My usual day started with an early B&B breakfast followed quickly by a shower, quick pack up and a ride off into the murky weather. On this day,things were much different. I got to sleep in a familiar house and had my choice of when and what to eat for breakfast. I even got to read the newspaper.

Everyone else when to church in the morning, while I read the Sunday Times, waiting for them to return. I was hoping that Howard and Joan were spending the day with Audrey, because then I, too, could take the day off, give all my stuff to Howard and Joan, and then try to make the 75+ miles to Cambridge in one day. It would be a motivating challenge to do the long ride as the last one of the trip.

Alas, Howard and Joan were not spending the day with Audrey, so I gave them as much weight as I could spare (about half my stash -- 10 pounds) to take with them to Carolyn's in Cambridge. After dawdling, I finally set off about noon, knowing that it would be a long day. Here is how I looked as I was just about to get on the bike and go.

On the day before, I noticed that the last part of the ride was against the wind. While it did make the ride a bit more uncomfortable, I was relieved to know that the next day, the wind would be at my back. No such luck! The wind was in my face almost from the beginning of this ride.

In the course of my two week tour, I encountered rain, uphills, flat tires, getting lost, rashes, cramps, and sore muscles. In more cases, I experienced several of these at once. However, the worst element of the ride was going against the wind. And, on this day, I did it all day. I didn't even feel the weight I'd gotten rid of and it felt like I'd picked up much more. What was worse, it didn't seem to matter which direction I was facing. Every time I'd turn a corner the wind was in my face. There were times when all I could do was yell at the wind. I'm sure it was this kind of experience that led our deep ancestors to posit that a god must control the wind and that he/she was pissed off about something.

The day's route spent most of its time next to rolling fields of the mysterious brown grain. Here is a representative view.

This was my fifth day riding without a break and I'd covered 200 miles in the preceding 4 days. Adding in the wind resistence, I was tired after about 20 miles. But, alas, I wanted to get most of the way to Cambridge this day and I knew that, no matter how tired I was, I could always get the pedals around one more time. So, I pressed on.

I took this bucolic photo of the River Dove on the outskirts of Eye (I wonder how the English would pronounce this name?).

One embarassing moment came while I was trying to apply some lotion to my sore behind on, what I thought, was a deserted country lane. I got off my bike, rummaged around in my packs for the lotion, leaned my bike against a tree, squeezed the lotion into my hand, and lowered my bike shorts. Just as I was ready to rub the lotion on some sensitive parts, along comes a car full of older women! I quickly yanked up my shorts and watched as they passed by me all smiling!

I finally managed to get to the day's destination, Bury St. Edmonds. Unfortunately, the map I had was real good in the countryside, where it listed all the roads, but was useless in the towns, where all it showed was a blob of color. Little did I know that after I got to Bury St. Edmonds on the map, I'd have to pedal through its industrial and suburban outskirts for several miles before arriving at the town centre and a place to lay down my weary bones. The odometer reads 52+ miles when I swung my leg over for the last time that day.

Bury St. Edmunds, simply called "Berry" by the locals, is known for ruins of an abbey founded in 633. There are so many churches in the vacinity of the ruins that it was hard to tell which where old, rebuilt, or new. This one was right across from my B&B for the night and looked relatively "new."

The middle of the ruins appeared to be this courtyard surrounded with the remains of what must have been a very large building. This view is looking across to courtyard.

Behind me, as I took this picture (but too dark to get a good image of) was an old gate that must have been the entrance to this place some time in the past.

The rest of Bury consisted of tourist style shops, all of which were closed on Sunday night. I walked for about an hour and only found three restaurants -- all Italian and all right next to each other! I chose the one with a Pesto dish and found that I could still speak some Italian! However, the food was mediocre, at best.

Since my B&B was part of a pub, I decided to celebrate on my last night out and had a pint of cider in the pub. The crowd was mostly college aged students who smoked more than I could stand after about 15 minutes. I left after my cider was finished and spent the rest of the night watching a BBC documentary on Elvis Prestly, it being the 25th anniversary of his death.

Monday, August 12: Bury St. Edmonds to Cambridge
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