We were very excited about our route for Monday September 29th: 46 kilometres right through the centre of London, past Westminster and Buck House and Primrose Hill, and on to Finchley in North London where we had reserved a locker to store the bikes in until Spring 2026 when we return to cycle to – possibly – Edinburgh.
When we left The Carvery in Eden Park (fuelled by a ridiculous number of Yorkshire Puddings) it was chilly, and I (Patti) wore mittens for the first half of the ride. We stopped at a hilltop park just south of London and were excited when we could see its tall buildings in the mist in the distance, and then, as we rode on further, more and more signs for familiar landmarks. We crossed onto the north side of the Thames on the Southwark Bridge, smiling the sight of St. Paul’s on our left.
We took a wrong turn – of course! – and ended up on a dead end route that put us into a tunnel where there was a small encampment of unhoused – homeless – people. I was surprised to see them; we’ve actually seen many more unhoused or mentally unwell people and addicts in Toronto than we have the whole time we’ve been travelling in the UK and Europe. That doesn’t mean they don’t exist, but our paths haven’t crossed, as they do when we ride downtown here in Toronto.)
A construction worker got us sorted and before we knew it we were up on the Victoria Embankment, pinching ourselves at being right there with a million other cyclists, majestic statues of sphinxes, Westminster, the newly restored Big Ben (£80m), Buckingham Palace (where throngs of people were waiting for the changing of the guard so we had the whole road to ourselves because they stop all car traffic!!!), and then in the huge and very beautiful Hyde Park where little British girls were having riding lessons on the sandy trail for horses. It was very twee. We made use of a lovely loo (20p).
Travellers’ note: our cycling routes usually put us on deserted roads or through forests where we simply look for “Green Doors” which are basically a random spot where it’s safe to have a wee while the other person spots for you. Free. But frowned on in cities, hence our relief – heh, heh, sorry – at the loo in Hyde Park.
The route then put us on the towpath for the Regent’s Canal which is lined with beautiful residences and filled with narrowboats. It was peaceful and pretty and went on for miles! We stopped for a coffee and split a sandwich in the blistering sunshine in the Primrose Hill neighbourhood. A few miles further we arrived in Finchley, North London and checked into our family-owned guesthouse in a quiet neighbourhood. The owner’s son helped John finagle the bikes into a side garden behind a secure gate. We unpacked and went for a stroll to check out High Road, just in time to see throngs of school kids in various school uniforms happy at being released for the day. Dinner, and bed.
The very short – 28 km – ride from Finchley to St. Albans was a positively idyllic ride until….
Until we we could hear the ominous rumble of a busy highway in the distance. Trucks and fast cars. Lots of them. (Queue anxiety.) We were relieved to discover a ramp that would take us over that highway only to realize that the next part of our route was a shitty, unmaintained bike path that ran right alongside it, separated only by a few feet of grass from trucks screaming past our right shoulders, and carpeted with dead twigs and branches and leaves.
It was a relief to finally turn off the highway onto the next segment of our ride which would turn out to be a repurposed railbed through parkland (and, tantalizingly, past the massive Marks and Spencer distribution warehouse). It was there that I discovered that I now had not just one but two shitty punctures. Luckily, (i) the bike mechanic I travel with wasn’t too far ahead of me, and (ii) we still had puncture kits and (iii) hotel-room cookies to make the repair in the (iv) sunshine. So often, punctures happen on rainy days or bitterly cold ones! The upside/downside outcome of that episode was that, too late, John realized the sense of smell that he thought had been wiped out by Covid was actually still functioning and there was a steaming pile of dog-do right beside where he had started the repair. (Queue the moans…)
About fifteen minutes after we started rolling again – seriously, we were that close to being done the whole ride! – we pulled into Access Storage, pulled the stuff we wanted to leave in the locker out of our panniers, took photos of what we were storing (for reference purposes when we start packing in the Spring), rolled the trikes into their home for the next seven months and locked up. There was a slight kerfuffle just before we did that because we couldn’t find the lock we usually use, but, honestly, if the only things we lost in the whole trip – 24 hotel moves later – were one glove, a computer mouse and a $15 lock, that’s not bad.)
Travellers’ note: storage isn’t cheap. It’s about $125CDN/month, but it’s the only way we can make these holidays where we start and stop in a different location every time, work. We know the bikes are safe from theft, and they are in great condition when we return for our next journey. Essential.
Our Uber delivered us from Access Storage to the Premier Inn in St. Albans.
Travellers’ tip: the Premier Inn isn’t premier. I’m hoping when we return in the Spring that we stay at the Samuel Ryder Hotel. (It’s in the former home of golf legend, Samuel Ryder. Coincidentally, right before we were in St. Albans the Ryder Cup had been played in the US, and the unsporting behaviour of American fans had appalled golf fans around the world. Apparently it was epic. I blame Trump. There, I said it.)
St. Albans is a nice city. Very walkable, and it has an ancient cathedral (most of its architecture dates from Norman times, 11th century) where we, of course, planned to see Evensong at 5:30 (bringing our Evensong tally for the entire trip to five.) It is not the oldest cathedral in England but it is the oldest site of continuous Christian worship in Britain. While their boys’ choir rehearsed – 20 young, sublime voices led by an exacting but encouraging conductor – we walked around the cathedral, down the longest nave in the UK – 85 metres – admiring the Roman bricks in the arches, the painted ceiling in the tower, and the embroideries (needlepoint cushions and kneelers). Photos, below. We sat in the quire for Evensong, and it was thrilling.
The next day – Wednesday October 1 – we would have a half hour train ride back into central London to our hotel, The Gyle, conveniently located to the beautiful Pancras Station, and continue the two-legged vs. three-wheeled part of the trip that we had started a whole month ago!
Enjoy listening to the choir in this video. Photos at the bottom.
I like your rhyme scheme of
Twee P wee and free
lol
Say it fast
Xx
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