Sunday 17th August – JOGLE Day 7: Annan to Kendall. 68 miles travelled.

Where Our Narrator And His Partner In Crime Reach England’s Green And Pleasant Land, And Conquer Shap Fell.

We were feeling in comparatively good shape when we made our way downstairs for breakfast at The Old Rectory, bearing in mind the physical ruins we had been the day before. Breakfast was served at about 07:30, and our host Dave had kindly risen earlier than this, and on a Sunday too. One thing they do have at The Old Rectory is chocolate porridge (a bribe that Dave used to get his son to eat the stuff) and I decided to tuck into that, and very nice it was too!

After the usual calorie stuffing exercise had finished, Ray and I sat back with a coffee and planned the day, praying that there had been a shift in the weather. We came up with contingencies for if the headwind was trying to murder us again (mostly involving stopping more often for shorter periods of time) and tried to figure out just how bad Shap Fell was going to be. Remember when I said that on the way up in the car we passed through the Lake District and it was bleak? That was what we were facing, and on a Sunday too!

We tromped back up to our room, and Dave mentioned that there was another JOGLEr staying but that he wasn’t up yet. We wondered if it was Mark, but he wasn’t on a recumbent so figured it wasn’t, unless the damn thing had broken again!

Our gear had been very kindly washed by Dave over night, and so smelled fresher than it had in a while, a pleasant change to the smell of shower gel!! Once more the TV came on for the Olympics, and we settled down for a bit to let breakfast go down and pretend that we didn’t have 68 miles to cycle.

At about 8:30 we paid for our room, and headed out to release the steeds who were chomping at the bit to get going. The weather was pleasantly still if overcast, with just a hint of rain in the air. It was like all of our birthdays had come at once, and we bid farewell to Dave and set off for Gretna Green and points south via the B721 paralleling the A76.

As we pedalled along, we could clearly see the Solway Firth on our right and the hills and mountains of England on the far side of the water. The weather across the border seemed to be nicer as well; with the trailing edge of the cloud we were cycling under finishing almost at the point that Scotland becomes England. There was actually sunshine happening, right across the water!! We were saved!!!

Having passed through some small villages along the pleasantly flat route, we arrived at Gretna just as Ray’s milometer hit 400 miles, and passed signs to the chapel where you can elope to. Basically, it’s the Vegas of the UK, but without Elvis or the dancing girls. Well – we saw no dancing girls.

And suddenly there in front of us, was a sign. Not a sign from God, but a sign telling us that the hard effort was worth it and that we were getting somewhere. It said “Welcome to ENGLAND CUMBRIA” and we were well come to England. (Think about it people – welcome: Well come. Never mind...)

After taking some photos in front of the signage, and hopping across the border and back again a couple of times just to say that I’d actually been in two countries at once, we got back into the saddle and pedalled onwards, with the Manly Steed speeding ahead on beautifully flat and smoothly tarmac’d roads.

From Gretna we headed up to Longtown where we were to pick up the A7 down to Carlisle. As we went, occasionally in the distance we would see a flash of luminescent green, and after a mile or two caught up with Mark who was still in one piece having stopped the night in Gretna with a friend. We chatted as we went before leaving him in the town to get some supplies as I was out of GoGo juice and energy food.

Outside the Longtown Spa I called my parents to let them know that we had reached England. Now, let me say a word about my folks, or Mama & Papa Rowe as they are known in Twickenham. Up until this point they had been very supportive in that ‘Yes dear, that’s nice, but do you really think that you’ll be able to get to the end?” type way, and my mother had given up asking if it was harder than I was expecting after day 3. Something changed when we hit England: they, like Neo in The Matrix, they started to believe.

There was much excitement to find that we had made it out of Scotland, and it turned out that my brother now owed my Dad £1.00 because he’d bet that we wouldn’t make the border. Better than my Dad I guess – he was surprised we made it past Day 3.

Ray came out of the Spa loaded down with food, and I noticed that he’d bought some popcorn as well.

“Popcorn?” I cried. “Mate, why the hell have you bought popcorn? It’s just gonna take up space and we’ll never eat it!!”

Ray looked sheepish and stowed his goodies in his pannier while I went and bought some drink, chocolate bars and a tuna sandwich (which repeated on me for about 20 miles) chuckling all the while about Ray’s popcorn.

We picked up the A7 down towards Carlisle with me cracking hysterical jokes about Ray’s popcorn (none of which he laughed at – he possibly couldn’t hear me...) and pretty soon were passing out from under the clouds of Scotland. The weather warmed up and we dared to ditch the waterproofs when the sun came out.

Mark had passed us in Longtown, and we came across another cyclist, Dave, with the somewhat weary pedalling of a JOGLEr who we had a brief chat with and who turned out to be chap who had stayed in our B&B the night before. It turns out he had left John O’Groats the day before we set out and had come down the east of Scotland through Aberdeen rather than taking in Glencoe, and again he was soloing the whole thing.

We navigated our way through Carlisle, and found the A6 which would take us south for the next few days. We took a breather just after Carlisle, and the sun came out to play properly. After that, it got more and more hilly as we headed for Penrith passing through such fabulously named places as Low and High Hesket, and Plumpton. Not as funny as Cummertrees, but they have their own unique appeal.

