Today was a psychological battle against the "why are we cycling" demons, hence the low kilometereage.
The day started like any other despite the layer of ice encrusted on our tent, but we both rose with exhuberance to meet the day's cycling. In fact we were in really good spirits having spent a lovely evening with the locals in the park bar.
With plenty of porridge under our belt we made our way back onto the Tarka Trail - an old railway line, so no traffic and easy gradient, this lasted for some 10km and then we were back on the laneways and we were both still smiling at this point.
We made our way to Petrockstowe with the intention to stock up our pantry only to discover there was no local store however a helpful morning jogger gladly informed us we could find one in the next village, Hatherleigh. No problem, just a few miles on in our direction. However some minutes later we found ourselves yet again crawling up a hill, Gary managed to ride all the way, I thought bugger it, I'm pushing. Looking back I think this was the turning point for the day, the seed of negativity had been planted. Also at this stage we are both a bit on the peckish side but short on tempting snacks - that's why we were heading to Hatherleigh! Not far to go so we continued on. Unfortunately riding with no fuel in the tank brings on all sorts of psychological mind games. For instance you know you are hungry when.....
1. All you can think about is stuffing one mars bar after another in your gob - and I'm not a fan of mars bars.
2. Every day objects start resembling mars bars
3. Every second word is an expletive
4. Your cycling partner looks at you like your some rabid dog
5. You think cycle touring sucks and you would quite happily trade your bike with the next passing landrover
Eventually we arrived and departed Hatherleigh, having consumed some 5 custard filled doughnuts, 2 cheese sticks and a few pieces of chocolate for good measure, plus stocked up the pantry. We also made the executive decision to head to Holsworthy (11 miles), sticking to the A-road, avoiding the nasty hills. But despite our full bellies, and the cycle friendly terrain we were not happy tourers - Gary continued to entertain Landrover thoughts and I was making a silent pact with myself never to exercise again. But instead of doing the right thing and trying to encourage one another into a more positive frame of mind, we began dicussing how much we could get for the bikes.
As luck would have it we came across a pub (some miles short of Holsworthy) serving up a Sunday carvery and what should happen next but we're in the beer garden with a pint and a scrumptious roast before us. Turns out the Bickford Arms also does B&B, so with little encouragment from the bar lady we were booked in for the night and on our second pint.
The beginning of the end.
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