Spring into the Lakes 2015

[Deano]

Day 1 - Darlo to Buttermere

hill-dodging - trains and planes and BFO wagons - not so hill-dodging

https://www.strava.com/activities/292389376

The weather forecast was fine for the next couple of days. Not that I'd studied weather charts and long-term forecasts or owt, I was just lucky enough to be striking a spell of decent weather.

And it was good. I caught quiet trains over to Carlisle and rode south via the b-road through Dalston to Caldbeck. Gosh, that's a big hill up to the transmitter.

I was pleased to discover that the Old Smithy Tearoom in Caldbeck has re-opened, though sadly they'd ran out of cheese scones and I had to solace myself with a fruit scone.

The northern fells had been looming ever closer as I rode south, and Caldbeck Common provided cracking views of the Skiddaw Range, Blencathra to the left, and for once, my ride across the common wasn't directly into the wind.

West Cumbria! Not raining!

I went shopping in Cockermouth, and rolled around the back way into Buttermere. Someone at the hostel pointed out that Keswick is closer, but I wasn't hacking over Newlands or Honister with 5 kg of food on my back, carried in a Rose gym bag with string straps. I stopped a few times, including at Bassenthwaite for photos:

I was also looking forward to trying out my new (ish - I've had it since January, but I've been waiting for decent weather) bike on a few hills and over a few days. Note the pimpy yellow tyres - they were a bargain at Planet X. I'd prefer black, but I'll take any colour at a tenner apiece. And it looks alright. Apart from me being a bit incompetent (more of which later), the bike performed flawlessly.

Crummock Water

I couldn't check in to the hostel until 5, so I pissed about a bit, stopping to have a look at Crummock, and making myself a cheese sarnie, but once I had checked in, and since the weather was glorious, I went out for a loop of Honister in the evening:

https://www.strava.com/activities/292392857

Honister is possibly the most impressive of the Lakeland passes to approach. It's certainly the most daunting, even in perfect weather. Towering crags and dark rocks loom all around as you pass the v of Fleetwith Pike, and the road crosses and re-crosses the beck until you see it rise up to the dark slate walls erected at the slate mine, which is almost (but not quite) the top.

Honister from Gatescarth

Leafless trees occasionally jut from the tough soil at the roadside, still waiting for spring. It's a bleak place.

But, I made it to the top, and I was really enjoying the descent, until the cattle grid and the last steep bit down to Borrowdale, where I had to stop as a massive artic was roaring up the other way. I hope he was heading to the slate mine, otherwise he was following his GPS and shit out of luck.

I glanced back after he'd passed, and got my second fright, as a huge old prop plane was making a low pass of the valley. It curved away towards Seathwaite and Scafell, I was a bit slow with my camera:

I got my rhythm going again and I was flying down Borrowdale when someone shouted my name - turned out to be my brother-in-law, camping in Borrowdale for a few days' walking. We had a bit of a chinwag, and I rolled up to Keswick and back to Buttermere over Newlands. The only slight problem was that the "main" road through Newlands was blocked as one of the hump-backed bridges (which I always think really make the Lakeland landscape) was unsafe to cross, and the diversion went along the even narrower road through Little Town. It passes under the brow of Cat Bells, so this is no bad thing.

Cat Bells from Little Town

Newlands Valley

There were a few cyclists coming back up the damn-steep road as I descended to Buttermere, and what a descent. I rode back up into the sunlight at the top, and descended into the shadows and a quick pint at the Fish Hotel, sitting outside in the warmth, looking out across the lake to Haystacks and High Stile, before returning to the YHA for tea.

Days 2, 3, and 4, with more misadventures and tales of general incompetence to follow...

[Peter]

Well, that all looks pretty run-of-the-mill, Dean.  I'm glad I stayed in Rochdale!

[Canardly]

There seemed to be the odd lump or two there Deano. Excellent snaps. What was the hostel like?

[Deano]

It's a cracking hostel. No computers, virtually no mobile connection. Slightly smelly shared kitchen, a bit ramshackle. Just what you want in a hostel. I got a great deal too - £8 a night, which, as my B-i-L pointed out, was only two quid more a night than he was paying to camp in a field.

