The hardest thing about the whole journey for me was the tiredness. Not particularly in my legs, but just feeling like I hadn’t had enough sleep, despite the fact that most nights we’re in bed by 10pm, and have at least eight hours sleep. It’s been really starting to get to me for the last few days, and today is not helped by only having a bowl of cereal for breakfast, and no coffee.
Nevertheless, as we get our bikes ready, the sun is shining, and we chat to a cyclist who shared our dormitory, who tells us about cycling through Death Valley. I make a mental note to never contemplate a ride through anywhere with ‘Death’ in its name. There’s a cycle race passing through Slaidburn, and we briefly cycle along with the riders who are carrying nothing heavier than a water bottle and a few bananas, before turning off for a short climb up the hills around Slaidburn, before setting off for a pleasantly rolling ride towards Settle, admiring the fells off to our right.
After Settle, we cycle along a faster, busier A road towards Kirkby-Lonsdale, and I’m glad when we pull off for lunch. As we stop, we realise how hot it is today, and are glad to get into the shade of the café. It’s Sunday, and there are plenty of cyclists out for a ride, including a group of women who have also stopped for their lunch, who seem to be mothers and daughters. We entertain ourselves by evesdropping on their conversation, which alternate between the cost of cardigans and carbon bikes.
The road from Kirkby-Lonsdale to Kendal is quieter, but harder work. It’s now noticeable that Al’s finding the hills easier, and we enjoy a reasonably challenging road that’s quiet enough for us to chat as we go along. Plenty of Sunday cyclists are flying past us in the opposite direction, so we know there must be a descent coming up. We pass Oxenholme train station before we go into Kendal, and I’m surprised how close it is to Kendal. When I’d passed through or stopped there on the train, it always seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. A wrong turning and some closed roads slow us up a little, but soon we’re leaving the penultimate town of the day before our Penrith.
Between Kendal and Penrith is another place I’ve changed our route to take in – the road up the Shap Fells. We’ve decided to do this following the recommendation of my neighbour, and fellow cyclist, Mike. I take it as another sign of Al’s increasing strength on hills that, as we pass a sign warning to drivers in Winter that the summit of Shap can be insurpassable, he doesn’t throw his bike on the side of the road or start swearing at me. The climb and descent is 25 or so miles, and we settle in for a long, hot climb. The road is reasonably quiet, apart from groups of motorcyclists throwing themselves round the corners, and the climbing is of the shallow but unending variety. It quickly becomes apparent why it’s worthwhile though:
These photos don’t really do justice to the sense of awe that we had looking down these valleys – whether it’s because we’d just cycled to the top to see this, or whether the sense of feeling so small in comparison to this landscape doesn’t transmit through a photo, I don’t know. Maybe it was just a lack of oxygen… but it was a very special moment.
The descent is fun too, and we easily maintain a steady 25mph without really turning the pedals. I interrupt my descent when a cyclist comes the other way flags me down, and I stop to show him where we are on the map. It’s now past 5 o’clock, and he says he’s trying to cycle to Preston, but is finding the road up to Shap not much fun – I can’t see how he’s going to get to Preston that day.
Catching up with Al, he leads us in to our destination for the second time this ride, making me smile as he salutes the sign for Penrith with a clenched fist. Another day down.
We find our B&B for the night, glad not to be in a dormitory, and then wander down to an Italian restaurant for a great dinner after a long, hot day.
We’ve now cycled 608.74 miles.
Nevertheless, as we get our bikes ready, the sun is shining, and we chat to a cyclist who shared our dormitory, who tells us about cycling through Death Valley. I make a mental note to never contemplate a ride through anywhere with ‘Death’ in its name. There’s a cycle race passing through Slaidburn, and we briefly cycle along with the riders who are carrying nothing heavier than a water bottle and a few bananas, before turning off for a short climb up the hills around Slaidburn, before setting off for a pleasantly rolling ride towards Settle, admiring the fells off to our right.
After Settle, we cycle along a faster, busier A road towards Kirkby-Lonsdale, and I’m glad when we pull off for lunch. As we stop, we realise how hot it is today, and are glad to get into the shade of the café. It’s Sunday, and there are plenty of cyclists out for a ride, including a group of women who have also stopped for their lunch, who seem to be mothers and daughters. We entertain ourselves by evesdropping on their conversation, which alternate between the cost of cardigans and carbon bikes.The road from Kirkby-Lonsdale to Kendal is quieter, but harder work. It’s now noticeable that Al’s finding the hills easier, and we enjoy a reasonably challenging road that’s quiet enough for us to chat as we go along. Plenty of Sunday cyclists are flying past us in the opposite direction, so we know there must be a descent coming up. We pass Oxenholme train station before we go into Kendal, and I’m surprised how close it is to Kendal. When I’d passed through or stopped there on the train, it always seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. A wrong turning and some closed roads slow us up a little, but soon we’re leaving the penultimate town of the day before our Penrith.
Between Kendal and Penrith is another place I’ve changed our route to take in – the road up the Shap Fells. We’ve decided to do this following the recommendation of my neighbour, and fellow cyclist, Mike. I take it as another sign of Al’s increasing strength on hills that, as we pass a sign warning to drivers in Winter that the summit of Shap can be insurpassable, he doesn’t throw his bike on the side of the road or start swearing at me. The climb and descent is 25 or so miles, and we settle in for a long, hot climb. The road is reasonably quiet, apart from groups of motorcyclists throwing themselves round the corners, and the climbing is of the shallow but unending variety. It quickly becomes apparent why it’s worthwhile though:
These photos don’t really do justice to the sense of awe that we had looking down these valleys – whether it’s because we’d just cycled to the top to see this, or whether the sense of feeling so small in comparison to this landscape doesn’t transmit through a photo, I don’t know. Maybe it was just a lack of oxygen… but it was a very special moment.The descent is fun too, and we easily maintain a steady 25mph without really turning the pedals. I interrupt my descent when a cyclist comes the other way flags me down, and I stop to show him where we are on the map. It’s now past 5 o’clock, and he says he’s trying to cycle to Preston, but is finding the road up to Shap not much fun – I can’t see how he’s going to get to Preston that day.
Catching up with Al, he leads us in to our destination for the second time this ride, making me smile as he salutes the sign for Penrith with a clenched fist. Another day down.
We find our B&B for the night, glad not to be in a dormitory, and then wander down to an Italian restaurant for a great dinner after a long, hot day.
We’ve now cycled 608.74 miles.
No comments:
Post a Comment