RIDE: A trip to the Cotswolds

During COVID it's been about local(ish) rides and I feel like I've done just about every road in the Rugby area, twice. So with my first day off work in what seemed like years, I packed the car and made the short 30-minute journey down the Fosse Way to find some hills.

I'd adapted a route I'd originally gotten from a contact on Strava, one named 'The Magnificent Seven'. As the name suggests, it's a route of seven big climbs in the Cotswolds, although 'magnificent' may be a description that doesn't fit them all!

Because of time restrictions - the kids needed taking to holiday club and picking up at 5pm - I was on a tight schedule so after some quick maths, I was certain I could do the 70-odd mile route within time if I did a 15mph average. That's my go-to speed for working out routes; if you can do 15mph then you're going good, although with 7000ft+ of climbing, it'd mean some efforts and no fannying around.

I parked up at Halford, opposite the now-closed Halford Bridge Inn, seemingly a casualty of the ban on pubs and restaurants opening during the pandemic. The petrol station next door would have to stand in as post-ride food and drink supplier. Thankfully, the pub's parking area is still open and safe (and free) so after getting pockets loaded with all manner of energy, at just shy of 11am I headed the 100 metres down the Fosse before turning right and onto quiet roads towards Ilmington and some climbing.

Unless you're a sadist, you need a few miles to get the legs warmed up before heading into a climb but this ride was on the cusp of said sadism; it's about 4.6 miles before the first biggie and thanks to a brutal headwind, I was already feeling knackered by the time I got to it!

The hills I had to do were, in order but not including any little rises and falls in-between:

1 - Larkstoke Hill: 500ft of climbing at an average of 8% (16% max)

2 - Dover's Hill: 460ft of climbing at an average of 8% (13% max)

3 - Willersley+Buckle: 560ft of climbing at an average of 9% (25% max)

4 - Snowshill: 640ft of climbing at an average of 5% (14% max)

5 - Salter's Lane: 612ft of climbing at of 8% (14% max)

6 - Bushcombe Lane: 490ft of climbing at an average of 11% (25% max)

7 - Sudeley Hill: 696ft of climbing at an average of 8% (21% max)

So, that's the numbers but as anyone who likes a hill will know, stats don't always tell the whole story... road surfaces, weather and your motivation always play a big part in how you approach a hill. Larkstoke certainly lived up to the Google Earth view I'd had of it when making sure the route was rideable; it's a big old mound with a road that goes pretty much straight up. I was huffing and puffing all the way up but thankfully, this climb isn't too erratic so you can get something of a rhythm going. It's not easy, mind - you're feeling it midway up when it's hitting mid-teen gradients - but it crests and you're presented with an incredible vista over to the Malverns and even to the Welsh Borders. It's a wonderful place to be on a clear day for sure.

The view across Malvern and into Wales from Larkstoke Hill.

After this there was downhill and some nice rolling terrain to (No13) Dover's Hill some five miles further down the road. I'd actually forgotten that Dover's was on the route and with the whole Garmin outage 'crisis' and my aged Edge 510 not wanting to upload routes via USB cable, I was relying on Strava maps on my iPhone which, without direction prompts, is as much good as a chocolate teapot. I actually missed the turn off for the hill so the climb came as some surprise when I doubled-back and headed up past some quaint cottages to be faced with what's actually a pretty steep bit of road. The tree canopy gave little respite from the sun, and the wind had all-but disappeared so it became meltingly hot, my beetroot-red face giving away mu struggle to passing walkers who said their hellos.

Topping out you're straight onto a main road and it was here I made a directional error; instead of taking a right turn to a loop that went around Saintbury and took in Willersley & Buckle hills, I carried on and found my inner time triallist. I did that wonderful thing where you get caught in the moment in a new cycling destination, whizzing past golden fields only to be halted alarmingly at the sight of trucks and holiday makers whizzing past my front wheel as I arrived at the A44. I debated turning around the follow the original route but I knew i didn't have the time, so hurtled down Fish Hill at a rate of knots towards Broadway. Doing 40mph+ in traffic isn't the most sensible of ideas I know, but Fish Hill is a bloody steep downhill and it's hard to back off when you know a giant tipper truck is breathing down your jacksy!

Anyway, Broadway surprised me with its pretty main straight, reminiscent of Moreton-in-the-Marsh some 10 miles away. Tourists were making the most of the recent relaxation of lockdown rules but that did mean quite a few more cars than I'd been used to recently. Go through the town, turn left and you're straight onto the Snowshill climb, probably the longest of the climbs on this route. Not that it felt like a shallow incline; even with a bellyful of fig rolls to power me, I was something of a hinderance to the cars riding their clutches as they waited for a gap in the oncoming traffic. The hill belies its 5% average over the course of two miles and it certainly bites in places.

