Cycling to the top, with stops for cake - Part 3

This is part three of the day by day account of our trip from Lands End to John O'Groats.

Day 9: June 21st

Bishops Castle to Chester

Bishops castle to chester - 114k. climbed down from hilltop camp then steep climb into shropshire hills then grey sky and flat roads! tiny campsite tonight

We're at a tiny campsite at the back of a farm south of Chester. There are three other cyclists here, a father and adult son who have camped under the trees and are finishing a round of beers and a young lad who is dropped off by his family who also has a Thorn. All three have cycle covers which makes me feel a little less ridiculous about lugging our half broken piece of plastic around.

The campsite is really tiny and gorgeous – there are cows sitting just across a simple wire fence, a family with young children in an antique caravan and a little brick facilities block with just one shower and toilet for each gender.

Today we left the expansive Foxhole Castle Campsite, a huge site on a hill with gorgeous views - then climbed another hill, the very steep Stiperstones. Another wild and moody hilltop with wild sheep, but this time hampered by the threat of rain which also obscured the view. Whe the rain became a bit more serious we were further down the ridge. It seemed like a good time to stop for tea and cake and we were warmly welcomed into the Bog Visitor's Centre. The centre sits in an old school house and was run by two volunteers who had a whole kitchen filled with cakes.

A fast afternoon on flat farm roads. Lunch in Ellesmere where there is a food festival divided between opposite ends of the town. We settle outside the Co-op and are joined by a solo cyclists who is doing Lands End in a few less days than us. She's doing it fast and on major roads, she says because the Pyrenees defeated her and she still had some holiday time left. We're impressed.

Three cyclists and all of our stuff attracted a reasonable amount of head-turning and three small children stop to look over our bikes. I tell them that the one they're looking at is mine, and the other black one is my boyfriend's and the most inquisitive one relays the information to the rest of the group. She is determined to unravel what we're doing. “Where are you going?” “North of here – to Chester.” I say. “And then you're going home?” “No, we're going to camp.” “And then you're going home?” “and then we're going further north, to Scotland.” “And then you're going home?” “...in a few days....”

The other question the girls have is slightly less predictable. They spot an old toothbrush through a clear bag on the back of my bike. “Why have you got a toothbrush there?” they point. “Its for cleaning my bike.” They are goaded away gently by parents and I hear the same child saying to the others: “She uses her toothbrush for cleaning her bike,” with a certain amount of awe in her voice.

We find our campsite after a few false turns. I see a guy walking two llamas down the road of this tiny village while Justin is inside asking for directions, and then spot a family we saw cycling the other way half an hour ago. I get directions from the family and we roll into our campsite at 6pm, making a proper stirfry for dinner. Yum!

snack patrol: another day another selection of homemade cakes sold by nice volunteer ladies. today ginger cake and coffee at the bog visitor centre - nice!

Day 10: Jun 22nd
Chester to Ormskirk

Chester to ormskirk: 100k. wildly underestimated todays distance so off mersey ferry and into after school rush hour! warm evening for cycling at least

We misjudged today's distance by at least 40k and due to difficulty of navigating across the wirral we only caught the ferry across the Mersey to Liverpool at 3.30. The morning's cycling was a jumble of industry and forest tracks until the waterfront with windmills in the distance and gorgeous views across the water. Justin and I take turns to be in foul moods – we weren't going to get to Liverpool in time to catch up with some of my old workmates and I took offense to something Justin said early on which coloured the day a bit grimly.

Before the ferry we went off-route to find a bike shop to fix a squeak in my chain and so I could try on helmets. Bike show was on the edge of a big dock area in Birkenhead. Nice shop, not sure I'd recommend hanging out in the surrounding streets.

We had to wait 40 minutes at the ferry terminal before we could go across and then the short distance took a frustratingly long time – great if you want a view of this magnificent city – not so great if its almost 4pm and you're about to hit Liverpool rush hour.
The weather brightened in Liverpool, and apart from Justin scraping his hands when falling off a canal path (second fall of the day for him – served us right for arguing) we made it through the grimy northern suburbs without too many scars.

It was a beautiful early evening for riding once we got back into open countryside but we took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in Ormskirk rather than the detour that we thought we would take past the town. We stopped to stock up on food and realised that we wouldn't make our scheduled campsite.

We cycled to a nearby park intending to eat dinner in the last of the sunlight, but just as I was pulling out burgers Justin walked over to a family to asked for directions. The father brought one of his children over, just at the point that we were keen to be done cycling for the day and weren't really up for conversation.

