Day 13 - Annan to New Cumnock

Black Thursday.  For me that is.  We invite our landlord Steve, who has been very helpful, to be in a photo with us in front of our B&B. As I wheel my bike from the back I see the front wheel is completely flat. We return to the garden and I replace it with a new inner tube. After the photo I am about to mount and see that the back tire is also flat. So, the only option is to replace it with the tire I had just changed for the front. Amazingly it holds the air. We can only assume that someone had let out the valves on both tires in the short time they were out of the shed while we packed. Too coincidental. “It must have been that fat bloke we saw loitering in the back garden”, helpfully suggests Simon. By this time our early start has been squandered. It is already approaching 10am

We continue to Dumfries. As a precaution I get a new tube fitted on the rear wheel and we coffee at a Costa in a lovely square. The sun comes out. Humphrey generously buys a bottle of Bruichladdich for the trip and equally kindly carries it in his capacious panniers. Things are looking up!

We divert from our route and take the northern A road towards  Kilmarnock. Good advice from Steve at breakfast. Although quite busy it enables us to catch up for lost time. There are still hills but they are rounded, not steep. They are vivid green and dotted with sheep and gorse of the freshest yellow.  I go to the top of a rise ahead of S&H to take a photo. As I stand on a dry stone wall to get a better perspective for the shot, it collapses. I fall headlong into a ditch, narrowly missing the barbed wire fence but catching my face on the posts. Our First Aid kit gets its first airing and the plasters stem the blood coming from nose and cheek.

As we approach New Cumnock I sense that my rear tire has deflated. We limp another ¼ mile to a rather expensive and pretentious lodge on a golf course that specialises in weddings. We get a separate cottage so we can stow the bikes. While the others bath & shower  I replace the rear tube with the new spare I had bought in Dumfries.  It is starting to rain again. Never has a Bruichladdich tasted so good at the end of a long & frustrating day.  However, we have completed 58 miles in fairly difficult conditions and still a head wind.  Who said it was easier going from South to North?

Simon Sez

A day of troubles for John & his bike.

I have no memory of Dumfries save that Humph bought a bottle of our favourite Islay malt, the Bruichladdich. We then went north off piste. We had tea in a fish & chip shop opposite an undertakers. The proprietress used to be a solicitor's clerk and couldn’t understand let alone explain why she was now working in fish ‘n chips. Humph begins to resemble a meat pie. Everywhere we stop he is on the hunt for meat pies, hot or cold.

I could murder a cigar

DAY 12 Tebay to Annan

This  has been our longest day and we complete 61.8 miles. The rain has eased somewhat and we have pleasureable ride  up the Eden Valley through Penrith, Carlisle and on towards the Scottish border. Fields of neatly planted corn form a frame for our view of the hills beyond.

We are flanked on either side by the Cumbrian Hills and, in the distance, the Lake District. In Penrith we find a bike shop to look at a squeak that has developed on Humprey's bike. I buy some spare brake pads and we have lunch in a pub. Simon spies a book in their library on  travels to a Tibetan Kingdom. Amazingly it is inscribed as being owned by one Norman & Christel Marsh, friends of their parents from the 1930's. Humphrey donates £2 to keep the book. He appears to have an amazing capacity in his panniers!

We stop for some food in Carlisle and Humprhey shows us around the Cathedral and Castle and I book a B&B on my iphone in Annan, just west of Gretna, so we have an end in sight to a long day.  We continue up to Longtown and the weather threatens again. Turning west towards Gretna we are met with a fierce north westerly that is now head on. The last 10 miles we could barely manage 7mph and we arrive in Annan at 7pm exhausted.  But, we have crossed the border into Scotland,  and have now covered over 600 miles.

We eat at the Del Amitri restaurant - about the only place open at 9pm. The best meal so far with a very eclectic menu. Our hostess gives us each a "Fallachan" - a liqueur made from goats cheese originally introduced by the vikings and now resurrected by a local Lanarkshire farmer from Walston.  His cheeses were excellent.  We cap off a great day's ride with a malt in the The Blue Bell pub dated 1770.

