I awoke to a misty start to the day, but after a filling breakfast and a leisurely start to the ride, the skies brightened and the sun made its customary appearance. Rugby was dispensed with in short order. The part of town I saw seemed to consist almost exclusively of large and stylish detached red brick houses, most of which appeared to be in some way connected to the famous private school responsible for the eponymous sport. As I cycled out of town on a quiet road, I passed smart sports fields that contained at least ten separate rugby pitches. They clearly take it quite seriously.
I was heading across country to Milton Keynes so that I could dash home to see close friend in a Led Zeppelin tribute band in a suburban pub in Sheffield. These opportunities are not to be missed, and I felt it was a justified interruption to normal cycling business. Milton Keynes is on the mainline between London and Manchester, so it was a relatively easy thing to do, and I would hopefully be able to get back again a couple of days later without special difficulty. My train was in the early afternoon, and I had enough time to enjoy the cycling without pressure.
This part of the country is crossed by a number of canals, and I seemed to see boats and bridges today at regular intervals. Just after crossing the M1 my route took me past the large Whilton Marina (where you can “Realise your dream”), with a huge number of canal narrow boats and associated chandlery, cafe and other boating sales and services. More than once I paused on humped back bridges to watch someone puttering along underneath on a stretch of rural canal. It is a very relaxing way to travel. You don’t get very far very quickly, but you are largely isolated from the outside world and able to enjoy the peace of your watery green corridor. As with cycling, you get there eventually, but it doesn’t pay to be in a hurry.
I had just crossed a canal bridge and was heading down a gentle hill towards a small Northamptonshire village when I noticed three people walking in a line up the hill towards me. Further back was a small car. Something about the whole scene didn’t seem quite right; but I couldn’t place what it was. The car was holding back, so I did, too. As we neared each other, I realised that the people at the front and back of the walking party were, indeed, people. However, the creature walking along in between them was not, in fact, a person at all. It was a swan! This was not at all what I expected. The lady at the front said that it had been chased from someone’s garden and they were trying to help it to the canal. It seemed to understand and kept slapping one webbed foot down after the other, progressing at a pretty typical walking speed. But they still had a good way to go.
A man got out of the small car and came across to offer help. I can carry it if you want, he said. Everyone was a little surprised by this offer. It’s not difficult, he said. He walked up behind the swan, wrapped one arm around and underneath it and took hold of its neck with his other hand, lifting it off the ground. The swan made a submissive noise and allowed itself to be carried away up the road at a brisk pace. Amazing.
I continued to pass through attractive, yellow stone villages and in one they had a pop up cafe in the village hall. This was perfect timing and I allowed myself a break. It was popular inside and most people seemed to know each other. I’d guess it was run by volunteers and they took a while to deliver my poached eggs on avocado toast, but it was worth the wait and everyone was very friendly. I was back on the bike before the timing got too tight. I was sneaking up on Milton Keynes from above and wondering if it would notice. I passed through a couple of quite handsome places, like Roade and Hanslope, that seemed to have a good range of shops and other local services, but without lots of traffic. Hanslope had a very tall, slender church spire that was visible from afar.
And then the country lanes just seemed to suddenly turn into dual carriageways with a succession of roundabouts and Milton Keynes was upon me. I didn’t see much in the way of houses. They were hidden away behind trees. But for a few miles I gratefully followed well signed cycle paths and suddenly emerged in the beating heat of MKC, right by the train station. I had time to buy food and then head for the platform where I knew the Avanti West Coast train would accommodate me in a locked bike compartment at the very front of the train, by the driver. This was OK today, because I was travelling to Manchester, the last station, and couldn’t be forgotten about. But I still had to be let on by a member of station staff. There are many ways that bikes get carried on trains and I am something of an aficionado by now, but these are the only trains I know where you require the assistance of staff to get on or off. It’s quite disconcerting. And I would have it all to face again in a couple of days time when I made this journey in reverse. But that was for another day. Right now I was more concerned about how on earth anyone would be able to sing remotely like Robert Plant.
