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Sunday 27th May

This is it......

We wake early enough and go and get some breakfast, I'm in normal clothes for once and I haven't had many breakfasts.

I got stuck into the fruit, muesli and porridge and the fruit juices, lots of fruit juices, while Dawn got stuck into the cooked breakfast to start, then the fruit, the yoghurt, some cereal, I went up to get changed into my running gear to find that she'd made it onto the toast and croissants, so I left her there and went out into the rain to the start of the race on Princes St.

No support, gee thanks.

It was bitter, I was wearing my riding jacket because it was light and waterproof and we all stood in the bus stops trying to stay warm and dry, hoping someone else would try and get in and that they would plug that one gap the wind was finding. We waited and as we stepped out to line up the rain held off thankfully. The first bit of the race was fine, through to the park and away towards the long road along the water front. The running in the beginning was all into a head wind and was hard going but after about 14/15 miles we turned and it was wind with but it was still cold.

One minute the coat was open the next is was wrapped up tight. I was doing OK, just over 3 hours time for the first half but when I was coming out of the some park area after about 18 miles all the work that Benji had done had been spent, it was at this point that you realise how good he was. It was my calves, the bit of your leg you use for both running and cycling, solid rocks attached to the back of my legs. Any spring I had in my stride was going and it was my hips and thighs that were doing the running. I'd give it a go for half a mile and relax for half a mile.

If I'd have gone for it or let it completely relax it would have taken me ages to get home, I would have burnt myself out or lost all rhythm. When I hit the 20-21 mile area a woman started to run down the street, on the opposite side to me, shouting and asking if I was the bloke that had cycled up there........groupies..........how good is that.

Seeing the 26 mile markers was so good, I felt like pinching it and taking it home with me and as we rounded into the stadium I felt so good that I started to pump the ground, waving my arms so they'd cheer louder, it was cold and only those that had to be there had turned up, the racecourse being a little out of the way.

And so I finished cold and, amazingly enough, without a silver blanket, we could all have done with one. But the banana went down well and so did the drinks and the banter in the queue for the massage is always good. There's something about mass participation events that just brings out the best in people. And there's something about massage tables that chills be to the bone.

We got a hot drink, Dawn had gone back to bed and managed to arrive at the racecourse 10 minutes before I did, gets better doesn't it... The room was full of runners shivering trying hard not to spill their drinks, too numb to feel the burn but too cold to afford to lose a drop.

WE then collected a nice Angus burger and checked out the charity stall before getting the bus back to the city centre, then it was shower and.............beer.

Into the centre, pint of real ale and a whisky chaser, in fact lots of pints of real ale and lots of whisky chasers on the Royal Mile.

And the time......3 Hours 22 Minutes.........not bad after 350 miles I think, I'm chuffed with anyway.

Next day we rose and this time I nailed the breakfast bar before we packed up and headed our separate ways, Dawn flying home (selfish sod) and my on the train. Now Virgin have spaces for the bike but they aren't great. The bike's hang vertically but you don't know who else has hung there bike and the bikes are stacked from the wall to the corridor so if you put yours on first you have to find the other person if, like me, they lock their bike and he's the issue, Virgin don't give you a lot of time at stations.

The train was held up on route by a broken freight train so I arrived at Preston too late for my train and had to wait an hour and a half for the next one. Luckily when I got there the other bike wasn't locked but it was still a rush to get the straps off, bike and restrap the other one, luckily a bloke who'd just cycled the Scottish Highlands with his wife was sat next to me and helped with the bikes, I pity anyone who has to do it alone.

I got home just before 8pm, Dawn was already home and......and........and.......had already gone to the pub.....so that's where I went, Tuesday I had a day off work and did nowt.

Saturday 26th May

So here it was, my last days riding I woke around 6ish and went to use the toilet and clean my teeth except I couldn't. The men's dorms were in two halves, separated by a door, I was in the first dorm, the other bloke was in the other dorm and so was the toilet and wash room, and he'd locked the door...... what was he thinking?

