The Lakeland Loop: Last Day - Coniston to Bowness

We spent our last night of the trip in a B & B called Bluebird Lodge Guest House with the luxury of a comfortable double bed - although any bed seemed comfy after a day on the Lakeland Loop; and walked into town for much needed food and beer at the Black Bull Inn. It could have been sad to think we only had one day left of biking and a mere 12 miles at that but I preferred to dwell on the fact that I had almost completed a journey that I wasn't sure I could do five days earlier. What satisfaction!

Looking back that last day was gone in a blink of an eye and yet I know we skirted Coniston Water by road before forcing tired legs up one more climb through forest to Hawkshead Moor and the manufactured pleasure of Griezdale Forest's North Face Trail. Why we were whooping round a mountain biking trail centre on the final day of such an epic trip was incomprehensible but that's the nature of the addiction. I think it follows the 'it was there so we did it' logic.

Finally we left the trails behind and descended through Devils Gallop on the final stretch. We paused to treat ourselves to tea and scones before those last few tarmac miles round Windermere and timed our arrival to perfection just catching the ferry which deposited back at Bowness fifteen minutes later. Amazingly our car was exactly as we had left it abandoned on the road side six days earlier or was that a life time ago ...

The Lakeland Loop: Day Five - Eskdale to Coniston

Apparently I took AGES to wake up on the fifth morning of our Lakeland Loop adventure. But I was downstairs eating breakfast in Eskdale yha by 7.30am which is surely all that can be asked of a girl who took her mountain bike over Black Sail Pass the day before. The start of Day five wound down the valley of Eskdale keeping the river close to hand and revealing along the way an unexpected rainforest of Rhododendrons. The greenery towered over us ancient and vast and inspired a peaceful awe as we peddled along. The surreal nature of the ride continued as we traversed a perfectly manicured golf course in the middle of just nowhere.

Next we were forced to do a couple of miles on the road as we rode up, up, up towards Waberthwaite Fell; but at least there was a sea view as compensation on the way. Mark had nothing but bad memories of the trek across Waberthwaite Fell; 'horrible, boggy, pathless' were a few of the more complimentary adjectives he supplied. I was more upbeat about the whole thing not having tried and failed to find any discernible bridleway before and it sure beat yesterday's pain and anguish. The ascent might have been unrewarding but as always there was a fast and furious descent, this time down through Bigert Mire Farm and onto a picturesque bridge just outside of Ulpha. As we sat on the bridge eating ice creams the sun came out and everything in the world seemed right. Today we had sandwiches and crisps and having had none yesterday boy did we appreciate them. It was all very acceptable and I could almost pretend that there wasn't another up lurking in the not too distant future!

We were riding through a tapestry of starkly contrasting scenery. Birks Wood just after lunch, with its carpet of bluebells, was gentle English poetry sandwiched between the remoteness of Waberthwaite Fell behinds us and Walna Scar yet to come. But before that there was Kiln Bank which one of those climbs that hadn't even registered on our richter scale until we were on it. I kept thinking 'this isn't a proper hill' and then we'd go round another corner and still the road was rising upwards, another whole section of up. 

Finally, we turned off the tarmac and skirted the contours of Brown Haw and Dunnerdale Fells on some fabulous single track. You couldn't help but ride it like you were out for a couple of hours of fun it just grabbed you and asked to ridden in technicolour. Of course when the single track ended and the fire road took over I paid the price and was very faded as I pushed on towards Walna Scar. Mark kept saying stuff like 'were nearly there now' and 'its just round...over...through ...' He told lies all the way up past White Pike and onto some sort of slate quarry which he swore blind was part of the route despite the fact that we had to throw our bikes over slate piles as high as houses. But I could see a bridleway emerging on the other side of the quarry with what looked like a wonderful descent and my spirits rose. Mark didn't disillusion me of our direction until we hit the path and then instead of turning left and descending he turned right on a route that went up as far as the eye could see. 

I wanted to cry. Instead I pushed - incredibly slowly. I think it is probably the slowest I have ever pushed my bike but eventually we made the summit of the highest pass on the whole trip. On cue it started to rain. I was determined to be grumpy but the descent was just impossible to resist and within moments I had a smile on my face as we skated on boulders and surfed the pebbles past all those poor walkers in the rain. True they had strolled up the pass while we had suffered with our bikes and packs but as they joked about grabbing a lift on the way down I knew it had been worth all the effort. 

