Wookey Hole to WWT Slimbridge

What, I hear you ask, does the 'WWT' bit mean?  As much as I want to say that it stands for 'Weird and Wonderful Things', sadly it doesn't.  WWT is the Waterfowl and Wetlands Trust.  WWT Slimbridge was the first of the organisation's nine centres in the UK, which not only provides sanctuary for wild birds discovering the preserved wetlands for themselves, but also important breeding programmes for a huge variety of water birds and other wildlife, vital conservation work locally and worldwide, and education to the pubic through observation, fun, experience, and talks.

Apparently, my first visit to one of the country's WWT centres was in fact at Slimbridge when I was a tiny baby.  We didn't live too far from Slimbridge at the time, but my first memory of a WWT centre was a primary school trip to WWT Washington where I held a duckling for the first time.

That experience stuck in my mind, and although at the time I didn't know where the place was or what it was called I was desperate to go again.  It wasn't until years later that I found out it was WWT Washington, and now I have been a WWT member for almost a decade.

I am making the most of my membership by coming to WWT Slimbridge on my amazing virtual bike ride, and my mum was very excited when I told her yesterday that I'd just arrived here.  I've been overdoing things lately and have got rather over tired, which made the 81km cycle up from Wookey Hole tough going, especially with 40km of it uphill (at increased resistance on the MotoMed).  I was flagging hugely at the 50km mark, but a great supporter - Kevin - cycled alongside for a while and urged me on.

Kevin in the background giving encouragement

In the end I managed to complete this 81km leg of the journey in 2 hours and 52 minutes, which I was very pleased with after my slow start and flagging middle.  I said flagging middle, not flabby middle!

The Wetlands Trust don't allow camping on the sites so I could only stay there if I promised to keep it low-key and inconspicuous.  I decided camouflage was the way ahead, although it's possible that I might have overdone it slightly...

Photo from Google Images

My biggest need was a place to sleep, and seeing as I wasn't setting up camp, I was going to have to see how some of the wildlife felt about sharing their homes with me.  The flamingos held a meeting...

...and after quite some time very kindly offered a night on one of their nests, but to be honest they looked a bit muddy, exposed, and small for an adult human.

Photo from Google Images/WWT Slimbridge

A couple of the flamingos got about uppity about me turning them down...

...but most weren't phased and got back to the important business of eating and drinking...

I don't know who this old woman is, but she wasn't having any of it and wouldn't even engage in conversation...

...and I'm pretty sure this is the swan equivalent to a rude hand gesture...

Quite a few folk pretended not to understand, not to hear, or were too unsure about the weirdo with no wings to answer...

I was a little uncertain myself about the sanity of these two to ask...

And the Whistler Swan took flight before I had a chance...

At least the otters had a discussion about it, albeit where I couldn't interrupt them...

...but ultimately the answer was no.  The female half of the pair - the sow - went back to her holt to make sure I wasn't going to try to break in...

...then her husband came along to make sure I'd gone...

...but seeing that I hadn't, he gave a fine demonstration of what he might do to me if I hung around much longer...

I scarpered, and ended up settling down under a tree with my camouflage outfit and sleeping bag wrapped around me.  I was just getting comfortable when this nervous little chap came and had a nibble on my ear...

...and bless him, he offered me a place in his drey...

...but I thought it looked a bit precarious perched all the way up there, and although cosy, perhaps a little on the snug side for a person.  He left me a pile of nuts for sustenance, though, and I felt the love as I leaned against the tree, watching the sunset, and eventually drifting off to sleep.

I think the unexpected craziness of my last two stops finally caught up with me in my sleep last night because I had a horrible dream.  I dreamt about WWT Slimbridge and my experiences of yesterday, except the only wildlife to offer me a place to sleep was this chap...

The 'place' was inside his cavernous jaws, and in my dream I was so tired that I found myself climbing in!  It was only as his enormous teeth were closing around me with a clatter as they came together that I woke.  Nutkins was accidentally pelting me with nuts from the feeder just above my head.