My only saving grace was that there wasn't any women in and their dorm was open so I went and used their facilities. Now why is it that women's dorms and toilets always, always feel like women's dorms and toilets, there's a sort of cleanliness next to godliness feel that is just a little bit creepy.

Anyway I'd asked the hostel manager about the track that went up to Minch Moor and he told me to go behind the fire station, a big building painted red and so off I went, and boy was it red, no missing the fire station in Broadmeadows.

The track meanders up initially around a small wooded area and then along an edge with a deep valley below, there are trees to the left on the other side of the valley and to the right above you as you track along the ridge. This was just enjoyable riding, the sort of thing you hope for, on top of the hills, no-one around, no noise, no traffic, early morning, riding that takes an effort but doesn't screw you and views to die for. I'm definitely going back some time, especially as one of the 7 staines is right there.

When I got to the old drovers on the top of Minch Moor it was wilderness as far as you could see, forests and moorland cut with rideable tracks.






The top picture shows the cross roads sign on the top of the moor, the other two pictures are the view from the top, it doesn't get much better does it, especially after seven hard days of riding.

As I entered the forested section after the signpost I found it even more fun with a flowing trail and a slight gradient to pick up a little speed before I came to join up with one of the 7 staines tracks after another little climb and had a fun descent all the way down into Innerleithan with a set of strange circles created in the hillside on the north, some sort of art project...



When I dropped into Innerleithan just before 9 I noticed how quiet it was, not a lot of traffic at all. I had intended to pop into the wood to the north for half a kilometre but it was those bloody black-dashes again so I just headed up the B709. The road was quiet, through a golf course and then along a river with quite a number of wild campers in the dead ground where the river meandered away from the road. After I passed Windside Hill the climb started, not a troublesome climb just a long one in open country. At one stage the rain started but it was short lived, thankfully the wind blew it past me.

There was one piece of off-road left and it was those bloody black-dashed lines again so I originally had it mind to just keep to the road all the way into Edinburgh but as I got to Windy Stack there was the path, clearly marked as the farm road went west and down so the path went west and up. Do I or don't I, should I or shouldn't I? Sod it. The path ran along a grassy hill but this was a Scottish grassy hill not a Yorkshire grassy hill so the grass was tightly bound and the ground was firm so traction was easy. The way was well marked through to the top of the hill, over the top and through to a gate.




From the top of the hill you could clearly see the water and that's when I knew Edinburgh was getting close.



Why is it that markers always stop at gates? How many times has this happened to me on the ride. The gate was at the top of a hill, the hill dropped sharply and there was what looked like a track but the clarity of the track soon disappeared. Initially I just went straight down but then I had to come back up and I travelled across the hill more, heading for some trees that were clearly marked on the map. When I got to the trees I managed to pick up the track again and make my way to the farm gate, passing a dead sheep along the way with a lamb lying beside, it looked like she'd fallen over into the brook, legs high in the air and stiff.

I don't know if I took the correct track in its entirety since the gate, most of the time I was following quad tracks but I made it to the farm gate and rode past the farm house and along the road making my way through Temple and Carrington where I started to notice more bike riders following a defined cycle route. Surprisingly this was the first mass recreation I'd seen on the whole route, I hadn't seen more than a couple of people at any one spot, the most was a group a elderly ramblers after Appltreewick over Hotton Common.

I soon caught up with the A7 and followed that to a pub on the roundabout just outside Millerhill. I nice place where, even though I was unshaven, dishevelled and probably stunk to high heaven in my bike clothes I was looked after and I had plenty of time to get stuck into some soup and a nice toasted sandwich. Almost there.

I let the food digest and set off into Edinburgh getting to the Ocean Terminal just after 12pm.

That was it, I'd done it, 350 miles, eight days.

I locked my bike up outside with a load of others and walked in and upstairs to register. As I got to the counter the lad is looking at me and curiosity gets the better of him so he asks if I'm doing something special to turn up in bike gear to a running competition so I told them what I'd done, you know it's that look of 'what a daft prick' that makes it worthwhile, it was a pleasant expression, mildly impressed (they've probably seen a lot of the two days of registration), enough to shake your hand.

