Paulclem

Last night I was teaching in a school a few miles away from where I live, but before I started I had to drop off some paperwork at one of our administrative centres in the south of Coventry - the other side of the city.

I dutifully studied the map, it's always a little urban adventure to try to navigate around unfamiliar roads to a schedule, and I like to find new routes and see new places. So all I had to do was to cycle south and join the A45 and travel west towards my teaching venue. There it was in yellow - for the big road, and green for the fields around. No problem. In fact I suspected that it would be such an easy ride that I would be there before the caretaker opened up, and I would be outside in the cold for a while.

Off I went, past the chippy on the corner, the garage, a smattering of houses and then the last of civilisation until I reached my destination. I turned onto the A45 and began speeding along a very generous cycle path. I was on the wrong side of this dual - two lane - carriageway, but I knew there was a subway to cross near my venue. I was going so fast I just knew I'd be far too early.

So there I was, speeding along downhill and rolling around the lay-bys for the trucks.Until, after a couple of miles, the path ran out. I was somewhat bemused. Why make a path that leads nowhere? No, it must be along the way, I reasoned. It was dark now, and the full beams of the oncoming two lanes were somewhat blinding. It must begin again further on, I thought, though I couldn't see a thing.

The grass verge was a bit bumpy, but I contined to ride until that too ran out, and I was at the side of the road, on the wrong side of the crash barrier, and facing the oncoming traffic - which sped along at an uncomfortably close and fast pace.

I hopped over the barrier, and, not being one to give up easily on the assumption that I was nearly there, I carried on. It was hard going, and I could no longer ride because of the brambles and saplings that alternately scratched my legs and whipped my coat.

I was on an embankment and I went down, with my bike, to see if there was any path across the fields. There wasn't. In fact there was a small river, which I couldn't see very well, and impenetrable thickets of brambles and bushes. I climbed back up the embankment and continued. Frustratingly I could see a small road not far away over the river. I carried on.

Then the road turned. There was no way to cross it. There was no way to cross the river. I just knew it was taking me in the wrong direction, and, with only a vague memory of the actual details of the map, I didn't know which was best. Turn back or carry on. Mindful of the time, I carried on.

I trudged on, still unable to ride. The thing about a bike with a side pack is that it can be a little difficult to balance over rough ground. I was sweating as I trudged on and on and on.

Then I saw a bridge in the distance, though I had no idea where I was now, and I couldn't see anything beyond the lights that spanned it over the road I was on. I couldn't see if there was a track up to it. Finally I got to this bridge, climbed the embankment with the bike, and heaved my machine over the fence.

I now knew where I was. I was about five minutes ride from where had started. I would have been really peed off if I hadn't been glad to get off that dual carriageway. I was now ten minutes later than I planned to arrive with another twenty-five minute ride in front of me. Still, I was happy, and, one more story of my navigational ineptitude, richer.

As it turned out, I had taken the correct road. When I got to the next roundabout along it, there was no way to continue up the A45. I had to follow the road back to near where I had been. Perhaps if I had crossed at the start, I wouldn't have run out of cycle path, but then there was no indication that it would run out.

The most annoying thing about it all was that as I trudged up that road - thinking of all those hundreds of car drivers wondering what the idiot at the side of the road pushing the bike was doing - I kept passing signs. As I turned and looked at them to try to gauge where I was, they all said "Cyclists are advised to use the alternative cycle path". I would like to ask the person in charge how one is supposed to get to these marvellous highways of the saddle, as I could really have done with one last night.