Not today, not yesterday, but Saturday. Although in a similar way to Tim's ride, it was also Sunday. Having discovered that the famous Fell Club were meeting at a campsite just north of Gloucester I'd stayed at on the way up to YACF Wellesbourne a week ago, it seemed too good an opportunity to miss to meet them and discover the source of or maybe truth about their fame/notoriety.
But before I tell you about them, what about the ride up? Not much to say about that, as I didn't set out till after four so rode to Partway station (about five miles) and got a train from there to Gloucester. On disembarking at Gloucester, I discovered it was Gloucester Pride day and the city centre streets, in fact even the station platforms, were full of drunks in rainbow colours, some of whom were already on the verge of getting lairy. So I made my way straight through the city pausing only to get some chips, cos I hadn't had any lunch, from the Black & White Cafe, which has nothing in common with its Bristol namesake.* Then out over Alney Island, up the delightfully named Chargy Hill and out to the campsite.
What then of the Fellists (Fellers? Fellons?)? Ah, they initiated me into the black (and white?) arts of fellony and swore me to secrecy! Actually, they were remarkably similar to a YACF camping gathering, just a little older, slightly scruffier and without unconventional machinery, unless you count a Brompton. And with a big pile of books that someone had brought along and was trying to get rid of. Apart from that, the normal ingredients of tea, beer and fire were all present!
It started to get dark and it was going to get cold so I made my way home. Stopped pretty soon to put my arm warmers and gillet on under my jacket. It might seem back to front to put the gillet under the jacket but I find it works well as an extra layer between jersey and jacket to trap warmth, whereas over the jacket it does nothing; the jacket is windproof so it doesn't even serve that purpose. Once I'd done that, I was pretty warm.
The car that had been parked at the top of Chargy Hill, usually a lovely spot to admire the view in all directions, with its headlights blazing, was still there, headlights still on. Presumably a dogging spot, though as I've never noticed any sex and drugs litter there I guess that's okay. Difficult to see the long-horned (Highland?) cattle on Alney Island, even knowing they were there. Fortunately they tend to stick to the grass – I suppose the harder path is less comfortable for their hooves, besides they can't eat it! – and at least some of them have white rumps (they're otherwise black). Getting into Gloucester, I asked the first person I saw about a cafe that might still be open. She recommended a place called Portivo Lounge, but she was wearing dark glasses at night and brandishing a bag of dog poo so I ignored her advice and just got something from Sainsbury's. Besides, I didn't really want to stop too long and get 'cafe legs'.
Followed the canal out of Gloucester – not sure if I've done that at night before, but I didn't do a Basil, so all good! (You really don't want to fall in the S&G, it's far deeper than the average canal – the deepest and widest in the world back when it opened – and at least one now-railinged corner has a sad memorial
.) Then blasted down the A38 cos it was night so little traffic and would be warmer than the lanes down by the river.
I had a return ticket – due to God's Wonderful 'Rithmetic it's only 10p more than a single – so called in at Cam & Dursley staion, about half way, but of course no one wants to go to Bristol on a Saturday night so the last train had left at 21:32. And just as well, cos it's a straight and flat ride home, though I really could have done with something to eat in addition to the fortuitous Nakd bar I had with me.
Got back home just after midnight and a few streets from home there was a bloke skateboarding down the street. Pretty normal – except that his skateboard had no wheels!
Home, cup of tea, sandwich, the end.
*The Black & White Cafe in Gloucester is named for its timber-framed building, the Black & White Cafe in Bristol is named for lofty ideals of racial harmony (or something along those lines). The one in Gloucester is primarily a take away (hence chips!
), the one in Bristol primarily a cafe (and drug dealing venue). But the main difference for the hungry cyclist is that the one in Gloucester is still open, whereas the one in Bristol was closed and demolished several years ago!