Footnote:  I am updating this from Ardrishaig just south of Oban on Loch Gilp. It is Sunday 22nd and we have now completed 730 miles coming across to the Isle of Arran on Friday night.  We have holed up in the Grey Gull Inn to escape a storm. This morning has cleared (somewhat) ...we will press on to Oban and then decide whether we take an alternative route via the Isle of Skye or the more busy one up via Loch Ness to Inverness.  Do not know when we might get internet coverage...this may be the last post for  awhile. This is a big country.

Lets hope there is a sliver lining to all the clouds.......!

DAY 11 - Slaidburn to Tebay

This has been a tough day and we only manage some 43.2 miles. The combination of wind and rain have continued to be challenging. However we have had some bright spots and parts of the scenery have been stunning as we leave Slaidburn. Vast valleys and streams in the mist, the hills dotted with sheep and tussock.

At Kirkby Lonsdale the rain stops. Two wonderful old bridges across the river Lune greet us as we buy hot coffee from a roadside café. 

A local points out a stone plinth with a hollowed out top and explains there was a leper colony on one side of the bridge and this was used for placing money and food for lepers on that side of the river to collect. It now appears to function alternatively as an ashtray or a bird bath.

Further up the Lune we come across a fly fisherman beneath another stunningly beautiful old bridge on a bend in the river.  After the Howgill forrest  and heading for the village of Orton we are flagging. We decide to stay the night at the next available place which is the Cross Keys at Tebay.  Rather unhelpful and surly staff, but the beer is good and we can bring our bikes inside. After a meal we retire early. I get my own room.

Simon Sez

It rains. This cycling business is becoming gruesome. It’s the rain and the hills. Lancashire and Cumbria appear Godforsaken.
 

By this time Humphrey is cycling in open-toed sandals – the "Open-Toed Cyclist". He is fitter than an alley rat. He and John tend to compete for the lead. I am usually to be found at a discreet distance behind but I have to admit the distance behind appears to increase each day.

Have lost count of the pubs and beers we have sampled. Things are becoming rather hazy & confused. One rainy day leads to another.

I could murder a cigar

DAY 10 - Leigh to Slaidburn

Wet again.  Big breakfast to cope with the day ahead. Bridget makes extra sandwiches from the abundance of bacon on the servery (which we have two day later  - a welcome snack in more rain).  Simon is in a real state. He has temporarily lost his goggles and his odometer, not to mention his mind.  Like the travelling rugby and cricketing teams, having ones wife join the team mid tour is an apparent mistake. It addles the mind and weakens the resolve.  However, it is lovely to have her support and encouragement and we are thankful she has kindly offered to take our panniers ahead of us to Blackburn. We get a text from Simon’s brother Humphrey who is to join us via train from Hull. The rendezvous is Blackburn train station, around 12:30. We negotiate our way through Leigh in rush hour traffic and head north through Westhoughton. Heavy rain is falling and the temperature has plummeted as we pass Lostock Junction railway station and find a welcome minor road right just north of Belmont to the left of Darwen Moor. We cross the M65 and are now soaked to the skin – Simon’s lightweight yellow jacket acting as a giant sponge.  We eventually reach the top of a hill and see Blackburn and it is thankfully a downhill run to the train station.

Bridget is in the station cafe. Warm and reading the papers. We grab a welcome cup of coffee and shortly are joined by Humphrey.  Fresh legs, fluorescent yellow jacket, bright red helmet and suede Hush Puppies He looks far too fit for our liking and had got off a few stops earlier at Accrington  and biked some 10 miles to get some practice in.

We lunch at Morrisons where Bridget has parked the car and Simon goes in search of a warmer jacket – a black hoodie for a tenner. We think he might get arrested or at least picked up an ASBO for looking particularly dodgy..

Our onward ride continues wet but we have a new recruit to keep us focused and positive. The hills get bigger. We had been advised at the outset to eat little and often to keep up the energy levels.  Our Waitrose "Eat Naturals" are now nearly finsihed. We come across a substatial stone shelter in the middle of nowhere for such a welcome break from the endless pedaling.

We finally reach Slaidburn, high in the Lancashire hills. A severe, remote but beautiuful place with a dramatic church as one approaches  from the hill below.

We have now completed just over 500 miles.  We are virtually halfway!



Simon Sez,

The worst day so far in terms of weather. It rains all bloody day. One begins to wonder what is the point. A naughty little voice says “you don’t have to do this”.

