A tour-turous debut, 5.4.24 – 6.4.24

Before embarking on the Slow Way Round, we decided to complete a 3-day test ride circumnavigating the Isle of Wight in early April. Like all test rides, this trip was meant to give us an idea of how hard cycling X amount of miles would be in a day and remind us that we need to buy things like sponges and face wipes. However, the trip pointed out how amazingly unprepared we were and how hard cycle touring is no matter how hard you romanticise it, seeing us end the 3-day test ride in less than 36 hours…

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Waking up on Friday morning to not only rain, but the stark realisation we still had a lot to pack and a ferry to catch from Lymington at 10am (20km away) meant departure morning was a rush. We slid down some porridge, and started frantically strapping bits onto our bikes, shoving all else into our panniers. We clambered aboard our bikes and were quickly cycling at an unsustainable pace across the New Forest to the Wight Link Ferry terminal in Yarmouth. We passed flooded forests with fallen trees submerged, fresh-faced teenagers navigating with compass for the Duke of Edinburgh Award, and blackened churches with their congregations long dispersed. With the sun’s glow illuminating the clouds above, we reached the ferry terminal in the nick of time.

Once aboard, we grabbed a brew and shamelessly chomped through our unsliced malt loaf. I wondered how far across the world we’d still be able to buy a malt loaf. I bet expats dream of it – knowing deep down they could never honestly say moving abroad was ‘the best thing they’ve ever done’ as they fall asleep dreaming of the sticky malt brick. With that thought, we were passing Yarmouth Pier and being told to return to our vehicles. After a stop to buy earplugs and face wipes, we were back in the saddle. The hills rolled, the buzzards sawed, and within 30 minutes, we were hiking our bikes up to the viewpoint of The Needles.

We’d never seen The Needles before, but in truth, it was a bit of an ‘Oh, there is it moment’ – like of course it’s epic, but this trip struggled to evoke any awe in either of us, perhaps a byproduct of being the test run rather than the real deal. We peddled down from the viewpoint of The Needles, stopping for lunch at a farm shop where two dogs quickly befriended Max (Max being a spaniel man n all).

Skirting around the southern coast of the island, I decided to try and be spontaneous by looking in a National Trust property despite not having the time or £ to stop. It was the Easter holidays and kids were running about, a light breeze blew the papers stuck on the information board. As I turned my bike around on the gravel path leading into Mottistone Gardens, I saw a bit of paper from the information board stuck to my wheel and quickly pieced together that my wheel was now acting as a pinboard.

With a deep sigh, I pulled the pin out of my wheel and was soon left with a deflated tyre. But not to worry, it was time for me to flex my only mechanic skill – a puncture repair. I quickly levered off my tyre and found the hole, gently sanded it, covered it in adhesive, and whacked on a patch. Max passed me our new pump, and there we realised we had not got the correct fitting for our valves (exposing the true amateurs we are). Luckily, the helpful staff at Mottistone Gardens were on hand to lend me a pump and we were on our way.

After trying our luck at a local campsite (closed due to the floor being waterlogged), we did some quick Reddit research and settled on a spot just past Blackgang Chine. It was a nice spot with views of St Catherine’s Lighthouse. We made some Vegan beans & sausage with some mash and zonked out before 10pm.

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We rose early the next morning, quickly packing away our camp before the rain (and storm) came in. It was hard going, long climbs and quick descents. But we made it to Sandown in good time and Max managed to buy a Nintendo Switch off market place. We went into town to grab a coffee and refill our water, then we were off again heading to Ryde and making good time to pitch up at a campsite inland.

We turned off the main road that hugged the south coast of the island and headed into the hills. This took us across a few fields, which began as muddy fun and ended in ruddy hell. Max managed to skillfully cycle through the waterlogged fields, but I was not so blessed, heaving my bike uphill whilst I sunk deep into soaked grass. We dodged electric fences and Dawn French-style puddles, then we were back on gravel, I pushed my pedal down and heard a metallic grating sound.

I looked down and saw my rear derailleur had snapped off (the mech hanger to be precise) and got caught in my wheel, rendering my bike unusable. I’d of still been there sighing in disbelief if it wasn’t for Max calling the bike shop in Ryde who said they’d have a look.

We walked for an hour to Ryde and made it to the bike shop. I walked in with low morale and an extremely dirty bike and was met by the biggest vibes on earth. ‘Yes mate we can fix that, leave it with me, we can do that, no worries, no bother’ – positive vibes only. We left the shop and took in Rydes high street, grabbing a half pint from a stuffy boozer and buying some food supplies for the camp that evening.

We walked back to the bike shop and the positive vibes continued. The bike was working, with a few gears slipping here and there, but it moved and could do some hills. I coughed up £40 and we headed out to the campsite, still chuffed we had a lot of daylight to set up camp, have a shower, and maybe even talk to someone who owned a caravan – campsites are such interesting places.

Upon reaching the first campsite slap bang in the center of the Island, we got the eery sense that no one was home. Only static motorhomes with dog pens outside could be seen. I called the number on the website and was told ‘Oh no deary, the campsite is closed because of all the bad weather and storms. Sorry love’. Great mush.

We called every campsite in the vicinity, and all but one replied saying they were closed because of the weather. The one who was tempted to let us pitch was charging £28 per tent! No thank you. We surveyed the area and tried our luck with a wild camping spot in a nearby forest. It, like the campsites and muddy fields earlier in the day, was waterlogged.

We were reaching a point where we’d only camp that night to say we’d done it. A storm was coming in and morale was plummeting. After a lot of deliberating, we thought we were better off to call it quits, head home, have a bath, and go to bed. So we did just that. Max was gone (to Yarmouth) before I had even got on my bike. I made my way back to Ryde, feeling as if the Slow Way Round (UK to Vietnam) was going to be a lot more than I could handle. What was I thinking doing a cycle trip of this size if the Isle of Wight was giving me this much grief? Why did I even want to cycle in the first place? How will I cope when the going gets tough and the hovercraft isn’t there to take me home?

These questions are still with me as the trip approaches. Only time will tell if cycling the Isle of Wight in early April is harder than cycling from the UK to Vietnam.

The Slow Way Round begins on May 1st 2024.