Doing The (Cornish) Coast To Coast.

Friday evening, at about 6.45pm, my phone went. This was lucky on two counts: A – I hadn't had dinner yet so could opt for something lighter than usual given the nature of the call, and B – Coronation Street ahem... erm... my world affairs and foreign arts programme wasn't on until 7.30pm, because if that gets interrupted, I get muchly miffed.

The caller was Craig, professional northerner, banter dispenser, and next door neighbour, asking if I fancied a ride the following day. The initial plan was for something more road focused, so having left the final choice of route up to him, I went and fished the Jamis out of the shed and gave it a wipe and a check over ready for the morning.

Saturday (yesterday) morning dawned colder than the knocker on an Eskimo's front door, and wet with it. It was utterly mank outside as another mucky, blustery, shower drove hard against the windows while I huddled up with a cup of coffee and gloomily checked the forecast on the internet, which actually wasn't too bad. Soon enough, the phone rang again and it was Craig, full of optimism and enthusiasm for the ride ahead, but with a change of plan ride wise. He thought the Coast to Coast Mineral Tramway Trail (snappy name eh?) would be worth a go, as it isn't far from home if we got a soaking (one option discussed had been a ride out of Plymouth, and that's up country that is, where they talk funny n'stuff, and about 50 miles away) and also offered some sheltered sections.

So that was it, meteorological misgivings still rumbling around in my thoughts, I bunged the Jamis back in the shed from it's overnight spot in the kitchen, and fished the sparkly clean Fatso out of the living room, as this route is mostly off road and more suited to something better equipped for the rougher stuff.

Not long after, we found ourselves in Devoran and started unloading the van, after driving through one light but hellishly windy shower, which did little lift my spirits.

Pre ride checks revealed soft Schwalbes necessitating some unplanned aerobic exercise.

Now calling this ride a coast to coast might seem a bit of a stretch, but that is its official title, and Devoran and its quays were once visited by some quite large ships. Just don't go there with your deck chairs and bucket and spade, expecting golden beaches and sand in your ice cream. No. What you will find though is mud, or if the tide is in, a creek, but it qualifies as being on the coast, (It's just off Carrick Roads) so there.

The trail links the two old mining ports of Devoran on the south coast with the more seasidey Portreath on the Atlantic coast 11 miles away, and is made up of two old horse drawn tramways – The Portreath Tramroad and the Redruth and Chasewater (that's the old spelling of Chacewater) Railway. On the way it passes old mine workings, rivers that are still heavily polluted by various metals, through woods and hamlets, open farmland and across or along lanes. All in all, an interesting ride and mostly flat(ish).

Some more info can be found Here

It wasn't long after we'd set off that Craig started moaning about pointing out that his legs were aching... He hasn't ridden as much as he'd like in recent months, and when he has taken a bike out, it has been his electric mountain bike, and now he was having to provide all the power aboard his Cube 29er, he was feeling it.

Trundling sedatley along the Carnon Valley (Truro to Falmouth branch on the viaduct ahead) but already the other half of this dynamic duo is grumbling about aching legs and dragging tyres, despite pumping 'em up a few minutes previously.

Fording one of the bigger puddles found along the route. Clean looking water too.

Not such clean water beneath this bridge though. Thanks to all the mine workings around here, the rivers,streams and occasional pond are polluted with a cocktail of nasties probably containing lead, arsenic, tin, copper, zinc and anything else you can think of.

In parts the trail is very rough and stony, but Fatso was soaking it all up in grand fashion and I was soon really enjoying the ride, more so than on previous rides along here. The weather was behaving itself as well, with warm sunshine seeing off the chills as we motored northwards, going from gravel one minute to mud plugging the next, and having a good old chat along the way.

The trail features a variety of surfaces and scenery.

It can be busy too. Not just with oldies either, plenty of family groups with young 'tackers' on tiny bikes were in evidence as well.

