Day 22. The Seedy Underbelly of Bath. August 28th 2010

We spent most of today cycling through the byways of Bath, far outside the tourist zone. If only the public face was as beautiful!

We began in less than lucky fashion and continued in that vein for the rest of the day. We woke from our sleep to the sounds of a familial dispute several tents down. Then, after we began, we were stopped by a ring on Heather's bike breaking down. Fortunately the accident occurred just opposite a bike shop. Actually that’s more than a little suspicious...

Tired already, having hardly gone anywhere, we decided to lunch beside the locks of Bath. Enthralled by the raising and lowering of the boats we decided to take a chance and follow the canals as far as we could. Possibly the best choice we could have made, thought it didn’t take us far, mileage wise. The canals were great. It was such a calm and simple way to travel that it hardly felt like traveling at all. The houses that backed onto the canal, though as plain as the rest of Bath from the front, had taken great pains to beautify their backyards and we passed waterfalls, elaborate stonework and great arches over splendid gardens. There were swans and ducks filling the water and canal boats of vivid colours lining the quays. Even as we left the city the beauty did not stop, instead becoming more tranquil and pastoral. It was wonderful not to have to fight traffic and instead drift along at a leisurely pace that almost matched the boats. But it was not to last.

Eventually we came to a place were the path ended and our poor luck picked up once more. We were told, by a map and a friendly biker, to make our way up a steep hill where we would find a footpath that eventually led back to the canal. The guide, and the map, proved to be wrong. We spent an hour following a path that slowly dwindled to nothing, with no sign of the Canal or another path anywhere. We were forced to double back, where we found that there was small tunnel beneath the canal to a well-defined path on the other side. We biked the last portion of the trail in exhaustion. The canal, while still pretty, had lost its charms and we turned off it at Bradford upon Avon and headed wearily towards our campsite, a small colony of artists between towns. We stopped only to watch the spectacle of a burning barn.

I hope our luck will be better tomorrow.

Next Entry: Day 23. Frome
Previous Entry: Day 21. Bath