Marcher across time

No longer working gives me the luxury of being able to escape the constraints of squeezing a trip into a long weekend. It's opened up both regions farther away and routes that require more than 48 hours to complete. A Monday to Friday adventure beckoned. But with summer over and the nights drawing in, I was unsure what might be achieveable as a first step.

Having looked around (bikepacking.com komoot.com both have lots of inspo) in the end I chose the Marcher Castles Way as set out by Cycling UK. Partly because the start in Shrewsbury is only 3 hours or so from London; partly because it's not too remote if the wheels really fall off and partly because the route takes you through thousands of years of history. Named after the castles created by the Marcher Lords in the middle ages, it also passes the Roman town of Wroxeter, goes over the very first industrial pre-fabricated structure at Ironbridge and across Offa's Dyke built in the 8th century to keep the Welsh out of Mercia.

But at 290km and plus 5,000m of climb I had to be realistic about how long it would take me to complete it. Although in mid-October the clocks are yet to fall back, days are much shorter than even 4 weeks ago. Dawn is about 07.30 and dusk about 18.30; call it 9 hours of cycling tops. Multiply that by an average speed of 10kmh and my longest section could be no more than 90km. Finally I decided that 4 consecutive nights in a bivvy bag would destroy me - so my final route variable was to identify 2 places to bivvy and 2 places with an actual roof. Here's the final route I took.

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It's under 3 hours to Shrewsbury from London Euston and credit to Avanti West Coast the policy for cyclists is pretty well run. Importantly, you get text messages that tell you how to get onto the right carriage etc. I arrived in Shrewsbury just before 4pm - leaving me about 2 hours to get to my first bivvy spot. You leave the town by following the Severn - so it's generally flat. On the way you pass Wroxeter - the 4th largest town in Roman Britain. It's a big site, but sadly closed. I carried on in the sunshine and arrived at my planned bivvy spot, beneath the Wrekin, by 5.30. Too early to stop so I pressed on.

Fast forward from 90 AD to 1779 AD and Coalbrookdale and Ironbridge. I remember this very clearly from my history 'O' level back in the seventies so it was great to actually cycle over this icon of the Industrial Revolution.

But it's called Ironbridge Gorge for a reason. Once you've crossed the river the route rears up quite steeply. By then it was pushing 6.15pm and time to find a bivvy spot. Hmmm. Not many options - in the end I plumped for a flattish meadow that could only be reached after negotiating two kissing gates. Which basically means lifting the bike over them.

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It's not a great spot - lots of brambles, not especially flat. But it was getting dark and the next few kilometres on the map didn't look particularly bivvy-friendly. So I made camp and wolfed down my Firepot Orzo Pasta Bolognese. Pretty tasty. So many of these dehydrated meals are bland gloop - but this one definitely resembled an actual meal. As night fell I was reminded every hour that I was less than a kilometre outside the town by the chimes of two clocks there. I was also reminded that formic acid is strong stuff. A wood ant or two managed to get into my sleeping bag. Bloody hell do their bites sting. Ouch.

Day two dawned around 7am and I was on the trail by 8.00am. And what a difference in trail profile. It's a climb up to the pretty village of Much Wenlock, followed by a lovely segment running along Wenlock Edge (using the Jack Mytton Way) with great views on your right. But then two pretty brutal climbs up Brown Clee Hill and then Clee Hill. The combination of a heavy bike and my own 60 year old frame means that any slope over 10% requires a lot of pushing. Both are well over that. The environment shifts from bucolic countryside to windswept moorland peppered with quarries and the ruins of mines and industry. The views of the top of both are pretty spectacular.

I was at the top of Clee Hill around about 3.30; with about 10km of downhill into Ludlow. Perfect. For night two I'd decided to find some kind of B&B or room. But finding one uder £100 for the night wasn't easy. It's a cutesy, foody, kind of place - with prices to match. In the end I plumped for the Ludlow Mascall Centre. It's a charity housed in a old Victorian School offering a community space and importantly simple accommodation. I had an en suite twin room. No breakfast but tea and coffee in the room plus access to a well-equiped kitchen and a secure bike shed. It had a kind of modern YHA vibe. Cost £66. The staff were also super-friendly, both in person and on the phone.

The Queens a free house not more than 200 metres from my room did an excellent ham, eggs and chips washed down with a pint of IPA. And at just £4 a pint to my jaded London eyes it seemed a bargain; Ludlow does indeed rock.

