Seven days of biking

"Coast to Coast". Three words which do little to convey the sheer EFFORT we had to put into our week long jolly across the country by mountain bike. Beforehand I had thought "how hard can a few days of mountain biking be?" I mean, days in the hills is something I am used to so this should be an easy, fun week with some mates, right? Ok, Fun it was - but the route ("The Way is The Route and The Route is The Way...") was a monster and was probably the least direct piece of cross country navigation I have ever seen!
But I guess we got intimately acquainted with all the best bits of the areas we visited, and there is some amazing biking to be found around the following:
The South Lakes (Ennerdale, (Black Sail Pass) Wasdale, Eskdale, Langdales, Windermere, Dunnerdale, Walna Scar, Conniston, Mosedale and a few more I've missed out; The Pennines (via Tan Hill); The Dales (round Swaledale) and seemingly all of the North Yorkshire Moors.

The weather was just about perfect. A little drizzle twice and too hot at times, but ridiculously good really. We managed a proper swim in the sea at St Bees head before setting off and a 'dip' in the North Sea at the end it was that good.

We had one serious accident on day one resulting in a badly sprained ankle and an early lift home for one of the guys, plus a serious bike mechanical which needed a day out at a bike shop for someone else. There were a few minor 'offs' along the way and several of the more painful variety in the last couple of days. Not too bad considering how technical some of the terrain was.

It's odd to travel like that in your own 'bubble' across country and not see many people at all all day. For instance I'll have to watch my language though as we developed a quite extraordinary array of new expletives which were generally coined at the top of the huge climbs we seemed to do each day. Each brutal effort forced us into yet unchartered swearing territory and had us in fits of laughter as someone came out with a phrase even more appalling than we had previously thought possible to describe the effort they had put into it. But you had to be there, and we really had to watch our mouths when we got to 'civilisation'.

We stopped mainly at B&Bs with a few youth Hostels chucked in. It has to be said that the English Youth Hostels are not a patch on their Scottish counterparts. Windermere and Boggle Hole are partcularly horrible, but top marks to the amazing one at Kirby Stephen (a converted church with a lovely warden - Clare) which sadly is due to close later this year. We devoured lots of fried breakfasts, lots of pub meals, and of course lots of flapjack.

I have 'earned' a rather patchy biker sun tan now with the shorts, socks and glove lines and this, along with a startling collection of cuts bruises and scabs, is not the ideal summer look! Still, I have plenty of time to patch it up, and it's a small price to pay for an extraordinary week of adventure.

So, it's now back to what passes for normality these days. Ho hum.