The day started off fine. I got up at 05:30, leaving the long term sleepers to their peace and quiet. My campsite looked none the wiser for my having been there. As all wild campsites should be when you leave them.
At that time in the morning the A590 south of the Lake District is all but empty and by 07:20 I was in a small market town whose name annoyingly escapes me for the moment. Anyway, given the instruments of medieval torture that still furnish the town square, the less time I spent there the better.
Actually there was a really nice looking inter-net cafe in the middle of town that was advertised as being open, even on bank holiday Monday, which of course today was. The only problem was that it didn't open until nine and I couldn't wait that long. Instead I sat on the town monument steps behind the stocks and cooked my breakfast. You guessed it. Porridge and dried bananas....again. All energy.
By 8 I was pedalling again, confident that I would be at the Youth Hostel, situated at the southern tip of Wastwater in good time. The only problem with using a road map to navigate with, however, is that it doesn't show the contours! The scenery was stunning, but the hills, and one in particular rising up from Ulpha, were sadistic. The road swept left then right, tghen left again, winding its way up the mountainside in an attempt to make the gradient acceptable. I wound my way back and forth across the road, within each sweep in an attempt to flatten it further. It was punishing. It went on and on and on and it nearly finished me off.
If you haven't gathered, my bike with all my stuff, is very heavy. Very heavy. I arrived at the youth hostel and being too early to book into my room, collapsed in the lounge of this fantastic house and promptly fell asleep.
Two hours later, the warden woke me and gave me the key to a room out of sympathy and because I was probably making the place look untidy! I gratefully moved my things upstairs, hand washed my clothes, cooked some lunch and went back to sleep for another 3 hours. I was the Doormouse at the mad hatters tea party. ( Alice in Wonderland. A play incidentally in which at the age of 11, I played Alice's big sister. My first line, I still remember. ' Columbus discovered a great big world far over the deep blue sea.')
At 17:30 fed up with pedalling, I thought that I would walk to Wasdale Head where Lizzie, Anna and Christine were staying. Hoping as I went that they had picked up my phone message begging a lift. An hour or so later having enjoyed the 4 mile walk, I joined the girls who by all accounts had been irrepressible all afternoon; looking out of the window for a heavily laden red bike to appear around the corner of the road beneath their window. Sorry girls.
Anyway, I stopped for a welcome supper of pasta carbonara, the girls favourite meal and the best energy filler for me and then scrounged a lift back to the youth hostel with a promise to be with them ready to climb Scafell in the morning. Easily visible above the la
ke, with clear skies promised for the following day, I was excited to tick off the second of the three mountains I had set myself to conquer.
At that time in the morning the A590 south of the Lake District is all but empty and by 07:20 I was in a small market town whose name annoyingly escapes me for the moment. Anyway, given the instruments of medieval torture that still furnish the town square, the less time I spent there the better.
Actually there was a really nice looking inter-net cafe in the middle of town that was advertised as being open, even on bank holiday Monday, which of course today was. The only problem was that it didn't open until nine and I couldn't wait that long. Instead I sat on the town monument steps behind the stocks and cooked my breakfast. You guessed it. Porridge and dried bananas....again. All energy.
By 8 I was pedalling again, confident that I would be at the Youth Hostel, situated at the southern tip of Wastwater in good time. The only problem with using a road map to navigate with, however, is that it doesn't show the contours! The scenery was stunning, but the hills, and one in particular rising up from Ulpha, were sadistic. The road swept left then right, tghen left again, winding its way up the mountainside in an attempt to make the gradient acceptable. I wound my way back and forth across the road, within each sweep in an attempt to flatten it further. It was punishing. It went on and on and on and it nearly finished me off.
If you haven't gathered, my bike with all my stuff, is very heavy. Very heavy. I arrived at the youth hostel and being too early to book into my room, collapsed in the lounge of this fantastic house and promptly fell asleep.
Two hours later, the warden woke me and gave me the key to a room out of sympathy and because I was probably making the place look untidy! I gratefully moved my things upstairs, hand washed my clothes, cooked some lunch and went back to sleep for another 3 hours. I was the Doormouse at the mad hatters tea party. ( Alice in Wonderland. A play incidentally in which at the age of 11, I played Alice's big sister. My first line, I still remember. ' Columbus discovered a great big world far over the deep blue sea.')
At 17:30 fed up with pedalling, I thought that I would walk to Wasdale Head where Lizzie, Anna and Christine were staying. Hoping as I went that they had picked up my phone message begging a lift. An hour or so later having enjoyed the 4 mile walk, I joined the girls who by all accounts had been irrepressible all afternoon; looking out of the window for a heavily laden red bike to appear around the corner of the road beneath their window. Sorry girls.
Anyway, I stopped for a welcome supper of pasta carbonara, the girls favourite meal and the best energy filler for me and then scrounged a lift back to the youth hostel with a promise to be with them ready to climb Scafell in the morning. Easily visible above the la
ke, with clear skies promised for the following day, I was excited to tick off the second of the three mountains I had set myself to conquer.This picture is actually of Great Gable, that the girls had climbed the day before. Another Lake District classic. Well done them.
No comments:
Post a Comment