I wondered around the show a bit, stalls selling energy bars and clothes and there at the end was a massage session, I had £20 on me and needed to eat energy food soonish so I could only afford the really basic session of £10 but I needed it, sort of wanted it really, I could feel my legs tightening in protest as I stood there.

I got on the table and started to talk to Benji about what I'd done so he'd know where I needed the work, the 'daft-prick' look comes out again and he starts on my calves, or at least he tried to, he then had to spend two minutes stretching my legs out because they were too tight to massage. To be honest I'd been a bit daft and I hadn't stretch once along the whole ride although I'd always taken a road route to start off.

Anyway, it was at this point that he took pity on me and offered a 'charity-deluxe' and he stretched my whole legs out for £10, I was in heaven, dribbling through that face whole in the bench. It felt good but he didn't believe I'd finish the marathon with legs like that.

I wondered around the stalls and went to the Lucozade stand where the sports scientist turned out to be a professional mountain bike rider and she talked me through what I'd probably done to my body and what I needed to do from then to the race. The advice, eat often, high carb meals, try and stay away from too much dairy as it can clog up the lungs and hydrate myself. I even got a pee chart so I could measure my urine to determine my level of hydration. One good tip for being in the pub that night, obviously avoid alcohol but drink fruit juices with soda water. Water is limited in minerals, etc., while fruit juices give you minerals, vitamins and calories.

I grabbed some energy bars and drinks and headed out of the registration and text everyone. I'd already spoken to Dawn when I stopped at the pub for lunch and she'd be on the plane by then so I rode off to the hotel.

We were staying at the Royal Terrace Hotel and how good were they. I didn't have the voucher from the Internet, Dawn did, no problem, they checked me in, can I leave my bike anyway, a full luggage room and I locked the wheels together thinking they'd spot someone who couldn't remove the lock and I was in the room.

I didn't bother showering, dirty sod that I am, I waited in the room for Dawn to text me that she'd landed and that she was getting the bus. OH, forgot to mention, Dawn flew from Manchester to Edinburgh, not drove up so we could take the bike back, no, she flew up....

Anyway, she'd brought clean clothes so I had a shower, hotel baths are always too small, and then we went and had a wander around and to find somewhere to eat (Zizis, an Italian we'd used last year). We wandered through a couple of bars, went back to the hotel, were charged a small fortune for two glasses of wine (my little treat) and went and got cosy in the room.

Tomorrow I run 26 miles, and I thought it was over.



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It's like waiting for the rest of series 3 of Lost isn't it....well I've been on Holiday so here's the rest of the action..

Friday 25th May

I'd spoken to the People of the Bike Hire shop in Kielder about the way paths are marked in black dashes on the map and they'd had a look at their map. Some of the paths were there, some weren't, some were only partially there.

I was heading into Scotland and I didn't have a clue how the rights of access worked in Scotland and really, I still don't, so I thought I'd give one path a go, if it worked fine if not then I'd avoid the black dashes.

I set off in the morning with my packed lunch prepared for me by the owners of No 27, the B&B at Kielder, rode up the main road slightly before dropping onto the bridleway that followed the west side of the road and carried on to Deadwater where I crossed the border, Scotland at last. To the west was a couple of small ruined buildings, the Kielder bike shop map showed a path to but not beyond the ruins, my map showed a path through. I headed through the ruins and looked along the line of a fence but there wasn't any way through and so I decided to stuff the paths and stick to what I knew.

I headed back to the bridleway and carried on to Hob Knowe and around to the west following the brook before heading north again to the dismantled railway. You start up onto the railway, turning west again and start to wonder if it's right until you see an old carriage there and an old station building and just a few old tracks but not enough to move the carriage anywhere.

I carried along the track and met up with a shepherd who'd been pulling a limb out of a hollow, he let me through the gate and shut it behind me so I thought the path was quite often used, especially as the people at Kielder had mentioned what a good run it was.

