Worcester Cathedral to Blists Hill Victorian Town, Telford

That was the welcoming committee when I arrived at Blists Hill Victorian Town, just south of Telford, Shropshire.  Not a big crowd, but great that they made the effort, and with their old bikes too.  Mind you, I'm very glad that I'm not doing my ride on a penny farthing, because as much as I like to look at them, they're awfully high and tricky to get on to, and I doubt the suspension is up to much.

I needed some good suspension on Friday's 74km ride from Worcester Cathedral to Blists Hill because it seems that I hadn't planned the most direct route and I went through Wyre Forest.  Oh, it was wonderful with forest-canopied expanses of bluebells, lovely streams, and some great woodland walking paths...

...but most of the cycling was 'off-road'...

It was hard work on the legs and the bum, which meant that I found it hard to resist stopping off at the Go Ape tree top trail.  In fact I failed at resisting and before I knew it I was giving it a go...

The thing I hadn't banked on, though, was this lot...

An angry mob of runners who had come out to spur me on, only to find me having fun in the tree tops instead.  I am no runner so to see this lot chasing after me was more than disconcerting, but guaranteed to be something to get me running...running away, through the tree tops, desperately trying to find a way down and back to my bike.  I wasn't to enamoured by the solution I found, but it was at least a solution...

It wasn't the most graceful exit, but it saw me out of a sticky situation and back to my bike where I made a quick getaway...

That'll teach me to stop to have unscheduled fun on my big sponsored bike ride. I'll just have to go back another time when I'm not meant to be raising funds for Pop-Up Gym.

So, back on the road and it took me two hours and thirty one minutes to do the 74km to Blists Hill, with 40 of those kilometres at increased resistance of four gears, though I think I was rather hard on myself with that as I don't think the proportion of uphill on this ride was that great.  Maybe I can let myself off a bit of uphill on a subsequent stretch.

Blists Hill Victorian Town is a great place capturing the feel of a Victorian town well, with plenty of authentic shops and businesses to explore and all the townsfolk in Victorian costume.

Townsfolk Gentry

Townsfolk Family

Steam Roller (I presume)

Outside the Chemist

Inside the Chemist

Townsfolk with Horse and Cart

Foundry man

Foundry men

The foundry men were particularly important in this neck of the woods as they were instrumental in realising the manufacturing potential initiated by the Industrial Revolution.  This area - Telford, Ironbridge etc - was the birth place of the Industrial Revolution.

PC Plod

Printers

School House

School Room

Children who should've been in school *tsk*

Children on their way to school

After having a good look around and getting my bearings I asked PC Plod where I might pitch my tent.  He said that my tent wasn't Victorian enough to be pitched in Blists Hill, despite my newly acquired dining table especially for the occasion...

See what effort I'd put in to creating the Victorian ambience of the tent!  Alas, the outside of the tent still failed me.  However, I was delighted when friendly PC Plod said that he had the perfect solution - I could stay in one of the houses on site for the weekend.  I had visions of something grand and luxurious, or maybe something a little more modest like the house that had the butcher's shop in it...

I was a little miffed, then, to find that I was spending the weekend here...

Oh it's very quaint, isn't it, but it's called the 'Squatter's Cottage'.  Nothing like that to put me in my place!  My grand Victorian dining table was going to look very out of place in here too...

(This is not the inside of Squatter's Cottage at Blists Hill)

...not that I had any chance of getting it inside anyway.  Still, it was all going to be more comfortable, and drier, than my tent, so I was grateful and thanked PC Plod.

Once I'd unpacked my stuff I realised that I was a little short on supplies, and this being a less well off person's Victorian cottage there was no electricity.  I was going to need some candles as well as more food, so it was time to head back into the town, with my first port of call being the chandler's so I could light my way if daylight began to fail...

No, hang on, that's Chandler Bing, not the chandler at Blists Hill.  Wait a sec...

Yes, there he is, and he's even making me candles while I wait.  I took a dozen because the likelihood is that I'll need more on the rest of my journey than just what I use over the weekend.

Candles in hand, it was time for some freshly baked bread from the bakery...

...and some fresh meat from the butcher...

Back to the cottage for a simple feast and then time for some snoozles in bed, though I do wish I could've squeezed in my four poster from the back of the bike because this one was a bit hard...

It didn't seem to matter much because I crashed out soon enough and slept fairly well.  I hung around town yesterday morning, but was up for a bit of exploring in the afternoon, and decided that I really out to seek out Ironbridge Gorge - the real site of the birth of the Industrial Revolution where the world's first Iron bridge (over the River Severn) was erected in 1779.

