Skeggy or Bust!
By Jason Owen
Like the majority of good ideas, the notion of cycling from Mountsorrel in leafy Leicestershire to Skegness, the very bracing resort, on the East coast of England, was born in the pub. A couple of pints of Theakstons XB and the idea had blossomed and we, my mate Chris and I, were discussing the whys and wherefores.
I wanted to raise some money and awareness for the Macular Disease Society, as although macular disease is one of the leading causes of sight loss in the Western World, it is not very well known by the general populace – unless like me, you have it, or know someone who has. Chris wanted to raise money for the Laura Centre a Leicester based charity that provides bereavement counselling for parents and children. For more information have a look at: www.maculardisease.org and www.thelauracentre.org.uk
The next few months were spent preparing both body and bike, my good old Dawes Chilliwack, for the ride and we plotted a route that followed B roads and country lanes rather than busy A roads. One of my worries was the thought of having to cycle that distance in the pouring rain. When the big day finally arrived much to our relief it dawned bright and clear and, after meeting up at the pre-arranged rendezvous point in Mountsorrel, we set off. As the saying almost goes “Go East Young Man”!
The first couple of miles served to ensure we were fully awake as although bright, the sun had yet to develop any real warmth. However the brisk climb out of the village of Sileby and the Soar Valley served to warm us up nicely, as did the longer drag along the delightfully named Berrycott Lane towards Six Hills. Being early in the morning and using smaller country lanes traffic proved light, giving us plenty of opportunity to enjoy the gently rolling countryside that is typical of Leicestershire’s Soar and Wreake valleys. Incidentally should you wish to follow NCN cycle route 6 South towards Leicester and beyond, much of it runs alongside the river Soar.
Back to the ride to the coast; we picked up the B676, which forms part of an old Roman Road that would have once headed towards Grantham, meeting up with Ermine Street, but we were headed for Belvoir Castle, the home of the Duke and Duchess of Rutland. And what a fine site it is, although we didn’t really get a decent look at the old pile until we were a few miles past it and on the way to the picturesque village of Bottesford. This was the place for our first scheduled stop, which gave us the chance to take on some fluids and sample my wife Sarah’s excellent carrot cake.
Suitably refreshed we hitched up and headed off in a North-Easterly direction through the Vale of Belvoir. There are beautiful picture postcard villages aplenty in the Vale which is nice; not so good is the large number of 4x4s. Now I can understand why they are the vehicle of choice for farmers and others who actually use them for off-road excursions, but you tend to see a lot of pristine examples hogging and clogging up the country lanes in this area. To be frank (whoever he is!), these are a bit of the pain in the gearbox. After a near miss with an impatiently driven guzzler of gas our route took us over the A1 and, under my instruction, nearly saw us heading down the slip road and onto The Great Northern Road itself. Luckily Chris, eagle eyed as ever, set us back in a more Easterly direction and on the right road – Phew!
Now here’s a thing. Everyone will tell you Lincolnshire is flat, like a pancake or a billiard table, flat. That is everyone who has never cycled through it! Under my helmet, in my head, I had believed these tales of good old, flat old, Lincolnshire and genuinely thought that once we were clear of the Vale of Belvoir it would be plain sailing all the way to an expectant Skegness. So you can imagine my surprise as the next few miles were considerably undulating. Mind you village names like Hough-on-the-Hill should have warned us. And to compound this unexpected lumpiness, a headwind had begun to develop, which was to stay with is all the way to the East coast.
Onwards we cycled until the hills faded away and the flat lands beckoned. We headed along some of the fen roads, which are very straight and at times a little demoralising as they seem to go on for ever. One of my highlights was going over the interesting Kirkstead Bridge, which was great and far quieter then the new Tattershall Bridge, which lies a few miles to the South East. We then passed a point on the map named ‘Temple Bruer’, which was once the property of the Knights Templar. Following this, we skirted around the lovely Woodall Spa and on to our assigned stop for lunch, the market town of Coningsby, where we sought refreshments in the Black Swan public house. Coningsby is home to RAF Coningsby and also a fabulous one-handed clock that adorns the church.
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