Well, I carried on into a cutting and the ground got very wet, water sat on the surface from both sides of the cut but you could just about ride through it until I reached a gate which was padlocked. The first words that jumped into my head were 'sod it', or something slightly similar, and I turned back and went up the cutting banking but there was no chance of getting through that way so I had to go back, got wet feet again and simply climbed over the gate. The ride through to Riccarton Junction was simple after that, an old railway with a few sections where you meandered through small saplings.

When I reached the junction there was a well signposted route out into the forest or there was the clearly visible old railway line. I carried on along the old line and around a padlocked gate that said don't go any further, or else...

Well, I ignored it, you would wouldn't you, carried on and ended up riding through a site where they were relaying the tracks, it was still early, before 9 am so I continued hoping to plead ignorance. I came out at Whitrope Cottages which looked like an old station, worked my way past the workers' caravans which weren't occupied and got out on the main road again heading north to Shankend Farm.

At the farm I went under the viaduct and picked up a trail from Hawes, I headed west and then south around the outside of the forest before entering it and having a fun little ride on fire roads all the way down and then back up the east side of Hawk Hill before leaving the forest to ride over White Hill.

Sod's Law really isn't it that just as I left the forest it started to spit but it wasn't too bad and I managed to look at the map at the crest of the hill without the wind damaging it. Within minutes the weather was fine again and I found myself looking over some great scenery.




On the decent I noticed another view, the grass seemed to be a very rich green, maybe it was a reaction to the end of the forest riding.




I dropped down and straight into Hawick to rest and eat, I ate at a small park beside the river and looked to plan the rest of my days route. I'd decided to give up on the black dashed paths and to use other routes instead that I knew I could trust so when I left Hawick I head west along the B711 and then north past Old Harden. This was a b-road route but a nice ride and I made may way up the hill past Esdale Law to Burnfoot and Ashkirktown then along Wool Rig before heading into Selkirk and then out to Broadmeadows.

When I was along the A708 I came across a wooded section that looked rideable and headed in to find I was in an area open to the public called Bowhill with a small house and restaurant, and I was able to find a marked route to Duchess Drive which I had initially wanted to ride but wasn't sure about because of the confucion with the dashed paths.

Bonus time, I made my way through the forest and then the hard grind up over the top of the hill along the drive, as you clear the hill it's a lovely decent down into the wood and eventually to Broadmeadow. When I got there it was locked, I rang the SYHA and found out that it didn't open until 5pm, an hour to go. I went looking for somewhere to eat, there wasn't a pub anywhere near. In fact, since I'd got close to Hawes I'd noticed a hell of a lot of Christian retreats and a significant lack of pubs so I had to ride back to Selkirk to get something to eat.

I got some fish & chips, sat and ate them and cycled back to Broadmeadows, about 5 miles. When I got there the house manager was there and so was the German I'd shared with at Greenhead, complete with all his bags. The manager was a nice fellow, full of stories and was very friendly with a peacock that he fed from his hand.

One more day to go then I could have a bath......


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Thursday 24th May

When I set off from Greenhead the next morning it was OK, not too warm but not bad. As I travelled over to Gisland heading for Spadeadam Forest the weather closed in a bit, a mist settled and it got a little damp.

I took a good look at the map because forest riding is dodgy, there aren't any landmarks to use and you have to dead reckon which means watching the distance travelled against known markers like road or path junctions, buildings, bridges, etc. to know where you are.

The route I'd chosen was fairly straight forward apart from a complex of buildings that looked like Forestry buildings but I thought I'd know when I got there and just take it easy, I'd set off early enough so it should be OK.

The road to the complex of buildings was tarmaced all the way and at one stage on the forest trails had a large red sign at its entrance stating that if you went any further you'd be in contravention of the Official Secrets Act, not much further was a CCTV post then as I got to the complex I noticed it was surrounded by wire fencing and the road had bollards across it turning it making it difficult to go any further. The guard house at the gate sort of gave it away that this wasn't Forestry Buildings and the Sergeant came out to talk to me.

Guess what....I'd found RAF Spadeadam, lucky me.