The best bit is sitting out front and watching the sun set over the hills. Sour Milk Gill pours down the hillside opposite, and when it's quiet, you can hear the rush of water over the valley.

(I'm still working on day two, it's been a busy day)

[Karla]

That's a shiny bike you've got there.  I'm guessing your total load is a tad lighter than your setup on the Roughstuff?

[menthel]

Not jealous at all. Honestly. Wah.

Looking forward to further updates and living vicariously through someone else's fun!

[Deano]

That's a shiny bike you've got there.  I'm guessing your total load is a tad lighter than your setup on the Roughstuff?

Dunno. Who weighs their bikes?

[Deano]

Day 2 - Loop of the Lakes

(from Buttermere YHA, Crummock, Loweswater, Mockerkin, Lamplugh, Kirkland, Ennerdale Bridge, Cold Fell, Calder Bridge, A595, Gosforth, Santon Bridge, Eskdale Green, Hardknott Pass, Cockley Beck, Wrynose Pass, Little Langdale, Skelwith Bridge, Drunken Duck, Hawkshead, Newby Bridge, Gummer's How, Bowland Bridge, Crosthwaite, Crook, gated road, A591, Ambleside, The Struggle, Kirkstone Pass, Patterdale, Glenridding, Matterdale End, Troutbeck, Mungrisdale, Hesket Newmarket, Caldbeck, Caldbeck Common, Orthwaite, A591, Keswick, Portinscale, Little Town, Newlands Pass, Butttermere YHA)

mirror mirror - heat and haze - jammin' -  Strugglin' - beer and hills

https://www.strava.com/activities/292418009

I occasionally tell people that I went to West Cumbria once and it didn't rain. No one believes me.

Not only was Thursday completely dry, but it was hot. Well, warmer than I'm acclimatised for after riding through a British winter, anyway. If I have any real criticism, there was a bit of a haze on the hills throughout the day, which took the edge off the views.

Not that the views were bad to start with - there was hardly any wind, and Mellbreak was reflected perfectly in Crummock Water.

I had planned this day as a DIY 200, and a hilly one, hilly enough that I had doubts about whether I'd be able to complete it within the time limit. So I didn't hang about for many pictures. Besides, I was travelling light, and only had my phone with me.

Pressing on, I quickly passed a similarly-becalmed Loweswater and out to West Cumbria. I have ridden this way before, in such thick cloud and rain that I didn't recognise any of the views, though I did recognise Sellafield, and waved to our friendly local nuclear clean-up scientist.

The route I'd planned linked a few of the famous Lakeland passes, but I knew the tough bits would be the, erm, rolling terrain inbetween. West Cumbria is just a series of ups and downs, crossing all the rivers and becks pouring into the Irish Sea. I stopped to top up my bottle in Gosforth, as I wasn't sure if the friendly little shop in Eskdale Green would still be there, and there's nowt else until Hardknott Pass. The shop is still there, actually, and there do seem to be plenty of pubs catering to cyclists and other lost souls in Eskdale nowadays, so I needn't have worried.

I passed a few cyclists on the route to Hardknott. There was one old dude who looked like Skeletor's dad, and a gang of MTB-ers who I'm sure were the same lot who were coming the other way from Newlands at the end of my day. I'd love to know what route they were on.

There's probably a lot to be said about Hardknott, the remoteness, the steepness, the isolation. My main impression was judderiness. You can hardly blame the road builders, but the tarmac just rolls back down the hill as soon as they've laid it and it felt as though I was climbing an extra foot for every yard. The lumps were bad enough on the climb, but on the descent it was a bit scary, especially with nervous motorists coming back up the other way.

I'd set off fairly early, when there was still a nip in the air, and I was maftin' on the climb up Hardknott. I had to pause in Cockley Beck to strip down to my jersey. Thankfully it was fairly quiet, and I didn't show off my white belly to any passers-by.

Wrynose is a different beast to Hardknott. Really, there's just one bastard steep section, then a brief plateau to the Three Counties Stone. It was actually quite busy, and I didn't bother stopping this time, but here's an old photo.

Clouds were a bit lower that day

The descent of Wrynose into Little Langdale is also quite a different animal. It forms a natural amphitheatre in the central Lakes, and the views (when I could take my eyes off the road ahead) go on forever.