Racing for fun - the Nutcracker Rounds 4 & 5

Just back from our Summer holidays we should have been race fit for Round 4 of the Nutcracker Series at Fremlington Edge in Swaledale; a place we had never mountain biked before. Even as we parked the car I didn't like what I could see of the course - a massive grassy ascent straight onto the open moorland, not that you could see the moorland it was somewhere over the horizon! If there's one thing I struggle with its going vertical on grass ... I know I'm just a moaning minny. 

Time was of the essence if we wanted to get a practice lap in before Ben was due to start his race at 10am so we got going. Almost instantly it became apparent that it was a very tough course for Adam, 11 years old to be cycling so we took it steady while the other two disappeared into the stratosphere. OK it wasn't that steep but it felt like it. I had started using clip ins in the previous two weeks and thought I'd see how I faired with them on the course - badly was the answer! We were both out of sorts and it would have been a smart move to turn round and save our energy but unfortunately for Adam I was too stubborn to go for that option. We didn't make it back until just gone 10am when we could see Ben's race disappearing into the distance and Adam's first session on the Time Trial course was already under way. Poor kid, the rest of the field were fresh as daisies while he had been dragged round a seriously strenuous course for the last hour and had some nasty war wounds on his legs to show for it. Still he gave it his best shot and after both the timed lap and cross country race managed a very tired fifth place.

Photo taken by Enigmatic Photography; photographs of the event can be viewed on flickr. 

Meanwhile Ben was coping well with the physical ascent on the main course grabbing a few places as he toiled upwards and managing to hold onto third place during the very technical descent from Fremlington Edge and onto the finish line. A tough course and his best result to date - fantastic.

Photo taken by Enigmatic Photography; photographs of the event can be viewed on flickr. 

Once the kids had finished doing their thing the adults had a few hours to contemplate what lay ahead before lining up on the start line at 2pm. Unfortunately, I wasn't quite so successful on the grassy ascent as Ben had been and it was every bit as bad as I had imagined but once I reached the rocky moorland tracks I could get into my stride and the technical descent on the home bound leg of the course was pure focused adrenaline. I had ditched my clip ins for my beloved flatties but there was still a tricky little section that got the better of me. After the radical descent the track became barely a wheel width wide and clung to the contour of the hillside. On the first two laps of the course I found myself pitched off the right hand side of my bike into a steep bank of bracken and nettles at this point without quite knowing why. I'm sure toddlers often find themselves abruptly unseated as they struggle to gain command of legs and arms but as an adult it is a most bizarre sensation. Still I got the better of it on the final lap; a small victory but one I was happy to take. What's more I was the second woman vet over the line - or the last which ever way you want to look at it!

Photo taken by Enigmatic Photography; photographs of the event can be viewed on flickr.

Mark was the final Lewis clan member to cross the finish line and managed his own personal victory being the last man to complete four laps in the time allowed - although three laps more than enough for me. The kids did a brilliant job of supporting us throughout the afternoon; and I'm not sure they weren't going faster on foot than I was on my bike.

September saw us at Camp Hill to complete the Fifth Round of the Nutcracker and this time we got ourselves  a bit more organised. Mark and Ben did their practice lap in plenty of time before the 10am race. Meanwhile I hung out with Adam so that he could enjoy his Sweat Monster's event without being traumatised before he started. This worked much better and I still managed to fit in most of a practice lap before the elite race got under way. Unfortunately it was Ben's turn to suffer and he got a puncture very early on in his race. I was waiting for him at the finish line and was slightly anxious when he didn't arrive back as expected; then an ambulance crew was sent out to a boy having an asthma attack and I got really worried. Not that Ben has ever had asthma but being a parent is not always a logical thing. Finally word came back that he was running the entire course rather than have DNF against his name - I think I was prouder than if he'd finished at the front. 

The Camp Hill course was so much quicker this time in the dry than it had been during Round One in the wet; and since it is a much less technical course than the one at Swaledale I thought I'd give my clip ins another go. The combination of both factors meant I lapped at least ten minutes a lap faster than in April despite there being an extra lap in Round Five. Yeah, I know it's starting to sound like 'biking for boys' not 'biking for girls' how boring! Anyhow despite all that fantasizing I still managed to come last but hey ho I definitely beat all those millions that didn't even enter! While I had to settle for last place Mark had another good race and managed to finish about half way up the field - slow but sure improvement. So there we are only one more round of the series left which is a shame but hopefully we'll get to do it all again next year.

Mountain Biking at Kielder

Summer 2010 and we had decided to revisit Kielder to check out the improvements in the mountain biking since we were last here in 2005. It wasn't just the place that had changed, the kids had too, Ben is now taller and faster than me and Adam just can't wait to be able to say the same. On the last visit we camped and the rumours about the midges are not exaggerated which certainly ensured the tent erection was a fast and furious activity. This time round we decided to go up market and booked into Kielder yha for four nights where we made full use of the drying room and the great food which is served up every night on site.

