieces of scampi with lashings of chips and peas.

All is good.  A good first day.  Tomorrow  ... Exmoor ... and Porlock.

PS.  Sorry for the long post.  I'm excited to be back on the road.  I'll try to be less excited tomorrow.