Day 13 - Penrith to Samye Ling (54 miles)

Sunday, June 5, 2011
Fellfoot Independent Hostel in Penrith was the perfect place for a rest and I was on the road by 8.15am not quite believing that I was once again raring to go after the depleted state I had got in after Friday’s lumpy invasion of Cumbria. Two good things had happened to improve my chances of success. Firstly, Alistair, of Fellfoot had shown me the flat way out of Cumbria, which involved taking a lane which ran alongside the M6 then went straight through the middle of Carlisle and out on to the A7. It was every bit as good as he said it was and I was pleased to share it with two other end-to-enders heading north like me that I met by the air pump in a service station.
The other good thing was finding a cycling book in Fellfoot which talked a bit about cadence i.e. how fast your legs go up and down. It suggested that you should pedal as fast as is comfortable in a gear in which you don’t feel strain in your knees. I tried it and did my miles in record time, arriving at Samye Ling by 3.45pm. And I didn’t get lost once.
Carlisle is nice on Sunday morning, real church bells pealing over it and people just starting to emerge into the central square. The next highlight was a road sign saying Welcome to Scotland and words cannot express etc (see?). Well, one word can; yeehaa.

Words fail me.

Then it was A7, A7, A7 to Langholm but the orchids growing along the side of the road were cheerful.
I had a roast dinner in the Crown Hotel in Langholm and thought about the last Crown I was in, the wonky one in Nantwich, a long way south. Then I tackled the undulating stretch of 15 miles to Samye Ling.

Bikey gets Buddhist

Now I am here. I have sat in on a silent meditation hour where I nodded off a few times (hope I didn’t snore) and done my chores. I seem to have a six-bed dorm to myself again, which makes me Audrey “Jammy” Lees and tomorrow I head for Edinburgh, Embra, the Big Smoke.
I feel I have been travelling through England in another century, one where the pace of life was slow and where people wore lanes across the land as they walked from one parish to the next. Even today, all through England, historic inns still serve food at important crossroads and the lanes are often called the name of the place they lead to. In short, I think I have gained an understanding of how life used to be and what was important then. I also know where Shropshire is!