Lochmaben to Lanark – 50 miles It’s said that Robert the Bruce may have been born in Lochmaben. Or Turnberry Castle in Ayrshire. Or Writtle in Essex. Whatever the true location, Lochmabians have taken their tenuous claim to heart and erected a statue to the great Scottish medieval warrior king in their main square. We passed by it on our…
Day 14: Toast Racks and Bangers
Keswick to Lochmaben – 63 miles Sixty three miles. For slow End-to-Enders like us, that’s a long day. We managed to leave the Youth Hostel by 7h45 – a minor miracle – not before Phil gone to take a shower in one of the shared bathrooms and forgotten his key-card. He was discovered waiting by the door to our corridor…
DAY 13: Whispering Bob and The Romantics
Kendal to Keswick – 40 miles Another late start. I had trouble pumping my tyres with a flash new pump I’d bought specially for the trip. I felt I had to lube my chain too. Almost every attempt we’ve made to leave before 8.30 on this trip had so far failed. Ah well…sloth has other benefits. We rode out of…
DAY 12: The kindness of strangers
Chorley to Kendal – 57 miles Chorley and Preston are blessed with a beautiful network of cycle tracks, superior to anything around our hometown of Bristol, which is supposed to be an especially cycle-friendly city. They undulated, new and smooth, through woods and secluded valleys, marred only by very annoying kissing gates which couldn’t have been designed with bikes in…
DAY 11: The Reds and the Gold
Chester to Chorley – 56 miles Breakfast at The Grosvenor Guest House was served by a thin young woman with dark eyes and a face mask. Phil later learned that she was Colombian and transgender. She wore a stylish long striped dress that came down to her ankles. Her grasp of English was slight and our questions were often met…
DAY 10: The rows
Day off in Chester I snuck out of the hotel early, hoping to get a coffee and a head start with my blogging. The streets were almost empty. The only noises were the roar and beep of a reversing rubbish truck. The lack of people gave me a chance to fully appreciate the wonder that is old Chester, a faithfully…
DAY 9: Shivering ducks and Jimi Hendrix
All Stretton to Chester – 56 miles As well as morganisation, there’s another new word that has entered our vocabulary during this trip: komooted. It refers to the ordeal of being sent down (or even worse ‘up’) some stony track totally unsuited to pannier-laden bicycles by our navigation app Komoot. I have to admit that even though of its features…
DAY 8: Scarecrows and African Rice
Fownhope to All Stretton – 49 miles I awoke with the cock crow. Barbara told us that it’s a myth that cocks only crow in the morning. I suppose it doesn’t make much difference what time they crows, they’ll still wake you if you happen to be asleep. I liked waking up that way. It felt timeless. But Jules said…
DAY 7: Welsh Cakes and Owls
St Arvans to Fownhope – 32 Miles Hardness of climb, distance to ride, size and type of road, these were the considerations that we were constantly rolling around in our minds, trying to find the perfect fit. Rodney, the landlord of the Parkfield B&B in St Arvans told us that the high road over the hills to Monmouth was preferred…
DAY 6: Pedalling Home
Glastonbury to St Arvans – 46 miles The four of us – myself, Phil, Tim and Nick – sat outside the Market House in Glastonbury waiting for the manager to come and release our bikes from storage. The streets were quiet in the soft morning sun. We had packed our bags, breakfasted and were ready. The manager had promised to…