Today began not from the centre of town but from the homestead. I think I will be forgiven for this bit of cheating as today was also the longest ride yet; to the far reaches of the Metropolitan Line.
I made an early rediscovery: the Grand Union Canal. I think the next challenge will be cycling the whole length of it; Saturday morning it was quiet, and I shot out to Wembley in no time.
I managed to find a few quiet roads to get through Hillingdon (which is roughly the size of Poland). But every turn seemed to take me up another hill. My reward came on the other side of the M25. Farms, horses, blackberry bushes (although only 1 berry in 10 was edible).
But the true indication that I was no longer in London came when an absolute stranger said hello outside Amersham station. Goodbye big city.
From there it's a mercifully short couple of miles to Chesham, and the furthest extent of the Tube.
Chesham has probably the smallest station on the Underground; me, an old lady and her dog barely fit inside. We're out there all right, and it's a long way back.
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