Sunday Day 2: first day in Dorset
I slept well last night on a slightly soft mattress. I love breakfast and have some delicious rye loaf and nice jam. And there is a toaster here that takes one burnt slice to work out how to set it just right. I wrote for about an hour and tried to summarise Marx's ideas. After that I packed up the bike – it is so easy with all my stuff to hand and the bike just outside the door – and headed off. My aim was to find my way through the network of narrow winding lanes to Litton Cheney.
Its not far as the crow flies but the roads are enjoyable but mostly single track with tall hedges on either side. I vaguely remembered the layout of the village (from forty-one years ago believe it or not) and parked up in the pub that I remembered was next door, and over a small stream from the youth hostel. I remember that an 'unmarried mum' worked there in the 1970s and that this was worthy of note in a small village at the time. The building has been refreshed in the intervening years and a timber addition built on the left (unless my memory is playing tricks). I had forgotten that the roof is shaped as the top half of a cylinder. It is a very attractive building, with the front door left open as if inviting me to pop my head in and start to explain to whoever was inside: 'Oh, I worked here in 1974…'
Having studied the photo of me posing on Edward Goring's brand new BMW back in '74, I recognised the stone wall backdrop and the railings on either side of a small foot bridge over the stream that appear in the photograph. I had wondered about arranging my bike in the same spot and then asking a passer-by to take a pic – but didn't embark on this rather tricky manoeuvre – and anyway there were few people around. (I am tempted to try it)
I rode off down a lane toward Bridport, then turned off at Swyre to pick up the nice coast road with fantastic views down to Chesil beach and the sea. I did find one sloping gravel car park but couldn't find a place where I felt the bike would stay upright so, rather uncourageously, left and rejoined the road. I kept going and found my self on a busy ring road around Bridport carrying traffic down from the A35 toward Devon and Cornwall – quite a shock to be a part of this heavy traffic and a little depressing. I headed west for a while then took a detour around Charmouth and headed back. There were quite a few motorcyclists on this road. Too many to nod at. I carried on through Abbotsbury to Weymouth, where I am sure I have been before and just when parking looked impossible found a bike-only space next to the harbour full of bobbing boats. Once off the bike I realised how warm it is, especially with heavy motorcycle gear on. I crossed a bridge on foot and walked along the road crowded with holidayers and found a not entirely promising café where I settled for a pot of tea and a salad, surrounded by families, many with crying children. As a lone traveller you notice this. I am surprised how little some parents interact with their children apart from to tell them off. Maybe I was the same. I headed back to my favourite spot – air-conditioned Tesco Dorchester and stocked up on tonight's dinner and Chablis as well as the best granola I could find. Already the route back to the barn is more familiar and I ride with more verve. Back here after a shower and a nap I wrote more about Marxism and its critiques. Its slow going but I am writing. I need to spend a whole day to build up momentum (as we Labour party members say).
Miles today: 61 Average speed 27 mph I changed gear 442 times and applied the front brakes 233 times and the rear 734. How's that for style? My GPS tells me that the temperature varied between 20 and 22 C but I know it was warmer than that.