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Micki Beck is a writer, cyclist, sailor, wife and mum from Cornwall
We could have happily kept going - so roll on next October half term
I found the emotional effort of ensuring everyone else was happy, warm, dry and fed as great a challenge as the physical effort
Micki Beck is a writer, cyclist, sailor, wife and mum from Cornwall.
She and her family love to explore by boat and bicycle. Last October they cycled the Devon Coast to Coast route into the headwinds of Storm Brian with their daughters (Ella, 1, in a trailer and Holly, 4, on a bike with a trail gaiter).
In this blog, Micki tells us about her experiences pedalling for four fun-packed days from Barnstable to Plymouth.
As time passes the years merge into a pool of memories, some vivid, some distant. The small things fade but it seems the adventures stay vibrant and clear, and the greater the effort the more firmly they’re fixed in the memory.
Life has a sneaky habbit of zipping by in a whirl of daily routine- the school run, food shopping, cleaning, cooking, work, on and on it goes. School also imposes unfortunate restrictions on the freedom to nip off on an adventure.
To stem that flow and mark the years with milestones of fun we’ve pledged to plan a variety of annual family antics, and October half-term is biking week. My husband Tim and I are keen (but to be honest pretty out of practice) mountain bikers. Our aspirations are to someday do some longer off-road camping rides with the girls.
The potential for cold, wet autumnal days in October steered our planning to look for a gentler introduction to bike touring for the two little ones. Living near Plymouth, the Devon Coast to Coast seemed like a great option, with the added bonus of starting with a train ride and cycling home.
We carried all our kit in panniers- rear for me, front and rear for Tim. As the forecast was dire, we double bagged everything in ziplock bags and bin-liners. We packed the panniers so that everything we’d need during the day was in one place and we wouldn’t have to open the other bags in the rain.
Tim, in a moment of last-minute inspiration, bought a shower cap to cover Holly’s helmet and some clear safety glasses that kept the rain and wind out of her eyes. In combination with wellies, waterproof dungarees, coat, gloves, buff, hood and helmet our little trooper stayed warm and dry.
Ella had the relative luxury of the trailer. As it was previously untested we coated it in many a layer of waterproofing spray. In another moment of last-minute genius by Tim, we added the buggy rain cover over the whole trailer and Ella stayed perfectly dry, albeit a little steamy at times.
Scrolling through a news feed the night before we set-off brought word of an unwelcome addition to our party- Brian, Storm Brian that is! The Dawlish train line was closed due to high winds and it looked unlikely we’d even make it to the start in Barnstaple.
But with a new day brought new hope. The rain continued but the trains were running, and we loaded our three bikes, a trailer and two kids.
Transferring our load between trains and platforms was a real logistical operation. Thankfully the helping hands of fellow passengers and the wonderful station staff made light work of it.
Travelling’s a wonderful way to prove the generosity of human nature and this trip proved no exception.
The full route of the coast to coast starts in Ilfracombe. Not wanting to bite off more than we could chew we joined the trail heading south where the train line ends in Barnstaple. In short, skipping the first section.
As we discharged from the train at Barnstaple, the glimmers of sun lasted long enough to get our rig on the road before the force of Brian hit us.
The flat open expanse of the Taw estuary left us exposed to the battering headwinds. They slowed us to a snail’s pace and shocked our legs into a burning, turning cycle of effort.
Our smaller crew picked the pit stops along our ride, of which there were many as we all got used to life on the road. The playground at Fremington proved excellent shelter for our first picnic lunch.
Ella vocally announced another stop was required near Bideford. She shouted full volume to get out of
the trailer until we happened upon a pub serving cream teas in front of a roaring fire.
Spirits revived, the wooded Torridge valley gave a welcome respite from the wind.
It’s a great long traffic-free stretch, in fact it was pretty people free too as most sensible folk appeared to have made a drier plan for the half term. Aside from dodging the odd fallen branch on the path, Storm Brian did little to halt progress.
