When we left the Dolphin I asked the Landlady if she could recommend anywhere local for food.
Supported with nods from the Chef and others, she suggested the George. Then I wondered if I should have asked the question ….
From outside, the George didn’t exactly ooze ‘appeal’ so whilst the others were locking up I went to check out the food situation inside.
I need not have asked for there in front of me was a board of so many choices for every taste.
But were they serving? This is rural life where food service is not as us metropolitans know it.
Relieved to hear the answer was yes, the lovely barmaid tantalisingly added that the Sunday Roast Carvery was still on.
I asked Nut Roast question with which she parried that if I ordering one of the Veggie main courses that came with ‘veg’, I could visit the Carvery where I could have as much of whatever veg I wanted plus…. I could have Yorkshire Puddings.
Yorkshire puddings? The others were interested in my Yorkshire Puds. I tried to decide what was best for me.
After ordering food and drinks (pint of Timothy Landlord please) we found a table outside to observe the merry Locals gearing themselves up for the evenings karaoke whilst a shower passed us by.
Food swiftly arrived and was soon devoured.
Tricky and Bear vote: Tricky 1 thumb up, 1 middle (neutral). Bear 1 thumb up, 1 middle. 2 thumbs up, two middles. Good place.
It didn’t take me as long as previous post-lunches to get going even though Mr Wallace was again setting the pace. The wind was against us and I tucked myself behind Mr Wallace as we travelled along a fabulous gravel cycle track that paralleled the winding road to Camber for miles.
Sadly this meant our pace was running faster pace than Jim & Elisabeth’s.
Waiting for them at Camber, on arrival they were gracious in urging us on knowing we planned to cover more miles than them so said their good-byes to us before Rye where they would end their ride.
It had been fun having our first guest riders. There will be others. Incidentally, Jim was off pretty much the next day to South America to Mountain Bike there for three weeks. Chapeau Jim!
Soon we arrived in Rye however our pace was such that Rye was done in a flash although it must be said the NCN signage is totally crap there leading us this a way and that.
In the end, going with our instincts, we were soon heading out on country roads past Sunday cricketers.
A final signpost for NCN2 goes this-a-way (again wrong) left us at the foot of a daunting hill, the right path.
A pause for thought and the realisation there was nothing to do but go for it.
And go for it we did with hearts pounding, lungs bursting making our way up the first serious climb we’d done for some time which galled us at the crest by carrying on further, upwards.
Thereafter, it was the same towards Hastings. Climb after climb with mileage signs saying you were getting a little closer or were you? I was getting flashbacks to Day one, Faversham.
The hills were relentless in quantity and deceptive in height for as soon as you thought you had conquered the hill you of course hadn’t seen from the foot that beyond the bend at the top there was still more to climb if that makes sense?
Oddly, having been mainly hanging on Mr Wallace’s backwheel I found my uphill pace left him behind.
Only once did I find the gradient too much that I dismounted on a particular horrid road where two lanes are given to traffic climbing, one for traffic descending.
I headed for the nearby path yet even that had its dangers with dogs barking like mad running up and down on the other side of the hedge that followed the path.
I tried to remain steadfast in the belief there was no way for them to get to me particularly at the point where they stopped being just ‘barks’ on the other side of the hedge but barks coming from two huge dogs bayed by the sight of their prey when the hedge ran out. I wasn’t too sure what my heart was thumping from now.
I turned around to see Mr Wallace in the distance walking up too. At least he was safe as I hadn’t seen him for a while. I wondered what he would make of these huge dogs.
Mounting my bike at the crest I continued attacking the hills to finally arrive on the outskirts of Hastings with glee.
Collapsing onto the grass verge waiting for Mr Wallace to catch up I looked on at my bike.
I felt good, not broken in spirit like after the first days ride to Faversham.
We’d both gone further than either of us had imagined in one day. A sense of achievement pervaded when I considered my perseverance with the hellish hills to Hastings.
Single-speed, fixed around the coast of Britain? What were we doing?
With that, we bowled into Hastings (after one more hill), bought train tickets to Hove (my place and our base for the night) and made an obligatory visit to the local JD Wetherspoons for a well earned pint.
