Today was a day that got squeezed to the fullest extent possible, and just about gave us enough time and daylight to do everything we set out to do. Which was a lot! I say we, because I am pleased to say that this was the first of 3 days this week that I will be joined by my friend and pandemic cycling buddy Andy (who is also in the same rock band as me). We will cross the mainland together from map 96 to map 101, which will involve its fair share of hills as we traverse the southern Lake District (today), the Yorkshire Dales (tomorrow) and the Yorkshire Wolds (on Sunday). It is all very beautiful and should rival any of the other coast to coasts for scenery. And today we did as much as we reasonably could, starting out with breakfast on Morecambe promenade, then cycling 4 miles to Lancaster to seamlessly catch a train right around Morecambe Bay to Barrow-in-Furness, and then riding 6 more miles right out to the bottom tip of long, thin Walney Island. Here the little road ends at the nature reserve, close to the mud flats where a large colony of seals can be found, and across the water from the castle on tiny Peil Island. And this was only my official start point for map 96. The morning was gone. The real work still lay ahead of us.
Barrow is a strange place. It is dominated by its shipyards, where they make Britain’s nuclear submarines. It is something of a single industry town. The yards are housed in enormous hangers which loom over everything else, dwarfing the rest of the town’s buildings. The town is otherwise unremarkable except for its magnificent red sandstone town hall, with its tall tower and handsome clock faces. There are few other redeeming features here, but just a couple of miles away across a bridge on Walney Island, you are in a different world, looking out across salt marsh and open sea with huge skies above you. Over the rooftops of Barrow are the foothills of the Lakeland Fells. I had heard disparaging things about Barrow, lying as it does at the bottom of a long cul-de-sac; but it was not without interest or cheer in today’s sunshine. Even if the buildings are not very inspiring on the whole, they certainly do a fabulous job here with their civic floral displays, and indeed their provision of proper cycle lanes all across the centre of town. So definitely points for that.
From Barrow it was a short hop east along the coast to Roa Island, a promontory sticking into Morecambe Bay with a small collection of buildings, a lifeboat station high above the water with a long launching ramp, and a jetty for the tiny ferry that takes you over to the magical world that is Peil Island. This is a tiny place. You could walk around it in ten minutes. But it features the ruins of a mediaeval castle, a row of cottages and a pub. We didn’t have time to sail across today; but I have been before and camped among the castle walls. If you have never been, you should go. You will feel like you have left the world behind.
After a bite to eat outdoors in the sun at a nearby pub, we cycled several miles all the way along the edge of Morecambe Bay to Ulverston. The tide was rushing in and you could see for many, many miles. There was a vastness about the vista, especially the sky and the water. It was really very lovely.
In Ulverston’s likeable old town centre, with its cheerful independent shops, we found the life size bronze statue of Laurel and Hardy. Stan Laurel was a native of this town, and many businesses trade off him, with names like ”Another Fine Mess”. The excellent public statue was officially opened by Ken Dodd, which seemed fitting.
We chose to shorten our journey by riding for just a couple of miles along the A590, which links Barrow to the rest of the world. It might as well have been a motorway, and we gladly left it at the first opportunity. However, national cycle route 700 was a transition from the sublime to the ridiculous, and Sustrans should have a long think about whether it is fit for purpose. We persevered along a couple of miles of rocky track and had to lift our bikes over a locked gate and ride past threatening signs to get where we wanted to be. But from there things improved and a few miles on we were riding along quiet country lanes to the delightful hidden gem that is Cartmel.
Cartmel feels like a cathedral city that the world forgot. It is a small village dominated by its huge Priory Church, with a huddle of inns, cafes and fancy shops clustered in its quiet, narrow streets. It feels prosperous; but largely unknown and on the way to nowhere much. A lane leads through an archway in the village square and you sensed it leading from one largely unknown world into another even more secretive one. We stopped for sticky toffee pudding and ice cream in the square, which was wonderful, and then disappeared through the archway into Narnia.
The rest of our ride to Sedbergh took place in a delightfully clear and sunny evening, with golden light illuminating the hills near and far. Until the sun set. Then the clouds in the sky took on a pink tinge as we threaded our way along tiny, traffic free lanes that did a bad job of connecting themselves together in a helpful way. The light was just fading when we dropped down to cross the River Lune (first seen today near the sea in Lancaster), only to find that the small road bridge was closed to all users. Sound familiar? This cost us perhaps 20 minutes, not so much in extra miles but more in our inability to ride at speed along the tiny lanes with high, overgrown hedges. It was just getting to the wrong end of dusk when we emerged on a bigger road and soon found our way to our accommodation in the small town of Sedbergh, huddled at the foot of the alluring, bald Howgill mountains. It had been quite an adventure, but a very good day. Time to eat, shower, blog and sleep before doing it all again tomorrow.
