Devon TRF Group Forum

FredE, NickJ and Mattyboy were briefed to make sure the man behind knows where to turn and warned how to approach the perpendicular steps placed by the water board at the entrance to Conitor lane before we set off. The muddy patch on the dog leg after Stubbins cross has been tamed but not eradicated by repairs. A large white van made me swing around wide at Chercombe bridge to begin the short rocky climb, not the first white van detour of the day. The giant lego bricks have been scattered by the 4x4s playing off-road before Holbeam lanes ford and the long deep puddles are shallower these days. A farmers green quad shot out onto the lane past Otter court as I approached his gateway and I slithered to a halt next to him and we exchanged pleasantries. Trevor and wife going the other way paused to say hello a little further on and we continued when the quad caught up with us again. Descending Colesworthy cross lane I saw ahead of us over the hedges the first of many horse riders whose paths we were to cross during the ride. We pulled off the track and killed the engines and were thanked by the grateful riders as they passed. On our way to Furzeleigh lane we puttered slowly past a rider who had lead his steed and another on a halter into a gateway, then leaned our bikes into the hedge for another two to pass a bit further along.

Descending Johnny Cann's Walk I used the ramp like quality of the first diagonal drainage channel to demonstrate the aerodynamic qualities of the CRM but my reverie was interrupted by a dog walker further along so I did not avail myself of the similar infrastructure lower down the hill. The field below the lane was empty of deer but there were grins on faces behind me. Knowle hill byway looked smooth thanks to the deep covering of autumn leaves hiding even the largest of the many loose rocks littering the lane below the leaf litter and I felt the suspension discover a few on the way down but the CRM was unruffled and thanks to the deep plush seat so was I. It took willpower not to splash the walkers who stood to the side of the Old Manaton road puddles where we met as they gathered their many dogs to make way for us but the temptation was resisted. We paused to take in the scenery at the bridge and chatted to the ramblers again, and they waved another hello as we passed them on the hairpin bend halfway up.

A planning notice near the top gate invites representations concerning the installation of an information board sign. Perhaps it would be beneficial to make sure the sign, if it includes any kind of map, is actually correct. Any volunteers to query this? The road and the byway are shown on the Definitive map and the List of Streets as having a dog leg in them just below the top gate but there is a sign at the crossroads pointing straight ahead saying Byway. This short section technically had its vehicular rights extinguished by NERC. I am concerned that the incorrect sign-age may lead people to believe those using the correct route are not riding legally. 

We could see for miles from the start of the byway down to Leighon and we were blessed with splendid views including a bright rainbow below a solitary cloud. There was a fair bit of water in the ford on the heavy goods vehicle route into North Bovey for those vehicles too wide for the long narrow bridge on the tarmac road, but seeing no water going over the stepping stones told me it was safe enough. I usually stop on the beach to film the other riders but the CRM stalled just short of there. Mattyboy was nearly caught out when I restarted and then stopped again almost immediately. Nobody actually toppled and although there may have been teetering there was no big splash. I caught a glimpse of Bovey castle through the hedge above Yarde cross before skirting a too clean white car partially obstructing the byway to Langdon. One large boulder dislodged by 4x4 use of the narrow lane lies on its own at one end but the other is a technical challenge of rocks and roots in a dark deep steep section before the farm where a fine collection of skulls graces the gatepost. Easdon byway around the oposite side of the high ground is comparatively simple but the gorse is encroaching making it narrower. Storm erosion on the climb to the gate from the cattle grid has made this short section of Bonehill down lane quite interesting with an intimidating step onto one remaining  diagonal slab of the original tarmac. The last puddle is the deepest and although I slowed down for it Mattyboy either didn't notice or didn't care.

The first two cows following the farmer on his quad went past us after a moments hesitation but the rest of the herd had to be cajoled by the farmers wife beeping her 4x4 horn furiously as she tried with minimal success to hurry the placid beasts on their way but we were in no more hurry then they and they cheerfully thanked us for stopping and apologised for the delay. I am always pleased to see the cafe shed in the car park open and was suitably fortified by a cheeseburger and a large cup of black sweet earl grey tea. 

Blackaton Cottage lane has suffered storm damage on the grassy slope since repairs several years ago and correct line selection is challenging with few good options left at several points. View are splendid as ever and few places convey the wildness of the moors as well. Fording the Walla brook last time I passed this way children were splashing each other to cool down but that was another season and the stepping stones were awash as we splashed through. Even though the Moor to Sea long distance trial had passed over Broadaford common only a few weeks previously there were no tyre marks or sign of the passing of over 150 motorcycles, and we did not have to negotiate the section laid out between the tall trees at the bottom as the tape had been removed. A black and white Devon County Council sign on the bottom gate at West Shallowford was pleasing to see and shows the new resident has been put in his place after moving in then trying to stop use of the road. 

I saw but did not stop to sit on the new bench by the side of the road through the Site of Special Scientific Interest at Blackadon which we rode carefully downhill so as to avoid leaving tyre tracks in the soft turf. The first lane on the South Devon landranger map is one the shortest and best hidden, and has a low hanging holly tree branch it is possible to limbo under on a motorcycle, just. Gorse has over grown the correct route across the top of Green down and the cows paused chewing the cud to watch us skirt the prickly thicket. Selecting third gear and hanging on tight up the rocky hill to Holne made me grin and we waved goodbye to Mattyboy as we passed his home. Summerhill cross lanes undulations give a lovely roller coaster feel to the ride. Entering Bowden hill looks like someone's drive and it is always surprising to suddenly find oneself in the middle of Ashburton. The gravelly lane opposite Pitley farm doesn't take long and we did not have to wait long for the horse rider who manoeuvred her mount behind a parked car to let us pass after we declined to use the lane which exits onto the dual carriageway. 

Goodstone has plenty of mud but no stone I can see good or otherwise. It must have been the gale on Gale hill that blew one of our company on his side and a muddy elbow and shoulder told the tale of a lie down some where along the way. Bremridge lanes steep bumpy curve is straight forward enough provided you carry momentum to crest the top outcrop but the narrower section changes according the where the last rider left the loose rocks. Four white vans nose to tail blocked Down lane as their owners inspected a pylon in the adjoining field. I was impressed they had all made it through the clay wallow which we got to ride twice as we had to turn around. This meant we got to enjoy the water filled slot that is Sun lane on our way to Doughy lane which must see more dog walkers that motors. We crossed Stubbins cross again from a different direction at the end of our last, 37th lane of the day after seventy miles of fun in good company, thank you for coming guys.