Familiar Ground
It’s that time of year to start thinking about summer trips, which is always exciting. Personally, mine tend to be a bit last-minute and spur of the moment. With so much going on, it’s hard to plan a bike trip too far in advance. I kind of like it that way, as planning too far ahead can build up too much anticipation and create an idea of how everything should pan out. When it’s last-minute, you just hit the road with an open mind and fewer preconceived expectations about how it’s going to go.
I’ve said it before, but one of my favourite things about bike touring is having the bare minimum you need to get by, no matter how many days you’re out for. It’s one of the most freeing feelings, and as someone who generally dislikes having too many things in life, bike touring is a very happy place for me. I get that it’s not for everyone, but for me it taps into something primal — a way of existing that just feels right. Especially growing up in the ’80s and ’90s, having experienced life before technology and social media took over, it offers a glimpse of how things used to be.
It’s always been clear to me how spoiled we are with the quality of trails we have in the forest, along with the hills and coastal views the Purbecks offer. But that becomes even more apparent when you start riding in other areas, especially when it’s part of a larger UK route that someone has pieced together. I’m always grateful for the effort that goes into creating these routes, but if I’m honest, some of the terrain can be less enjoyable. You can almost guarantee that riding in the UK means crossing a fair few fields, and there’s just something about riding across grass that isn’t all that fun, in my opinion.
A few of us rode King Alfred’s Way a few years back, and although parts of it were really fun, there were definitely sections I’d happily avoid. We started in Salisbury, as it’s close to where I live, and day one heading north towards Swindon was a lot of grass and deep singletrack. After a day of smacking pedals on narrow, overgrown trails, it was a relief to get up onto the chalky Ridgeway. That section was incredible wide-open tracks, amazing views, and plenty of spots to stop, chill, and take it all in.
Once you reach the end of the Ridgeway, you pass Reading and start heading south again before hitting the ever-rolling terrain of the South Downs. Another highlight of the route, with adrenaline-fuelled descents that give you just enough momentum to tackle the inevitable climb that follows. The final stretch between Winchester and Salisbury is much like the opening section towards Swindon — fields and less-than-ideal singletrack.
Although it might sound like I’m complaining about a route someone took the time to plan, what I’m really trying to express is a deeper appreciation for how lucky we are to have such great trails on our doorstep. If you haven’t been down to the New Forest, I’d highly recommend it. There are endless trails to ride, plenty of campsites, and lots of spots where you can set up camp without being bothered by a soul. The same can be said for the Purbecks, you could easily spend a full weekend in either of these places and never ride the same trail twice.
In the end, it’s not really about how far you go or how perfect the route is. It’s about getting out and riding, properly riding, and letting everything else fall into place. Some of the best experiences come from the simplest setups, the most unplanned trips, and the places you end up when you’re not overthinking it. That’s something I keep coming back to with bikes in general. They don’t need much to be meaningful. Just a bit of time, a bit of intention, some good company and the willingness to go and see what’s out there.