When I headed toward Melton Mowbray ("That's where they make pork pies, isn't it?"), I had decided not to head north and/or east from Ashbourne, as was my original plan. Instead, I figured I could keep heading east over to Loddon, where Julia's mum lives, before turning toward Cambridge, which is a day's ride from both Spaulding and King's Lynn. That said, it is a long way to Loddon from Ashbourne and it took me several days to get there.

I had hold it might take me two days from Melton Mowbray to get to Loddon. But, the distance, weather, and flat tires prevented me from getting even close. As it was, I had a long ride to get to Loddon from King's Lynn. I figured over 50 miles. It turned out to be 62+ miles.

The day started in King's Lynn under the usual overcast sky. I left early (8:45am) and rode along a bike path to get out of town. Since it was early on a Saturday, there were very few people around. The path started in the main park in the middle of King's Lynn. Here is a stream that also runs through the park.

Here is the actual bike path itself. It was through a wooded area that threaded it way through urban neighborhoods. This picture is strategically taken so you can't see any buildings surrounding it.

The way out of King's Lynn was along an not very busy A road. This lead to two B-roads that were also lightly travelled. After that, it was country lanes for most of the rest of the trip. After about an hour, I was riding in sunshine and even had to stop to put on some sun cream!

The scenery this day was fabulous. I crossed streams, rode along tree-lines country lanes, and saw sun-washed vistas of rolling hills. The first stream of the day was under this bridge (in the extreme foreground).

Here is the view left and right from that bridge.

The bridge itself wasn't much to see but I do like the view of the bike with the trees in the background.

I went down one small road and notice a sign that said "unsuitable for autos." I wondered what kind of problem I was in for. As it turned out, the road forded streams that, when full, were not good for motorized transport. I walked the bike over using the path on the left. Note how nice everything looks in the sunshine!

I've always been a sucker for red poppies that grow like weeds all over Italy and England. This field looked like the poppies were actually left to grow along the planted rows. Either way, it was a irresistable photo to me.

This photo isn't so much about the church steeple as it is about the blue sky behind it. A (semi) clear day was a precious thing on the trip.

Here is the tree lined country lane I mentioned above.

I liked stepping between two trees, seeing a sown field, a brace of trees, and a old church. I wouldn't have been surprised to see a few knights in armor ride by.

Standing alone, the church looked elegant, as well.

In the frequent talks with Julia's mum, we often hear about the issues that arise between Chedgrave and Loddon, two small villages separated by a bridge over the River Chet that have, essentially, grown together. It seemed only fitting to get a picture of a sign with both names on it. It also meant that I was done for the day and could look forward to a real bed, familiar shower, and a nice meal.

I was constantly asking for directions as I was mostly riding on small roads and lanes with few connections where taking the wrong turn might mean a several mile "do over." In virtually every one of these conversations, I mispronounced the name of the town I was headed to. By this time, I knew this and tried to mimic the English way of crunching letters together and making short work of the ending of words. Thus, "Leicester" become "Les - ta."

The nadir of this experience occurred when I was trying to make my way through a large town on my way to Loddon. The name on the map was "Wymondham." Figuring that I could get this one right, I asked someone if this road was the one to "Why - min - um?" I got the usual look of non-recognition long known to all American visitors to England. I then retreated to my next line of defense, which was to point to the name on the map. Back came the retort, "Oh, you mean Wind - um."

In certain moments, I can see how Leicester becomes "Les - ta" and how Norwich becomes "Nor - itch," but there is no way that I could understand how "Wymondham" turns into "Wind - um." As Mark Twain once said: "The English and the Americans are two people separated by a common language!"

Sunday, August 11: Loddon to Bury St. Edmonds
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