Only I could arrive at the iron bridge and in a fit of foolhardy exuberance take part in the activity underway at the middle of it.  Most folk up there were just watching, and the rest of them had built themselves up for this for weeks, if not months.  There I was having happened up the event, no planning, no preparation, no sense whatsoever.  I climbed the barrier, let the bloke apparently in charge tie the huge elastic band to my ankles, and leapt off the edge in the first bungee jump of my life, also the last bungee jump of my life.

I really ought to have known that anything I did wouldn't go smoothly, and sure enough there was a problem...

Oops!

I hadn't bargained on going for a swim, or indeed a dive, and it was a huge shock to find myself suddenly plunged into the freezing water of the River Severn.  It was dark down there, and I seemed to have an eternity in the depths to think about how to respond with something other than, '****!'  For a second I contemplated resigning myself to the river, but that was never really an option because I'm all about making the most of life.  So the other option was to get to the surface and make an experience out of this experience.  The cold was a bit of a bugger, making me gasp for breath when I eventually popped up into fresh air, and meant that I couldn't shout out to the folk still on the bridge that I was okay.  I gave them a wave instead, but they still looked rather frantic.  I couldn't do anything more about that, and I couldn't easily beat the current and get to the river's edge, so I went for a swim instead, letting the river take me downstream, literally going with the flow.

Perhaps if it'd been warmer I'd have kept on swimming for the rest of the day, but it turns out that the Severn doesn't have tropical temperatures in late April, and before long I was a little too chilly for comfort.  I got fairly close to the edge when it occurred to me that I might as well try my hand at fish tickling and see if I could catch something for my dinner.  I don't think I actually tickled it into a trance, and I wouldn't recommend fishing by hand as an easy way of life, but look, I did it! ...

I was utterly exhausted after that so I sat with my big fish on the river bank contemplating how to get back to Blists Hill.  I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew I was confronted by this...

Yes, my predicament was being scoffed at by a Blists Hill horse!  PC Plod had heard about my unfortunate accident, and thinking that I probably wouldn't have made it too far down the river came on a hunt with some of the other townsfolk to find me.  Only cheeky chap Horatio the Horse thought it was hilarious and didn't mind showing me.  Thankfully, PC Plod and his merry gang were much more helpful and got me and my big fish into Horatio's cart, and for his penance Horatio had to lug us back to the Victorian town.

Yeah, he wasn't laughing then!

By way of thanking all the folk who'd been involved in my embarrassing rescue I shared the big fish with them all.  PC Plod suggested we take it to the town's chippy where it would be cooked to perfection, so that's what we did, and we had a fine chippy banquet, although PC Plod's side-kick, PC Bill, couldn't wait to get started and was munching chips before we'd even got outside...

It might not surprise you to learn that after such unexpected adventures yesterday I wanted a quiet day today.  There was still plenty for me to see and do in the town, and I wanted nothing more exciting that a fun day at the gentle Victorian fairground.  I am so pleased that they didn't have anything as exhilarating as The Wall of Death or Waltzers.  No, today was all about the carousel, the coconut shy, throwing balls at targets, and munching sweets from the confectioners.

It's been quite an adventure here at Blists Hill, but then I shouldn't expect anything less from myself given my inability to keep out of trouble.  Here's hoping I can stay safe until morning when I'll be getting the bike out again and heading towards Congleton, a little south of Manchester.

I'll see you again in 85kms time.  Meanwhile, do please sponsor me if you can for my epic cycle from Land's End to John O'Groats (and the writing of this blog).  It's all to raise money for Pop-Up Gym, and you can donate at my Just Giving Page.  Every penny of sponsorship helps and every penny is hugely appreciated.

**All photographs, except of the MotoMed bike, are taken from Google Images or the Blists Hill Victorian Town website.

WWT Slimbridge to Worcester Cathedral

Well hello, folks.  I've made it to Worcester in the West Midlands, and for anyone who's reading this outside of the UK and isn't sure how to pronounce Worcester, it's 'wooster', without too much of an 'oo' sound.  I've never been here before and I have to say that I'm rather taken with it.  The surrounding area of the Malvern Hills is beautiful and it made for a very lovely ride.

The hills were hard work, that's for sure, and I did half of my cycle at resistance increased by four gears from my usual to represent the inclines.  I pushed on through the sweaty struggle and completed the 70km distance in two and a half hours.