And to cap it all the route I was taking was restricted and shouldn't, by all accounts, be on the map.

So I had to take a detour and off I went over Wiley Spike, an open Moorland used for target practice, how nice. The weather was bleak over the top of Wiley Spike all the way to Horseholme where I headed north east and back into the forest.

You could tell it was a working forest as I travelled along to Butterburn then Birky Shank, around the back of the lodge to Whitehill and past Muckle Samuales Craggs, a small outcrop of stones on the western side of the path. The path was open in places with evidence of tree felling and on I carried, making my way, without too much trouble and with a decent amount of speed to Whickhope Nick past the memorial and coming onto the main road around Kielder Water just before Low Craneclough and the holiday park there.

I tried to venture into the park and there was a signposted route via Stower Hill but they were tree felling and the route was closed so I headed back and on to Leapish Waterside Park where I stopped for some dinner. It had taken me about four hours and would ultimately put an extra 10km onto the ride that day but the ground was so solid that I had flown along.

I set off again to Kielder along the main road and decided to have a pop into the forest so I took a left at the inlet just after Wellhaugh followed the river until I found a bridge, crossed and then came back traversing left and right, meandering along the trails slowly making my way northwards until I came back to the road about a kilometre from Kielder.

Now Kielder is a small place, I thought it would be bigger, and there is no phone signal at any point along the waters edge. Tyne Tees were going to do a spot about me but I had to get that front wheel fixed so i took it to the local hire shop who kindly took it in and offered to fix it for me some time later on in the afternoon (it was about 2pm by this time). I had to walk to the main road to the phone box to call the lad at Tyne Tees and tell him I didn't have the bike so couldn't do the spot. With hindsight I should have offered to do the piece without the bike but I was knackered and not thinking too straight by this stage, I'd reached the point where getting there was the aim now and the days were starting to merge.

I wondered over to my digs at No 27 and got settled in, what a lovely lady, she gave me a discount because I was riding for charity and, as I wasn't having a full breakfast she made me a packed lunch for the next day. If anyone's thinking of going there I would encourage it, she has a washing machine you can use, the pub food is OK and the hire shop are really helpful with routes.

I told them about my problem with the path the day before and we looked over my route for the next day, they advised some routes and were surprised about others as the paths weren't on their maps so I avoided those paths but more of that to come.

No photos while on the journey, I was too damp and it wasn't that good a scenery but I had a wonder up to the castle and that's worth a quick half hour.






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Wednesday 23rd May

The morning was nice and warm and I set off early, about 7ish after my breakfast and headed towards Murton , going around the back of the A66, and then on to Dufton and Knock which were pleasant small places before I turned off to go past the Christian Centre and towards what looked on the map as a long hard slog up to the top of Knock Fell.

Now the road up was long and winding and a bit of a slog but joy upon joy someone had built a proper road, the reason I found out when I got to the top, because perched on the top of the hill was a radar station, after Green Castle. At the top the road to the radar station turned left and the bridleway went north-eastish, level at first before a bit of drop and then I followed the river. The top had been in the cloud line but once I'd dropped a few metres I was soon out of it. Tracing the river was interesting, some of the riding was great, some a little dodgy with such a peaty/boggy surface and at other points the river bank had collapsed into the river. On numerous occasions I had to cross the river to keep on the path, sometimes that was easy and sometimes not so but overall an enjoyable ride and well worth doing if you're in the area but a little too rough to make a special trip.

Once the path reached Hole House it improved and the ride down was straight and fast, only worrying about the odd gate. From the end of the track I headed off to Nenthead where stopped to eat outside the old mine museum. From there I made my way to Greenends, through a gate and up a grassy field. The track went straight up but the map showed it heading to the centre of a wood, luckily the farmer was in the field and he pointed in the direction I had to go so off I went, over the crest and found the gate into the wood, The wood had a large open track through it and then another across the hill side, navigating was quite easy until I had reached the tack intersection, here I couldn't see the tack I had to use and so after having a couple of miserable attempts, trudging through marshy ground I got the compass out and plotted my route properly.

