Friday morning comes early. I've mostly packed last night. There have been piles of stuff on my floor for a few days now and I've gotten them all stuffed into my panniers. I think about how completely unprepared I was for last year's tour. I have waterproof bags this year, much nicer bike, better waterproofs, in better shape, I know what to expect and what I should pack. Still, it will be a long way to go and I hope I got it all right. Being more ruthless with the packing helped but there are still a few things I can do better next time. I'll have to revise that kit list and post a new improved copy. One without 3-4 different sorts of caps.
Anyways, because of the way the train tickets were purchased, I was given the crushing responsibility of holding the tickets for the three other people traveling with me. I'm a few minutes late leaving for Euston, but I figure I can just haul ass and make it up on the way. Traffic is mostly ok but it gets a bit bad near the station. Still, I make it there in about 25 minutes, so far so good. Ok, where is everybody. Eventually I spot Ian waiting. One down, two more to go.
Train goes up on the board, still no Tom or Alex. We go and wait by the gate but still not there. Caroline had sent out all sorts of techy details about what the train will be, which end to board, and all that, and warned that there might be a hassle about bikes. But I completely expect that. I'm trying to think of a long train journey I've taken where there hasn't been some sort of hassle about bikes, not many come to mind.
Anyways, finally Tom and Alex show up and we head to find our places. The train manager intercepts us and four bikes, he radios somebody, sorry, only three spaces on the train, one of you can't go, even though we had reservations for all four of them. Crap crap. We argue with him for a while and eventually just blow past him and try to get our bikes on anyways. Even if one gets denied, no point in the other three missing the train which is leaving in a couple of minutes. The engineer at the front helps us load the bikes in and he doesn't see much problem with there being four. The train manager comes up then and starts lecturing us about trying to get the fourth bike on.
He relents and says there are actually four spaces after all but if there had turned out to be three, he said he would have waited until we boarded and then chucked one bike off onto the platform just as the train pulls out to screw us over. Prick. (Note to self, must file complaint with Virgin about this one. Late update - reference 4-1694659, better get some satisfaction from them.)
The rest of the train journey was fine. Nothing exciting to report there. Arrival in Penrith a few minutes late. Had texted Caroline to let them know as she and Dave were waiting for us there. It is a bit after noon when we get there. Nobody is really starving, snacking on the train, so the six of us decide to head out for a lunch stop in Keswick. So, Greystoke, there is a Tarzan link (I think) but the castle was closed, nobody really wanted to see it anyways. The village is pretty typical small village. But there was a "Cycle Cafe" just before town, although I couldn't see what was all that cycle-ish about it except that they made cars park a few hundred meters away in the village parking lot.
So, Sustrans routed us through a rather odd diversion. As we head through it, it strikes us as kind of the perfect Sustrans route, or one that seems to meet almost all their criteria. Small road which heads two miles up a valley and two miles back, saving about 1/2 mile on a main road, check. Lots of gates to go through, check. Steep off road sections, check. Plenty of sheep and other animals (highland cattle, llamas) to go through and past, check. Somehow they missed a cattle grate though, not sure how they didn't have one put in just for the occasion. Still, the route was lovely and worth the diversion. We stop at a bridge across the stream at the top of the route and admire the view.
The llamas were funny. After observing them for a few minutes, we came to a number of conclusions about llama society. All of them sit in the exact same spot, every day, all day. One of them rubbed its neck on the ground, and the grass there had been worn down by endless repetition in the exact shape of his neck. They all face the same direction every day, all looking in different directions, never looking at each other. Presumably they would have to come up with small talk if they did, and who knows what llamas would talk about.
A lot of the rest of the way to Keswick was on an old railroad line. So, it was mostly flat, gravely, through woods and over funky bridges. We hear a cuckoo somewhere off in the woods and spot a heron in a stream as we cross a bridge. The pace here is good and we are approaching lunch. The road switches to paved and starts winding through hills. There is a big concrete bridge (Greta Bridge) that we cross under that has a plaque saying it is the concrete structure of the millennium (or something like that.) Didn't seem to be all that great to me, but whatever.
