Average Speed: 9.5 mph
Distance: 42 miles
Distance Cycled Total: 769.9 miles
Feet climbed: 2713.3 ; 36,657.7 total
Difficulty level: Tough at times, but relaxing
Difficulty level: Tough at times, but relaxing
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| In the Bike Garage at the Wayfarer's Hostel in Penrith |
The first ten miles and the last ten miles are typically the most difficult of any ride while touring, no matter how long the day is. For the first ten, your legs are saying "Really? We're doing this again? Didn't you learn yesterday?" and for the last ten they're saying "Oh boy! We get a beer and pub food soon!" It's a mind game for sure, but it's real. At least for me.
With my daily mileage being lower in comparison with other tours, this means that I get to hear my legs complain for a solid portion of the ride. At the beginning, it's all you can do to tell them "You never know... it might turn out to be a great day."
It's like teaching a group of teenagers a difficult text. The Raven, for instance, or a Shakespeare tragedy. It takes work to get started, but once you're knee-deep in it? Sold.
So, I guess what I'm saying is my legs are like a group of typical teenagers: They'd rather be on Snapchat for the first and last ten minutes of class. Gotta make the most of the twenty minutes in between.
For sure, my legs didn't want to work this morning. I was in my lowest gear every time I met the tiniest of hills. Perhaps they were pampered in Harrogate with Tracey's calf massage and thought they deserved another rest day. But they hadn't earned it. At all.
Beautiful scenery with distant waterfalls accompanied me in a peaceful ride out of the Yorkshire Dales, where I barely passed a single car. It was so quiet that it was shocking to turn a corner at the tenth mile- just as I was feeling warmed up- and see busloads of people milling about the ruins of a castle, with someone in a yellow vest directing the lack of traffic around the throng. Sure, castles are cool to check out... but they're everywhere. What was everyone doing at this one? A wedding perhaps? I pedaled up to the yellow-vested man to ask.
"They're putting on a play!" he said enthusiastically.
"A play? Like... with actors?"
"Yes! It's about Lady Anne Clifford, who was a baroness from this area and restored that castle in the 14th century. It's starting right now and it's free! You should go!"
"How long is it?" I asked, ever conscious of the time spent off-bike.
"Thirty minutes, give or take. It's never been performed before, and it won't be performed again."
I did the math. The chances of me arriving at my destination later than expected are near 100%. It happens every day.
But what are the chances that you're ever going to be 1) cycling near the ruins of the castle 2) in the middle of nowhere 3) where both the world premiere and final performance of a play is about to begin.
I joined the audience just as two actors stepped to the "stage" to deliver the exposition.
It was awesome.
The talented cast of five- wonderfully costumed- used all sides of the castle in their performance, keeping the audience moving with them. Although the focus of the script was to give a history of Lady Anne's involvement of the restoration of Pendragon Castle (where we were standing), it was delightfully funny and remarkably well written. The bleating sheep in the background only enhanced the unique experience.
Half an hour later I was back on the bike, and my legs weren't complaining at all. Told ya' something cool would happen, I reminded them.
However, the best was yet to come. Had I not stopped for that play, I certainly would not have met Teresa Morris, a cyclist I nearly passed heading in the same direction. She had panniers on the rear of the bike and didn't seem to be in much of a hurry. These are the types of cyclists I like to talk with.
It turns out Teresa was from the area, and having cycled a fifty mile route every Sunday for over twenty years (yes, even in the harshest conditions), she was intimately familiar with every road in the Eden Valley.
I did some quick math and figured that she was nearing her 100,000th mile of cycling, a statistic that she'd never considered. And in that 100,000 miles, she'd never cycled alongside another person. She welcomed the change, and instantly became my tour guide. We pedaled casually together for the next fifteen miles, and she made sure to stop at certain points where we were afforded the best views of the valley.
She pointed out her favorite parts of the Pennine Mountains: Cross Fell, Great Dun Fell, and High Cup Knick. She remarked on the history of quaint villages we passed through. She made sure I appreciated the view of the Lakes District, where she works as a conservationist.
For me, the best part of this was not the views that she pointed out, but rather seeing the passion and pride one person has for where she lives.
"Why would I want to go anywhere else?" she said when I asked if she travels often. "Everything I could ever want is right here." Occasionally, she takes holiday in Scotland, where she cycles and promotes conservation (she laughed at this, fully realizing that her "holiday" life is essentially the same as her "work" life).
We parted ways in the town of Morland, where she pointed out the comical topiary of a squirrel next to a church. Picture-worthy for sure. And true to her word, she followed up with an e-mail providing informative links to the sights we'd examined and her blog of pictures she'd taken while cycling.
Although we cycled relatively slowly, the time had flown by, and it still felt like midday when I arrived in Penrith to a cyclist's hostel (where there is a free bicycle mechanic's shop for visitors).
I sought out dinner, and quickly met Charles Van Havarbeke ("My last name translates to 'Cereal River'!" he pointed out later). I correctly guessed that Charles was from Belgium based on his accent. Impressive, right? Actually, it's not. When I can't place an accent, I always ask if the person is Belgian. They're never offended if I'm wrong, and 2 times out of 10 I'm right. It's also really fun to note their expressions on the occasions that I am correct.