We woke on Tuesday morning keen to get our first ride of the holidays under way. During the night it had rained, everything was wet and there was a fine drizzle falling - still it was warm and there didn't seem like any reason not to get going. We called in at the Bike Place to get some maps and the consensus seemed to be to start on the Lonesome Pine Trail with the option of expanding into the Bloody Bush Trail if and when we felt the need. We should have taken more notice of the warnings in the literature 'As with all trails in Kielder, please be fully prepared for riding in remote environments and come properly equipped. The weather can change rapidly and small equipment failures can quickly turn into a more serious situation. Always let somebody know where you are going and when you are due back.' ...

The weather didn't improve but the singletrack was simple flowing fun perfect for the conditions under wheel. Even the poor light couldn't disguise the beauty and remoteness of the surrounding countryside revealed once we'd climbed 'Stairway to heaven' and made it to the 'Lonesome Pine' section of the trail. The latter comprises one of the longest sections of Northshore in the UK. The boarding is two metres wide, not because cyclists can't steer very well this far north but because the trail is so exposed that in windy conditions nobody can steer very well! 

The boys were keen to take a left turn at this point and explore the Bloody Bush Trail while I decided to stay with the Lonesome Pine Trail and hit the 'Purdom Plunge' with renewed vigour. Less than five minutes after we'd parted company the weather decided to up the anti big time. First came the rain, torrential seems like an accurate description, it was simply bouncing off the ground. The trail transformed into a river almost instantaneously. The temperature plummeted and the rain became hail which was thrown equally viciously from the leaden skies; my skull felt like it was being fast frozen in its helmet. There was thunder, lightening, the full works it was both scary and exhilarating and the fabulous descent down 'Bewshaugh' was a race against hypothermia. A slip, sliding, helter skelter of a ride where speed and the need for shelter pushed against the increasing likelihood of bike and person parting company. One part of my mind was completely  engrossed in the ride while the other was praying that Mark had turned back and was hard on my heels with the kids.

Half an hour after I'd made it back to the yha I was starting to feel warm again but it had taken a long, long hot shower, dry clothes and a warm drink. Now I was fretting about the rest of my family. I knew they didn't have enough warm clothing to sustain an extended period in these conditions. Thankfully, three sodden figure appeared shortly, Ben wearing the only pair of waterproof trouser and Adam with a silver survival blanket wrapped round the inside of his waterproof jacket. Two minutes later and they were both in hot showers. Lesson learnt - despite being August we didn't venture out again without full waterproofs ...

The Lakeland Loop: Day Four - Buttermere to Eskdale

Day 4 of our Lakeland Loop trip was also my 46th birthday and the day we were destined to go over Black Sail Pass. The previous three days were catching up with me and I woke up tired or rather didn't wake up despite the fact that I was riding my bike. I was pretty much asleep as we tried our best to cycle the route that led between Buttermere and Crummock Water and then over the top to Mosedale Beck but it seemed an impossible task. The route had turned into some sort of rocky hell hole that then digressed further into intermittent boggyness and finally impossible upwards gradients. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing to be at least three quarters asleep. Eventually we got a rapid descent down into Ennerdale for all our hard work and found ourselves on a pathway with high walls on either side. This became rather awkward when a fallen tree totally obstructed the path but with a bit of manoeuvring we managed to squeeze underneath it although Mark was abruptly reminded that he still had a rucksack attached when he couldn't quite fit on his first attempt.

We were under the impression that there would be 'tea and buns' at Bowness but there was not so much as a crumb to be had and it was the same story at Ennerdale yha and Black Sail yha. We should have booked a packed lunch to bring with us from Buttermere yha but we hadn't ... The most difficult aspect of the fire roads through Ennerdale Forest turned out to be a man and his dog. The dog walker obviously knew the score because he did his best to put as much distance as he could between us and his dog. Mark, on the other hand, was oblivious to the possibility of attack pretty much until the moment the dog nipped him quickly on the ankle. The dog was lucky as clip ins prevented a swift retaliation and Mark was still cursing the dog when we arrived at Black Sail Hut from where we could see the towering mountain pass for which we were destined on the other side of the valley. 

