Wednesdays Route

Wednesdays Story

We went to breakfast that morning unaware that the guesthouse owner knew exactly what time we had the taxi pick us up, what we ate and drank and who else was in the pub etc etc, it's a small place Rookhope and everyone knows everyone else. We bade our farewells after breakfast and a long chat about Stoke City FC as our host was a long distance supporter but made as many trips back to the Potteries as he could during the season. As we rode our bikes down the track to rejoin the road an RAF fighter jet soared down the valley, we thought 'How nice to arrange a military salute for our last day of cycling', sadly we were just traversing their training route. There is something quite disturbing about standing on a hillside waving at a pilot whose face you can see as he is manoeuvring so close to the landscape.

The ride down to Stanhope was a steady descent, with a great deal of sheep dodging! Once at the bottom, we followed the road that outskirts the town and then we were faced with a very picturesque but scary ascent up what seemed like a sheer face with houses built on it. We just about managed to overtake a lorry, which was struggling more than us, but we gave in towards the top and pushed for a while. We were now faced with the last major rural stretch, the moorlands stretched for miles with a splurge of colour here and there due to the heather. After more sheep dodging we had joined the official purpose built trail for the C2C, never more had the words 'stay on the road, don't stray onto the moors' seemed more real as the numerous abandoned mine shafts in this area made it a bit like walking a minefield (pardon the pun!). Just after joining this section we stumbled across one of the famous C2C characters - The Waskerley Way.

Standing alone in the middle of the moors is a partially built house, men beaver around it fitting window frames, pointing and brick laying, then behind the house is the famous Sustran's caravan. Hot drinks, souvenirs and that all important toilet stop are available and of course the C2C story telling takes place here, tales are traded of exploits and adventures. After a quick warm in front of the Calor Gas heater, a comfort break and a stamp on the card, we set off again. By now it was lunchtime, we were hungry and the day seemed to be passing too quickly. We were facing the possibility we may not make it to Sunderland that evening.

We stopped at a pub by the large roundabout just outside Consett and took up our usual position in the corner with a few spare chairs to dry clothes. The landlord had asked us very politely to go through to the bar / snug as we were so wet and muddy - we were just grateful for food and warmth. This was a real working man's bar and we eagerly awaited our pie and chips lunch. An old man casually wandered over to our table and began to undo his trousers ! One of the locals rushed over and grabbed him by the arm to lead him to the gents. Another came over to us and in a very soft Geordie accent apologised profusely that the gentleman sometimes gets confused and was looking for the toilet which he knew was around the corner. We just kept thinking this was the first time for four hours we had been dry (as we had just changed our clothes) and they had very nearly become prematurely wet.

After lunch we set off on the home run. Can we warn you at this point that this will seem to be the longest stretch of the ride and although very pretty, you feel as though you are riding the wrong way as the distance doesn't seem to get any shorter. We crossed a railway footbridge to be greeted by the Angel of the North in the distance; we couldn't be that far from Sunderland could we? The route was now all purpose built and mostly landscaped either side, it felt as though we were cycling through the biggest Victorian Park in the world.

Finally we could hear traffic and found ourselves running parallel with a major road (A1231 with signs for the city centre) and a river (River Wear). The end was in sight.

The big surprise about the River Wear was how many coves and caves exist quite far up the estuary. No doubt many a pirate had his hoard stashed in these parts! Our next major landmark was to come upon us shortly, the Stadium of Light. We took the obligatory photos of us with the stick men sculptures and then proceeded towards our final destination.

At this stage, you are no longer sheep dodging, but school kid dodging as numerous excursions have classmates drawing the Sculpture Trail at various points. Then once through the marina, the promenade was in sight; we rode down Roker Pier and asked a friendly angler to take a photo. We then went down to the beach & the waters edge, dipped our wheels in the North Sea and asked a friendly dogwalker to take another photo. Sadly his dog was not so friendly and he left us abruptly to chase after it as the dog chased after a small screaming toddler up the beach. The Sunderland coast is very flat and being from the other side of the country we are used to being able to see the coastline to our left and right, but the North Sea from the beach seemed such a heady expanse and horror of horrors, the sun had come out and we had a blue sky (was someone trying to tell us something!)

That night we dined in one of Sunderland's top restaurants, managed to stay awake until after 10pm and then headed back to our guesthouse satisfied that it was all a job well done.