In Keswick, looking for lunch. Most everything seems to be closed. And everybody seems all picky, we want to sit outside, we want good food, blah blah blah. Ian says somewhere is the "best vegetarian cafe in the world" or something like that nearby, but it seems to be closed. Near to that, is a cafe that seems to meet most of the criteria (the key one being that they are actually open) and we stop there. I think I had tea and cake there. Or maybe it was a bacon sandwich. (As of today, I'm on a bacon moratorium for at least a month. I had too much of it over the week.) As we sit afterwards looking at maps, they seem pretty anxious to bring their signs and tables inside so that they can lock up and go home. That seemed to happen a lot on the trip, cafes would lock up their doors seconds after we left.
Last section coming up now. There are three possible paths to take, one over a pass, one flat along a lake, and another further north, maybe on a busier road. We opt for Whinlatter Pass, I can't remember the reasoning now, something like it would be a tough quick up hill and then a coast down into Cockermouth and good training for the rest of the trip, something like that. It was a steep one, two chevron sections and about two miles up.
I've decided that I absolutely adore my bike, although it is geared in a stupid Italian Campagnolo way, meaning way too high for a touring bike. I find that the second I put any luggage on the bike, that I always want to ride on the small front chain ring. Ok, after a few days, I was much stronger and it all worked better, but still, I want to change it eventually. It is nice having the really high gearing to try and break Dave T's downhill speed records, but I want my lowest gear to be a bit lower. There wasn't anything I could get up in low gear, but I would like to be a bit lazier and spin a bit more up the really long hills.
The view from the first lookout, after the first chevron section, looked out over the lake we might have gone around. It was a tough climb up to there and the day is pretty hot. We rest and admire the view and wait for the rest of the group to walk up. There is a grave across the road in the grass looking at the same view. From 1847, I guess J.W.S. gets that view all the time. But another mile up on a steep section before the eventual summit, wherever it is, it isn't marked. I go ahead and climb by myself, it is nice to be able to pace myself and just look at things.
It is pretty fast coming down the other side and fairly quickly make it to Cockermouth. Just one small little hill coming into town. Well, besides the very steep rocky one down the hill to the hostel. At least we get to go down it in the daylight. It is a pretty cool building, an old converted mill building next to a small river. Very stony and rustic looking. Local youths are swimming in the river. Hmm, swimming, noted for later. Gary and Aileen are already there (well at the pub already eating) and Dave T and Matt arrive a bit after that.
We have no food ready so we also head off to the pub to have dinner. It does take a while to pick the place because Ray, oh what can be said about Ray, the warden of the hostel. He has lots of opinions and information. His book of information about the hostel, the local town, stores and restaurants, his top 10 favorite benches to sit on (yep), and so on. Impressive but funny too. A lot of the pictures of the stores and restaurants have his bike sitting in front propped to the building.
Dinner, I believe I had sausage, I mean when in Cumbria, don't you have to. And Jennings pretty much dominates the beer market, it was pretty good though. A few stop at the store on the way back to pick up breakfast stuff. And deadlines, the doors get locked at 11 pm and Brenda and Rob haven't arrived yet. They took a late train to Maryport and seemed to be delayed a bit and had to rush from Maryport in the dark. Then when they are in town, it was hard to find the place. We sent out a few envoys to meet them and guide them back. Dave T encounters the "most boring person in the world" and just can't get away from him. We wait and watch the clock and field calls from the field, trying to give directions, dealing with conflicting information about location, that street might be on this side of town or maybe the opposite. All ends well, on time, nobody gets locked out and there is a quick batch of pasta cooked up for them and off to bed.
42 miles for me today. Excellent first day. Lovely warm weather too.
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