Once over the hill the view and terrain were great, far harder than the ground in Yorkshire so faster to ride on and the way across the open moor was waymarked. Up to a point. Why is it always the way? It seems that everyone thinks '...they'll figure it out from here..', either way mark it or don't but don't lull people into a false sense of security. Off I went waiting for way markers to point in the right direction and nothing. There was a large sheep pen on top of one of the hills and I eventually found the route, after descending the hill twice and climbing back up, and went around the pen and off to the farm houses on the west side of the valley of Allen Dale (I think I know him...).

After riding through Ninebanks I looked for my first encounter ever with a 'path', the simple black dashed paths on OS maps that aren't shown as rights of way specifically. My first attempt to get on the path at the brook crossing before Whitfield Hall met with a private property sign and as I could see another way in I thought stuff it I'll head around to Park Head and get on the path that way.

And that's exactly what I did, taking the farm track just before Bearsbridge and heading around the back of the wood, although the gate at the top of the field by the wood had been blocked with barbed wire (should have had alarm bells ringing) I thought it would be alright so on I went, around the wood and picking up the farm track to field at the north side. Not it got difficult,I followed a boggy track, through gates and onwards until there were no more gates and try as I might I couldn't find a single gate for hundreds of metres along the fence. I wasn't going back, I was two thirds of the way so I climbed over the fence, stayed as close to the wall as I could ignoring the path on the map and headed off to the road I could see on the other side at Agarshill Fell.

I was knackered when I got to the other side, having to trudge the bike through clumped grass which is never easy as either the back, the front of both wheels catch a clump continuously.

Well, once onto the road I decided to ignore any more paths that I had planned that day and took the road route down into Haltwhistle. Now I'd noticed that my front wheel had a bit of a wobble on it and I remember someone telling me that Haltwhistle had a garage that sold bike parts so off I went to get some more cash and to find the garage.

The garage is on the A69 but only sells basic spares, some wheels but not disk wheels so I had to wait and I set off down the A69 to Greenhead where I booked into the Youth Hostel (via the pub) and got myself cleaned up.

There was a number of people in the hostel but it wasn't busy, in fact there was only me in the dorm and first before a German arrived to bunk down at the other end. I'd put all my stuff on the bunk next to the plug sockets so I could plug my phone in over night. He had a lot of stuff, what looked like four duffel bags but in black and red and a large satchel/bag also in black and red. You wouldn't forget that in a hurry, and as it was I didn't but that's another day. I also took full advantage of the washing machine and did the last bit of washing before the finish.

It was the European Cup Final that night so I went off to the pub to get something to eat and to watch the game but it was the most boring game I'd seen in years and I was tried so I headed back to the hostel, read for an hour and got my head down, I was starting to like the early starts and I was heading off at 6 the next day.

Didn't get the camera out all day so, unfortunately no pictures today.

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Tuesday 22nd May

When I arrived at the bunk house in Thoralby there was already someone there. There was only the two of us booked in that night so we took a dorm each, pottered about a bit and went up the road to get some lunch. Luckily the other person knew where the local pub was which was back up the main (for want of a better word) road a little way, within walking distance.

We set off, I phoned my wife, he'd already ordered so I sat with him, ordered something to eat and had a couple of pints before I headed back for something to read.

When I got back to the bunkhouse I popped into the farm and payed up for the night, I sort of figured they wouldn't be too happy with me knocking them up at 6 in the morning. The other bloke came back about an hour later and dropped off too sleep in one of the arm chairs. I took myself off to bed and read one of the books in the bunkhouse. We were both off to Hawes the next day but through different routes, he was getting the bus to get there for about 9-9.30, I'd be long gone by then, remember this prediction, it comes back to haunt me.

The bunkhouse was an old school house with solid wooden floors that resonated with every footstep so it wasn't easy to sleep until everyone was still and about 11ish someone else came in and took another dorm. What a loud little bugger he was, clumsy sod, so it took me a little while to get to sleep.