It's a great feeling to meet long distance cyclists who have planned less than me. Charles
had no clue where to stay that night, and was unaware of how demanding the climbing of the area would be. My kind of cyclist.
I invited him back to the hostel where there was plenty of room in my dorm, and we spent the night half-talking and half-pantomiming (English being difficult at times) over a couple of beers before heading to bed.
It was one of those days I was sad to see come to an end. One of the most memorable, for sure.
I didn't even realize until after I'd lain down that the last ten miles of today's ride weren't difficult in the least.
P.S.
With my daily mileage being lower in comparison with other tours, this means that I get to hear my legs complain for a solid portion of the ride. At the beginning, it's all you can do to tell them "You never know... it might turn out to be a great day."
It's like teaching a group of teenagers a difficult text. The Raven, for instance, or a Shakespeare tragedy. It takes work to get started, but once you're knee-deep in it? Sold.
 |
| Waterfalls on the way out of the Yorkshire Dales |
So, I guess what I'm saying is my legs are like a group of typical teenagers: They'd rather be on Snapchat for the first and last ten minutes of class. Gotta make the most of the twenty minutes in between.
For sure, my legs didn't want to work this morning. I was in my lowest gear every time I met the tiniest of hills. Perhaps they were pampered in Harrogate with Tracey's calf massage and thought they deserved another rest day. But they hadn't earned it. At all.
 |
| What's a bus doing here? |
"They're putting on a play!" he said enthusiastically.
 |
| Program of the unexpected play |
"A play? Like... with actors?"
"Yes! It's about Lady Anne Clifford, who was a baroness from this area and restored that castle in the 14th century. It's starting right now and it's free! You should go!"
"How long is it?" I asked, ever conscious of the time spent off-bike.
"Thirty minutes, give or take. It's never been performed before, and it won't be performed again."
I did the math. The chances of me arriving at my destination later than expected are near 100%. It happens every day.
But what are the chances that you're ever going to be 1) cycling near the ruins of the castle 2) in the middle of nowhere 3) where both the world premiere and final performance of a play is about to begin.
 |
| A play! With Pendragon Castle as the set! |
It was awesome.
The talented cast of five- wonderfully costumed- used all sides of the castle in their performance, keeping the audience moving with them. Although the focus of the script was to give a history of Lady Anne's involvement of the restoration of Pendragon Castle (where we were standing), it was delightfully funny and remarkably well written. The bleating sheep in the background only enhanced the unique experience.
Half an hour later I was back on the bike, and my legs weren't complaining at all. Told ya' something cool would happen, I reminded them.
 |
| Me and Teresa Morris |
However, the best was yet to come. Had I not stopped for that play, I certainly would not have met Teresa Morris, a cyclist I nearly passed heading in the same direction. She had panniers on the rear of the bike and didn't seem to be in much of a hurry. These are the types of cyclists I like to talk with.
It turns out Teresa was from the area, and having cycled a fifty mile route every Sunday for over twenty years (yes, even in the harshest conditions), she was intimately familiar with every road in the Eden Valley.
I did some quick math and figured that she was nearing her 100,000th mile of cycling, a statistic that she'd never considered. And in that 100,000 miles, she'd never cycled alongside another person. She welcomed the change, and instantly became my tour guide. We pedaled casually together for the next fifteen miles, and she made sure to stop at certain points where we were afforded the best views of the valley.
 |
| View of the Pennine Way (difficult to discern in the photo) |
For me, the best part of this was not the views that she pointed out, but rather seeing the passion and pride one person has for where she lives.
"Why would I want to go anywhere else?" she said when I asked if she travels often. "Everything I could ever want is right here." Occasionally, she takes holiday in Scotland, where she cycles and promotes conservation (she laughed at this, fully realizing that her "holiday" life is essentially the same as her "work" life).
 |
| Me... and a squirrel with a "bushy" tail |
We parted ways in the town of Morland, where she pointed out the comical topiary of a squirrel next to a church. Picture-worthy for sure. And true to her word, she followed up with an e-mail providing informative links to the sights we'd examined and her blog of pictures she'd taken while cycling.
Although we cycled relatively slowly, the time had flown by, and it still felt like midday when I arrived in Penrith to a cyclist's hostel (where there is a free bicycle mechanic's shop for visitors).
 |
| Charles and me |
It's a great feeling to meet long distance cyclists who have planned less than me. Charles
 |
| THIS BEER SPONSORED BY: CHRISTINE THOMPSON! CHEERS AND THANKS! CLICK HERE TO SPONSOR A BEER! |
I invited him back to the hostel where there was plenty of room in my dorm, and we spent the night half-talking and half-pantomiming (English being difficult at times) over a couple of beers before heading to bed.
It was one of those days I was sad to see come to an end. One of the most memorable, for sure.
I didn't even realize until after I'd lain down that the last ten miles of today's ride weren't difficult in the least.
P.S.
I showed up in Penrith just in time for Pot Fest!
Don't get too excited... it's literally a festival that celebrates pots.
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