We woke to the scenic view of the little chef and burger king outlets, and inspite of last night's debates bikes were loaded up and we were on the road at 8.10am. Destination Morrison's, Workington. Oh yeah baby!
En route we genned up on Workingtons demise as a major steel town, passing the Henry Bessemer pub that featured large in the tales of the day the steel works were shut.
Morrison's big breakfasts were the order of the day for all except for Steve, whose body is clearly more of a temple than anyone else's, who opted for a remarkable granola sundae special.
Bikes loaded with minimal faff and with full tummies we headed off for the obligatory photos at the official start point.
And we were away. The little blue signs for route 71 our guide. A mix of road and path and a few inclines led us eventually to Cockermouth 13 miles in.
As this point the signage seemed to fail us as the notorious Whinlatter pass that we had planned so hard to avoid loomed large. With no other options (except admitting we'd got it wrong or retracing our tyre tracks- and we are blokes!!) we persevered up to 1250 ft. Followed by a nerve and buttock jangling descent on a shingle and rock path into Keswick. We descended into the trademark Lake District misty rain almost obscuring the lovely Lakeland sights around us: the sounds of the village school reminding us that as we pedaled others were going about normal Fridays.
A hard won 30 miles. A late lunch of shandy, chips, peanuts and sausage rolls from Gregg's (all consumed for their nutritional value, you'll note) at the Red Lion and we were off again.
20 miles this time. The weather cleared and the views as we pulled ourselves up the hill out of Keswick were stunning. The pink stone of the village of Greystoke confirmed we were close to home.
Dave K guided us brilliantly back to the delights of the lovely Rachel in the Travelodge on a route that we will sell to any future adventurers.
The car shuttlers returned to Workington to retrieve the cars. And we headed to Raj's, the best curry house in Penrith. Dave A fretted over their business model as we were the only guests, and the funeral music was not to his taste either.
The #kingofthemountain cap was awarded many times over (heaviest bike, best route home, most compelling sleeps on the roadside verge, most unlikely bottle of white wine in a curry house). I could go on....
Home and bed. Hurricanes loom, apparently along with light rain and 46 miles to Stanhope.....
No comments:
Post a Comment