Well, at least as far as the Volvo which I was chasing. One of the joys of cycling in the Lakes is chasing down cautious motorists who don't quite know how to drive around the narrow roads and down the steep gradients.

There was a bit of a traffic jam up ahead, with a little Peugeot 206 sitting resolutely in the middle of the road, and forcing the driver coming back up to manoeuvre to his right into the passing place. I shuffled past on the verge and enjoyed the rest of the descent.

Once I hit the little hills in Little Langdale, my pace slowed, and I heard the Peugeot  catching me up. I pulled aside into a passing place and waved the driver by.

I shouldn't have bothered - there was a 4x4 coming the other way, and the same tableau ahead of me. The Peugeot sitting resolutely in the middle of the road, refusing to move left into the passing place. Eventually the driver started to reverse down the hill. She hadn't really noticed me behind her, so I pulled a quick u-turn and took shelter in a handy lane. Which she decided to pull into. The driver of the 4x4 passed a comment at me - I just shrugged, it was a bit crazy, but no harm done. I stopped to take a few photos and let the Peugeot get a long way ahead.

I rolled into Chesters by the Bridge in Skelwith Bridge, mainly for a top-up of my bottle, but I decided to eat while I was there. It was busy (being nearly lunchtime), and I just grabbed a sausage roll and the most enormous cheese scone I've ever eaten. The rest of the food looked good, too, but I wanted something quick and easy, and it was proper sausage inside that roll.

Skelwith Bridge was a brief foray onto the busier roads, and I was soon back off into the lanes, up to the Drunken Duck and down towards Hawkshead. I skirted Hawkshead Hill, and I was really pummeling the gears, big-ringing it through Hawkshead village and past Esthwaite Water.

It was that moment when the arm of my base layer, inadequately-wrapped around my saddlebag, broke free, fell into the chain and was dragged into the front mech, where it jammed. Bugger. I freewheeled to a halt and spent a frustrating five minutes trying to get my multi-tool at a angle where I could hold the cable tension in place and tighten the bolt.

It seemed to work, and I rode on down to Newby Bridge at the south of Windermere, looking for somewhere to grab more water and maybe a can of Coke, but Lakeside and Newby Bridge just seemed to be lines of hotels, and what's worse, my bodge hadn't been entirely successful, as I could shift from the little ring to the big ring, but not back down. I paused at the turning off the main A592 Windermere-Keswick Road and lifted the chain onto the little ring for the climb up Gummer's How.

After the brief interlude on the busy roads around Windermere, it was a pleasure to be back on quiet lanes, climbing up and up, with the views of the lake opening up to my left. There's also a pub on the descent which advertises 1,000 beers, that needs testing out at some point.

I stopped at the shop in Bowland Bridge for a banananana and to give my front mech a couple of kicks. My base layer (now firmly strapped around the saddlebag) had actually opened it up a bit, snd I didn't fancy big-ringing it up the Struggle.

It seemed to work, and the Struggle was a ways away yet. I reckon the toughest bits of the day's riding were the wee up-and-down lanes, rather than the grand, famous passes. The tiny lanes after Crook were tough up-and-downs, which I had expected, though I hadn't spotted all the gates on the OS map. I didn't enumerate them, but I would guess that there were about a million. Still beats the main roads, though.

I did have to hit the main road to my next control, but it was a usable cycle path followed by a long, fast, grin-inducing descent to Windermere. Never mind the climbs in the Lakes, look at those whooshy descents..

For some reason my GPS started telling me I was offcourse in Ambleside, but I overruled it, as I know the way up the Struggle. It wasn't that bad, though I hadn't managed to find a bin in Ambleside, and I was mainly worried about the empty water bottle in my back pocket slipping out. I'm not sure I'd have had the fortitude to go back and get it if it had fallen out, and thankfully it didn't.

The Struggle has a downhill bit in the middle before the last pull to the pub, where the road was thronged with walkers, and some runners. I told a pair that they wouldn't keep up that pace for long, and their response was to break into military chants: "I don't know what I've been told..."

There were also a couple of "well dones", which I appreciated, and then (assuming you don't stop at the pub) there's that descent to Brotherswater. Is there a finer road in England?

I felt as though I'd broken the back of the ride there, and relaxed with a stop in Patterdale. I realised how hungry I was when I kept going back into the shop for more food, coffee...

