Cantii Tales

In my ice-cold feet, soaked socks and mud-filled cleats there is an answer. The question I’d set out to answer is how badly can it go when an unfit middle-aged, bikepacking novice and gravel virgin sets out to ride 234km around Kent on his own? The answer my very soggy feet are telling me, is pretty badly.

I waddle out of what I suspect is the only deep muddy puddle in the whole of the ‘Garden of England’ after a week of dry weather and curse my lack of bike-handling skills. Then I pause and realise that with aching legs, one sunburned arm, no idea where I am and with around 100km left to ride that I didn’t even need to be here.

I’m stood in Orlestone Forest (I think) because when I planned this route in my usual gung-ho style I decided to insert a couple of extra off-road sections to spice up the experience – something Cycling UK, who developed the Cantii Way route I’m tracing, actively encourage. But in a blind panic as my front wheel bogged down in a deceptively deep puddle, I unclipped. Now my feet will remain wet for the rest of the