I think he was making sure I had something for breakfast.  I sat munching them while I watched lots of smaller visitors to the centre come for a breakfast nibble too, which I've found is a lovely way to start the day.

I went for a stroll a little later to find the otters again.  I wanted to apologise for upsetting them so much yesterday.  I think the sow was still tucked up in bed, but I saw the boar and he also apologised for being so threatening.  He hadn't realised that I was just wondering where to go next rather than loitering with the intention of jumping into the holt when they weren't looking.  He offered me brunch, but I politely declined and explained that Nutkins had made sure I'd been fed this morning.  

He said to come back for dinner, so long as I don't mind having fish, and he got straight on with the preparations when I agreed.

When I went back this evening he confessed that he wasn't very au fait with using a cooker so we had fine sashimi.

Photo from Google Images

I'm now full of yummy dinner and curled up in a goose nest.  No, I haven't gate-crashed.  The nene geese took pity on me after seeing that I'd spent last night on my own under a tree, and said they'd stick the necks out for me...

They run the risk of being shunned by the rest of the wildfowl community for helping out a non-feathered friend, but they'd heard of my return visit to the otters.  They were impressed that I'd gone to apologise when, in their opinion, the otters had been terribly rude and out of order with their extreme reaction to my request.  Anyway, they knew I still didn't have a bed for tonight, and by what they'd seen and heard they thought I was a decent person, so they offered me a bed.  The only proviso is that I sit on their eggs for bit to make sure they're kept warm too, which is fine by me.  I do like to do something reciprocal for my hosts, though I hope that the eggs don't hatch and upon first sight of me claim me as their parents.  With that hope in mind, here's my resting place for my second night at WWT Slimbridge...

Photo from Google Images

The nenes were delighted that the otters had been such great hosts tonight, and I thought they'd be jealous of my sashimi feast, but I learnt from them that nenes are herbivores, so I've assured them that any snacks I have tonight will be vegetarian.

It's almost time to sleep now, and just as well because I need to be as fresh as I can be for tomorrow's cycle to Worcestershire.  I'll see you when I get there, but in the meantime remember that you can sponsor me at my Just Giving page to raise vital funds for the charity Pop-Up Gym that provides rehabilitation and exercise for people with spinal cord injuries and other neurological conditions.  Every donation helps, however small, and is received with great thanks.

Wellington to Wookey Hole

Star Wars still from Google Images

No, no, not that kind of Wookie!  That's me in the morning of a bad hair day.  Mind you, with hair like that then every day is a bad hair day.  Actually, I don't look very different from that after I've finished each leg of my virtual bike ride, so it's more apt than it first seems.

I have no idea where the village of Wookey Hole got it's name, but I know that it's been around longer than the Star Wars films so maybe George Lucas got the name of the Wookie race from the place.  Who knows?  Other than that, I know that it's a small place in Somerset amidst the Mendip Hills, which are very ... hilly.  I can tell you that from experience because it was very hard work cycling through them, even virtually as I increased the resistance on the MotoMed to four gears up from my usual for 30km.  I was very tired after all my crazy antics at Wellington so the 70km ride felt a lot further and was a lot harder going than some.  That'll teach me to party all night in a park before I have to cycle 70kms.  All the same, I completed it in two hours and thirty two minutes.

For all that cycling through the Mendips was hard work, it was beautiful and dramatic.

I had heard that there are wild goats that roam the hills, but that they could be pretty elusive, so I was surprised to stumble across this chap or chappess wandering through the trees by the roadside.

I'm sure he/she can stand up for themselves when they need to, and I didn't try to engage it in conversation or activity to test it out, but it didn't seem very wild to me.  It was happy wandering through the trees nibbling on the undergrowth, and I was happy just to watch from the roadside.