The remainder of the route was equally lovely, passing around the Skiddaw massif through Mungrisdale and Hesket Newmarket, across Caldbeck Common and back under Great Cockup Fell to Bassenthwaite and Keswick. The evening light was lovely, I had loads of time, and I paused for a pint in Portinscale. I didn't see any point in trying to finish under 12 hours when a pint and a stop to time the sunset with my ride back over Newlands was so tempting. Either my concerns over time had been unfounded, or my plan had been right. With nearly 4,000 metres of climbing in 206 km, I think the latter.

Newlands was as grand as you'd expect.

And the last act was the rip-roaring descent to Buttermere. To think I nearly came back in around the back via Cockermouth.

[

A grand day out on the bike. The day before, I had been a bit jealous of the walker at the hostel who'd walked over from Black Sail, out on the hills in the sun. I don't think I'd have swapped places with him on Thursday.

[Oscar's dad]

Smashing stuff. I don't know the Lakes that well but last August did some of the roads on your route as we stayed in Ambleside. Wrynose and Hardknott were epic and much harder than the Alps we'd ridden a few months before.

By the way, I've found another Topeak computer, I'll post it to you. Did the other bits turn up ok?

[Peter]

That's wonderful, Dean.  The shot of Langdale Tarn is at the very spot I struggled with a puncture on one of Revellinho's perms; if you've got to do it, it might as well be in a nice spot.  You write very calmly about your Isadora Duncan moment (look it up, Dean, look it up)!

Thanks

[Canardly]

Enjoyed that.

[Deano]

By the way, I've found another Topeak computer, I'll post it to you. Did the other bits turn up ok?

Yes, all arrived, cheers! I owe you a few (low-alcohol) beers on PBP. I assume you're riding?

[Deano]

Day 3 - Buttermere - Keswick - Grasmere - Broughton - Birker Fell - Cold Fell - pub

https://www.strava.com/activities/292430686

Just for a change, I went over Newlands in the morning, but in the opposite direction. There are only three ways in and out of Buttermere, and I rode all of them at least twice.

Newlands Valley

I had thought of the Friday as an easy day just to wander. I stopped for a second breakfast in Keswick (Saddleback Cafe if you're interested, but it has loads of cafes - I don't really like Keswick, but it's a place you just end up riding through, either for convenience or for lack of roads), and thought I'd ride down to Grasmere, so up Chesnut Hill it was, into the rising southerly and the greying weather. I exchanged grins with a cycle tourist coming back down the other way.

The road around Thirlmere is a delight, especially with low clouds shifting across the back of Helvellyn and a heavy, brooding atmosphere about the place. Actually, it may be fabulous in the sunshine - but I wouldn't know.

Thirlmere Dam


Thirlmere and Helvellyn

Those were the last photos of the day (so feel free to drift off if you're only following this for the piccies), as my phone battery was low, and I was saving it for any emergencies. Also, the weather began to turn, and I was riding through drizzle most of the rest of the day.

I did enjoy Red Bank after Grasmere, mind. The road was closed and I had to walk through some pretty serious road works. It would have given me a clear run up the road, but there were a few pedestrians on it, and I slowed and smiled. As it was closed, there was no chance of mad HGV drivers going the other way. There's a sign next to the Red Lion in Grasmere nowadays telling HGVs, drivers of caravans and other undesirables not to follow their satnav. I love those signs.

I had yet-another stop in Great Langdale, for a bit of refuelling before the climb up to Blea Tarn. The waitress commented on how quiet it was this week, which she and the other shopkeepers who mentioned this seemed unhappy about, but it was just fine with me.

I didn't even stop to take photos of the short cut across the Brathay from Little Langdale and around Stang End to the main Ambleside-Coniston road.

Like all proper short cuts, it involved comedy off road (though not as much as if I'd taken the even shorter cut through Hodge End - there were only a couple of hundred yards of rocks, and a ford, before the tarmac resumed), and like all short cuts everywhere, it probably turned out to be longer, as I went left instead of right on the main road and ended up descending to Skelwith Bridge before realising my mistake.

