A morning cafè stop was necessary to ward off the cold (well, Moretonhampstead has to exist for some reason). Martin pretended he hadn't had breakfast, so justifying his two helpings of cheese on toast, while Richard made do with an enormous slice of cake. Thus fortified we headed towards Castle Drogo, where we split up: Martin rode the Hunter's Path in the opposite direction to normal, and Richard took the road, meeting up at Clifford Bridge.

Later on at a stop for a breather, Martin looked pensive. "You've gone very quiet," remarked Richard. "I'm just listening to your puncture," he replied, and he was right.

On the way back we searched in vain for a bridlepath the map showed running from the Claycutters Arms to Heathfield, and got our bikes very muddy in the process.