#Inbetween land flint zip

More tyre tracks in the moist earth, a sign that others ride here but we still haven’t seen anyone in five hours.

Must remember this section can be dropped from any future routes. Slip slide through boggy ground and sludge in and out of stagnant puddles on a straight line carved through the middle of the forest. Swim through pools of light between trees. Struggle to find the path in the woodland, obscured by vibrant verdant undergrowth. A couple of field edges lead us towards a church spire and an open patisserie.Ī rut hidden under an overgrown grasstrack to road into another forest. Rolling along the road we exit from under the rain and fork onto a grass track beside a field of barley and poppies that slowly rises and morphs into a rooty flinty climb between brambles. A not so inbetween place between the inbetween places I tend to ride. Wet brakes squeal on a swooping tarmac descent to Sept-Meules, a placename I’ve seen on signposts for ten years but never actually been through.

Rumble over tractor tyre tracks in the mud between fields. Hopefully a bit less time spent under damp clouds. Turn right at a junction rather than straight across, we’ll do this side of a square rather than the other three just to end up at the same place. Rain has started to fall and despite knowing we’re ultimately heading to where we can see blue sky our convoluted squiggle of a route keeps turning back into the rain and the wind. The narrow track snakes through woodland, pine needles litter the ground.Īn isolated house stands sentry beside a disused railway line, across the tracks the tarmac disintegrates into gravel and in turn to mud. Shoulder the bikes up a high steep bank and find what we’re looking for. A bit of confusion and turning back and forth trying to match the paths or rather the lack of a path with the map. Another holloway, this time downwards and leaf strewn. Through a wheat field and turn right by the cows. Across a railway bridge to a steep grassy holloway, tyres slipping on wet grass and rutted chalk. Drop down a bank onto a farm track and transported to Tuscany for a moment: White gravel road, row of cyprus trees, farmhouse in the foreground, low hills behind. The trees thin and I realise it’s a silver white field, dry chalky earth speckled with flint glowing in the early light.

A lake flickering between the trees out of the corner of my eye. Two deer bounce across the track ahead of us.Ī fast double track descent from the forest suddenly funnels into a tunnel of trees.

#Inbetween land flint zip

Joining a gravel fire road we zip along a straight line between trees before a sharp switchbacked doubletrack descent spits us out onto a road, straight over and loop back up around the other side, back across the same road and zigzag along more fire roads. Suspended in the air the smell of wild garlic but we can’t see any. Bumping over roots, tyres scrabble for grip on the damp single track, steep little ramps around tree trucks. At the hairpin we leave the road and pass by small red and white bars painted on a tree trunk indicating the trail is part of a long distance Grande Randonnée route. A hare jumps from the verge, races away along the road and disappears into the fields opposite from where it appeared. A pink hue floods the sky as the sun breaches the horizon hidden beyond the hill we’re climbing. A usual road from the port following the Arques valley to the first town inland where we turn over a small stone bridge and start up a narrow lane towards the forest.