Author: Rob Ainsley

Today’s plan was a ride in diabolical territory – up through the Nick of Pendle to witch country – and the morning was certainly diabolical weather, with black clouds and furious rain. I sat most of it out by doing cafe and bike shop research (talking of which, the Green Jersey local bike shop–club–cafe is…

Clitheroe is gateway town to Pendle’s Witch Country, but today was magic of a different kind: a wonderful day ride up to Bentham and back over Forest of Bowland moors. It’s all hilly stuff: no wonder most of the many cyclists I saw today were on e-bikes. Who needs flying brooms when you have electric…

With my research for the trip done yesterday, today was for-fun, with just two items on my to-do list: Britain’s Smallest House, and Britain’s Lourdes. The Smallest House is in Conwy, on the harbourfront, a short ride south from my stay last night in Llandudno. Conwy is a characterful little place with an imposing castle,…

Britain’s longest car-free cyclable promenade runs 28km / 17 smooth tarmac miles from Prestatyn to Llandudno, and I rode it this gloriously sunny autumn day. Note I didn’t say ‘warm’. I was well wrapped up, especially as there was little effort involved: I had a bargain tailwind, and the ride profile was as flat as…

England’s longest continuous car-free promenade cycle path is in Blackpool. Rock on! It runs for 12 uninterrupted, smooth, flat, seaside miles from Starr Gate, just south of the Pleasure Beach and South Pier, up and round to Fleetwood. En route you encounter an organ played by the tide, Blackpool Tower, beaches, piers, a lighthouse in…

Cheddar in Cheddar, the Gorge, and rescuing a sheep: an eventful day. I got to the famous cheesy village from Worle, pronounced as in ‘End of the’, which it nearly was on the utterly horrible A371 through Banwell. (The road narrows to singletrack without footpaths, and with impatient commuters barging past each other contraflow –…

Today’s forecast suggested rain at 11am and 3pm; cloudy and dry in between. Spot-on, if you deleted the words ‘cloudy’ and ‘dry’. I got rather wet and spent a lot of time sheltering downpours under trees or in village hall awnings, but it was a very satisfying day of cycling the hills, combes and coast…

I lived in Bath for 13 riotous years, so there’s place in my heart for Somerset; probably a furred-up aorta. Unheralded Bridgwater entices cyclists with easy access to the Mendips, Quantocks, Levels, and even the Solar System, as a scale model strung along the canal towpath to more heralded Taunton. No planets today though. I…

With rain and very strong winds forecast for today, I scaled down my plans for an eighty-mile research ride to, er, eight miles. Instead of heading out to the Jurassic Coast out Lyme Regis way, I’d stay on Portland itself, hopping down to the Bill: the southernmost point of the entire south coast, except for,…

In Thomas Hardy’s novels, Dorset is a miserable, oppressive backwater – something tourism marketing glosses over. But I enjoyed cycling round a few sights that the gloomy old scribbler would have recognised today, and it wasn’t miserable or oppressive at all. Except for Poundbury, maybe. Weymouth’s prom looked inviting in the morning sun, especially as…