We caught up with Mark as he laboured his way up another mighty incline, and we all pulled into a lay-by to have a break and drink more GoGo juice than was probably good for us. Dave caught up with us, and it was strangely reassuring that 4 people who had never really met before could stand for ten to fifteen minutes in the middle of nowhere and share their stories about their journey to that point. Mark started talking about how tough Shap Fell was likely to be, and from his description I envisaged rock climbing my way over the top with The Manly Steed strapped to my back.

We parted company with them, and didn’t see Mark again until our last day in Cornwall. The last few miles into Penrith were tough, and we decided to grab a bite to eat at the first likely looking pub that we could find, pulling into The Grey Bull just after reaching the outskirts of the town.

I left Ray at the rear of the pub with the bikes while I went in to see if they were serving food, and walked lycra-clad and very obviously out of place into a traditional working man’s drinking hole. I asked if we were alright to tether the steeds out the back, and one of the locals at the bar quipped that they might not be there afterwards.

“That’s fine by me!” I said. “We left John O’Groats a week ago, and have another 500 miles to go and I’m looking for a reason to stop!!”

There were gasps of amazement (come on – suspend your disbelief people!!) from the three locals and they asked why we were doing such a long cycle. “Stupidity can’t be ruled out. Also, we’re raising money for charity – Macmillan, SSAFA, and Kids Company.”

“You’re collecting for the cancer?” asked the one at the bar. “Mate – you leave your bikes where you want – we’ll make sure nowt happens to them.” And he proceeded to tell everyone who came in what we were doing, further more giving us £10.00 to add to the pot and telling us to call him if we didn’t reach the £1000.00 mark that we wanted, as he ran his own business and wanted to help.

Ray ordered a heavy roast lunch while I opted for soup and treacle pudding, and as he was fighting his way through it I mentioned that he might not make it over Shap Fell while carrying all the extra weight. He began to look worried, and we plied the other people in the bar for information on the road over to Kendall.

“I wouldn’t want to do it” was the response. Good then, I thought.

“At least you’re carrying that popcorn.” I said. “That’ll come in handy if we get stuck!!”
Picking up our bags from behind the bar (the landlord had kindly stowed them there for us – top man!!) we parted company with The Grey Bull in Penrith feeling buoyed by having met some genuinely nice people. Good food, by the way – recommend stopping there if you are passing through.

The clouds were back as we headed through Penrith, stopping for GoGo juice and chocolate at a petrol station before cutting across the A66 at a large roundabout, and continuing down the A6 towards Kendall. The road passed through some beautifully rural country which was surprisingly open considering we were heading into the Lake District with its towering peaks. Occasionally the sun would come out, but it had turned cold and we donned waterproofs to keep out the wind.

Our route led us over and under the M6 a number of times and it was quite surreal to think that we had actually passed this way in the car what seemed like an age ago, but what was actually only a week.

The road gradually climbed as we went, and eventually we reached the village of Shap itself, stopping to have a break for the big push up into the hills. It started to rain properly, and we were liberally soaked a number of times as we continued on, and in what was becoming something of a tradition for this trip, we were faced with outlandish weather. There was a downpour drenching us, but because of the glaring sunlight we were cycling with sunglasses on. Ray put his hood up and set his helmet on top of this, which got us a number of strange looks from passersby, but Ray was adamant that he’d rather look a pillock than get a wet head.

I soldiered on regardless.

The run up to Shap Fell is a twisting road which must be delightful when you are in a powered conveyance and have a heater. Not so if soaking and cold on a bicycle, although the Manly Steed was having a rare old time of it, splashing through puddles and probably calling out to its counterpart to slow down and let it catch up.

We slogged upwards pausing for a break every few miles as it became apparent that the top wasn’t coming as quickly as we would have liked. We passed what looked like an old quarry on our right, passed a small lonely looking building, and rounding a corner saw a lay-by ahead of us into which we pulled and stopped for a break. We had reached the top: Shap Fell was conquered, and we were once more feeling positively ecstatic that another major hurdle had been removed from our way. We took some photos and looked out over the hills and dales to the East of us, watching the land drop away into the distance.

We had called Mike while in Penrith asking him to book us a B&B in Kendall as we had run out of pre-booked accommodation in Annan, and he had texted us with a number to call when we got to Kendall. With a place to sleep sorted, we got back onto the bikes and flew down the steep descents and up a couple of steep climbs which are the A6 into Kendal, passing through country which looked like it could have been The Shire from Tolkein’s Middle-earth but for the pylons stamping their way through fields and trees. We paused to eat a banana at a place called Forest hall – a name reminiscent of where Frodo met the Elves for the first time in the Lord of the Rings (I know, but I am a bit of a fantasy geek...)

We reached Kendall at 18:40 in decent spirits and called our hosts to get directions, and pedalled through the town following the river before crossing over one of the numerous bridges. Five minutes later were knocking on the door of Lyndhurst Guesthouse, and were met by a lovely couple called Yvonne and Stewart.

Yvonne is a slightly crazy German lady who called us insane at the fact that we had cycled as far as we had. We were given a tourist map with various eating holes pointed out, and we retired to our room to collapse, shower, and change for dinner which we had in a Pizza Express in the town centre.

I called my parents again letting them know we had arrived, and called Hannah (who was going to Wales in the morning) who was missing me. I fell asleep to the sound of the TV as Ray watched something mindless, and felt like we had actually got somewhere today. We were in England!!