Once again, I hadn't sorted anywhere to stay, but one of the things for which Wookey Hole is famous is its caves, so I figured that I might be able to kip in one of them. It would make an interesting change from the tent or a hotel, and as the Wookey Hole caves are a constant 11C they're not too chilly.  One of the things this constant, moderate temperature is good for is providing the perfect environment for ageing cheese, specifically Cheddar cheese as Wookey Hole is just around the corner from Cheddar.  Yes, that phrase, 'Cave-aged Cheddar cheese,' does literally mean that it's sat on a rack in a cave in Cheddar/Wookey Hole for several years before it's packaged up and sent to the shops. Look...

That really is rack after rack of humongous cheeses.  How delicious!  This was the cave for me for the weekend, most definitely!

Once I'd cleared it with the tour guide that I could squirrel away in the cave, I took a look around my temporary abode and was quite blown away by the beauty and magnificence of the nature that surrounded me.

Look at those stalactites and stalagmites!  Aren't they stunning?  Nature is amazing!

These lakes are natural too, and so much deeper than they look.  Apparently the clarity of the water deceives us into believing it's a lot shallower than it actually is.

Although a little tricky to get into, I decided that the rowing boat would likely be the most comfortable place to sleep in the cave as the ground was so lumpy bumpy and intermittently spiky with stalagmites.  I had my sleeping bag and squishy pillows out of my bike panniers so figured I'd be okay for a few nights, and if I needed any other luxuries from my camping equipment my bike wasn't too far away.  Before bed, though, I needed some sustenance so I ambled back to the shelves of cheese and ventured up the steps where I found...

Photo from Google Images

Cheese heaven!  Stack after stack after stack of creamy, tangy, Cheddary deliciousness, wrapped in cotton blankets, and resting for perhaps ten years, maybe more.  How ridiculous that when it leaves the cave and goes into the shop that they then stick a 'use by' date on it for sometime in the next few weeks!

Surely, with all those enormous truckles lining mile upon mile of underground shelving, they weren't going to miss one.  Surely.  And I needed food, energy packed cheesy food to restore my weary body after my long, weary cycle from Wellington.  I braved it.  I admit, I took a cheese, a whole cheese.

Photo from Google Images

I left a note of thanks and apology and a significant wad of cash that would hopefully cover the costs ... and then I scoffed the lot.  Mnomnomnom.

The boat wasn't too bad as a sleeping place, and the total lack of wind or weather of any kind meant that the lake was absolutely still.  The little rowing boat only moved when I did, and I was so tired that I barely stirred.

The following day I ventured to another part of the cave and learnt that perhaps I ought to have had a more disturbed night than I did, because the Wookey Hole caves hold the legend of a witch!

Photo from Google Images

I can't remember the whole legend of the Wookey Hole witch, but the very basic story is that way back in the mists of time a bloke fell in love with a woman.  A mean old lady, probably a bitter spinster (in my opinion), didn't like romance so did something to end the relationship, but I can't remember if she turned the woman against the man or something more horrible.  Anyway, later in life the young man became a monk of some kind (so probably a good thing that he hadn't married his previous love), and went to see the old woman who by then lived in the cave.  He said some incantations and splashed her with holy water, and suddenly she began to turn to rock.  This rock, is said to be her...

Can you see her profile?  Spooky!

I didn't sleep so well that night, but it's probably just as well that I hadn't, at that stage, gone all the way through the caves and out the 'exit', because when I did I was confronted by this guy...

Never mind the witch, this fifteen-foot high gorilla is utterly terrifying when you've spent a couple of days in a cave, munching cheese, sleeping in a rowing boat on a lake hundreds of feet underground, avoiding shadows of legendary witches turned to stone.  At least he doesn't growl because it'd echo around the Mendips and probably send the goats into an attacking frenzy.  On the other hand, maybe that's why they're wild, after all, just seeing this gorilla was almost enough to send me wild, let alone hearing it.  

Making a quick escape from the giant gorilla, I skirted around him and was almost immediately confronted by these beasts!

I turned to run from them only to have this guy leap out at me...