At Blackburn railway station, a well known meeting place for tramps and other down and outs, we meet my little brother Humphrey “fresh legs” Forrest. He is just as soaked as we are and is wearing a new pair of Hush Puppies, well known for their water holding properties. They have turned dark brown. He is dubbed the “Hush Puppy Cyclist”.  Kippy takes her leave and goes off to inspect a school in Ilkley. We press on through the rain into the beautiful Trough of Bowland which is now filling up with water. It would be very beautiful if you could see it through the rain. The hills around Slaidburn are ghastly.

 

The Youth Hostel is ok and the three of us share a six bunk room. We eat in the pub opposite where 7 huge men are hogging the fire and doing crosswords.

I could murder a cigar

DAY 9 - Farndon to Leigh

We are greeted at breakfast by our host Peter. A James Robertson Justice look alike with John Cleese like movements he confidently announces that  he has been cooking & serving breakfasts since 1946, from the age of 8!  We are not disappointed. We get the “Full Monty” with the best black pudding from Bury, two beautifully cooked eggs, generous amounts of bacon et al. We are presented with a neatly prepared hand written bill made out to The Simpsons!

We are in the Midlands. We find a route to the east of Chester and rejoin our trail at Waverton. Fully fuelled up we are ready to negotiate our way through a spaghetti junction of motorways further north around towns that all seem to begin with a “B” – Bolton, Bury, Bradford, Blackburn. Light rain is starting. We reach the Delamere Forrest, an oasis of green with a wonderful panoply of sweet chestnuts, beech, oak & sycamore providing some cover from the wet. A fresh NW wind continues to slow our progress as we pick our way across or under the network of busy A roads and motorways (M56, M6 & M62) 

Just north of the little village of Culcheth and a bend in the road I look around and cannot see Simon.  I wait by an underpass just ¼ mile from our destination for a full 15 minutes before he eventually comes into sight. He had hit a giant pothole which sent his “collapsible” goggles flying into the road, ending up in 4-5 pieces which needed retrieving before nearly being run down by a white van.

We pull into the car park of The Sporting Lodge Inn, a rather plastic but functional roadside hotel on our route at the intersection of the A580 & A574.  Bridget has just pulled into the car park and laughs at our waterlogged appearance. We must look like a couple of drowned rats on wheels. The rooms are comfortable and warm to dry out our sodden clothing. I offer to have both bikes in mine  – the handlebars very useful as extra coat hangers.  We decide to eat in and work out the logistics for the next day. Bridget has offered to take our kit ahead as far as Blackburn, before going on to Ilkley where she is to do a school inspection. We have also arranged to meet Simon’s brother Humphrey who will join us for a week and will reach Blackburn train station by mid morning.

No other photos for the day….too wet!

Simon Sez

Holt to Leigh. Bloody miles.

Holt is a nice town on the Dee and we stay on the far side of the medieval bridge in Farndon. It rains all day long. John appears to think we are in The Midlands. Either his mind or his geography has gone.

Leigh is a dump. As we pull into the car park of the Sportmans Lodge Inn, Kippy is there to greet us. We have a lovely time (and I get my smalls and handkerchiefs washed).

I could murder a cigar

DAY 8 - Bishops Castle to Holt (Farndon)

Just a warning for anyone on the O2 network, there is no reception in Bishops Castle nor anywhere until about halfway to Chester!

We rejoin our route after the 2 mile diversion overnight, caused by the Bridges YHA being full the night before.  Just as well as we would never have found the array of ales described in detail by Simon last evening and we went through Bridges, without noticing it anyway, in just another 6 miles.  We come across a very fit older couple, also doing LEJOG. They had absolutely no luggage with them but we soon learned that she would do a few sections and then return to a relief car to bring up the provisions in the rear. Very sensible.

We stop in Pontesbury for a coffee in a shop selling pet food, hardware and home made clothing run by a very cheery, enterprising lady. These rural towns seem to foster very creative and practical local businesses.  Although the terrain continues thankfully flat, a strong headwind hampers our progress.  By Baschurch we are flagging and should have stopped for lunch but continue on to Ellesmere and find the Black Lion pub.  Simon believes he has bonked. At least twice. We have done 40 miles with barely a stop. Two baguette sandwiches and a pint of lime and soda later we recover in front of the TV to see the first 30 minutes of the FA Cup – Stoke vs Manchester City who we later learned won 1:0



We head on to Bangor on the river Dee. The wind is now full frontal. Light rain has started., but is  lateral. Simon irresistibly spots the Bangor Racecourse on our left and talks our way into the ground in time for the 4^th.  I place a fiver each way on “Fair Gale” and “Lean Burn”on the strength of the weather and the state of our legs. No luck. However, we have time to  soak up the atmosphere of this beautiful country course and head north.  It is now approaching 6pm and we decide that another 10 miles to Chester is a bridge to far.

