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We all turned up at Malcolm’s to load our stuff into the van for an action-packed weekend away at a Youth Hostel in Welsh Bicknor (map ref). (Youth Hostel, I hear you gasp ... they’ll be applying for Young Person’s Rail Cards next ... !). So with cycles, Ale, lunch, music and other essential appliances required by the Modern Morris Man all aboard the van, we set off into the traffic jams of the M25.
After some hours, battling with Mobile Phone Technology, we
eventually communicated an urgent message to get the other party
to turn their phones on by a show of inappropriate hand signals.
The result was that we emerged at Membury Services on the M4 for
a Natural Break (the Older Male will understand what I mean), and
proceeded into the Services under the watchful eye of the CCTV
system. This didn’t deter some members of the Side from
dressing in this year’s Jolly Boys Fashion Theme, which was
as old ladies, complete with handbags and knitting, courtesy of
Oxfam ... causing some confusion at the Gent’s (pic).
Restoring a semblance of Order and Discipline, we lined up the Side and did a display of Vandals of Hammerwich (oddly appropriate in retrospect) to the amusement of the passing crowds. This being done, we packed up and departed, turning off the M4 towards Gloucester, arriving at Kemply Dymock Woods for lunch. (Charlie had been invited, but had a last minute engagement elsewhere). On the way, we passed Wyvale Nurseries, specialists in Wholesale Transplants, one member rudely suggesting that Furleigh should call in to have a job lot done.
Lunch was unwrapped and we all tucked in, French
Bread, cheese, pate, ham etc etc, plus a glass or two of Ale,
followed by cakes. 
The "Ladies"
proved troublesome, and were confined to the stocks for a while 
(pic). But now was Round One of the Conker
Championships - see Action Photo - 
much
huffing and posturing, mostly to no avail.
Next, cycle time. Now, the map showed a mere 15 miles to the
Youth Hostel, but we hadn’t reckoned on this region being on
the approaches to Wales. Accustomed to Kent, where the slightest
hill is bound to have a Mountain Lane, we soon found that even
pushing the bikes along the flat was hard work, let alone up the
hills. We persevered, and arrived at Hole in the Wall, a
hamlet having an interesting name but nothing much to commend it,
being a few houses, a river and a road, but not even a name sign,
and certainly nowhere to stick your Cashcard. 
So we departed, and crossed the river by a small suspension
bridge 
(pic) then pedalled over the hills to
Ross-on-Wye. Ken’s chain fell off numerous times, and there
was nearly as much cursing as exertion .. why can’t these
folk afford a steam roller to flatten out the roads a bit ???
Oh for a cuppa ..and at Ross Spur, just outside Ross-on-Wye, we happened upon a village hall with a mobile history of medicine exhibition, offering cups of tea from a large brown teapot, AND biscuits. Duly fortified (and educated), we continued our way, past Flanesford Priory, again pushing the bikes over the hill-and-a-half to get to the Youth Hostel at Welsh Bicknor.
After supper, off to the Local for refreshment, through the woods by torchlight. Soon, we were down to the River Wye, searching for the old railway bridge that would take us on our way to the Pub. We found a bridge, but you could see the sky thorough the girders. What ? - who’s going over this in the dark? But a way was found, as part of the bridge had flooring and handrails, and was clearly set up as a footpath.
A Full English breakfast, fit for Kings and Jolly Boys, then
down to the river Wye to await the canoes, 
(pic) three to a canoe.“Gentlemen,
you’re not children,” the instructor told us, “so
wear your life jackets, avoid the bad bits, and take care through
the rapids”. Off we paddled, a Flotilla of Jolliness,
admiring the scenery as we went downstream. Arriving at the
Saracen’s Head for Lunch without incident - and almost
without rain - we admired the river traffic and canoeists.
Outside the Saracen’s is an ancient Hand Ferry to Symonds
Yat West 
(pic), the ferryman
drawing the boat by a rope looped over another rope drawn taut
over the river. 
(pic)
Suitably refreshed, we set sail again 
(pic)
.. with the rapids some 300yards away. Aha, this is fun, over the
first rapid ... then a wave tilted our canoe, and the three of us
gave an impromptu demonstration of Unsynchronised Swimming - the
life jackets certainly worked! The others rallied to help, and we
soon had the boat righted, and continued downstream to Monmouth
Boat Club without further excitement, save to avoid the Coxless
Fours rowing bravely upriver, urged on by a coach in a launch
with a megaphone.
Back to the hostel for a homecooked supper, then to the real business of songs and the Old Ladies fashionable attire. One of the hostel staff, known as the Czech Girl (as she wore a blue and white check kitchen apron), joined us with a lady friend, and what with music, dancing, jolly capers and Singing Fish in two varieties, a truly Jolly Time was had by all.
Following another Even Fuller English Breakfast, Packing Up was the order of the day. We decided to save the traditional Kippers for barbecue at our lunch time stop, which took place at the Cotswold Water Park and Wild Fowl Reserve, made from converted gravel pits near Somerford Keynes. We walked around, trying out the exercise bars and volley ball court as we went. But the Gods were against us, as there was not an ounce of barbecue charcoal to be found, so we took the kippers home for tea instead.
It was also Ken’s birthday, and we presented him with a tin of Ambrosia Creamed Rice, which he said was Deeply Moving, both on consumption that evening, and on the following morning.
And here endeth the Jolly Boys 2000 report!
Greg - 12 Oct 2000
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