A Weekend on the Isle of Wight

After the two weeks that we spent pedalling into an icy headwind at Easter, last weekend felt like a just reward: three days of sunshine and a wonderfully relaxed itinerary.

As forecast, the rain stopped abruptly shortly before we disembarked the ferry onto Ryde pier late on Friday night. We pedalled through darkness, away from the towns until finding a quiet spot to unfurl our Goretex shelters for the night, a stone's throw from the sea.

Colder than expected, we welcomed the rising of the morning sun, heating our bivi bags as we dozed through the warmth.

One memorable feature of the weekend was the plethora of wonderful views afforded each time we crested a hill or turned a corner. Our first for the day came as we swept into Sandown and pedalled easily along the seafront, sandwiched between cliff face and ocean on a narrow strip of walkway populated by holidaymakers.

 

We feasted on baguette and brie in a quiet field and dozed in the midday sun (or at least I did). We stopped off to peer down onto Black Gang Chine and look out from the vantage point of St Catherine's Oratory at the island's southern zenith. We flew up the stunning cliff edge road running to Freshwater and, at its bay, stripped off and flung ourselves into the bracing salt water.

Evening encroached and we pedalled outward and upward through the deserted car park at the island's western edge to its very tip where we peered out over the Needles chalk stacks and we knew that this was where we would sleep: in a field, atop a cliff, in isolation, beside the iconic Needles, looking northwards to the mainland's coast and out to sea across the English Channel.

Morning was seen in with teas and coffees served in bed with a copy of the weekend paper, all enjoyed beneath the warming glow of the sun.

 

On Friday night, Laura had been regaling me with an emergency repair technique she had been reading about that involved converting a geared bike into one with only a single speed in the event of mechanical failure. I rolled my eyes at what was clearly such a niche operation as to be nearly useless.

But Sunday afternoon rolled around and we came across three young Chinese tourists whose hired bikes had seen better days. One in particular was immobile, strewn at the roadside. Upon inspection, it was clear that the rear derailleur, which is used to change gears, was knackered.

"What do we do?", asked one of the students.

"Take it off, shorten the chain and," Laura replied nonchalantly, "convert it to a single speed".

15 minutes later, our hands covered in bicycle grease, we pedalled off again, feeling secretly quite proud of the opportunity to practice an elaborate roadside bicycle repair with our new tools, reassured that there was now one more mechanical mishap that we could comfortably deal with on our way to Australia later in the year.

As we left, our new friend expressed his thanks with the immortal words: "We are so lucky to find you. You are like water in the desert."

Eventually, Monday rolled around and our homeward ferry beckoned. In fact, as it pulled into Fishbourne, had its captain turned his or her head to the left then they would have caught sight of two cyclists discarding their clothes at the sea's edge and taking one last plunge into the water in the dying minutes of their holiday. 

If you fancy going for a cycle around the Isle of Wight then visit the excellent Cycle Wight website for more information (or email us: tim@thenextchallenge.org)

This summer, Tim and Laura are setting off to cycle from London to Australia. Read more at www.thenextchallenge.org