UK04: Borderlands
Cycling the length of the UK, Days 8-10, Ruthin to Kendal to Gretna.
The last few days have been a blur of nations, and we have made it at last to Scotland. The air is rich with the smell of thistles, whiskey and haggis. And manure, always manure.
Day 8: Ruthin to Chorley, 116km
Goodbye farmland, hello industry
A classic in-between kinda day, starting with a monster climb out of Ruthin. The climb was Wales’ final attempt to break me, and it got damn close. The final steeps put enough of a dent into my already weary legs that progress was slow for the rest of the day. It was the last fragment of true Welsh wilderness, before I crossed the border to England and descended into the industrial heartland around Liverpool. My route skirted the edge of the city, and I spent the majority of the day in endless suburbia, quiet, neatly trimmed streets with little in the way of exciting riding.
In Runcorn, I took the Silver Jubilee Bridge over the River Mersey and then followed road after road named after long-extinct mills. This whole region of England was once a thriving centre for textiles, but no more. The day finished in Chorley, where I arrived cold and late at a cute little guesthouse on the edge of town. My food options were limited to either a Tesco Express meal deal or Domino’s Pizza. I opted the latter, and feasted on a pepperoni pizza with extra garlic bread. I went to bed feeling fantastically full, but determined to find healthier food going forward.
Day 9: Chorley to Kendal, 90km
I got up at the crack of dawn to make an early start. Today, I’d be going through the Lake District, and my girlfriend Misa was coming to meet me in Kendal, so I had to make good time for once.
First stop: Preston. I made it to the centre of town, where I saw a long queue snaking around the block outside the city’s art and science museum. “Wow, the city of Preston are so keen to learn,” I thought. Then I heard the music, “Check your spuds, check em out. Left one, right one, nobody wants lumpy spuds.” Rounding the corner into the town square, I saw 100 steely-eyed and determined Prestonians lined up for the Spuds Bros food truck, premium purveyors of jacket potatoes. I’ve seen shorter queues for the latest Maharishi drop. It was over an hour till it actually opened, they were just taking pre orders, Potatoes:1, Science & Art: 0.
Preston is the hometown of Nick Park, creator of Wallace & Gromit.
Out of Preston, the roads became quieter and quieter as I approached Kendal. There was some truly lovely riding through the sunny forests of the foothills of the Lake District, and plenty of other cyclists out on the road, looping back and forth around Kendal. It made me wonder why I don’t visit the Lake District more often. It is only 3 hours by train from London (making a big assumption that none of the trains are cancelled), and the landscape is breathtaking.
In Kendal, I rented a car, and Misa and I drove to Cartmel, where everyone was decked out in the latest farmer-chic fashion. Cartmel has the highest number of Michelin stars per capita of anywhere in the UK outside London, all thanks to the presence of Simon Rogan, and his 3-Michelin starred restaurant L’Enclume, and the 1-Michelin starred Rogan & Co, where we had an excellent dinner from their seasonal tasting menu (thanks Pablo). We left the restaurant very well-fed, the peal of the church bells ringing through the town, the moon almost full above.
Day 10: Kendal to Gretna, 112 km
My five long days of riding solo have finally come to an end. One of my oldest school friends, Richard, caught the train to meet me in Kendal, and will be cycling with me the rest of the way to John o’Groats.
We had a late start, and by the time we’d really got going it was almost 11.30. First we rode to Lake Windermere, along with every other car in England, who were all visiting for the sunny Saturday weather. It was slow going, with long traffic jams snaking through the hills. Eventually, we made it past the famously polluted lake and to the town of Amblewell, where we found the ridiculously tasty Great North Pie Co. The pies were a superfuel, and kept us going the entire rest of the day.
Post pie, the Lake District opened up in all its glory, and we spent the early part of the afternoon riding through some of the best landscapes of the trip so far (the section from Grasdale to Hesket Newmarket was particularly pretty). It’s hard to decide between Wales and the Lakes on scenery, but the Lakes might just have it. I can only imagine how good it would be midweek, with fewer cars on the roads.
The latter half of the day was spent descending from the Lakes, down through Carlisle and eventually to Gretna. It had completely escaped me that we would be reaching Scotland today, I thought that Gretna was on the English side of the border. Yet there we were, all of a sudden, standing next to a ‘Scotland Welcomes You’ sign by the side of the road. The third and final country of this trip.
Just six days and 700km to reach the top now. And for the first time in 10 days now, some clouds on the horizon, and perhaps even a little rain.