Biggin Hill... It's a big 'un

...Or it would be if it was actually called Biggin Hill. Which it isn't.

It's called Westerham Hill and it's about two miles south of the town of Biggin Hill. Which is itself almost as flat as a pancake. And quite possibly not even a town at all. But where would all this leave my clever pun at the head of the blog? I can't think of anything for Westerham. Never ever - not even in your darkest moments - look things up on Google Maps.

After a fantastic but very much gluttonous (pasties, scones, ice cream, Otter beer) long weekend in Devon for Andrea's 30th birthday, I decided on a bank holiday ride out to Westerham in Kent - an area much travelled on previous group rides, but approached from a different angle: an initial flurry south-east from glorious Lewisham to Chiselhurst, then west through Bickley and Bromley Common, before heading south through Leaves Hill (a lovely little village) and Biggin Hill (a terrible, innately deceptive place) to Westerham.

It's a very nice route, all told, if a little 'urban' - there's plenty of ups and downs to test the legs and a few fairly slight but long climbs. And an airport to look at, too, at blummin' Biggin Hill, which by the looks of things is not only an RAF base, but also a proper landing-place for regular flights and travellers. Which made me wonder if anyone, from Italy, say, or Spain, had ever chosen it, on a whim, for their holiday destination. 'You want a taste of semi-rural England, glorious Kent, with its pubs and duck ponds? Then come to Biggin Hill!'

'What? Where's the hill? Never mind about that, Giuseppe.'

Westerham Hill itself (on the return journey) is a proper toughie, but I'm pleased to say that I made it up after a very brief 'vanity stop' about halfway up. It is amazing what a little breather will do for the legs.

A couple of things. The wind: Jonny has already mentioned this, so it must have been the weekend for it, but, gah, it was tough going at times - very strong gusts which always seemed to be blowing into my face no matter what direction I was cycling in. And dangerous, too - on the descent of Westerham Hill, I had to squeeze hard on the brakes after almost being blown off at full speed by a side wind.

Also, I need some biking glasses. All manner of things had collected in my poor peepers by the time I got home - although it was quite satisfying pulling out chunks of gunk.

So about 35-40 miles all told - a very satisfying - if geographically disappointing - livener.