The Old Chalk Way does what it says on the tin. It’s old – really old. In some places the route has been in use for at least 5,000 years. It follows the rocky spine of chalk that runs south-west to north-east for 576km across lowland England, from the Dorset coast to the Norfolk coast.
And best of all, it’s 99 per cent rideable. The route was put together by keen gravel bikers Ben Wormald and Chris Hunt with the admirable aim of being as rideable as possible – presumably because they have the same view as me that bikes are meant to be ridden, not carried or pushed, as is sometimes the case on certain other long-distance gravel bike routes in the UK.
So, having chanced across the Old Chalk Way online last summer, my mate Mark and I decided that we’d give it a crack in September when the holiday crowds had dispersed; our timing was impeccable – after the driest summer on record early September produced record rainfall and howling gales up until the very day before we set off.
Luckily, we started with the winds at our backs, in warm weather. But as we dried ourselves down after the obligatory pre-ride dip in the sea at pretty Lyme Regis (to be followed by a post-ride dip when we finished at Holme-next-the-Sea in Norfolk) we couldn’t help but wonder just how much mud and gloop lay before us.
The Old Chalk Way is just over 50 per cent unpaved, so the answer, potentially, was ‘A lot’. However, as even the most amateur geologist will know, chalk drains very well, and the exceptionally dry summer meant that other than a few large puddles and some glutinous mud on our first day said chalk had soaked up the deluge and we were untroubled by boggy trails. Excellent!
We were, however, troubled by the steep climb out of Lyme Regis and the regular short but punchy ascents that are a feature of the first two or three days of the route. On the other hand, the prevailing south-westerly tail wind was whipping us along at 40 mph or so (that’s the speed of the wind, not our cycling…) on a mix of rocky trails and quiet country lanes.
And the great thing about being high up on the North Dorset Downs, as we were for much of the first day, was the marvellous views south towards the Channel coast – with the wind behind us it felt as though we were soaring along like seabirds. Eventually, however, the route began to veer away from the coast, towards the famous Cerne Abbas giant; we wouldn’t be seeing the sea again for over 500-kms.
Talking of the Cerne Abbas giant (which if you didn’t know is a 55-metre hill figure of indeterminate age cut into the chalk and sporting a spectacular 11-metre-long willy), let’s have a brief history lesson…
The Old Chalk Way essentially follows a route that due to its elevated position and well-drained soil has been used by everyone from druids, drovers, soldiers, traders, hikers and now gravel bikers for over 5,000 years. As such you pass some remarkable historic sites along the way, including Stonehenge, the Bronze Age Avebury stone circle and Uffington White Horse and a whole heap of additional neolithic, Bronze, Stone, and Iron Age sites, not to mention historic towns and cities like Shaftesbury (which has the steepest hill in the world, maybe) and Salisbury.
The route follows The Ridgeway, a national trail, which then links to the Icknield Way, another ancient trail, which in turn links with Peddar’s Way, a third long-distance trail following an old Roman road. All are signposted, so navigation is generally very easy, and you’ll encounter everything from well-graded gravel trails to farm tracks, fire roads and bouncy, rutted bridleways. These are linked by various road sections, usually on quiet backroads passing through rolling farmland and pretty villages.
And because humanity has toddled along the Old Chalk Way since God was a lad, you’re never very far away from hotel, B&B or campsite accommodation. We chose to do it the easy way and go for cheap hotels and B&Bs, ‘cheap’ being the operative word. There are plenty of cafes, shops and pubs to refill, restock and rehydrate at too, so it’s all very civilised.
But back to the ride. Day two arrived grey, dreich and drizzly as we rode out of Childe Oakford on a disused rail track which would eventually lead us in the direction of Shaftesbury and aforementioned ‘world’s steepest hill’, aka Gold Hill.
It’s not, of course, the world’s steepest hill – you could try riding up a cliff face instead – but Gold Hill and its cobbles, slippery in the wet, presented a challenge that was beyond us and for the first of two occasions on the ride we found ourselves suffering the ignominy of pushing our bikes; my only solace came from the fact that I know that far younger riders than me have also had to push up this hill, as readers of a certain age may remember if they recall the famous Hovis bread advert from the 1970s.
The second push of the day came t’other side of Shaftesbury as we ascended to the Greater Ridgeway, but the pay-off came in the form of the excellent ‘high level’ track which then led us at speed – albeit dodging the occasional puddle – and straight as an arrow to the lovely city of Salisbury, where beer, food and a comfy bed awaited. Mark even scored a four-poster!
From here on all the off-road riding we encountered was dry; that said, we had to detour from some great gravel tracks across Salisbury Plain the next day as the route passes across the army’s huge firing range here, where lots of big bangs were occurring. As such the public was forbidden to enter. Such firing occurs several times a week, so don’t forget to check the firing times online before you set out.
Since we’d both ridden across Salisbury Plain before, we were quite happy to take the detour suggested by the route’s creators, which took us along a quiet country lane north of Amesbury. We rode through lovely little villages – all thatched cottages and general tweeness – before climbing steeply off-road up on to the northern edge of the plain, then descending to the Vale of Pewsey.
Another steep climb saw us back up on the Ridgeway before dropping down to ride right through the 5,000-year-old Avebury stone circle – had we not had to detour around the firing range on Salisbury Plain we’d also have passed within spitting distance of Stonehenge today, and it’s quite something to think that this corner of England has within a few miles of each other two of the world’s most important and impressive prehistoric monuments. It makes you wonder what it was that made the area so important to the people who constructed these fantastic edifices? I suspect we will never know.
