Key stats: 77 and 78 miles respectively, current location: Lucinda’s (Tim’s sister), Chester

Despite the disappointing mileage, these two days were truly attritional. It may have been the spa facilities in Wetheral which meant that we were still sleepy when we hit the Lakes, but the driving wind and rain meant that Penrith, 17 miles away, felt like a major achievement.

Upon arriving in Penrith, we checked Will’s bike into a bike shop for some much needed repair and retired to a tea room. Will’s bike had been playing up all morning but little were we to realise how much of a problem this would present. Two hours later, after some serious teeth sucking and cursing from the bike mechanic, we were back on the road, but the nine day dream was probably over.

Between Penrith and Kendall, lay Shap Pass. 1,400 feet of climbing in the wind and rain through the desolate pass presented a solid challenge; but the seven mile descent which followed was not welcomed with visibility hampered by the rain and spray off the road, and our hands so cold they could barely keep a handle on the handlebars. The boys limped into Kendall and troughed up numerous portions of carrot cake.

The final 15 miles of the day were slow and steady, into The Midland Hotel in Morecombe. This 1930s art deco hotel was restored a few years ago and provided a resplendent back drop for us to sit back and enjoy night two in spa conditions, outdoor hot tub, sauna and steam room to boot.


Day 6 started with such hope: the troops had enjoyed a lie in, Robin and Tim went to the physio, the breakfast at the Midland Hotel was the best yet. However, the day presented more of the same: bad weather and bike issues (in the form of punctures and broken chain) featured large.

It reached new lows in Runcorn as we negotiated the dual carriage way. By the sound and the colour of the language from behind, we all thought we’d triggered some more road rage in the snarled up traffic crossing the Mersey. But it was Will rasping like an orange Ford Focus driver, throwing all his toys out of the cot in protest at the menacing alliance of the punishing weather and Liverpool rush hour traffic.

Although the day had been flatter, it had taken its toll. However, to those of you who are thinking that this trip was beginning to sound more like a tour of health spas of the north of England, you’ll be pleased to hear that no spa was frequented and no hot tub enjoyed in Chester. Once is chance, twice is a coincidence, thrice would be a pattern … which we would have taken had Chester not been where Tim’s sister lived, where we were spoilt with a whopping great lasagne and excellent beds.