Day three started by an alarm set for 0630 so I got up in the dark. After a quick instant porridge breakfast I was back on the bike in enough light to cycle safely - albeit somewhat greasy and wan (the light not me). This was the longest day - just over 80km - flip flopping between England and Wales. I really enjoyed this day. Still plenty of climbing, but the weather and the views were great. The route is a mix of (very) minor country roads, farm tracks and birdleways. All around were signs of this years Mast Season - it seemed as if every other house was offering apples or plums to passers-by. My tyres constantly scrunched through deep litters of acorns, sweet chestnuts and crab apples. Glorious.

50km in you spend a few kilometres running parallel with Offa's Dyke for a while. Hard to think that this was gouged out of the ground for over 280 km more than 1200 years ago - by hand!

Releasing my inner teacher on Offa's Dyke

A final climb of the day saw me ascend Clun Forest - somwhat slowed down by a flock of sheep heading in the opposite direction.

Mindful that the map contours for Thursday looked a bit close together, as on Monday, I moved beyond my planned bivvy spot to what seemed like a good alternative - a picnic site in a Welsh Forestry site.

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In hindsight I should probably have picked somewhere less accessible. On the upside I had a picnic table to eat on and flat ground to sleep on; on the downside there were quite a few cars driving up into its car park until midnight. Drug deals? Affairs? Star gazing? No idea. But whatever they were doing, I felt pretty exposed lying down just beyond the picnic area. Quick aside - dinner that night was a 1,000 calorie Thai Green Chicken Curry with rice from Expedition Foods. A double helping which was both tasty and gone in about 2 minutes.

Day four at 74km should have been easier, but became something of a nightmare. The first 20km were something of a breeze; a flattish route and esy to navigate. I paused for a coffee at an excellent place called the Brew Hub in Newtown.

I then pushed on, along the Montgomery Canal - which follows the Severn Valley. But as well as being flat and wide, the bridleway was also surrounded by recently cut hedges - resulting in a puncture nightmare. I easily found a needle sharp thorn, whipped off the tyre, pucked out the thorn and replaced the inner with a brand new one. However within just a few minutes my smugness was deflating as rapidly as my tyre - turns out there was more than one thorn in the tyre! But now I had two punctured innertubes and no easy way of finding the holes to patch. And after over an hour of trying I gave up and considered a Plan B.

One of the joys of the mobile age is the ability to search localities.

Typing 'bike shops' into Google (other search engines are available) revealed not just bike shops 6km back in Newtown but also a hardware store further down the route in Montgomery. A short call confirmed that they did indeed have 26 x 2.3 suitable inners and 2 were set aside with my name. So I pushed the bike up the 5km of steep hills to Montgomery and the amazing hardware emporium that is Bunners. On any other day I would have lingered in both the shop (think Aladdin's Cave meets B&Q) and the town (like so many on the route, both pretty and friendly). But it was gone 2.00pm and I still had 47km to go. And they were tough. The route at this point seemed to take a perverse pleasure in meandering its way to Church Stretton - heading North East then South West rather than directly East. And as dark fell I was still high above Church Stretton trying to pick a route off Wild Moor and Haddon Hill. It was all a bit gripping.The final section of the route proper drops into the town via a gnarly singletrack along a narrow valley. With a heavy bike and a rather feeble head torch I elected to stick to the metalled road - finally arriving at Thursday's stop - a rather glamorous shepherd's hut called Myndy just after 7.30. Small, but perfectly formed, it had a hot shower, comfy bed and (another) excellent pub nearby.

The Kings Arms not only served great beer but also provided an enormous and tasty sauage and mash (replete with veg and onion gravy) for the princely sum of £14.50. That, compared to £9.50 for a dehydrated meal, is an absolute bargain as far as I'm concerned.

Day five had a mere 37km of route. So I could kick back - relatively speaking - and stop for coffee, a pastry and sausage roll at the improbably named Mr Bun the Baker.

There is one last hill on the route - up and around Caer Caradoc - reputedly the site the site of Caratacus' last battle against the Roman legions during the Roman conquest of Britain. But from then on it was downhill into Shrewsbury - fast enough to catch an earlier train.

And that was that. 5 days. 290km. 6,000m of climb and 2,000 years of history.

I really enjoyed this trip - the weather held, everybody I met was friendly and helpful and the route a perfect mix of serious cycling and simply beautiful scenery.

Try it.