Which would have been fine, except for a quite annoying motorist, who overtook within less than a foot of me up to the blind summit. Even that wasn't the annoying part - he was a really fucking slow driver, he took the gentle bends down to Skelwith as if he was driving down the Tourmalet, with sheer drops either side. I didn't quite have the nerve or the space to overtake, and tailgated him all the way down instead, scowling into his rear view mirror.

The southerly wind was rising by then, and I was wondering how far I should ride. I'd estimated the day's distance as something-between 100 km and 100 miles. The only choices of roads were back out west over Wrynose and Hardknott, which I didn't fancy, doubling back the way I'd come, which I hate doing, or carrying on south past Coniston and back over Birker Fell. The latter would involve all new roads to me, lots of hills, and an unknown distance.

So obviously I carried on south. Coniston was a bit busy, and the main road south, which on my road map is a series of ups followed by some lovely downward gradients to the Duddon Estuary, is actually a series of slogs up punctuated by a couple of token downhills. I wasn't sure how I arrived at near-sea level without more descending, but when I arrived at Broughton-in-Furness, I was ready for something to eat.

I had a fag and a look around. A recumbent tourist who must have been tailing me all the way from Coniston passed me and carried on, and a local told me that I was going to get wet. Of course I was going to get wet, but I assured her that I was carrying waterproofs.

The Square Cafe looked convenient, and more than that, it was good (apart from the appalling muzak they insisted on playing) - I asked what the soup of the day was, and they replied that there were three. Carrot and coriander (mmm), leek and potato (meh) or spicy duck. Spicy duck it was, with a cheesy sandwich on the side. Recommended. Broughton's a pleasant enough village (incidentally, it may interest locals and others who know the area to know that the OS Tourists' map of the Lakes appends Broughton-in-Furness as "picturesque village", whereas Barrow-in-Furness is described as "animal farm").

There were a couple of local old dears carrying on a conversation which I'd first heard in a cafe in Kirkbymoorside a couple of months ago. Seriously, the topics of conversation were identical. It's either a wormhole, or the problems of living in rural communities are quite generic. I'm going with clones. I bet copies of that pair inhabit every tea shop from Penzance to Thurso.

I had to tackle the main A595 road next. It's not much of a main road in terms of infrastructure, but in terms of twattish drivers, it rates pretty high. It was only a brief spin before I turned off onto the lane to Ulpha, and up into the clouds onto Birker Fell. That 1:4 stretch caught me out a bit (I had been expecting a serious climb, but there are no chevrons on my crappy road map), but it was quiet enough, and when the place isn't covered with all-over grey I bet it's a spectacular road. It still had a great sense of isolation (ation, ation ation..), but it was hoying it down, and I took it very easy on the descents. I remembered that my cheap (400 rupees from a bazaar in Pokara, Nepal) waterproof really isn't very.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   
Again, I stopped at the shop in Gosforth, and the same woman served me, commenting "weather isn't quite as good as yesterday". I told her that it isn't a proper trip to west Cumbria if it doesn't rain, and took a moment outside to wring out my gloves.

Cold Fell on the way back was a bit nerve-wracking - it turned out to be a major rat-run between Sellafield and Cockermouth. I don't think 4.15 on a Friday, with the cloud base down to 200 metres, and visibility down to 20 yards at times, are great conditions to be riding that road.  I've ridden it a few times before, and I reckon there were ten times as many cars on it as I'd seen in all my previous rides combined.

It was mostly OK on the roads after Ennerdale Bridge, though I did stop at the Kirkstile Inn for just the one pint before the seven miles back to Buttermere. They had a real ale festival on the go, and I was tempted to try a few more, but I rode the six miles back to Buttermere, and just-about beat the rain back. The rain had taken the short cut over the hills, so it took longer to get north than I had.

The rain and wind were lashing into the windows of the hostel as I put my pasta onto the hob, and when I sat out on the balcony to look at the view, low clouds obscured Red Pike and all the other peaks. Occasionally a gust of wind would rise up and whip the trees. I was happy (not to mention smug) with my choice.

[Deano]

Smashing stuff. I don't know the Lakes that well but last August did some of the roads on your route as we stayed in Ambleside. Wrynose and Hardknott were epic and much harder than the Alps we'd ridden a few months before.

Funnily enough, last year I met a French cycle tourist in Scotland - he lives in Grenoble, and knows the Alps really well. He'd agree with that verdict.

