Old Harry Rocks
Just before the New Year, on the 29th of December, I’d had enough of staying indoors and fattening up. Something had to be done! I’d been taking the bike out here and there, but I felt like I really needed a challenge—a longer ride, maybe a bit off-road.
While enjoying my morning coffee, I started exploring the Komoot website, looking for a route to take me out there. Challenging, but not something that would kill me quite yet.
Initially, I was thinking of going quite far from home, maybe taking the train back. I researched train times, ticket prices, and whether I could bring my bike on board. The answers were promising, but then I realized that if I followed an off-road route, the bike would be absolutely covered in mud—not the best idea to bring aboard a dirty bike.
The route:
“Okay,” I thought, “I’ll head to Old Harry Rocks and then just follow the bike trail before rejoining the road. That should be fine. Let’s go!” The GPS was charged, as were the safety lights. Headphones in—I might listen to an audiobook. Then came the gear: cycling padded bibs for comfort, especially on bumpy off-road sections; a cycling jersey; thick socks; and waterproof trousers jacket to keep the rain off my skin. I finished gearing up with winter cycling boots and gloves—both waterproof, obviously. I’d invested so much in this cycling gear that it needed to earn its keep!
Bike out of the garage, GPS on, safety lights on, backpack packed. I decided to take my camera—not the best idea, but I figured I could manage some nice pictures. I packed a couple of snacks just in case. I should’ve brought a second jersey for warmth, but I forgot. Water bottles loaded, and off I went—forgetting the bike lock, again!
The first part of the route was familiar—very familiar. I’d ridden through here many times. The initial stretch was part of my daily commute. Just before Upton Country Park, I took a left, following the cycling trail around Holes Bay. I love it here: far from cars, close to the water, with views of wild birds and boats. On a windy day, though, it’s less enjoyable—there’s no protection, and the wind can feel biting and relentless in winter.
After passing the bay, I reached Poole. By the train station, one of the National Bike Trails begins, though I wasn’t joining it there today. I wanted to pass by the quay to enjoy the crowds and noise.
It was busy—maybe too busy. I had to slow down for people many times, but that wasn’t a big problem. I had the whole day ahead of me. Joining the National Bike Trail, I passed Parkstone Bay—a wide cycling path separated from the walking path. The views were stunning, and it was a joy to be there. I stopped to take a picture on my phone.
I followed the route through Lilliput, the posh Sandbanks area, all the way to the cable ferry. This ferry would take me across to the Studland and Godlingstone Nature Reserve. I bought a ticket for the crossing and couldn’t help but laugh—it cost only one pound! Everything feels so expensive these days that this felt almost comical.
The ferry ride took four minutes, and then I was on the other side.
I followed the road briefly before the GPS directed me left onto an off-road path through the reserve. This trail was bumpy, with a fair share of puddles. At one particularly large puddle, I hesitated. “Turn back?” I thought. But then the inner voice chimed in: “Where’s your sense of adventure? Just go through it—you’ll be fine!”
So I went for it. The water was as deep as it looked, and my feet were submerged as I pedalled. Then I hit the mud. My bike got stuck, I lost my balance, and down I went—left foot, left hand, right foot, all soaking in the puddle. Great! I was going to be wet for the rest of the ride.
But I stood up, lifted the bike, and started laughing. It was just water—and mud, lots of mud—but I wasn’t hurt. I used water from my bottle to clean the GPS, handlebars, gloves, and as much mud off as I could. Then I rode on, still laughing.
The trail continued through the reserve, crossing a paved road and winding through bushes and hills. The views were stunning, though the downhill sections were scary. At one particularly steep descent, I decided to walk along the bike. Better safe than sorry.
Eventually, the route led me to Old Harry Rocks. The area was busy with walkers, and I waited for the crowd to finish taking pictures before snapping one myself. After a quick sip of water, I checked the GPS for the next section: a massive three-kilometre climb.
I wasn’t ready for it, and my heart rate skyrocketed. I had to stop, catch my breath, and push the bike more times than I care to admit. But I made it to the top, where a long descent awaited. It was bendy and bumpy—challenging enough to keep me on high alert.
Back on the paved road, I ignored the GPS’s suggestion to return to the off-road trails. Nope, not today. Back to the ferry, across to Sandbanks, and then—oh joy—still 13 kilometres to go. I was ready for bed already!
Hunger struck as I neared home, and I gave in. Stopping at a petrol station, I grabbed a huge bottle of Coca-Cola and some milk. Tesco was closed, but it didn’t matter—I’d forgotten my lock anyway. No way was I leaving the bike unlocked ouside.
At home, I ordered pizza, took a warm shower, and reflected on what a day it had been.
Loved it!