I woke at 5.30, got all my gear together and set off for 6 through into the village and off to the north west heading over heck brow. It was quite sunny and warm so it was light shirt and shorts, that's another prediction that went wrong. As I climbed up to heck brow I climbed into a cloud line and the wind started to pick up. Out came the coat and so began a long and hard climb, pushing the bike most of the way as it just wasn't possible too ride in some places, especially on the top where the wind was blowing so hard I literally couldn't stay upright on the bike.

The tops were open moors, at the mercy of the elements providing no shelter whatsoever to the bloody awful wind that blew the moisture through your clothes and into the pours of your skin. As I reached the farm track by Bush Moss I was so happy, there was a wall to ride alongside and then it was downhill all the way to the reservoir. Once on the other side the decent quickly took me away from the cloud line and the wind although the path was rutted and full of wet rubble with small streams meandering everywhere with the run off.

The reservoir was used for sailing and water sports but it was empty that day, it was like all the locals knew what I didn't. I climbed up the tarmac road through the winding bends and took the bridleway up behind the small wood and across the face of the hill side before rising to meet the old roman road and then on to Buttersett High Pasture before dropping finally into Buttersett and Hawes.

It had taken me 3 1/2 hours to do 20km, I was cold, tired and full of dread at the thought that I still had 50km to go. And to impress this upon me, as I rode into Hawes there getting off the bus was the bloke I'd dined with at Thoralby. Bollocks.

Needless to say I did't take any sodding photos.

As I rode through Hawes I looked for somewhere to eat but everywhere was just setting up, at the end of the town though there was a greasy spoon for motor bikers called Penny & Garths. Go There. I went in, tiled floors so no worries about the shit all over me, I looked at the menu, the usual combinations of sausages, bacon, chips, eggs, etc. but is was over £4 for sausage, chips and beans. Hunger took over and I ordered that and a hot chocolate (I don't drink caffeine, haven't since I stopped smoking 5 years ago), sat down, finished the hot chocolate, ordered another and then out came the biggest pile of grub I'd seen in many a long while. It was too much for that time of day but it was worth every penny and possibly more so when I say go there I mean Go There.

When I left Hawes I was supposed to go up to Thwaite Bridge Common but when I looked up there at the climb topped nicely by cloud again I decided that prudence was the better part of valour and I bottled it, went up the A684 and then the B6259 instead.

I followed the road all the way up to Pendragon Castle near Castlethwaite. Here I made up nearly all the time I'd lost earlier and managed to take some photo's.




From the castle I headed down the B road to pick up the A683 and then at Crooks Beck I was able to get back onto my original track, heading slightly east of Ravenstonedale and then over Smardale Fell:



You can see from the photos how much the weather had changed. It made me wonder for a while that I could have stayed in bed another couple of hours and still got there at the same time as I'd have missed the bad weather, but you can't dwell on that and I had places to go. After Smardale it was a mixture of farm tracks, bridleways and country lanes through Crosby Garret, Southby Grange, Stockbar, Grassgill Rigg until I reached Helm Beck Cottage where I turned to pick up my last bridleway. I found the track heading towards the woods and off I went through knee high grass, through one field and then the next until I came to small field full of cows. Now they aren't going to harm you and they don't mean any harm but when I got to the gate, and I could see the other gate on the opposite side, they all headed towards me, it was obviously close to milking or feeding or something but human near gate meant something good for them and over they came, and off I went. Sod that.

So I went round the back through little Ormside to get to Great Ormside and was just going through the farm gate when the farmer came over. Now I'd seen some notices about flooded fords and he told me it was impossible to cross without a high vehicle, there weren't any stepping stones anymore so I went back and thought sod it, I went down the footpath that lead along the river to Appleby. I walked in the open fields and rode through the woods and loved it, it was pleasant riding.

When I got to Appleby I was quite refreshed, I didn't have any after affects from the mornings escapade and so I checked into a nice B & B with friendly people called Bongate House and popped into town for some bananas and Germolene.

One of the problems I'd started to get was a massive rash over my shoulders, Carrying 10kg every day, especially on the hot days when I only had a shirt on, had brought me out badly and I had to do something before it became infected. So for the rest of the night I smelt of Germolene, lovely.