After a few navigational consultations, we turned off the track a little past Great Torrington. We cursed tired legs and heavy loads, but every puff and push were worth it for our overnight stop. We had reached our first stop-off at the Week Manor, where we were hosted by the lovely Lucy.
After the initial surprise that we hadn’t cancelled, we were greeted with wonderfully warming hospitality. It was wonderful to see and hear the enthusiasm and support for our silly venture. Praise and respect from people outside the family brings a new level of pride and confidence in little ones and it’s great to see them glow with their achievements. It was the best possible way to end a long and at times challenging day.
Another day, another round of wind and rain. Restored from our comfortable night’s rest, we hit the Devon hills, rolling up and down the quiet lanes as we approached the edge of the moor.
The weighty tow behind each bike challenged our untrained legs and put us out of our comfort zone. We kept the distances short enough to be manageable and enjoyable.
The girls settled into life on the road quickly. Ella happily playing, snoozing and watching the world go by from her fug-filled trailer. Holly kept entertained by her electric horn (emitting an eclectic assortment of noises, from sirens to belly dancing music, neighing to buzzing bees).
By day three, Storm Brian was starting to fade. His feisty forcefulness diminished, leaving just a tail of soggy showers in his wake. The Granite way started our third leg with a refreshingly flat cruise.
There’s nothing like having two ticking time-bombs on the back with fuses of unknown length to keep the legs going. A bit of a balance is needed between pressing on while the going’s good but still making time to stop, explore and enjoy the sights on the way.
After the first day settling into the routine both girls amazed us with their stamina, patience and perseverance. We made sure they were dry, warm and well fed which proved enough to keep spirits up and the wheels rolling.
A castle is always excellent entertainment for the little ones, and the Saxon fortifications at Lydford were met with suitable enthusiasm.
The cake at the National Trust café nearby was met with equal enthusiasm on what was the most leisurely day of the trip.
The rolling lanes past the iconic church in South Brent delivered us to Tavistock in time to see the ducks on the canal and rumble on the playground before pub dinner- a winner all round.
Our last day started with a full English breakfast in the pub that set us up for the home run to Plymouth. Knowing this bit of trail well, we were surprised to find the up-hill to Yelverton easier than we remembered. Those three days on steep Devon lanes had obviously had some beneficial effect. We cruised down the Plym Valley, free-wheels clicking satisfyingly as our legs rested.
Our legs may have arrived in Plymouth rested, but our minds were unprepared for the shock of returning to civilisation.
After the tranquil beauty of four days of off-road riding, deserted lanes, wooded valleys and open moorland, landing into the urban rush of Plymouth hit our senses for six.
I love my cycle commute into Plymouth for work, but I can’t say that the last five miles home through the busy streets with tired legs and kids in tow after days of peaceful solitude was a pleasant experience.
We made it home without incident and what a feeling of achievement as we crossed the Tamar Bridge back into Cornwall, our journey complete. We did about 110 miles in total over four days and definitely achieved our aim of an amazing family adventure with memories that will last a lifetime.
I found the emotional effort of ensuring everyone else was happy, warm, dry and fed as great a challenge as the physical effort. But that’s a part of adventuring with a family and brings its own rewards.
The people we met were a total highlight of the trip, cycle touring gives an instant conversation starter and opens a world of kindness. I hope people know the value of their kindness that shapes us and our futures.
We could have happily kept going - so roll on next October half term. Hopefully, the adventures will grow with the years and one day Holly and Ella will be encouraging us to keep up as they set the route over hill and dale.
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Megan Streb playing in the street with her siblings
Playing outside used to be the norm for children, so what’s changed?
When I was younger, growing up in suburban Massachusetts, I played in the streets.
I met up with the other children on the street. We ran around, played games and rode our bikes up and down the same stretch of road. If a car came by we moved out of the way, which wasn’t often as it was predominately used by the people who lived there.