[Deano]

(look it up, Dean, look it up)!

I did! Is merino the new silk?

[Peter]

Ha!

Another lovely description, thanks.  I've got a picture of the Manchester plaque somewhere.  On that trip round the back of Thirlmere, we saw three rainbows at once, I seem to remember.  Birker Fell and Ulpha are lumpy but wonderfully other-worldly, I think.  I've only done them west to east.  I'm hoping to carry on my rehab. by walking the Copper Mines track out of Coniston next week and maybe to the Tilberthwaite Quarry, too.  You've really whetted my appetite.  What a great few days!

Peter

[TimC]

Really enjoying this, Deano. Thank you!

[Oscar's dad]

By the way, I've found another Topeak computer, I'll post it to you. Did the other bits turn up ok?

Yes, all arrived, cheers! I owe you a few (low-alcohol) beers on PBP. I assume you're riding?

Hopefully!

[Oscar's dad]

Smashing stuff. I don't know the Lakes that well but last August did some of the roads on your route as we stayed in Ambleside. Wrynose and Hardknott were epic and much harder than the Alps we'd ridden a few months before.

Funnily enough, last year I met a French cycle tourist in Scotland - he lives in Grenoble, and knows the Alps really well. He'd agree with that verdict.

Going up Hardknott it was the bit where you think your front wheel is about to leave the ground.  Going down its the bit where you think you're about to nose dive over the bars.  Both were terrifying!

[Deano]

Day 4 - Buttermere to Darlo

half a league, half a league - abandoned railways and impossible cafes - Hartside hammer

https://www.strava.com/activities/292439595

Friday night was busier at the youth hostel. Obviously, as it was heading into the weekend. Sadly, this meant I had someone in the bunk above me, which wouldn't usually bother me as I sleep the sleep of the unrighteous, but he was creaking away in it before I got myself an early (ten o'clock) night, and he was still there when I packed up at 9 the next day.

I had booked a breakfast at the hostel, as I'd looked at the weather forecasts (the staff print out the mountain weather forecasts and put them on the walls for the benefit of walkers) and decided that I needed something to fortify myself.

One of the few annoyances about the hostel was that the reception had really restrictive opening and closing times. And only one key for the bike shed (which really is a shed, and I could have bitten the lock off with my teeth), so I had to negotiate with the staff or wait until they'd finished serving breakfast before I could scarper.

It was all a bit frustrating, as the weather was fine at 7 am. With my companion creaking away in the bunk above, I was first up, and made myself a coffee and sat out front for a smoke. I could see the clouds rolling in from the west.

So it was 9 o'clock before I set off, and it was hoying down when I did. Did I say Honister was bleak in fine weather? It's like the valley of death in low cloud and rain, and I had Tennyson's rhythms rolling around my head as I tackled the valley. I calculated that it is around about half a league of climbing. Thankfully no cannons.






Mind you - atmospheric, or what?

I thought the rain was a little thick - it was actually turning to sleet, and I was cold on the descent to Borrowdale. My not-very-waterproof wasn't doing a great job. There must have been a 15-degree drop in temperature, and I hadn't packed for this sort of weather.

For some reason (mainly because I hadn't ridden it before), I decided to ride along the old railway line out of Keswick. It is lovely, but on a road bike, it's rough going. I couldn't really ride fast enough to warm myself up, and I stopped in one of the navvies' shelters to eat my cheese sarnie and some biscuits.

Stupidly, I took off my winter gloves and stripped down to my mitts and stowed my not-very-waterproof under one of the straps on my saddlebag, and I soon realised what a mistake that was once I emerged from the shelter of the cutting and onto the lanes paralleling the A66. I stopped to put my winter gloves and not-very-waterproof back on, but couldn't warm up or dry off, and started looking for a cafe.

There were loads of signs pointing to the one in Greystoke, but they were all in teeny-tiny script, which is all lovely, and probably easy to read at pootling speeds (it's on the C2C route), but not so easy when you're underdressed and working hard to try and stay warm. I gave up and rode on into the cafe-free wasteland to the north of Penrith.

There were eventually signs pointing to the garden centre at Plumpton, and though I was really tempted to let the northerly push me back into Penrith and onto a nice warm train, I resisted the wind's siren song and found the garden centre.