What is wrong with this place?!  Giant gorillas and the resurrection of savage dinosaurs waiting to jump out at you from behind the bushes!  And just when you think you've avoided becoming dino lunch, they 'thaw out' the Wookey Hole witch and set her loose on you...

Photo from Google Images

Okay, so she's not that scary, but who knows what spells she could cast on me even from a distance.  My only hope is that she's confined to the realms of Wookey Hole and isn't going to fly after me on her broomstick because I can't cycle all that fast and I haven't tried to out-cycle a woman on a broomstick before.

I take back what I said at the beginning.  I reckon George Lucas came and visited Wookey Hole and only had to look at himself in the mirror when he'd made his getaway to get his inspiration for the Wookies because, hey, this was me when I got back to my bike...

Photo from You Tube/Google Images

The adrenaline from that lot certainly helped me pedal on through the Mendips, and the so-called wild goats seemed positively tame as I whizzed by.

They're not even giving me sly glances or look as though they're plotting to butt me off my bike with their horns.  No, they're only interested in the juiciness of that ivy, or whatever it is.  

Anyway, I wasn't hanging around.  I was off to Gloucestershire and my next stop at WWT Slimbridge.  I'll see you there, and hopefully I'll get back to having a much more sensible time with a flamingo or something.  While you wait for me to write my next post about what I get up to at Slimbridge, please remember to sponsor me on my Just Giving Page for this epic virtual cycle ride from Land's End to John O'Groats (and the writing of this blog tracking the journey) to help raise funds for Pop-Up Gym.  If you need a reminder as to why it's so important then please do read the long bit of blurb at the top of the blog.  With huge thanks for your support.

Westward Ho! to Wellington

Apologies for the delay in updating you on my travels, and apologies also for having to delay my trip from Westward Ho! to Wellington, but I was rather incapacitated for a bit after my attack by the Beast of the Moor.  I am still wounded, but I am recovering and healing, and I have been able to get on my way.

It was a long and arduous cycle of 87km from Westward Ho! to Wellington, 40km of which I did at increased resistance by four gears.  Despite that, I managed to complete the journey in 3 hours and 2 minutes.

You know, I have known nothing about Wellington, Somerset, until arriving here.  I don't know anything about Wellington in New Zealand either, but considering that would be a ridiculous cycle ride as that's the other side of the world, perhaps I can be excused.  Anyway, given that I knew nothing about Wellington, and that it's slightly south from where I was and my destination is as far north as we can get in mainland UK, you may be asking yourself why I have come here.  It is simply that I used to have a car I called Wellington.  It was a Toyota Yaris that one of the car review magazines described as being 'as practical as a wellington boot,' so that had to be my car's name ... and now that's how I came to include Wellington in my epic journey from Land's End to John O'Groats.

The attack by the Beast of the Moor threw me somewhat and meant that I forgot to plan anywhere to stay in Wellington so I've ended up camping again.

But I have a new addition to my camping equipment...a sink.  It's not just any old sink though, it's a wonderful butler's sink.  I can't actually bring myself to use it for washing up just yet so I've decided to use it as a fridge...or more specifically, a minibar.

Excuse the bottles of red on the shelves above.  They, of course, should not be chilled, so I'm keeping them where they are.  I'm now a firm believer that every tent should have a butler's sink, which can be used as a minibar, but if absolutely necessary could be used to wash up dishes or even clothes.

Wellington is a very pretty little town with lots of flowers, even at the sign that welcomes you in.

The town itself is lovely too with loads of independent little shops, which is quite a contrast to most towns and cities these days that have almost become clones of each other with national chain stores littering the high streets.  It's refreshing to come somewhere where you almost need to hunt out a chain store amongst the plethora of independent shops.

Anyway, the town centre wasn't the best place to go looking for a place to pitch my tent so I pedalled on until I came across Wellington Park.  Beautiful landscaping, flowers, a spot of topiary, and even a small lake.  The perfect place to set up camp for a couple of nights.

