The Diary - Part Eight

Day 8 - Sunday 9th July

The weather at the start of day 8 was little different to that at the end of day 7. Our kit barely had time to dry before we were climbing back onto the bikes in the pouring rain and heading off into the Forest of Bowland.

The terrain hadn't changed much either. It started hilly and then got hillier and then positively mountainous. After negotiating several cattle grids we happened across High Bentham where we stocked up on supplies and tried to shelter from the rain. It was a bit confusing to find that High Bentham is in Yorkshire, but this was to be a fleeting visit to the county.

We continued to climb. For every downhill there seemed to be two, steeper uphills to follow. It was hard going and we knew that when the proper descent came it would have to be a good one! We ploughed on through Kirkby Lonsdale and towards Cumbria stopping in a garage at Ings (via the nicest cycle path in the world on the side of the A591) where we stocked up on the obligatory Kendal Mint Cake to power us up into the Cumbrian Mountains.

More climbing later and we were becoming downbeat. It had been a struggle and we were barely more than half way through the day. It was cold, it was wet. And there was no Kendal Mint Cake Left.

We had reached the top of the Kirkstone Pass at 1,500 feet above sea level and had nothing left. Doug and Matt popped their head round the door of the Kirkstone Pass Inn to see if we could cheekily fill our water bottles. They came back with squash, chocolate and a £10 donation to our charities! John and Gail Jennings had made our day.

Suddenly we were reminded why we're doing this and our gloom miraculously lifted, just as the weather did too. And to top it all off, the next 6 miles was all down hill to Ullswater!

At the bottom, we met a man from Glasgow and his son doing a charity ride from Glasgow to Brighton and heard his story of how he tried (and failed) to do his bit for Anglo-Scottish relations over a couple of meat pies. The poor lad didn't look as if he wanted to be "made a man of", but probably had little choice in the matter.

Martin by now was getting anxious that he should miss the world cup final. To be fair, he had successfully managed not to miss every other match to date, so to fail at this late stage would be disappointing. The logistics, however, weren't on Martin's side. With an hour until kick-off, we were still some 26 miles from Carlisle - our final destination.

So Martin decided to go it alone, diverting to Penrith to watch the match, while the rest of us cycled on to Carlisle over some thankfully flat terrain.

On arrival at Carlisle, we (eventually) found our digs - which were student halls of residence doubling as a Youth Hostel for the summer holidays. We caught the last half an hour of the Cup Final in the TV room and then found our rooms in the student halls, before sending out for a Chinese take-away.

By the time Martin turned up, I was already in bed nodding off to sleep. He had cycled the 20 miles from Penrith to Carlisle in the dark (the match had gone into extra time) and without a puncture repair kit or tools of any description. It was midnight.

He likes his football does Martin.

Day: 8, Distance: 87.7 miles, Cycling Time: 7hr 34min, Ave Speed: 11.6mph, Max Speed: 39.3mph