Day 14 - Samye Ling to Edinburgh (67 miles)

Monday, June 6, 2011
How low can you go? I know how low I can go; I was there for most of today. Just because this trip is self-inflicted, don’t expect me to scoot along like Debbie Reynolds all the time.
I have decided that Samye Ling doesn’t really suit me. I had a dorm to myself and it was comfy but I found a lot of the residents to be bad-tempered, which isn’t very Buddhist, and unsmiling. I think they are missing the point.
As for the cycling, how would you like it? The first forty miles I didn’t see another soul except sheep and they ran away from me. I covered the hills of Eskdalemuir at 3.5mph, in hamster-wheel gear, with a head wind and it was so cold I had the full weather gear on - woolly helmet, trousers, jersey. And no coffee stops for 40 miles. What kind of a country is this? I want to go back to England.

Goodbye Eskdalemuir.

Hello Ettrick Valley.

I finally got some hot soup at Innerleithen then it was on to Peebles Spar for a slap up sandwich then the long road to Embra.
To pass these dull miles, I listened to Frank Sinatra on the MP3 player and sometimes joined in, so that horses three fields away looked over at me and rolled their eyes.
Part of the problem today was that I was not looking forward to spending the night in Embra Yoof Hostel. I had too many nights in cheap B&Bs in Embra during the SEPA years and am now mentally scarred.
However, I had plenty of time to think of an alternative as I slogged along. I decided to cycle to an Edinburgh railway station , catch the train to Dundee and sleep at home then go back to the same station in the morning and seamlessly resume my journey. Les said she would pick me up in Dundee and take me back to the train in the morning. This thought was immensely cheering for me and so I survived the ignominy of getting lost in Embra and having to follow the canal until I was back on familiar ground.
Me and Bikey, or should I say Bikey and I, are now warm on the train. We have had a cup of tea and are looking forward to getting home for the first time in 16 days.

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!

Day 12 - Ingleton to Penrith (46 miles)

Friday, June 3, 2011
I wasn’t really supposed to come to Penrith today but all the accommodation along my route was booked because of the Appleby Horse Fair and Penrith was as close as I could get. I had thought of leaving my bike somewhere like Langwathby and getting a taxi to and from Penrith but I found myself eight miles from Penrith on a nice road and I grabbed the opportunity.
Tired and stiff, I set off earlier than usual from Ingleton this morning to avoid such a late finish again and the first six miles to Kirkby Lonsdale on the busy A65 went quickly. I had breakfast with the crowds buying tea and rolls from a van then headed off towards Sedbergh on a quieter road. It was a pleasant nine miles but I was surrounded by big hills, the ones you see from the M6 at Shap, and I knew I would have to go through them soon… I developed a coping strategy for extreme gradient which was 100 pedals, stop, take a breather, another 100 pedals and that did very well for a while. I went under the M6 and five miles before Tebay I was bushed and had to put out the picnic blanket for a seat and a Scooby snack of nuts etc. An hour later - that’s how hilly everything was - I got to Tebay and was the only customer in the Barnaby Rudge pub where one dog barked at me and the other wanted to bite me but was chained up out of reach. A really good lunch was produced out of the gloomy interior and I got on my way which involved some major pushing up idiotic switchbacks.

Cumbria

After this I was due to go on to a lane. When I got to it, it was blocked by a Road Closed sign. Having no energy to follow a diversion, I took the lane anyway; everybody knows that one way systems, traffic lights and Road Closed signs don’t apply to bikes . Joy of joys I swept downhill for a couple of miles then followed a very flat road, all the time wondering if I could somehow sneak round the blockage, whatever it was. If they tried to send me back I decided to lie down and cry and beat my fists on the tar. LUCKILY there was a pedestrian rat-run around major resurfacing works and my happy progress continued until I found the Penrith road.
I am in a wonderful independent hostel tonight. It’s called Fellfoot and I am sharing the whole house with one other person called Mary. My next cycle is due to be huge, about 65 miles with lots of hills to walk up and I know for sure I will not be able to do it tomorrow. I have therefore decided to have a rest day in Penrith . I will find a café and an Independent and that’s the extent of my ambition. Nighty night.

Day 11 - Chorley to Ingleton (60 miles)

Thursday, June 2, 2011
Today has been a great day. It has been a day of grand views from the tops of hills seen while listening to lambs bleating, a day of canals and larks and grass. It is also the official half way point of the journey, the 500^th mile of a 1000 mile odyssey through Britain. I seem to be doing 20% extra though, whether through being lost or staying in accommodation off the beaten track.
Today I left Chorley to go to Wheelton. Didn’t there used to be a children’s programme called Chorley and the Wheeltons? I used Navigation by Local, asking the way every ten feet, and I was soon out in the countryside again. Wheelton is a major canal venue with locks, hire boats and boat sales.

