Cycling in the Lake District in winter.

I do like to think that I have a good feel for where places are in the UK, without consulting a map.  I've been interested in Geography for as long as I can remember; and one advantage of working in the construction industry is that you do get to travel.  But there are definite gaps in my knowledge.  The Lake District is part of that.  I had a bank holiday walking trip there some seven years ago, and a stopover a few years ago on the way to Manchester.  But that is pretty much it, although I've passed through on numerous occasions.

And had I grown up in another part of the UK, I might have gone there as I child.  But my family always took the view that it was better to head North for the Scottish Highlands than to head South for the Lakes.  Periodically, my siblings and I meet up for a weekend cycle trip, and as my brother lives and works in Coventry; it seemed like a good half way house.    We booked a Youth Hostel in Arnside, and at 1900 on the Friday evening my sister who also lives in Edinburgh turned up in a hired van.  The journey down was brisk, uneventful, dark and swift; except for a stop for fish and chips.  When we got to the Youth Hostel my brother had already arrived.    

Saturday arrived and the weather was cold, but bright.  Good cycling weather.  Arnside is on the South side of the mouth of the River Kent, and we were heading North; so the first part of the journey took us East to Milnthorpe, where we crossed the A6 and picked up a Sustrans cycling route.  Our plan was to circumnavigate Lake Windermere, which is one of the major Lakes that this part of the world is named after. 

Our route took us through rolling countryside with plenty of ascents and descents, but nothing back-breaking.  And the views were great.  We followed minor back roads towards Kendal, a picturesque Lakes' town.   After a few slight navigational mishaps we emerged from Kendal and headed towards Burneside following the Sustrans routes and not straying far from the River Kent.  

The route then joins a trunk road, which was the least pleasant part of the ride.  But soon we were into Windermere town on the banks of Lake Windermere.  Which is where we had lunch.  The weather also turned a little and it occurred to us that it might be a wet ride back.  The pace after lunch seemed more rapid.  That often happens.  My sister thinks it's because lunch gives everyone a morale boost; but I'm not so sure.  

Having said that there seemed to be lost of cyclists travelling much faster than us that afternoon.  Somehow, I just can't let go of the inner teenager that is slightly annoyed when someone else is quicker than I on a bike.  And though I say it myself, in general it doesn't happen that often.   If you disregard the guys that head out early on Sunday mornings on ultra-light racing bikes, I'm in one of the quicker deciles.  Not that day.  We were the slow coaches.  Not sure why.

On this side of the Lake, the road parts with the water and follows a pleasant and undulating route through native forests.  The weather was sunny again and we stopped for a rest and admired the boats on the Lake.    But there wasn't too much time to spare; daylight is in short supply during February in this part of the world.  Also the penultimate part of our journey would be by train; this saved us cycling for miles in the dark.

Our train would take us over the estuary from the genteel resort of Grange-over-Sands back to Arnside.  Soon before Grange we emerged from the woods into a mixture of bucolic and arable vistas.  We got to Grange - as I recall - just as the sun was setting and we found a cafe for refreshments.

I enjoyed crossing the sandflats on the train, and it made for an unusual and atmospheric ending to a great day in the saddle.  

The kindness of strangers (and friends)

I was looking forward to the cycle ride home.  I'd had a great stay with some relatives near Jedburgh in the Scottish Borders; and the forecast was fair.  I'd had a quick look at an online map; but only for the portion of the journey to Hawick.  There's a limited number of back-roads in the Borders, and I've known them since my teenage years.   But my plan was foiled through my own haphazard bicycle maintenance regime: I had tried to get a few extra miles out of a ropey old back tyre by attempting a cack-handed botch on it some months ago.  And as is the way with such botches, they often come unstuck at inconvenient times.  And so it was.  Some miles on from Hawick, as I hauled myself up the hill enjoying the sunshine, a metal strand of the wire in the tyre popped out and punctured the inner-tube.  I valiantly but hopelessly attempted an improbable mend.  This resulted only in the tube blowing out again.

Nothing for it but to walk the bike back to Hawick.  In the interim, while I was faffing away with the bike; I may have thought ill - or at least envious - of a person who swept by in a new looking and sparkling BMW coupe.  I can't fully remember if I did; but if so, I shouldn't have.   As the lady drove back down, she stopped, asked me if it was a folding bike and then offered me a lift.  There were a number of problems with this including the fact that her car had beautiful leather seats, her boot was full and my bike was filthy.  But she seemed unfazed; dismissed my concerns by saying any oil from my chain would wipe off.  So I packed the bike and all the other paraphernalia in and a few moments later after a pleasant chat, she dropped me off back in Hawick where the buses to Edinburgh go.  That saved me quite a long walk.

I was wondering how to pass the twenty five minutes until the bus arrived, before someone else at the bus stop engaged me in conversation and before long I was speeding towards Edinburgh.  The views would have been better and I could have taken longer to admire them, if I was travelling the back-roads on a functional push-bike.  But somehow the kindness of a stranger more than compensated for that.  And I always enjoy eavesdropping on fellow passengers during bus journeys.

I disembarked at a shopping centre in South suburban Edinburgh which is a convenient place from where to head home.  There I bumped into a friend and went for a coffee and a chat with him, which was splendid.  That day panned out in an unexpected way; but I received a barrel load of undeserved kindness.