Now, nearly thirty years later, as I cycle home from Southampton city centre I pass through different neighbourhoods. Some streets are busier and some quieter, many are narrow with cars parked on both sides, but there is only one point where I am almost certain to come across children playing outside.
I don’t imagine that is the only part of Southampton where children live—so what’s the difference?
It’s because someone, probably 10 or 15 years ago, decided to close a section of that road to vehicles.
They used a few simple concrete bollards to do it. That’s it.
But why should only handfuls of children across the city have the chance to play outside safely?
Why should the opportunity to play outside be a postcode lottery?
Children have been playing in the streets as long as we’ve had streets. The freedom to go knock on a friend’s door to see if they can play, and being able to use the space immediately outside their front door, are both important for children to increase physical activity, grow confidence and develop independence.
Many children will not have immediate access to a private garden or safe outdoor space where they can play outside.
Of course, it isn’t just children. Older people often need more time to walk. By reducing traffic we can give them the time they need to cross the street. A focus on making short journeys easier on foot or by bike means they can get to the shop or the post office safely. Around 17% of over 65’s cycle in the Netherlands—it’s transport that is easier on the knees and gets you further on the same amount of energy.
Loneliness is a growing public health concern, and today fewer of us know our neighbours. Loneliness has a tremendous effect on our physical and mental health, with a morbidity rate equivalent of smoking 15 cigarettes a day. We know that the more traffic going through a street, the less likely people are to know their neighbours or be willing to stay outside and chat on the pavement.
All of us should be able to breathe cleaner air.
Last week I outlined simple options to a group of residents at a public meeting in Portsmouth. I showed them pictures of bollards and planters as well as examples of these measures that had been in place in their own city for many years.
I also showed them our Sustrans street kit and how it could be used to try out other ways to use their road. I also showed them how play streets and school streets close roads for a few hours at a time.
The residents in attendance were excited about these possibilities. They could see the benefits of giving their children places to play outside as well as making it easier for them to walk or cycle to the local shops.
One woman said:
“I think we can probably all think of at least one street where this could happen.”
A survey by Transport for London found that 83% of London’s streets are of importance only to those locally - they aren’t key routes, they aren’t outside key landmarks or big institutions, they are mostly residential roads.
When up to 80% of the public space in cities is the road network, and the majority of those streets are residential, it’s time we used them differently. Why can’t all of us win the lottery?
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Josie with her two daughters and son in Holland
“ ‘Ahhh, this is the life!’ I hear them sigh as I toil away at the helm”
After spending so much of the year shut up in school it’s amazing to see how fast Jack and the girls adapt to living outside for several weeks on the trot
Josie Dew is an English touring cyclist, author and cook.
Although a caterer by profession she frequently takes long cycle trips and then writes a humorous travelogue detailing her experiences. She lives near Portsmouth, England. She has two daughters and a son.
In this blog Josie shares with us her experiences of cycle touring with her three young children.
As I’ve cycled all my life it’s perhaps only natural that I’ve brought my three children up on bikes.
Even before they were born they were used to the meditative motion of cycling. I cycled every day through all three pregnancies up until a few hours before I pushed them out into my multi-wheeled world.
From babies to current ages they’ve experienced a mixed medley of bike child seats, bike trailers, trailer-bikes, FollowMe ‘tandems’, balance bikes, Islabikes, Nihola cargo trikes, Circe tandem and Triplet.
One of the most important things for children is to spend as much time outside as possible. Cycling helps them to have daily exercise and fresh air in their lungs. It clears their heads and lightens their moods. Some say it’s too dangerous to go cycling with children on our roads and though it could be a lot better, the health and happy-making benefits far outweigh the risks.
- Josie Dew“ All the time there is that exhilarating feeling of freedom and uncertainty and spontaneity. ”
During last year’s school holidays I rode 300 miles around the Channel Islands and 642 zig-zagging windy miles across northern France and Belgium to Holland with my three young children.
