King Alfred’s Way
Day 1
“Dan, wake up it’s time for the adventure of a lifetime” said Chris with a excited sing song quality in his voice, as he gently knocked on the door of his spare room - where he had kindly allowed me to stay after my work finished in London the day prior. I’d overslept my alarm badly and missed his earlier knocking - it was time to go.
A short spin to Waterloo through quiet London streets and we were on the train to Farnham to begin our adventure on King Alfred’s Way.
Quiet streets and hedgerows gave way to sandy tracks along fields and ridges. Chris lost his balance multiple times in the sand leading to a lot of laughter as he stared at me while toppling sideways, still clipped in.
We tore through devil’s punch bowl, sliding around in the sand and laughing as we passed groups of dog walkers enjoying their Sunday. Sadly it was here I got a flat tyre and we realized we didn’t have any tyre levers. Nothing some credit card tricks can’t handle though. Magyver. We had to inflate the tyre four times as it kept losing air when unscrewing the pump, and subsequently the loose air valve. Finally, with a screwdriver for traction on the valve, we saw success and continued on to lunch at the Deer Inn hotel. Turns out compressed watermelon and hot chips are not a sufficient meal for a long cycling adventure. More on that later.
Some rattling descents and small climbs along the beautiful South Downs Way led us close to Winchester. Just outside of town, we joined the A road to make camp in town. I had spent lunch telling Chris I was yet to experience the elusive “bonk” where a cyclist depletes their glycogen and energy stores and hits a “wall”. I well and truly spent the afternoon “bonking” and struggling to keep up with Chris. When we finally joined the A road to dip into town I heard the horrible sound of a hissing tyre, another puncture to end a rough day for me.
After some roadside mechanical work, we reached town, greeted by the statue of King Alfred himself. We stopped in a local pub for dinner and drinks before spending the night in a historic local hotel with parts that dated back to the 16th Century.
Day 2
A good night’s sleep can solve most things. I woke rested but sore, as expected. Today was sure to be an easier day. Briefly, we resupplied spare tubes, tyre levers and patches and prayed for fewer issues today.
We’d heard the stretch from the previous day was the most technical of the entire route so emboldened by this information we set off with Maryborough in our sights.
The majority of today’s terrain was very hospitable, from older country roads lined with hedgerows to small rural tracks and walking paths.
One of the jewels in the crown of King Alfred’s Way would have to be Stonehenge. We made a very short detour to visit this landmark. There was something truly absurd about cycling up a track in the fields to be mere meters from the monoliths.
We stopped briefly for a quick pub lunch at The Olf Castle just outside Salisbury. I heeded my learnings from the day before and feasted while enjoying a spread of English fizzy drinks.
The Ridgeway was truly beautiful albeit a little windy. The famous white horse appeared as we closed in the final quarter of the day, with spirits high we decided to make a final stop for ice cream, drinks and other snacks just outside Tilshead.
We found a camp just off route in Marlborough at Postern Hill. A nice steep climb to end the day. We checked in, pitched the tent and made for town in search of food.
After a glorious Indian feast, we made our way back to the campsite for an early night. It appears we’d both forgotten just how tough that hill was with a few days lingering in the legs.
Day 3
Given Chris’ recent hand surgery and the likelihood of today's off-road-hand-shattering quota being high, we made the call to cut across to somewhere we could catch the train back to London. Some things are just not worth pushing on and I’d hate for Chris to set back his healing for a cycling trip.
We decided to go via Hungerford so I could the village where my mother was born. Descending the hill from Postern Hill one last time Chris took the front and laid down a blistering pace with me just holding on in his slipstream. This continued the whole way to Hungerford.
From Hungerford we took lightly trafficked back rounds to Newbury - where my mum attended school. A short train to London Paddington and a quick cycle across the city on our dusty bikes and our adventure was over.
Footnote: Chris has been a friend for over a decade, but we don’t see each other for more than a few days at a time, every few years. It was so lovely to stay in his home with his lovely partner Karma and their anxious, bubbly, and affectionate sidekick Fin, the rescue dog. I’ll always treasure this time and trip. I can never repay the kindness shown to me in a time of incredible uncertainty in my life. Thank you.
Chris also took photos on our trip which I’ve included below for my own vanity and mostly because he has an incredible eye.
