Cumbria

I have been told off by Rob (who organises the Stratford Macride) for not showing our Macride jerseys in the blog photos. Todays picture is for Rob. We have been wearing them, honest, but they were sometimes covered up on account of the cold Scottish weather.

Threlkeld was delightful and we set off in beautiful sunny weather. After 5 miles our route took us round the back of Thirlmere and we were surprised to find Scott's dad, Dave, waiting for us on his bike. He cycled with us for the rest of the day through Ambleside and Windermere - most welcome - thanks Dave.

Shortly after Dave left us we found Ali & Scott waiting for us en-route back from Arran. We had a nice tea-time stop with them.

I have observed over the past few days that 1 day's cycling equates to 1 hour's driving and this was confirmed when Ali told us that they had only taken 3 hours to get back from Arran.

We are now in Lancaster in by far the worst B&B of the trip. It is meant to be 4 star but we have been sent 500 yards down the road to their "annexe" which is a converted garage smelling of damp. We have been told they will deliver bacon sandwiches for our breakfast. Stand by for some interesting haggling over price tomorrow!

Tomorrow is a long ride to Frodsham where we will have a rest day.

Peter

J

Jane here
Pete is a genius at all this techie stuff but has great difficulty distinguishing his right from his left. This can lead to some interesting situations at junctions.
Picture the scene. I'm in front.
Me 'Which way?'
Him 'Right' (I point to the right with my thumb, just to check)
Him 'No, right'
Me 'That is right'
Him 'Left then'
Me 'Alright'
Him 'No left'
Good grief

Or at a T junction. Right or left I say. Straight on. I can't it's a river. Just follow the road round that way....So he goes ahead to show the way.
A half mile gap opens up and I finally catch up at a field gate, his bike is tossed carelessly in a bed of nettles,wheel still spinning, his head visible over the hedge. From this I deduce that he has taken the opportunity to go for an al fresco pee. At this point I see the farmer come tanking down the lane on his quad bike. At the same time an elderly lady with a poodle is approaching from the opposite direction. 'Best get a move on' I shout. 'I can't rush these things' he says. This has happened so often we now have no shame.

Sometimes in these fields there will be a sign up along the lines of 'Proudly growing British wheat for The Acme Bread Company' or some such.
Memo to self: Avoid Acme thick sliced for the next year or so. J.

Lakeland Falls

Jane only fell 3 times today which is quite an improvement. Of course it is my fault as I have set her saddle too high.

The first fall was rather spectacularly into a flowerbed at the Gretna Green blacksmith's forge - much to the amusement of the staff in the gift shop. I managed to record this on video and fortunately no injury resulted.

Gretna Green was as naff as expected but was a Must-See as the hoardes of Japanese and American tourists also thought. At £850 for a wedding it seemed quite a bargain. For a mere £30 you can also have a (non-legal) exchange of rings.

A mile or so south lies the English border with a rather unimpressive sign considering the effort expended to get there

Carlisle was better than expected but then started THE CLIMB. 1026 ft to be precise, on the hottest day of the year, but it was through the most beautiful countryside. The charming village of Hesket Newmarket has a village shop/tea room and a community pub frequented by Prince Charles (Great Alne please note)

We are now in Threlkeld feeling a bit smug when we meet cyclists who are ONLY doing the Coast to Coast.

The Lakes have never looked better

Peter

Bonking

Jane nattering

In cycling circles the verb to Bonk has a completely different meaning from that with which you may already be familiar. It means to completely run out of steam, to be absolutely exhausted and lacking all physical and mental motivation, like a marathon runner hitting 'the wall', in short to be like the England football team in an international friendly against a Restofthethirdworld under 16 girls B team. I was like that yesterday. I blame it on the pill I took to stop the itching from the midge bites from the chain incident. It's surprising, the restorative effect a home made supper courtesy of Rigg house B and B with Fresh Green Veg and 12 hours sleep can have. Today was different. Today I could laugh at the mountains. (As in I could look at the mountain, laugh, and say 'We're not going up that are we? Are we?') I think I've now got this sports nutrition thing sussed. Lots and often. Ha ha, no more bonking for me this trip.

Anyway the weather has now improved so much we can shed our bright yellow midge-magnet waterproofs which seem to attract every man eating bug in the northern hemisphere.

Jane

Burned out

This Robbie Burns chap is everywhere. We seem to have been following the Burns Heritage Trail and when I suggested to Jane that we might come back and visit some of the museums a sort of glazed look came over her face. We are now in Annan and even the local chippy has a plaque commemorating the poem he wrote there (honestly!)

Those of you who heard my 'Immortal Memory' address at the Burns night we had in Great Alne a few years ago will remember that his death was hastened by being immersed in the Solway Firth by his doctor. That is where we now are having traversed Scotland from it's North Coast to it's South Coast. The hillls we can see across the water are the Cumbrian Fells. (Don't tell Jane but we are crossing those tomorrow).

It's been a fantastic day with lovely weather and we feel great. Now it's just a small matter of getting across England.

Peter

False Summits

Jane here.
Peter has kindly provided a map for each day with squiggly green line at the top. This proves to be a profile of the contours of the day's ride. Good. I thought it was a particularly ominous ECG printout. (Especially the flat bit along the bottom, but that was the ferry ride.)

So I come puffing up to join Pete at a hill,and the conversation goes something like this:
Me. Are we at the summit yet?
Pete. Look at your profile. We're just at that little nipply bit before the shoulder leading to the plateau before that lump where it flattens out then dips a bit before the final pull to the top. Then there's a couple more like that today but a bit higher, and then we're done
Me. So that's a no then
Pete. (Incredulously) You can't possibly think this is steep?.
Me. (In a small but brave voice) Spose not.....
But he's gone in a cloud of dust and GT 85.
J.

Burns country

When I planned this route I didn't realise how many interesting places we would pass through. One of these was today when we were riding through a rather ordinary village called Tarbolton. We stopped at the village store to buy lunch and saw a National Trust property across the road. It turned out to be the house that Robbie Burns used to meet his mates to put the world to rights. They called themselves The Batchelors Club which bore more than a passing resemblance to GAGA (that's the Great Alne Gentlemens Association for those of you who are wondering).

Today did not start well. The weather was very wet and 100 yards after getting off the ferry from Arran, Jane ran into the back of me causing a little damage to both bikes. Fortunately it was repairable.

After lunch the weather improved but it was quite a tiring day. We are now at Kirkconnel which is a rather run-down mining community. The scenery however is beautiful.

Tomorrow is our last day in Scotland and we will soon be half way to Lands End.

Peter