The last resort

This is Monday's Blog; no signal last evening

After Mablethorpe and Blackpool, I wasn't expecting too many more 'kiss-me-quick' resorts, but I found another one today. It wasn't Weston-super-Mare, which still retains some style and dignity, but Brean, just to the south. It's basically one big caravan park, with amusement arcades lining the street. Although it was warm and sunny, people were massed on the slot machines. What a sad world some people live in.

I left Bristol fairly early, before my daughter Louisa awoke. That was planned - after all she is a night bird. But I hit the rush hour traffic and had a difficult half an hour negotiating my way out of the city. I found myself on the A370 to Weston before I wanted to, so missed out the opportunity to photograph the Royal Portbury Docks. But they're not easy to see anyway; the best view is from the M5 motorway.

Today I visited four ports and harbours that I hadn't been to before - Knightstone, Uphill, Dunball and Combwich. It's always a treat to go to a 'new' place; there's a sense of anticipation as I turn into the harbour. Fortunately the sun stayed out, so half-decent photos were available.

I made good time and arrived at Combwich (rhymes with 'Gummidge') by 16.00. There's no camp site there anyway, so pressed on for a further ten miles, via the strange former harbour at Lilstock, now blocked off by a shingle bank. Finishing at Holford, I met a couple of (slim) Americans who had just completed three months cycling on a tandem around France.

Tomorrow will be a day of massive hills. I know the area from a previous visit and recall 25% climbs out of Purlock Weir and Lynmouth. Perhaps it's just as well that I'm a few miles ahead of schedule. I have to get to Penzance by Friday evening, because Bundy is coming down to stay with her friend Vanessa (Nenen) for a couple of days.