It was at this stage in the proceedings that I finally woke up. As usual Mark was leading the way over what is 'the Loop's second official carry'; feeling a tad sorry for me he came back to offer me a hand with my bike. This kick started me into action as there was no way I was going to forego the pleasure of claiming I had done the Loop ALL by myself. I would get myself and my bike over every inch of said route if it took me forever ... it probably seemed like forever to Mark as he was forced to watch me creep ever higher up the pass. To cap it all there appeared to be a group of older gentlemen watching our antics from the comfort of Black Sail Hut. I would loved to have heard their comment  'eh, look at that fellow letting that poor woman struggle on up there without so much as lending a hand'. It cheered me up no end as I considered such imaginary conversations far below.

The good mood lasted to the col but carrying your bike downhill just doesn't seem right and the initial descent was so difficult neither of us could hold our nerve to ride it. We blamed the lack of food and extreme exertion for our shakiness but I think we might have been kidding ourselves. However, once the descent became slightly less radical it was pure delight as we zigged and zagged for all we were worth right into Wasdale Head Inn and two of the largest bar meals that money could buy. 

After gorging ourselves to bursting point it was onwards and upwards for the third time that day and a blur of wet, grassy, boggy, unrideable surfaces - I think I might have been a touch mardy until we final skirted Burnmoor Tarn. Then we had the pleasure of a wonderful techy descent all the way down into Boot and our bed for the night at Eskdale yha. Mad as it sounds I think I need to do this day again when I'm not quite so knackered before I start!

C2C Second Time Round: Whitehaven to Tynemouth

Every once in a while its natural to get the urge to do something a bit different and my mate Carol decided that the C2C was the challenge for her which is how I came to do the C2C for a second time in 2010 ... she persuaded me ... I persuaded my sister ... and then despite it being 'biking for girls' we all persuaded our other halves. A biking holiday would be a great laugh I said - Carol took exception to the use of the noun 'holiday' given the level of mental and physical torture she was anticipating but it was all for a good cause. She was raising money for the National Autistic Society and had already advertised the fact that she was doing the Whitehaven to Tynemouth route when we realised that entailed a longer and somewhat more strenuous start to the trip. There was much cursing before hand but as we sat feeding our faces in Siskin's cafe at the top of Whinlatter Pass it was agreed by one and all that the scenery we had just passed through was more than worth the extra effort. Definitely the best place to start from so far!

The route from Keswick to Penrith was familiar from last time and we were blessed with a sunny rain free day which was pretty exceptional given the rain and wind that we'd had all week. These may seem like inane comments but when you've cycled in the latter you are very grateful for the former and we arrived at our B&B with plenty of time for a good soak in the bath before wandering down to The George Hotel for food. It had been a 5am start and a 54 mile route over terrain somewhat hillier than that found in Rutland where Carol normally does her biking - she could barely keep her eyes open and eat at the same time. There was just time to purchase painkillers and snacks for the next days riding before sleep claimed us all.

While four of us headed out of Penrith on Saturday morning, the other two made a detour to the local bike shop to pick up some bar ends. It wasn't until we had completed the first major climb of the day and made it to the warmth of Hartside Cafe that we all regrouped for lunch. Everyone was elated with the climb, no one more so that my hubby who appeared to have a waterfall of sweat cascading down his face as he bounced through the doors of the cafe claiming he'd 'just taken it steady' up the hill. Obviously!!

I had been concerned about the cycle from Penrith to our bed for the night just outside of Rookhope. There were some serious hills to be conquered and in truth you were either inching your way painfully up a monster climb or burning brakes on the next descent - there was no middle ground. I need not have been worried. Carol's satisfied countenance appeared over the top of every climb, 'amazing' she would pant before pedalling on. Red legs meant she was on the way up and blue legs signalled a descent in progress. 

The long, winding descent from Hartside down into Leadgate is fabulous payback for all the hard work done but then comes the climb out of Garigill for me the most gruelling of the four climbs of the day. Last time round we'd broken this climb up with some well earned rests but there was no such luxury this time much to Fee's consternation. Still she had enough breath left to articulate her feelings over this minor oversight so we figured she couldn't have really needed the rests. Must be getting fitter! Next it was the vertical descent into Nenthead. Steve had brought the kitchen sink with him and so aided by gravity and a kamikazi mentality he went for it clocking 40 mph plus before rounding the final corner of the descent to find a fast approaching T junction in his view. There was a distinct smell of smoke and burning brakes when the rest of us arrived at a more life preserving pace sensible moments later. 

From Nenthead we pressed upwards again to Black Hill, the highest point of the route and into Northumberland before swooping down to Allenheads and finally being allowed a hot drink at the cafe. Then it was yet another ascent over the top this time into the County of Durham and a glorious sight - the road winding downhill as far as the eye could see. We could almost taste the finish line for the day and at least this time round it would come as no surprise that the B&B was at the top of yet one more hill! 

