As I write, I’ve been back home one and a half hours. Job done. Total distance 91.7 miles, up and down the hills of South Lakeland. Average speed 11.7 mph, but who’s counting?

I have not fully recovered.

We were averaging a rapid 15.7mph until the first big hill of the day, but Grizebeck, just before Broughton, soon put a stop to that. (I actually had it down as the third big hill, but what do I know?) John shot up it at twice my speed, but despite me coming down at 38.9mph – my fastest speed of the day – we were back to more usual averages.

After Grizebeck it was up another steady hill to Broughton-in-Furness for our tea stop. It was a bit of a shock when I dismounted to find that my legs had turned to jelly. Tea at the cafe, then an absolute b****d hill out of Broughton got me walking for the first time. I don’t know what’s worse: walking with the bike or giving it your all with no spare gears to hand. My legs weren’t quite the same for the rest of the ride.

On we went through the Duddon valley, the ups exceeding the downs as we approached Wrynose. Lovely scenery and the day had been absolutely cracking – a perfect blue-sky day, not so much wind to slow you down, but just enough to stop you cooking. And thank goodness for factor 25; I came through the day relatively unburnt.

I didn’t in the end get as far up Wrynose pass as I would have liked. When I was taught to drive, many years ago, I was encouraged to give way to vehicles struggling up hill. These days few drivers see the need to offer this courtesy, and sure enough, just as I was getting to the limit of my reserves a descending Range Rover forced me to pull over. There was no way at that gradient I could get moving again, and so I had to walk the last bit. I didn’t have a lot left, but who knows? In consolation, even though by this time I was blown that was the last time I got off and walked.

The downhill that followed was the worst part of the day by far. A 32-degree descent on a winding narrow road, with cars and motor cycles going past in both directions, and brakes smoking – quite literally – and unable to stop me. I don’t know if I’m just being a bit of wuss, but to pull on the brakes with all of your might and find that they don’t have the muscle to slow your progress is quite a worry.

We had done 58.7 miles by our lunch stop at the Three Shires pub, Little Langdale, and although we only had a sandwich, lunch was presented very nicely with a lovely dressed salad. We sat outside and the couple at the next table took our photo and gave a donation to my ARC charity, brilliant. I was at a low point and didn’t want to get back on the bike, but little things like this and other encouraging comments we had along the way helped make it bearable.

I got on, gritted my teeth and hung on for the remainder of the trip. Any speed I had had gone and minor hills that had been no trouble on the way out were now a torment. Getting back seemed to take forever.

Our finishing time was just short of eight hours. I was disappointed with my lack of stamina but delighted to finish.

John had adjusted the route. Rather than ride to Sawrey over a couple of severe hills, he had found a slightly easier route that also shaved four miles off the original. We avoided using the ferry but it was still up and down through Bowness and Lyth Valley before getting home to Carnforth.

John was terrific throughout, nursing and encouraging me all the way, especially towards the end. He got me home and that last climb up the railway bridge hill at Crag Bank was almost a pleasure. (I also think I’ve found the best road sign in the world: Carnforth 10 miles. I think I should register it with Guinness.)

Although he is 71, John was always within himself, and often waiting for me at the top of each ascent. And while at Wrynose even he pushed the bike for the last 75 yards, I suspect if it had been a race he’d have made it.

When we got home we watched the second half of the FA Cup final, and after just one cup of tea he was refreshed and ready to go again. Remarkable.

He is out riding again tomorrow. I think I’ll pass.

This entry was posted on Saturday, May 30th, 2009 at 7:08 pm and is filed under Wrynose or bust. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.