Of course, it's only now that I've arrived that I've discovered an official cycle route map for the Malverns...

...which would have been very helpful so that I could've avoided bumping my way down the staircase of the hillside...

It was with pure delight for my very bumped bottom that I made it through the hills and into Worcester to the Cathedral.  What a welcome sight.

Of course, churches and Cathedrals are traditionally places of sanctuary, which strictly speaking means to take refuge from a pursuit, persecution, or danger.  I'm merely taking refuge from my own stupidity doing this journey alone, and I'm not sure that I'm easily rescued from myself, but here I am safe in the house of God for a couple of nights.

It hadn't occurred to me that the Cathedral might have an internal garden, but as it's still Eastertide they still have their Easter garden set up ... on the steps near the rood screen up towards The Choir...

I have to admit that for a moment I considered sleeping in the little cave until I realised that it's Jesus' tomb so would be sacrilegious, and the last thing I want to do is offend anyone, particularly the bishops etc who are letting me stay here.  Seeing as they've provided excellent camping ground with plenty of perfectly flat grass (the steps in the 'hill' must be a Worcestershire thing) I pitched my tent instead.

See what a marvellous job they've done of replicating the countryside views in the Cathedral!

It was quite a relief not to have to peg the tent down because the stone flags in the Cathedral would be too difficult to drive the pegs through, but seeing as there's no wind or rain or other weather risk when camping inside I knew it'd be okay.

I was quite hungry after all that cycling and tent pitching so I ventured to the Cathedral cafe for some grub and then had a mooch around the rest of the vast, beautiful building...

Cloister cafe...

Nave...

Stunnning West window...

Chantry chapel...

Altar...

Ceiling and organ pipes...

Cloisters...

Crypt...

Internal detail...

By now you must surely know what I'm like when it comes to adventuring and I can't simply stick to the normal stuff.  So me being me, I went for a wander up the tower too.  It's perfectly allowed ... mostly.  First I went to the bell ringers' chamber, which was bigger than I'd expected and much more ornate too...

They even have their own beautiful window...

So that was the bit that was allowed.  What they don't expect you to do is go up to see the bells, but why wouldn't you want to?  Those huge clumps of moulded metal that are made with such precision that they have become enormous instruments with a beautiful sound.

The problem is that the beautiful sound is meant to travel for miles around so when you're right next to them and someone pulls the bell rope, the chime becomes deafening.  I had been so engrossed in admiring the magnificence of the bells' size and the ancient technology that makes them ring that I hadn't been aware of the bell ringers coming in for practise.  Before I knew it I was being deafened and needed to find my way out, except that the door to the staircase had been shut and locked so that the bell ringers weren't deafened by the sound they were about to make.  I needed another way out. I was literally climbing the walls to find an escape route, and amazingly and unexpectedly I came across one in the ceiling!

And when I squeezed through the octagonal trapdoor I found myself on the roof with the most magnificent view across the city...

The problem then was that I was stuck on the top of the tower and nobody knew I was there.  Not only that, I was still deafened with ringing in my ears (pun totally intended), so it wasn't going to be any good trying to phone anyone on my mobile because I wouldn't be able to hear what the call taker was saying.  The only thing I could do was to hail a passing air craft, as you do, and no sooner had I had the idiotic thought than I was able to wave down a helicopter.  Luck was on my side!

It was ever so slightly terrifying dangling like that from the helicopter with those very large pointy stone towers so close.  I tried not to think about them and instead took a good look at this view that I was almost certain I wouldn't get a chance to see again.

Unfortunately the pilot couldn't just drop me by the Cathedral because there wasn't enough landing space, so he choppered me to a park not far from the city centre, which gave me the opportunity to have a little look around...

Beautiful, isn't it? Though, of course, I got lost.  Now I knew from my approach to the Cathedral on the bike, and from my unexpected aerial view from my time on the tower, that the River Severn flowed right past the Cathedral so all I needed to do was ask the lovely folk of Worcester where the river was and lip read their answer.  I'm not sure I faithfully followed the directions I was given, but some how or other I stumbled across this place...

...the Worcester mariner, from where I managed to scrounge a lift back to the Cathedral...

I was ever so tired after all that malarkey and it was a literal blessed relief to be back in my tent in the Easter garden on the steps to the Choir in Worcester Cathedral...and that is a sentence I didn't ever expect to write.

