Our New Forest adventure
FRIDAY
As you sit in traffic, trying to leave Deptford in the Friday rush hour, waiting in a Petts Wood carpark and getting lost on the M27 because your navigator can’t read maps, you give thanks that areas like the New Forest still exist.
Miles away from the stink and greyness of London town, we drove across the heathland, New Forest ponies looming out of the dark with their fluorescent neckbands, where I felt the stress and pollution draining away.
We stopped for a bit on a desolate road, turned the lights off and breathed fresh air. Then I got a bit freaked out that the woods might be concealing a rapist/murderer so we got back in the car and continued our journey.
We eventually found our guesthouse in Brockenhurst – a charming place on a ford – and headed straight for the pub.
SATURDAY
After a brilliant night’s sleep, we headed downstairs for our full English breakfast and some polite conversation with the other two grandparent-aged couples who were also staying there.
And then, into the forest.
We were given a sketchy route by the lads who ran the bike hire place, and to start with, it was OK.
The landscape was beautiful. Heathland gave way to trees and muddy tracks. Ponies were standing about all over the place quietly eating the grass.
Strange mushrooms and toadstools were growing in rings in the grass. No magic ones, unfortunately, but there was this impressive fly agaric.
At one point, the track went down a very sharp hill. We got off and walked but at the next one, we were shamed to see and old granny in a scooter heading down the slope.
We cycled to a pub for lunch after getting lost a few times. The directions were beginning to get a bit confusing by this point.
The afternoon ride took us up a very long hill. By the time we got to the top, our legs were shaking.
And then we got totally lost. After riding for about half-an-hour in what turned out to be the wrong direction, I began to lose faith a bit. Luckily, Tidy had the foresight to feed me some chocolate and my sulk disappeared.
It was a long pedal back to the guesthouse. We reckoned we cycled about 26miles. And for the first time in years, my lungs did not hurt during extreme exercise. Fresh air is a wonderful thing.
That evening, after driving about the countryside looking for somewhere to eat, we found a curry house and had the best Indian food I think I’ve ever tasted.
SUNDAY
A big breakfast, a beautiful ride round the forest, a quick change in the street as the guest house wouldn’t let us back in to take off our muddy clothes and the long drive back to the smoke.
Tidy and I have made a pact – go cycling somewhere at least once a month. The best way to spend a day when the Other Half is at the football as it is the perfect excuse for me not to go!
As you sit in traffic, trying to leave Deptford in the Friday rush hour, waiting in a Petts Wood carpark and getting lost on the M27 because your navigator can’t read maps, you give thanks that areas like the New Forest still exist.
Miles away from the stink and greyness of London town, we drove across the heathland, New Forest ponies looming out of the dark with their fluorescent neckbands, where I felt the stress and pollution draining away.
We stopped for a bit on a desolate road, turned the lights off and breathed fresh air. Then I got a bit freaked out that the woods might be concealing a rapist/murderer so we got back in the car and continued our journey.
We eventually found our guesthouse in Brockenhurst – a charming place on a ford – and headed straight for the pub.
SATURDAY
After a brilliant night’s sleep, we headed downstairs for our full English breakfast and some polite conversation with the other two grandparent-aged couples who were also staying there.
And then, into the forest.
We were given a sketchy route by the lads who ran the bike hire place, and to start with, it was OK.
The landscape was beautiful. Heathland gave way to trees and muddy tracks. Ponies were standing about all over the place quietly eating the grass.
Strange mushrooms and toadstools were growing in rings in the grass. No magic ones, unfortunately, but there was this impressive fly agaric.
At one point, the track went down a very sharp hill. We got off and walked but at the next one, we were shamed to see and old granny in a scooter heading down the slope.
We cycled to a pub for lunch after getting lost a few times. The directions were beginning to get a bit confusing by this point.
The afternoon ride took us up a very long hill. By the time we got to the top, our legs were shaking.
And then we got totally lost. After riding for about half-an-hour in what turned out to be the wrong direction, I began to lose faith a bit. Luckily, Tidy had the foresight to feed me some chocolate and my sulk disappeared.
It was a long pedal back to the guesthouse. We reckoned we cycled about 26miles. And for the first time in years, my lungs did not hurt during extreme exercise. Fresh air is a wonderful thing.
That evening, after driving about the countryside looking for somewhere to eat, we found a curry house and had the best Indian food I think I’ve ever tasted.
SUNDAY
A big breakfast, a beautiful ride round the forest, a quick change in the street as the guest house wouldn’t let us back in to take off our muddy clothes and the long drive back to the smoke.
Tidy and I have made a pact – go cycling somewhere at least once a month. The best way to spend a day when the Other Half is at the football as it is the perfect excuse for me not to go!
posted by The WyeBird @ 4:27 pm
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