This summer (after cycling around the coast of the Isle of Wight and the Solent Way and The Devon Coast to Coast) we rode 410 miles around the Netherlands. These are a few of many longer-range cycling missions that we have been on in recent years.
My husband Gary (a carpenter) always stays home as he prefers building to bicycles (and to have a nice bit of peace and quiet). So I brace myself for impact, the summer school holidays tend to be six weeks of non-stop busy-ness and activity, during which I scarcely have time to take a breath.
I load up the panniers and trailer to the gunwales with a wild assortment of camping clobber (sleeping bags, swimming kit, buckets, balls, toys etc) and ride onto the ferry to our new exotic land (even if in reality it’s not, it still feels exotic after cycling back and forth to school for month after month along the same stretches of road).
My eldest, Molly, who is 12, rides her own bike when we go touring. Daisy (8 years) and Jack (5 years) ride aboard my Circe Helios Triplet. Not that Jack or Daisy put in much pedalling effort mind you. They tend to like hoisting their legs up over their handlebars, and reclining back in a relaxing sunbathing manner using the luggage bungee’d on the rack as a comfy backrest. ‘Ahhh, this is the life!’ I hear them sigh as I toil away at the helm.
Last year on our Jersey-Guernsey and France to Holland escapade all four of us fitted on the same bike (me at the front, Molly in the middle, Daisy on Seat three and Jack in the trailer).
The advantage of the whole heap of us being on one bike means that all three offspring are safely tucked in close to me on the road and travelling at the same speed. It’s an unwieldy 14-foot-long articulated monster of a machine. It is very fun to ride, as long as the younger cycling party don’t sway around too much or decide to have a major altercation mid-flight down a steep hill. This can result in a lot of turbulence making handling tricky in the extreme.
- Josie Dew“ ‘Ahhh, this is the life!’ I hear them sigh as I toil away at the helm. ”
The first time I went off on a month-long adventure with my young brood Jack wasn’t yet one and I did wonder whether I could cope without Gary’s extra pair of hands. But sometimes you’ve just got to plunge headfirst into things come what may. If you dither and dally and decide not to go then that’s a lot of chances of fun and frolics and memories lost down the drain.
When I used to go on extended bike tours alone pre-children, the cycling was the tiring part, the camping the relaxing bit. Now it’s the other way round. Although cycling such a long bike that weighs a ton is hard work, everything is packed up, everyone is on board, we are on the move.
It’s the end-of-the-day part that wears me into the ground. Trying to keep morale high when tiredness and tetchiness sets in to young legs and minds; looking for somewhere to camp; putting up a big tent (all the more tricky – and comical - in high winds or pouring rain); unpacking a multitude of bags; dealing with mechanical problems; washing clothes for four by hand; trying to keep an eye on all three children when they run off in three different directions; trying to cook for us all on a tiny camping stove without burning the tent down.
When you cycle in another country with three children on a bicycle (or bicycles) you can’t help thinking about the things that could conceivably go wrong and ticking them off in your mind. But I try not to dwell on the bad and look for the good; the fun, the camping, the living outside, the new places, the new faces, being on the move, life ‘on the road’.
All the time there is that exhilarating feeling of freedom and uncertainty and spontaneity. The not knowing exactly where we are going every day, who we are going to meet, what we’re going to eat or where we are going to sleep (I’m not one for booking ahead).
Plus, after spending so much of the year shut up in school it’s amazing to see how fast Jack and the girls adapt to living outside for several weeks on the trot. They become attuned to the nuances of the weather, have an awareness of the position of the sun and its usefulness for navigation and telling the time of day. And they even become quite efficient at reading maps (I’ve never used Sat Nav).
They also seem to gain more confidence and independence – learning about foreign ways or customs or money or rushing off to play with children they’ve just met – be they French, Dutch, Danish, German, Swiss, Swedish despite not having a common language between them.
It’s not a holiday in the usual sense but it is hugely enjoyable most of the time. It’s certainly always memorable.
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