Day 5: North Bristol to Presteigne

Crossing the Severn Bridge

This is starting to sound boring: it was raining. All the fun of the pub the night before seemed to evaporate at the breakfast table once we'd looked out of the window. With an increasing number of miles to do today we had to crack on so, leaving Paul to find his way to Bristol Parkway, Damian, John and I left in a Welsh-wards direction. This took us over the old Severn Bridge where, remarkably, it stopped raining for a while, before winding up past Chepstow racecourse to a lovely long, sweeping descent into the Wye valley. Great laugh tailing the bike in front, even if it meant getting a faceful of spray. John even managed to set off the speed warning device in Tintern, where we stopped for hot choc and cakes and the, by now, obligatory chat with a pensioner. The next long, winding stretch into Monmouth seemed to take forever, but this was just the starter before the main course of despair that was the afternoon. Continual rain, combined with Devon-like (Devonian?) hills on narrow lanes meant a definite lull in the banter. Until, that is, we came across a speed camera sign half way up a chevron (extra steep) hill. The irony of the situation almost had us falling off with laughter. Finally rolled into Presteigne to find the hotel not as plush as it looks on its website (shock!) and the room up far too many sets of stairs. John again managed to use various furniture items to fashion a drying rack for our clothers (or was it a sculpture?) then a quick tea and out to the local for a game of arrows, pool and a hushed debate on which country we were actually in. Didn't think it polite to ask.