I woke briefly in the night as my hearing began to return, with every little creak of a sound disturbing me, although I think some of the creaks were actually inside my ears.  Anyway, to help reorient myself I got up for a short wander and found the prayer candles all lit, giving a wonderfully warm glow of love in a corner of the vastness of the empty Cathedral...

I slept very well after that and woke in the morning to find that my hearing was recovered.  Just as well because I wanted to stay around and listen to the lunchtime organ recital this afternoon, which today was by John Pryer, organist of Alexandra Palace and Organist Titulaire of Birmingham Oratory 

Hearing the Cathedral organ being played, and by such a fine musician, was a real treat.  It is magnificent, powerful, beautiful, almost a living instrument with so much air 'breathing' through its plethora of pipes.  Look at it...

Yes, this instrument, and the beauty of this building are both fit for a king, and not just King John Plantagenet whose tomb is here...

I decided to have a very quiet and reflective afternoon in the Cathedral following the concert.  I needed a good deal of rest after the 70km cycle yesterday, my escapade up the tower in amongst the bells, my clamber through the trapdoor in the roof (who knew that Cathedrals have trapdoors in their roofs?!), the impromptu helicopter taxi ride, getting lost in the city of Worcester, and my barge trip along the River Severn back to my sanctuary.  Hmmm, I'm not sure that 'sanctuary from myself' thing really worked out for me, did it? 

It was quite fortuitous that I had chosen to spend the day in the Cathedral as this meant that I had the chance to meet the man who'd allowed me to camp in his Cathedral.  Apparently Bishop John Inge had heard that I'd made it to Worcester safely (little did he know!) and wanted to say hello before I head off again tomorrow.  He came running over from the vicarage to see me...

I felt very privileged that when he arrived he was dressed in all his bishopy finery, just for me.  Though it turned out he was going to take evensong too, so it wouldn't have done for him to have come in jeans and T-shirt.  I love the evensong service and always feel as though it gives lots of time for peaceful contemplation and meditation so took a pew and waited for the choir to process in...

It was a lovely service with beautiful singing from the choir.  I only wish there had been more people in the congregation to listen to the lovely music, today primarily by the Welsh-born Tudor composer Thomas Tomkins, the anthem being his Above the Stars my Saviour Dwells.  Gorgeous.

I was all wonderfully relaxed after evensong, but a bit peckish too.  I was just thinking about going to the cafe for a bite to eat when Bishop John came back and asked me if I'd like to join him for a light afternoon tea at the vicarage.  Of course I did!  We chatted away about camping, and cycling, and the indoor Easter garden.  I was itching to ask him why there's a trapdoor in the roof, but that would've given the game away that I'd been up there and had cause to use it.  Anyway, we had a lovely afternoon tea of perfect soft boiled eggs served on the finest Royal Worcester porcelain.  What else would I bishop eat his eggs off?!

This being Worcester, I couldn't possibly be allowed to eat them without a smothering of Worcestershire sauce (again, for any non-Brits reading this, the 'shire' bit is often missed off, and it's simply called 'Worcester sauce').  

Apparently when Lea and Perrins first made the concoction that was to later become Worcestershire sauce in 1837, it was for some aristocrat or other who wanted to recreate the flavour of something he knew from India.  He was satisfied with what was made, but when John Wheeley Lea and William Perrins tasted it they didn't like it so they put stashed it away in the cellar.  For some reason they chose to taste it again when they rediscovered it a long while later - perhaps they were clearing out the cellar or something - and this time found it was scrummy.  Whilst lots of companies now make Worcestershire sauce, Lea and Perrins' original recipe is still a closely guarded secret, or at least the quantities of the various ingredients are, and perhaps the brewing methods, as the ingredients have to be listed on the bottle by law.

Bishop John gave me a bottle of Worcestershire sauce to take away with me, so now I'm all set for a truly delicious breakfast tomorrow morning...

Yup, it's a truckle of cave-aged Wookey Hole cheddar with shallots and Lea and Perrins Worcestershire sauce for me in the morning.  That'll power me up for my 74km ride I have to do to somewhere in the Telford area tomorrow.  Perhaps I ought to check the map before I go to bed...perhaps I ought to find the map first.

I'll see you all at my next stop, fuelled by saucy cheesy goodness.  In the meantime, please remember to sponsor me for my ride (and blog writing) at my Just Giving page, raising funds for the charity Pop-Up Gym, providing rehabilitation and exercise for folk with spinal cord injuries and other neurological conditions.  Every penny helps and every penny is gratefully accepted.

**All photos from Google Images except those of the MotoMed and my tent