The Wrecker Recce: Exmoor, Quantocks and the Coast

Scouting the second sector of a UK gravel ultra from Land’s End to London

This is the second part of scouting The Wrecker, a long-distance ultra gravel route from Land’s End to London. If you missed it, the first recce covered the opening stretch from Land’s End to Barnstaple.

Myself and my friend Harry Horseman rolled out of Barnstaple just after midday. Not ideal, but that was the hand we’d dealt ourselves.

The early miles didn’t really settle. A bit of road, a bit of trail, then Exmoor started doing Exmoor things: mud, grass, cows, gates, and a frankly unreasonable amount of climbing.

The gates deserve their own mention. There are a lot of gates around there. A lot. Gates must be cheap. Buy one, get eight free.

Another gate. Then another. Then another after that.

It was good riding though. Not easy, not smooth, not fast, but good. Technical, physical, and constantly asking for attention. You’re picking lines, seeking out the trail, crossing fields, dealing with peat, bog, hard grass and little awkward sections that look harmless until they aren’t.

There are odd patches of perfect gravel, just enough to lift the mood, then they disappear again as if the budget ran out halfway through.

We didn’t see a soul for long stretches. Just a few Exmoor ponies watching us pass, looking entirely unconvinced by the whole project.

We crossed a couple of fords. I rode them. Harry took a more reflective approach involving stepping stones.

I rode it. Harry had other ideas.

Then the rain came in and put an end to any romantic ideas about bivvying. We dropped into the Doone Valley, headed for Lynmouth, and threw money at an old coaching inn instead. Dry walls, hot baths and a decent supper beat wet fields.

Next morning started with a very good breakfast, which did a lot of emotional repair work.

Then it was straight back onto Exmoor.

This is what progress looks like on Exmoor. Slow, deliberate, slightly uphill.

There’s a reason not many people ride across it. It isn’t impossible, it just doesn’t want you there. Properly remote. Dark skies, no light pollution, the sort of place where camping feels like it should be allowed, even if it isn’t. We passed through the Exmoor Dark Sky Discovery Trail, which gives you a fair idea of how far out you are.

We pushed up towards Dunkery Beacon, not just the highest point on Exmoor but the highest point between Land’s End and London. It was also about the only place we saw anyone. And, tellingly, about the only place with something resembling gravel. Even that was technical. The descent almost harder than the climb, just a lot faster.

Progress across the moor was slow. We’re both competent off-road riders and still struggled to make 50 km in four hours. That tells you what the riding is like. Despite that, I picked up three Strava cups, which tells you everything about how few people ride across Exmoor.

You don’t roll across Exmoor.
You earn it.

No signal, no noise, no one else. Just how it is out here.

We told ourselves we were halfway to London. Most of the climbing done. Highest point ticked off.

That’s what the numbers said.

The riding disagreed.

After a late lunch and a reset, the Quantock Hills changed the mood completely. One proper climb up, then ridge-top gravel, space to move, and finally some rhythm. We picked up an old drover’s road, wide and wooded, built for livestock long before gravel bikes became a thing. Beech trees, bluebells, old boundaries still etched into the banks.

Then suddenly it flows. The Quantocks doing their bit.

After Exmoor, it felt almost generous. The average pace crept back up. Riding became something you could enjoy again, not just manage.

We bivvied in woods at the far end of the Quantocks, just before the route drops back into civilisation.

Next morning we came down towards Bridgwater. Strange place. It sits on the River Parrett, alongside the Bridgwater and Taunton Canal. You get the sense it used to matter. There’s good architecture from different periods, including a Tudor-fronted building now housing a Wetherspoons, but the centre feels hollowed out. Empty shops, a bit of drift. Still, there’s a good breakfast café, so not all is lost.

From there the route finally flattened out. River Parrett cycle paths, actual flat gravel, and a recovery run towards Highbridge, Burnham-on-Sea and Brean.

Stay on the firm stuff and keep it moving.

Then onto the beach itself. Proper sand riding. You have to read it, stay out of the soft stuff, and keep it moving. Perfectly feasible, but still draining. Tide-dependent too. At high tide, that section won’t go, so the fallback is National Cycle Route 33 inland.

After that we picked up a proper cycle route again towards Bleadon Hill, then rolled into Weston-super-Mare to catch the train home. Time had run out.

Next recce: the Mendips, Bath and the Ridgeway. Probably the last properly hilly section before things ease off.

Probably.

Final thoughts: Exmoor is harder than expected. The Quantocks are better than expected. The coast is strange, flat and oddly good fun. The Wrecker is still shaping up as a route you manage rather than follow.

Which, unfortunately, is exactly the point.

End of this section. Tide going out, legs not far behind.