After an overnight stop in Swindon of all places, day four presented us with the holy grail of all cyclists – the idyllic combination of sunshine, 23C temperatures and a warm tail wind to push us back up onto the Ridgeway, where we rode for mile after glorious mile along a mix of bridleways, rutted tracks and gravel roads. We met two fellow Old Chalk Way riders, Luke and Martin, two French-Canadians who we were to encounter several more times over the next two days as we rode along before they eventually veered off in the direction of Norfolk. Indeed, although there were plenty of people walking the Ridgeway, other than Luke and Martin the only other bike riders we saw were locals out for a jaunt on mountain bikes.
What turned out to be the best day’s riding of the trip ended in perfect fashion at our overnight stop of Chinnor – in the warm setting sun we sunk a couple of pints at the Red Lion, enjoyed an excellent curry across the road in Bipul’s Kitchen and then slept the sleep of the righteous.
It’s a Saturday, and it seems that everyone is out and about on the Ridgeway even though rain is forecast – walkers, mountain bikers, horse riders and, as I stop to fix the only puncture of the trip a couple of miles out of Chinnor, Luke and Martin, who ride past with a cheery, “Bonjour!”
Today becomes a bit of a stop and start affair as we follow a mix of well-signposted bridleways and minor roads. We pause to watch a classic car hill climb near Princes Risborough; we stop for coffee – and are again joined by Luke and Martin – in Wendover; we stop for a village fete in Wiggington. But that’s the great thing about long bike rides, you get the opportunity to experience the colour of local life all along the way.
The rain holds off on what turns out to be a short day, only hitting us just before our overnight stop in Dunstable, when heavy showers give us a good drenching as we enter town – no problem, we have all night to get our gear dry.
Autumn has arrived. The wind has swung round to the north-east overnight and temperatures have dropped by several degrees, although the sun is out again as we follow a series of bike paths through Dunstable and Luton before getting back on to pleasant bridleways through equally pleasant rolling, wooded countryside, where the gold and russet colourings of the trees are another reminder that summer is slipping away.
I’d been a little dubious about the quality of the riding on this section of the route, but the country lanes and the Icknield Way in Hertfordshire, Bedfordshire and Cambridgeshire prove to be surprisingly pretty, as well as quiet – we only encounter one other cyclist all day.
And it’s all rounded off in spectacular fashion with a glowing sunset as we ride along the straight, flat backroads into Duxford whilst a Spitfire roars overhead as we pass the Duxford Imperial War Museum.
We had intended to complete the Old Chalk Way in seven days, so this should be our final day – but we’ve faffed around so much we’ve left ourselves with around a hundred miles to ride if we’re going to finish today, and that just ain’t gonna happen at the glacial pace of our journey thus far. Anyway, we’re here to enjoy the experience rather than try and impress people on Strava (yawn…).
Having decided to add another day to the ride means we can relax, although we could do without the strong headwinds as we make our way through the undulating farmland and horse racing country around Newmarket. But at least the sun is shining…
Things get tougher still as we approach Thetford, where we move from the Icknield Way onto the sandy bridleways and tracks of Peddar’s Way, which are often soft enough to have our bikes slipping and sliding. Wider tyres would probably have helped – I’m riding on 700x35c Panaracer Gravel Kings, which have been great up to now, but as with any long-distance gravel bike ride, tyre choice has to be pragmatic and you’ll rarely find rubber that’s ideal for every single mile of the route.
Even so the ride through the sun-dappled forests north of Thetford is delightful, and yet again (other than passing through Thetford) people are few and far between. The day ends on a bit of a bum note though, as the only budget accommodation we can find for tonight is in the down-at-heel town of Watton. It’s so budget that the tap water isn’t drinkable (I don’t think I’ve ever stayed anywhere else on the UK – ever – where you couldn’t drink the water).
Check out the route of the Old Chalk Way and you can see that the final section, heading north to the Norfolk Coast, is almost arrow straight along Peddar’s Way, so it’s hard to get lost (I’m old school and still use paper maps rather than GPS, by the way; no batteries or signal to worry about and the maps make nice souvenirs of the ride too).
Having ridden the Rebellion Way a couple of years earlier, which passes through the same area and even shares the route briefly, there’s a familiarity to today’s riding along secluded, flinty bridleways. I recall from my Rebellion Way ride that Norfolk isn’t quite as flat as we’re led to believe; sure, the hills are very modest but there are hills nonetheless, and on the last of these – all of 57 metres above sea level – we can see the shoreline of Brancaster Bay. The end is in sight.
Riding through Holme next the Sea, the finishing point of the Old Chalk Way, we realise that this quaint Norfolk village is somewhat misleadingly named, as it ain’t ‘next the sea’ at all; in fact the sea is a good mile distant, and when we get there, having slipped, slid and eventually pushed along a sandy track through sand dunes, our plan to finish the ride as we started, with a dip in the sea, is abandoned.
For a start the wind whipping in from the sea is damned chilly, but mainly it’s because the sea is literally so far out to sea that we simply can’t be arsed. And it’s a less-than-inviting slate grey colour.
So, we lie down out of the breeze in the lee of a sand dune, congratulate ourselves on completing the Old Chalk Way and have a snooze.
It’s not a bad way to finish a long-distance ride, really – other than the little matter of getting back on the bikes for the 20-mile cycle to King’s Lynn and the train home. But at least we’ll have the wind behind us…