Day three and we were all still alive and kicking. There was just that wee hill out of Stanhope and it would be down hill all the way to the sea. Crawleyside Bank was not going to defeat us no matter how long, how steep or how cruel it was. One by one we pedalled our way up and on to Parkhead cafe where it was hot chocolate with marshmallows to celebrate. Mark J had cycled every last one of the climbs despite biking not really being his sport and a rather ancient stead - another convert?! 

After that we were on a roll, literally, the Waskerley Way flew by and then on the edge of Consett we turned left and headed towards Rowlands Gill and Tynemouth. It was easy cycling compared with the day before but still scenic as the old railway line wended its way through peaceful woodlands. There was the occasional bridge or viaduct to bring a frisson of excitement as we looked down on tree tops and contemplated not jumping. The threatened rain never materialised until we were pedalling through the centre of Newcastle and we dived into a Witherspoons Pub for our last meal together. By the time we emerged for the final ten miles it was sunshine as usual. We were so intent on finishing that we were caught by surprise by the American cyclist tucked in close (on the wrong side of the road) as we all converged on yet one more corner. A bit of a pile up ensued as Mark L went head to head with the poor man and I slammed into the back of them both. Luckily it was only cuts and grazes and the smell of the sea soon distracted us. What a fantastic three days, not only great cycling but great company and memories that will last long afterwards. Thank you Carol for giving us all such a good excuse to get together - when can we do it again?

The Lakeland Loop: Day Three - Bassenthwaite to Buttermere

Day three dawned and we left the civilisation of our  Lakeside Country Guest House for another day of needless toil. As if to emphases this point, as we headed towards Braithwaite, we managed forest detours via Wythop Mill and Whinlatter just for the hell of it, or so it seemed. Still there was a whizzy little descent through Wythop Woods that I'd missed on my C2C route earlier in the year and the bike shop and cafe at Whinlatter Visitor Centre both came in useful. Then we were flying down Whinlatter pass avoiding eye contact with those poor souls creeping past in the upward direction.

The floods earlier in the year had taken out a vital bridge in Newlands Valley and the road was besieged with signs alerting us to this fact but we were not keen on any further detours so we manhandled our bikes across both river and new flood defences before wending our way up onto the Cat Bells bridleway. The sun shone and the scenery sparkled as we paralleled Derwent Water just far enough away to maintain our serenity. Then as the bridleway descended into a rocky avenue lined with stone walls the mind became more focused on the loose surface and plentiful drop offs. Confidence blossomed and I over estimated just how far the forks could travel before bottoming out and dumping me unceremonishly over the bars in front of a group of elderly walkers. Oops!

As we free wheeled into Grange it seemed to me that a ice cream was called for but my suggestion was met with a grumpy response. I pointed out that this was suppose to be a holiday and that a woman can be pushed too far - I didn't really know what was ahead of me otherwise I might have had two!! The road up past Ashness Bridge was steep and winding and the sun was merciless as I slowly hauled my sweaty body past more sedate tourists; 'are you mad or are you sick' asked one cheerful group ... But it was worth it, Surprise View provided a stunning yet secluded vista of Derwent Water and was the perfect resting spot before continuing onwards. We exited the woods above Surprise View to see, what appeared to me, some new and undiscovered valley reminiscent of the 'hidden valley' of childhood films laid out before us. A truly magical place which only improved with our arrival at Watendlath cafe tucked away at the very end of the unwinding tarmac.  'Mr Smith I can confirm you were correct in your assessment of the flapjack!'

Refreshed from large quantities of tea and flapjack we continued off road over Grange Fell and then made the most of the hairy descent to Rosthwaite before killing a few more gentle miles to Seatoller. Anticipation was building as I knew Honistor pass was looming near and all that that entailed. I didn't know if my determination to ride the pass would really see me to the top, the gradient was punishing in places and endless, endless, endless. I tried desperately to distract myself from the torturous ascent, the heat, the lack of respite but it was the bare fact that pushing up wouldn't actually be any easier that kept me going. And then suddenly Mark was there taking photos and cheering and I realised that this was as far as the road went and that I'd done it - oh yeah! The descent was awesome. It started cool, in the shade of the fells and windy; eerily different from the ascent as if marking a transition. The road surface was rough and uneven like the tarmac had set in watery waves and then it unfolded into glorious, dazzling light, a carpet of lakeland greenery scattered through the dizzy descent ending with trees and rhododendrons and a picturesque youth hostel complete with sunny veranda. Obviously I tried out the veranda while Mark found a home for the bikes. Day three done and dusted.