I wasn't sure how the good people of Wellington would take to me pitching up camp here, but so far no complaints.  That may have something to do with the amount of alcohol in my butler's sink, of course, but hey, it's been beautiful weather so a small party in the park is maximising the warmth.


Now, I've found out a little about the history of Wellington while I've been here, mostly due to a visit to the brilliantly informative Wellington Museum, which has loads to see.  I can't possibly remember everything, but I'll see if I can remember something about the park...

So, way back in 1787 a private bank was set up in Wellington by the Fox family (and some others - the Fowlers 'and Company'), as a subsidiary business to sheep-herding and wool-making, as you do.  Fast forward to 1927 and the Fox, Fowler and Company bank - the last private bank in the country - merged with Lloyds Bank, but the F,F&C notes were still still legal tender until 1964.  

None of that has anything specifically to do with the park except that it introduces you to the Fox family.

This is not the Fox family.  This is a family of foxes.

In 1902 some council folk wanted to create a public park as a memorial for the coronation of King Edward VII, but the site they really wanted was prime agricultural land and therefore very expensive.  Step in the Fox family who gave them a wodge of land next to where the council folk had wanted, plus a big lot of money.  They also paid for the landscaping of the park, the planting, and all the building works too (I think), and the park was opened on 2nd May 1903.  Apparently it's hardly changed since it was opened 115 years ago, and now I'm camping in it and offering the local folk chilled prosecco, cider, beer, or a softie out of a fancy ceramic sink in my tent.

Cheers!

I don't know about you, but I was wondering if the town of Wellington had anything to do with welly boots.  Apparently it does!

You may have heard of the bloke the Duke of Wellington.  The first Duke of Wellington was actually called Arthur Wellesley, getting his title from the town.  Arthur was one of the aristocracy and as such had rather rich taste, and all the rage back then in the mid 19th Century was the Hessian Boot, so that's what he wore.

But Arthur decided he wanted something a bit different.  I dunno, maybe he was bored, or maybe he had blisters on his toes or his heels. He went to his shoemakers/cobblers and I don't know whether he helped design it, told the cobbler what he wanted, or if the cobbler came up with the idea himself, but however it came about, the tassels were taken off, the new boots were cut to fit closer to the calf, and made out of soft leather.  They made other changes too so that they were durable enough to withstand horse back riding, but smart enough to be worn at formal evening events.  The altered boots were named after the chap they'd been made for, and thus was born the wellington boot.  Quite how we got from that to the rubber gumboot wellies we wear now, I don't know, and I'm not convinced anyone would turn up to a ball wearing them either, but each to their own.

It seems that our Arthur Wellesley did more than design boots and be born wealthy.  He also beat Napoleon in the Battle of Waterloo and was Prime Minister, twice.  That's a fair bit for one bloke to do, so it's no surprise that the folk of Wellington are proud to be associated with him.  They're so proud, in fact, that they built a monument to him, which I thought I'd better go and see while I was here.

It's a lovely walk through wooded parkland to get to the monument, which gives something of a feel of the surrounding countryside.

As the path begins to peter out (though I don't know who this Peter is) and the trees thin, the huge obelisk rises from the ground, perched on a tall plinth.

It's even more magnificent when you get close up...

...though I have to say that I was somewhat wary of the enormous canon left carelessly beside it.  I mean, what if someone had come along with a spare canon ball, or if they were wanting to practise being a human canon ball?  No consideration for Health and Safety.

Having said that, I was tired after my long cycle and then my trek through the woods to the monument, so thankful for a place to rest.  It turns out that canons are relatively comfy places to sit if you straddle them, but not so great if you then fall asleep and slide off sideways.  It might be that I was so tired that I didn't wake up when I slid off, or it might be that I knocked myself out, but either way I woke some time later with a bump on my head and my legs akimbo up the side of the canon.  I don't think this is my best look.  Anyway, it was dusk when I woke up and the monument was all lit up, nice and pretty.