We find a country pub with rooms – The Greyhound – in Farndon just over the bridge from Holt.  We are met by hosts Peter & Sylvia who offer us a twin room for £50 including breakfast. We are the sole guests. The promise of wifi and a lockable shed for our bikes do not materialise, neither does the bedroom window open. It has been painted shut. White. Our door has a key but the lock is also sealed by a coat of white paint. However, Simon is happy. There is a full size bath down the hall. 

 
Just up the road we find a more salubrious 4 Star AA Hotel – The Feathers – where we have an excellent meal.  With wifi included we are able to find a hotel on line for the next evening near Leigh as Simon’s wife, Bridget, would be joining us. We had better get it right. Hard to find something suitable when we do not know where we are likely to end up.

I go to sleep and have a bad dream. The toilet seat in the loo down the hall  has also been sealed shut with a massive coat of white enamel, and I have to pee in the sink!

Simon Sez,

Raining but not hard. On we go. Past the Long Mynd. Very beautiful. Cycling is not great for bird watching – you turn your head as they fly by and try not to crash as your bike goes AWOL.  Not great for butterfly watching either, particularly as butterflies tend to fly in 6 different directions at once.

Reasonably flat. 5 miles out of Bangor-on-Dee I mention to John there’s a small, country racecourse there. Five miles later we are flying along down to Bangor and – Strike me Pink – there is the racecourse and there is a race meeting in full swing! So we stop. After talking to a Steward we are let in free and we watch the 3:40pm, a 2.1 mile handicap hurdle. Very exciting finish. Lots of lovely legs on display, only some of them equine.

I could murder a cigar

DAY 7 - Hereford to Bishops Castle

Simon Sez

Visited central Hereford and the cathedral and we eventually set off at 11:00 am with a new rear wheel on John’s bike.  This was a lovely day cycling through rural Herefordshire into Worcestershire and then Monmouthshire.  I had my fifth coffee of the morning in Letton and we had chicken and leek pie for £2.99 at the Royal George in Lyonshall.  We cycled through the most beautiful valleys I have ever seen, particularly in Monmouthshire which is a rural paradise. Wild flowers line every lane in great abundance and the county appears devoid of people. It is steep and hilly but the valleys above the river Monnow are breathtaking.

Into Bishops Castle at 6:30pm.  I have to say Bishops Castle is my sort of town.  It is remote, old, rustic and full of charm.  It has a large cattle market. Population circa 1600. A long steep hill forms the High Street.  It has two breweries and 6 pubs starting with the Six Bells (own brewery) at the bottom and progressing up the steep hill – The Kings Head, The Vaults, The Boar’s Head, The Castle and finally The Three Tuns at the top. At the Six Bells we had a pint of “Cloud Nine” and excellent French Onion Soup, Beef Lasagne and Rhubarb Crumble.  We progressed up the hill sampling the delights of each pub as we went.  We finally made it into the Three Tuns at the top. It as the oldest licensed brewery in the UK dating from 1642 and its bitter – “1642” – is a real ale treat.

We stay at a very pleasant guest house, The Claremont. It has to be said that the sanitary arrangements were peculiar to say the least. The bedroom had a closet in which there was a loo, washbasin and shower unit in the closest possible proximity.  If you shut the closet doors when facing inwards your bottom is trapped. If you shut the doors when facing outwards you are in serious trouble.  When you shut the shower cubicle door your nose is pressed hard against it. John said he could’nt turn around in the shower. I could, just about, but only 1 arm at a time.

I could murder a cigar!



John's Note:   It sould be added that our hosts at the Claremont, Geoffrey & Amanda Price very generously took £5.00 each off our bill towards our respective charities.

We have now completed some 350 miles in our first week and are more or less on our original schedule.  Still a long way to go to Scotland.  It could be Independent before we get there!