While I rudely scoffed my hamburger, Justin held up our end of the conversation and the man explained he wasn't really a local but had moved to the area because his brother had a church nearby a few years ago. He did tell us that he thought there was a caravan park just outside town and gave us accurate directions to it, but he wasn't sure if it would accept campers so we were keen to move on.

After reaching Abbey Road campsite and establishing that there was a camp field and settled in just after 8:30pm.

I was slightly suspicious when I came out of the shower block and spotted the man and his brood of children walking towards me in the late evening light. He said hello and went on to explain that someone had asked the wife (carrying the smallest child) if there was a campsite nearby just yesterday, and they had come to investigate. Odd, but harmless enough. I wished them well but didn't invite them over to our tent. Our day had been long enough.

Day 11: Jun 23rd
Ormskirk to Hawkshead

Ormskirk to hawkshead. 140k and 8hrs! cycling through the friendly north. small boy said hello as cycled past and asked are you exercising? sunshine hurrah!

139k.
Another long day – longest yet, Cycled out of Abbey Farm Caravan Park at 9.45 and had flat country roads for most of the morning, skipping across the M6 (first motorway in the world!) several times.

Morning tea at a proper northern greasy spoon in Leyland where we also posted a couple of maps home. Lunch was grabbed at a supermarket of a farmers shop – like a rural delicatessen – and eaten in a spot by a stream where a bunch of kids and their teacher were hanging out, some even swimming. Justin had spent the morning speeding off and was a bit disgruntled about being told off for going too fast all the time but I was insistent that we should pause, especially in the middle of a hot day when it seemed that everyone else was. Plus the ham was fantastic.

Leaving Preston later in the afternoon, I'm a fair bit behind Justin on a fairly busy road when a small child of about 4 yells over to me from a park which overlooks the street I'm cycling on. “Hello! Are you exercising?” he asked. “Yes, I'm exercising,” I grinned back at him. Later still we ride along the canals out of Lancaster, a wicked way to get north of the city and big stretches of the sea to our left again.

Its getting late as we approach the lake district, 6pm or so but roads are fantastically quiet and the light was pretty special and as we debated how far we should go (alway... “shall we keep on going?” “Yeah, we might as well...”) the hassles of the morning starting to fade away.
We had no idea when the last ferry across to Hawkshead would be and were riding against the clock winding up and down some impressive hills when Justin suggested that we cut across to a more main road which clearly be flatter sitting in the valley we could see below us... although it definitely wasn't and two steep hills almost defeated me.

Fantastic light for riding, views for miles and we made it onto the ferry just after 8pm, and even better we were never asked to pay for the journey (thanks ferry men).

The hill up to Hawkshead isn't as steep as I remember but its a long way to the village. We pull into the first campsite we see in Hawkshead just before 9pm. Its still really light and there are birds everywhere. An eccentric cyclist fixing his bike talks to anyone who will hear him out and himself when no-one else will. He rides away in a tailors shirt and trousers in the morning. Birds everywhere, bird song and ducks wandering around. It doesn't stop all night.
We nip down to a Hawkshead pub after dinner and have last drinks with the locals.

Can't believe we saw so much in one day.

Snack patrol: found a truckers diner in leyland yesterday. served proper mugs of instant coffee and spoke a dialect i couldn't grasp. very cool

Day 12: Jun 24th
Hawkshead to Threlkeld, 42k to camp then 14k unloaded to Keswick for supplies.


Still in the lake district: 40k. meant to be a rest day but headed north looking for a nicer campground. now a few steep hills east of keswick

Today was meant to be a rest day but we decided to make some headway into the lake district hills as it was a beautify and sunny day. Leisurely start to the day with bacon and mushrooms on bread followed by cereal for breakfast.

Meandered up to Ambleside to go to a shop for a promised birthday present. but alas, they were sold out so no yellow inflatable camping pillow for me. Coffee and cake in a cafe by an old watermill we had been to on our last trip to the district. Ginger shortbread from Grasmere – then a slow climb up hills around Thirlmere lake (I hoped we could swim but turns out its a large and precious spring water reservoir).

Camp was on a sheep farm just one big hill out of Keswick. We went down to the township for groceries and got quite lost on the way out, ending up on a busy duel carriageway for a bit, before returning to big horrid hill which most cyclists were walking up. Lazy late afternoon at our campsite, surrounded by hills which turned amber in the dusk.

Laundry done, and BBQ dinner though this was somewhat spoiled by midges which attacked us as soon as the sun faded.