Now I'm not usually scared of the dark, but it was very, very dark in those woods when I started to make tracks back to my tent in the park.  When I say dark, I mean this kind of dark...

Not expecting to be out that late, I hadn't taken my torch with me, so I went back to the illuminated monument, rested against its enormous plinth, wrapped myself up warm in my extra jumper, covered myself with my coat, and settled down for a snoozle.  I can't say that I slept well, but I managed to get a bit of rest.

I was woken from some kind of half slumber early the next morning by a bloke who was unusually exuberant for that time of day, or maybe it's that I'm not a morning person.  In my opinion mornings would be fine if they just came a bit later on, but they always insist on arriving far too early in the day.  This guy was clearly of the morning variety, but I could hardly tell him to keep the chatter down when I was at this public monument even earlier than him, so I indulged his morningness and found out that he was here so early because he was scaling the height of the monument.  Whether it was the possible head injury from the day before, the attack from the Beast of the Moor a few days prior to that, or the lack of proper sleep the previous night, I somehow found myself agreeing to join him!

It was only when we'd shared Cliff's sandwiches at the top and I was asking how quick the descent would be that he came clean.  He wasn't intending on abseiling back down Wellington's obelisk.  No, he was going to be picked up by a fellow crazy morning person in a hot air balloon!  And now that I was up there and attached to his ropes, I couldn't exactly say I was off, scarper down the monument, and run off with his climbing equipment.  I had no option but to wait for transport and climb into the basket!

Mind you, it was a good view from the top of the obelisk...

...even if there hadn't been much space for the two of us on the point while we'd been eating sarnies and waiting for the balloon.

My problem then, so it turned out, was that Cliff and Skye (our pilot) weren't planning on dropping down to terra firma in Wellington.  They were heading back west to somewhere in Devon, which wasn't at all helpful for me because there was no way I wanted to redo the last 87km or possibly more!  I was fast learning that Cliff was the dangerously resourceful type, always planning for the unexpected, and it appeared he'd planned to bump into a random sleep deprived nutter with a possible head injury unable to make sensible decisions.  He knew he'd convince them to scale the outside of the enormous monument he was visiting, not telling them until much later that there's actually a staircase up the inside, and that they wouldn't want to go to his final destination with him.  Yup, Cliff had a handy parachute packed up in the corner of the basket, which he strapped onto my back and gave me vague instructions about making sure I roll when I land.  I think a little more instruction on the technicalities of parachuting and landing with a parachute is probably ideal, perhaps with some practise on the the ground before taking to the air, but given my predicament I wasn't in a position to argue much.

We hadn't actually been 'flying' long when I got my bearings and saw the park.  Cliff gave me a leg up onto the side of the basket, Skye did something with the burners (heck, they're noisy!), and before I knew it I was throwing myself off the basket with Cliff calling out that he'd pick up his parachute from the biggest beech tree by the lake in the park the next time he was passing.

I didn't have time to 'enjoy' much of a free fall because I was busy trying to remember which cord I needed to pull to open the parachute, and that I needed to roll when I landed so that I didn't break my legs or die.  Thankfully, and totally by the grace of God, I pulled the right cord, and I'd jumped out at exactly the right spot because there below me was my little tent along with several others that belonged to some local folk who'd gathered and been enjoying the party in the park I'd started.

Yeah, they hadn't even noticed that I'd been gone all night, but they were very excited to see me approach by parachute.  The party that followed was something else...

They're still at it and have been partying on all through the weekend.  I however, moved on from Wellington on Friday, but I'm still catching up with my blog writing, and recovering from the craziness that Wellington brought into my life.  Never trust a sleepy-looking place to be as innocent as it looks.

I'll try to catch up with myself as soon as I can and will post again shortly about my trip to Wookey Hole.  In the meantime, please do sponsor me for my virtual bike ride and blog writing at my Just Giving page to help me raise funds for Pop-Up Gym.  Every penny helps, and every penny is gratefully received.


**All photos in this post, except of the MotoMed screen and of my tent, were taken from Google Images