Still Appleby was pleasant enough although the castle was closed which was a shame but I think I'll go back there again, it looks like a goods base to do some sight seeing.




It had been a hard day and the climb the next day would be, on paper, the hardest but at least I'd had fun since I got back telling everyone I was blown off by Hawes.



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Monday 21st May

Well, it appears it's taking me longer to write this up than it took to ride the bloody route.

Well, where was I? The New Inn at Appltreewick, lovely morning, sun was shining and it was going to be a hot one. Below is a couple of views looking out from the front of the pub followed by a couple of piccies of the pub itself.







John's got the livery at the back of the pub and is well worth having a chat with.

The vodafone signal is non-existent here so bring plenty of change for the phone box over the road.

From Appltreewick I headed off to Linton and then Linton Moor coming out just past Cracoe and then taking the path to Hetton Common via the side of the reservoir.




You can see the path back from the first picture above, the edge of the reservoir is just visible and you can see from the path that it was an easy, hard surface. The view to the west was also great. This looked like it was going to be an easy and enjoyable day. Fool that I was.

From the top of the Weets you can see the great scenery:





And below is the worlds stupidest animal, more about them later, (believe me, lots more) :


So from the Weets I trotted off to Street Gate. A simple and easy enough ride then a right turn over High Cote Moor. At this point I should have guessed what my day was going to be like. It was more of the soft, steep, grassy terrain I'd seen the day before, hard work riding, slow work pushing and a good few kilometres of climb before I got to the top and I had my lunch on a set of rocks at the top.

As I was writing this I was trying to remember what I had for lunch and then I remembered. Now here's a tip for you. At breakfast I asked the owners of the New Inn if they could make me up some ham butties, they were good, nice think pieces of proper ham all squashed at the bottom of my bag, heaven.

Over this whole distance I'd met only two other people, two blokes, on the mobile phone, just in front of me eating their lunch. Can't get away from the things. Mind, around there you have take advantage of the high points when ever you can.





The decent was better than the climb thankfully and off I went to Arncliffe to head over Moor End Fell. What a climb, no chance of riding this, slogging it up to the top over peaty, boggy ground before descending into Starbottom and another climb up to Walden Moor. Here I met a bloke who had just walked down from Buckden Pike and was gobsmacked I was taking a bike up there, should have had the alarm bells ringing really shouldn't it..

It was a long push up to the top of Walden Moor but the views were worth it:





Now the first picture shows the way marker so I knew where I was, then...and off I went.

I followed the track as well as I could make out and from that point it was all down hill to the road in the valley but it was a little boggy in places and broken up. Eventually I came across a well laid out farm track and took this to be the bridleway, well you would wouldn't you with no other obvious tracks around. Off I set and this is where those bloody sheep got on my wick. They have a really clever trick for getting away from you. They stand in the field where you're obviously not going to go, wait for you get close and then run onto the bridleway, lolloping off shitting themselves and if you stop, so do they, you just hope they have a bloody heart attack so you can get on with the ride.

Anyway, this track meanders around the hill side and eventually drops down to the road but I've come out near Hill Top Farm, about a mile further up the road than I was expecting to and the track I've just ridden on isn't on the map, bizarre. And to make matters worse Hill Top Farm has a Jack Russel and an open gate so as I ride past the drive the little sod comes running up trying to nip my feet, oh for an engine and a reverse gear...

The rest of the days ride was on the road and the bunkhouse at Thoralby was fine. There was one other person in the place and, luckily, he knew which way the pub was so we set off at about seven for something to eat. Lovely sun, nice day. I'd put my clothes in the wash before we left and hung them to dry and suddenly realised I'd washed all my notes so I've been blagging it so far, no notes to work on and the note pad wouldn't work from this point on. Mice and men, mice and men.

I did make one decision, after the days struggles, it had taken me over eight hours to do sixty kilometres, I was leaving early the next day, I was getting caught out in the dark on the eighty kilometre days.

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