1 April 1997

I filled up almost straight away and had a chuckle with the attendant when I spilt petrol everywhere. Then I headed for the A30 where I took the wrong direction, headed for Bodmin, but never mind: good start! I still made pretty good progress on the A30, only really slowing down when I got to the M5.

There, first of all we were slowed by a fresh accident: lots of emergency vehicles and queues and, then, by several bouts of roadworks. In the end, I decided I was sick of it and did my very first bit of traffic weaving. It was a bit scary but felt nice. I would have done much more, apart from the idiot in the Jag, blocking my way as I tried to get past. Dangerous, but to be expected. It was good when I got past him, and the lane splitting was good for my confidence.

I took my lunch at the Severn Bridge services. The traffic had been quite busy and nerve-wracking round that area, but I decided that I was going to continue with my original plan and go into Wales. The bridge was magnificent, a little hazy, but nice to behold. I took my time over my break, amused that everyone else was in shirt sleeves while I was swathed in layers of black clothing - but they were soon stripped off!

Over the bridge into Wales

I picked up the A366 which actually took me up the Wye Valley. I'd picked that route without knowing this, simply because it took me where I needed to go. But it was fantastic - twisty roads alongside a valley, quite deep at times, with my favourite deciduous forest. And sunny to boot! I passed St Briavel's in the early afternon; it had been an option for an overnight - but lost my way around Monmouth. I did get to ride through this old mediaeval town, which was nice, but ended up on a B-road somewhere in the direction of Raglan. I gave up on finding the other end of the A366 and, instead, guessed my way to the A49 which was my route for the rest of the day.

As I left the Wye Valley, the landscape remained pretty with lovely villages but I was getting rather tired. Hitting Hereford at the rush hour was costly in terms of energy and time, but at least it wasn't too complex and I got through. Afterwards, I took a little roadside chocolate break and then found a Little Chef for an all-day breakfast: greasy food is just perfect for a knackered biker. I had been thinking fondly of bed and breakfast, but decided that I probably wouldn'’t be welcome and also that it was too costly.

Anyway, I got beyond Leominster, where I knew that I was supposed to see Woofferton (Landmark no. 5). Instead, I saw signs for Ludlow so I went down another pretty daffodil-overgrown road to the town. And there, just as I arrived, was the youth hostel! I even found a good place to put Katie, in the little bit of off-road parking between the two cars that had filled it. I did think of bringing her right through, to the riverside, but thought I'd probably drop her, feeling as tired as I did.

Ludlow Youth Hostel

I had a room on my own, within two ticks of Katie, and soon messed it up with leathers and maps. Because I'd eaten, I was able to get changed and plan out tomorrow's route home, and also I went out and had a rather nice commune with my motorcycle, feeling rather proud of her and of me, at last doing the polishing I'd been itching to do beforehand and getting the rust off the wheeltrim. The warden's husband came by and had a chat and admired my Katie. Plus, the hostel cat, Jake, introduced himself to me, though the other one, Flash, was just that: a flash of black and white chasing after something.

After attending to my mount, I wandered up into Ludlow itself to catch a glimpse of the castle. The town was in fact rather lovely. I liked the old mediaeval buildings and enjoyed the walk, though at this point it was nearly dark and I was very tired.

The hostel was right next to the river and there was an old bridge there. It must have been the first hostel that I'd never had to play hunt the hostel with (youth hostels are notoriously difficult to locate). There was a pub opposite it and flowers growing all around.

When I got back in, I was pretty tired and went to bed by 9.30. I'd ridden 236 miles over about nine and a half hours: probably about 50 miles and at least an hour too many. Zonk!