Wheelton lock

A man was opening the lock gate for his wife to drive the boat in. “It’s ‘ard work with just two,” he said. I have this idea of doing a canal boat odyssey when I retire (next time) but I never thought it would be ’ard work. There was no weather today; no wind, no sun and no rain, and I had baby moorhens and hedges instead of the lorries of yesterday.
It was hilly though and I had time to spot all the hawthorn trimmings on the road. I once lost three inner tubes to a single thorn hiding in my tyre so they made me nervous. Next came miles of holly hedges along Goosefoot Lane, the first ones I’ve seen.
I passed Alum Scar lane and stopped at the Nab’s Head for tea, plenty of names and origins to ponder. What’s a nab? I finally left the hills with their marvellous views behind for the flat of the Ribble Valley. Lazy Legs Lees likes valleys.
This is a holiday week in England and there were plenty of people out for a day in the car. Two dumpy ladies passed and their old car was filled with their smiles.
Everywhere tall, lush grass has been newly cut to make hay and in one field there was a lapwing in every dreel.
I know I have sounded pretty relaxed about today so far but I was way behind schedule and on course for another late finish. I continue to find new ways to get lost and today I got lost by reading the map from north to south instead of south to north for a short while (I know, I shouldn’t really be allowed out of Glamis!). This caused me to ride the same bit of road three times, losing about 45 minutes. At Slaidburn I still had 15 miles to go and it was 6pm. Twelve of those miles were on a “quiet lane” at the edge of a supposed forest. What actually transpired was a very steep bare hillside which I had to push my bike up for most of six miles. Exhausted and not a little bit concerned, I stopped at the halfway point and at some nuts and chocolate and pondered my futures. There were two. In the good future, I was near the top and would freewheel six miles down the other side and arrive at the youth hostel before dark. In the bad future, I had another six miles of pushing which I didn’t think I could manage and I would arrive at the hostel some time on Sunday. Can you guess what happened?

Picnic spot on a quiet lane!

I got lucky and hauled in to Ingleton YHA at 9pm, thoroughly depleted, with all the usual chores still to do. I also had to share a room with two ladies who were already in their beds. I finally got to bed at 11pm, not sure how I was going to get up and do it again tomorrow…

Day 10 - Nantwich to Chorley (60 miles)

Wednesday, June 1, 2011 (60 miles)
Today I experienced four English counties namely Shropshire, Cheshire, Greater Manchester (yuk!) and at this moment Lancashire. You can keep Greater Manchester. It threatened to suck me into its vortex of lorries and other crap metal things but I escaped. Hah!
As usual I got lost trying to leave the town I slept in, in this case Nantwich. But if you want to know the way, ask a postie. I sped along a busy A road to Middlewich where I had a cup of tea and watched a hilarious wee boy who had been dumped with his stiff old granny for the Whitsun holiday. She’d kept him too long at the café where she met her old chums and he kept saying ”Come on then Gran, it’s time to go now,” and trying to pull her to her feet.
I headed out of Middlewich in the wrong direction then came back and went on through the land of service stations - Knutsford, Sandbach, Congleton - criss-crossing the M6.
At Knutsford I lunched in the Red Cow pub because they had Wifi and I needed to post the last two blogs (no Wifi in Nantwich) then got lost trying to leave and had to walk round the one way system in the wrong direction. Do you see a theme emerging here?
Just after Warburton I came across a toll road which charged 12p to cross the Manchester Ship Canal, which is twice as wide as normal canals. The toll is imposed by the Manchester Ship Company to look after the bridge but it doesn’t seem to be enough. Bikes don’t have to pay.

12p to cross - a bargain!

I had traffic with me almost all day today. About 4pm I needed another cup of tea but there was none to be had; I have left the land where every other building is a tea shop run by a couple from London far behind.
The last 15 miles dragged. The roads were busy and I was travelling through straggly suburbs. I arrived at my “boutique hotel” about 7.30pm and I have a really comfortable room so I’ll finish now and begin regenerating for tomorrow…

Dual carriageway flowers; what you do at traffic lights.

Day 9 - Coalport to Nantwich (49 miles)

Tuesday, May 31, 2011
I am writing this in the Crown Hotel, Nantwich. When I entered it for the first time at 6pm I staggered across the floor and had to lean against the wall. The stairs are crooked and the walls all slope. The chandelier appears to hang at 30° from true. I had to duck my head to enter my room and I couldn’t find my way back to the reception when the girl left me. I would photograph the room but there has been some kind of pannier explosion in here and it’s too embarrassing.
The hotel is 450 years old and completely charming.

The Crown - not a right angle in the place!

Today was cycle-touring as she meant to be do; no pushing, very little rain and better speed across the agricultural plains of Shropshire. A highlight was coming across a cluster of people staring at a rocky ledge and when a lady leant me her binoculars I saw the four peregrine falcon chicks trying out their wings and due to fledge in two weeks or so. They’re in the photo but even I can’t even see them and I know they’re there!

Peregrine chicks - honest

Day 8 Fownhope to Coalport (63 miles)

Monday, May 30, 2011 (63 miles)
I am getting more tired as this journey goes on instead of fitter, probably because there is little time for recovery in between the stages. I was not really looking forward to today’s ride and dragged myself down to breakfast in Ann and Tony’s house quite despondently. They soon cheered me up. They run an exemplary B&B and make you feel like a visiting family member instead of a paying stranger. They have really given up doing B&B but decided to take me in as they knew I would not got anything else in the area. Anyway, I left their house in high spirits at 9.20am with best wishes and a hunk of Ann’s simnel cake.
It was raining heavily. By 11am I was soaked to the skin and seriously cold and I still had hours to go. In Leominster I had a hot lunch then vanished into the Ladies to put all my other cycling clothes on top and the woolly helmet from North Ronaldsay. This did the trick and I kept warm until the rain stopped at 2.30pm. It was a truly terrible day though and I had to resort to the MP3 player to distract myself. I was cycling through the Shropshire hills and the road rolled just enough to make it annoyingly hard to keep a constant speed up. The scenery was just like Angus too. I was staying at the Coalport YH and on arriving at nearby Ironbridge I was enthused enough to get out the camera for the first time that day when I came across four massive chimneys. I asked a man about them and he kind of said: “What chimneys?” because they have been there almost as long as him. They won an award for being well-blended into the landscape. See what you think.

Can you spot them?

The oldest iron bridge in Iron Bridge and the world.

I also cycled past the oldest iron bridge in the world, now a World Heritage Site and serious tourist town. The YH had hot food and a washing machine and drier so I was able to resurrect all my wet gear. I got a room all to myself and had a really good night there.