It's a really nice cafe, and as it was a cold day, all the radiators were turned up to 11. When I was finishing my coffee, one of the lasses came from behind the counter and asked if I'd like another coffee, "to stop you shivering", and whispered that she wouldn't charge me. It's just next to the West Coast mainline, visit it if you're passing.

I spent over an hour there, warming up and changing into some slightly-less-wet socks, and thought I may as well ride on, rather than take the train. If it had been a direct train, I'd have been on it, but two changes and waiting around on three cold station platforms wasn't my scene.

Then there was the other reason not to take the train - the wind was howling in from the north-west, and it doesn't do to turn down a taiwind.

I was soon warm on the lanes, and on the stiff climb up the side of Hartside from Renwick to the switchbacks, I was a bit too warm. The clouds had cleared, and looking back west when the opportunity presented itself, I could see the Solway Firth and the Galloway Hills, and the grand peaks of the Lakeland Fells. There was snow on the peaks -  it really had been cold.

It was a joy to flick up into the big ring on the switchbacks, and I was having so much fun that I never bothered stopping at the cafe to put on more layers, and charged down to Alston instead.

I caught last orders at the Cumbrian Pantry - no hot food, but Jack does a bloody good coffee and decent cakes, way better than the more convenient Spa garage, plus you get to sit indoors. I've been in there that often, he now knows to ask if there are any other audaxers about.

I had a couple of random conversations, firstly with an annoying Lancashire motorbiker who seemed to be trying to tell me that his planned 200 miles of offroad cycling over a whole five days was waaaay more hardcore than anything which I could possibly do, then with an entertaining Glaswegian who struck up a conversation while I was enjoying a last smoko on the bench outside the Co Op. I was tempted to wait and see his scratch band play at the pub, but I wanted to get home, and that north-westerly was still there, pushing me over Yad Moss and back down to Middleton-in-Teesdale. There was more snow on Cross Fell, at the top of the Pennines, but the road was dry and fabulous, and I big-ringed it all the way (well, nearly all the way) home.

I even added a few detours to ensure that the ride home was over 100 miles.



All my kit worked quite well - I've never really got on with that saddlebag, but it's ideal for situations where you don't plan to open it during the day (I had my tools in the seat tube bottle cage), and it works better with the Charge saddle than with my B17. The bike was uncomplaining apart from my aforementioned carelessness, and when I used the GPS for navigation, it worked well, supplemented by a small degree of local knowledge, and maps.

Anyone who's followed my previous trips will know that I don't usually bother about travelling light, and I quite enjoyed it as a change. I've even bought a smaller towel for a similar trip to Scotland in June.

The best bit, though, was just being able to ride around the Lakes when it's quiet, when it was sunny, and then when it was hoying down. It's great terrain, whatever the conditions. And three nights in the Lakes without rain would have felt a bit like cheating.

[D.A.L.E.]

Looks like a great trip Dean. It's the kind of thing I want to do once school's out.

I may have missed it, but which saddlebag is that? Just got an Apidura one myself.

[Steve GT]

Great write up as always Dean.

The road in the last few photos looks like the road they are always driving up and down in ITV's 'Safe House'.
 

[Deano]

Looks like a great trip Dean. It's the kind of thing I want to do once school's out.

I may have missed it, but which saddlebag is that? Just got an Apidura one myself.

It's one of these, but an older generation (and second hand):

http://bikepack.pl/en/seatbags/9-repack-x2-medium.html

It's rubbish as a daybag, cos you need to loosen at least three clips and unroll the whole thing, but ideal for packing stuff in the morning which won't get touched till the evening. Doesn't work well with a Brooks either, it was much better with the Charge saddle.

It was a good trip. I'll probably not get back over there for a while. I might look at September.

[Peter]

Great stuff, Dean.

Steve, I was walking in the Lakes, last week and got talking to a quarryman near Coniston.  He said Safe house, which I haven't seen, was filmed near there, so it might have been Yewdale (which I have seen and is fabulous).

Dean, there seems to be a cycle path of sorts from Coniston to Elterwater which might be worth exploring on a big tyre bike.

[JohnR]

Just stumbled on this, absolutely fabulous rides and well written. The stuff of legends, thanks. Just waiting for more. John