Automotive Mexican stand-off on some tiny country road

At the top you turn right onto lovely, flowing single track lanes that are wonderful. I encountered my first forced change of the route, as the road to Salter's Lane was closed for resurfacing, so I had to think fast and go via the village of Ford and link up to Winchcombe. This narrow, undulating track was lovely - aside from cars in both directions not wanting to yield to one another - and presented some stunning views over to Worcester. Then it was the descent into Winchcombe (which you have to come back up later) to find some food. 

Pain lies down this road...

However, not knowing the town's eateries and being short on time, I decided against a pub beer garden and a (potentially) long wait for food so powered through and looped around to hit what is undoubtedly the main event of this ride; Bushcombe Lane. No105 in Simon Warren's 100 Climbs book and rated 10/10, it's a brute from the start; an inauspicious start off an unremarkable main street in Woodmancote leaves you reeling as you ascend up a narrow street with signs that from the off warn of a 25% slope. There's little to see, aside from the tarmac ahead of you, and truth be told, it's now firmly on my 'most hated' list simply because it feels like an effort for no real reward. Don't get me wrong, struggling with your nose touching your front wheel and grinding up at a painfully slow RPM, that definitely sticks in the memory banks, but the payoff isn't on the same level as something like Asterton Bank or Hardknott... hey, when the mighty Tejvan says it's tempting to get off and walk you know it's a killer hill! Climbing Bushcombe is very much about willpower, battling with the rough tarmac until you top-out after less than a mile of cycling and then carry on without savouring a view equal to the effort put in. I've been advised that Stockwell lane, the other steep route up Cleeve Hill, is a bit nicer - maybe I'll do that one next time?

Gaining some form of composure I headed back into Winchcombe with a welcome fast descent, and grabbed officially the driest cheese sandwich ever, plus a can of coke for some instant energy, before settling in for the inevitability of Sudeley Hill. This is the hill with the most ascent on the route, an impressive 696ft - so something more akin to what you find in the peak District - and by this point my left hip flexor had basically given up and gone home; every pedal stroke was like wading through treacle, a perma-grimace etched on my face that probably looked to passing motorists like I was trying to pass a gal stone. Or a maybe melon. Either way, I was in a bad place.

Some stunning vistas treat you when you're in the Cotswolds.

At this point I'd vastly underestimated how far I had to go and it wasn't until I pulled over to have a look at the route map that I realised I had 25 miles to go. Bummer. Even more of a bummer was it wasn't all flat and that f***ing headwind was back. But I was on my day off so mega-chill mode was to be engaged, this was all about enjoying time alone on the bike.....

After that little wobble I actually started to enjoy myself again; I passed through the wonderfully-named Guiting Power - wow, what a pretty place - and after that the countryside opened up. I waved at fellow cyclists on a huge variety of bikes, and ended up back at the top of Snowhill before a trip through lavender fields as I headed towards Chipping Camden. I'd visited Provence last year but the lavender wasn't in full bloom, so never got to experience the smell wafting through the air. Even on a much smaller scale, these purple fields in deepest Gloucestershire (or is it Oxfordshire?) gave off the unmistakable aroma that my 6-year-old daughter would say 'smells like old people'. It was excellent. 

Once in Chipping Camden - a recognisable place if ever there was one, I think an episode of Top Gear is my reference point - it was then a case of finding a way back to the car because I'd mistakenly been referring to another version of my route, which took me to Shipston-on-Stour. A bit of quick thinking and following my nose soon brought me back up to the top of Larkstoke Hill via a long climb, although I did get chased down by an old woman on an e-bike who I promptly congratulated; "I'll never go back to a normal bike!" I heard her shriek with delight as she flew past into the distance!

Not exactly Team Ineos-level recovery snacks!

Then it was just the last few miles back to the car and ride completed. With the missed turn-off and the unexpected road closure, the route was slimmed down to 66 miles and 6,340ft of climbing. My legs definitely felt they'd done a hard shift, proven by the 15.3mph average. A can of shandy - who doesn't think of being a kid when they drink this? - and a pack of some random flavour crisps, and has some semblance of bodily normality as I headed back up the Fosse Way and home to collect the kids. 

I'm not sure if you do this dear reader, but I'd spent all day coming up with some witty, reference-laden ride title only to completely forget it. It's like an ear worm, a thought that just goes round and round (and round) as your pedals keep turning. But as soon as I stopped and my body turned to survival mode and the hunt for sustenance, all cognitive thought went out the window - probably a marker of a good day in the saddle. Let's leave it at that...