Getting closer to Portreath, it wasn't just his legs that were bothering the northern half of our mini peleton though, Craig was clearly suffering another malady as he subtly pointed out - "Woo me bloody arse, it's flippin' killing me it is. I feel like I'm sat on a flippin' fence post and I've got an arse full o' splinters."  So bad were things getting, that barely a mile from Portreath he needed a rest stop to ease his backside and to suck on a gel or two to boost flagging legs. Craig is off on a ten day ride up to and across Devon in a few weeks aboard his Giant hybrid, so this lack of fitness was clearly worrying him. 

Poor old Craig was really feeling it after about ten miles so needed a quick pit stop. Leaving his bike on its drive side was making my teeth itch... Path here looks nice - looks can be deceiving though...

The section of trail we'd stopped on is all tarmac, but it feels like it was just laid straight on top of every tree root, stone, dead body and random lump going. It looks smooth enough as you approach, but is very lumpy and is actually not that nice to ride on, lurching and pitching the unfortunate pilot out of his or her seat one minute and jarring the handlebars the next.

Portreath was finally reached though, along with the unmistakable smell of the sea, as we threaded our way along a side road, then the main road, to the harbour side car park. The holiday season hasn't kicked in yet, and most of the locals would be working, in the pub, or the shops, of a Saturday lunch time, and so the car park was pretty much empty, and only a few hardy souls were out and about taking the air. Here, with the wind blowing in off the sea, it was a bit chilly, even when the sun was out, so we decided not to stay long, and then on seeing a huge black cloud clearly dumping large amounts of rain out at sea, but coming towards us, we opted to linger even less long, so saddled up again and got out of there quicker than a Bishop leaving a Brothel raid, hoping to outrun the looming deluge.

Yay! The end of the line at Portreath. The couple on the right give a strong clue as to how the weather felt rather than how it looked at this point. Looming, leaking, cloud to the left of the frame not shown.

Messing about with the bleach bypass filter in the Nik software collection (now free to download by the way).

So, with the wind now behind us, we set off at quite a good pace, back the same way we'd come, ploughing through the muddy puddles and over the gravelly bits with a grim determination to keep moving. This of course took an even bigger toll on Craig's flagging legs, and once again we pulled up so he could swallow another couple of gels and some of my Jelly Babies. Whilst there he also angled his seat down, which looked all wrong but apparently eased the bum soreness considerably.

Plenty of slaloming fun through gates to be had.

A quick shot taken while Craig was resting his legs again. (the bike is facing back the way we'd just come at this point).

On we went again, maintaining a steady pace expecting at any moment to be swallowed up from behind by advancing shadow and pelted by blustery rain, but it never happened! We made it back to the van without a drop of water hitting us (at least not from the sky, plenty did from the puddles but we didn't mind that). Now I know we were piling on the coals a bit coming back, but even I know we couldn't outrun weather that is travelling at about 20 mph or more, not on that trail we couldn't anyway. So that ominous looking cloud must've diverted off somewhere else or something, whatever, from an awful looking start to the day, it had turned out to be a belter.

So that was 22 very enjoyable miles, although my legs were starting to go towards the end too.

As ever when riding with others, the focus was on riding, so there weren't any photo stops, or at least, not as many as I would have if I were on my own, so this post hasn't featured the usual photospam, relying instead on mostly GoPro shots.

As for Fatso, I love this bike! I've said it before but I'll say it again, Fat Bikes aren't just for snow and sand, as the 'never ridden one but will still pass judgement' critics will have it known. The Tramway Trail can be tooth looseningly juddery at times on the stony parts, but Fatso just absorbed the lot with aplomb, as he/it did with everything else we encountered along the way, and without any noticeable tyre drag, or heavy weight to heave around. Doubtless if someone is used to a featherweight full susser flying machine, a Fat Bike will seem like a bit of a bus, but they really are much better all rounders than the looks, and critics, suggest. 

I should've rewarded Fatso though with a thorough wash on getting home as the bike is truly grooted, but my showering needs were deemed greater, along with pressing food and coffee requirements, so it is a very, very mucky bike that is sat behind me now as I type this, but it's also a reminder of what a darned good ride on the trails we had.

A map of the route is best found on the Sustrans site.