This morning, there’s no rush. I have to wait for the village shop to open to withdraw cash to leave at the campsite reception (as planned yesterday, for those following). Small disappointment: this morning, it’s raining. It’s always less pleasant to get up in the dampness. Luckily, this feeling is quickly eased by my very friendly neighbour who comes to offer me fresh coffee (filtered with a french press, you can’t make this up). We chat a bit, he’s a cyclist too. No sooner has he left than a Scotsman, this time, comes up to me and starts asking about my route. He points me towards the best way to get to Ireland; that’s always something.

Once these discussions are done and gear packed away, it’s well past 9am. I go to the shop (there’s no cash machine), only to be told foreign cards don’t work, so I’ll have to wait for the owner to arrive (around 9:30am) to pay for the camping. I take the opportunity to look around the church area, when I meet Chamberlain. He’s the parish volunteer who comes, every Thursday for 15 years, to wind the church clock weights. Very friendly (and a former cyclist, naturally), the conversation is lively and soon he offers me to join him. A guided tour of an old bell tower by the occupant himself, I can’t say no! So off we go to climb the modest building. On the first floor, we each wind a weight - one for the hours, one for the half-hours - and Chamberlain finishes with a third, smaller one, for the pendulum.

On the second floor, we check the condition of the bells, which he makes ring with a kick. Once the inspection and visit of the nave are done, he returns to his probably equally pious occupations, while I finally go pay for my night. Departure at 10am then. I’m not very proud of myself, but it was worth it! I’m quickly caught by Fleet Moss, a beautiful 5km climb at 9% average, that wakes you up. The descent on the other side is dizzying, I feel like I’m flying down a black diamond slope; absolute speed record broken, 86km/h! I continue deeper into the Lake District. Unfortunately, when I reach it, the rain has started again in earnest. My only pass ascent in the district takes place under a fine “shower” from start to finish. It’s a shame, but it doesn’t stop me from sweating out all the water in my body, despite my open jersey and the 20 degrees. I note with joy that the feeling is finally returning to my legs, after 4 days of struggle. I swallow, albeit not without pain, ramps at 20%, which wouldn’t have been conceivable last Sunday. Beautiful descent once again, which carries me towards large lakes, where the English… swim (?!). The end of the day is less fun, I’ve burned too much energy, it’s still raining and it’s already late. I look for a campsite, which I find in the far suburbs of Carlisle. The 40km to reach it are painful, no matter how much I eat everything within reach that I regularly dive into my bag, the energy doesn’t return. It’s the worst feeling because it signals only one thing: I have to stop.

I finally arrive at a small farm campsite, which is nothing but a field with construction site toilets. I set up my tent, still not waterproof (but I bought the necessary kit!). And I finally enjoy a well-deserved beer accompanied by a good French blue cheese. The weather is really not good, it’s raining heavily and for the first time, I’m cold. According to my tent neighbour, “that’s rather normal for the season!”. They don’t have the chance to know summer, the poor things. Tomorrow, straight north!

Comments

Nicolien

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Dad

Also nice these extra-cycling little adventures…. We can clearly see in your photos everything that makes British charm: the perpetual aspect of threatening “showers” - The peaty stream of Kettlewell whose colour smells of pitted whisky - The “chat bench” - The “slow down red squirrels”….So British all of that… Are you testing every type of Flapjack you come across? What about Yorkshire’s one? Regarding the weather, if you happen to be well misted, think of the 39 degrees forecast for this Tuesday in Bordeaux and imagine yourself pedalling under those temperatures!!!! Come on son, welcome to Scotland, the weather will be better..

Moum

Unusual this meeting with Chamberlain…! There you are invited to wind the clocks, and indeed, it seems Time has stopped, up there! It’s not a myth, these misty landscapes, this atmosphere… It’s truly beautiful! Well it’s raining, that was to be expected, but it’s better than blazing sun on this magnificent and formidable road! Don’t let yourself go too much in the descents though!!!🫣 🙃

Teunteve

Come on Ivan try to come back in one piece! Don’t you deserve a rest day sometimes like Tour de France riders? Anyway, we eagerly await the story of your adventures and your photos which indeed remind us of the British atmosphere… I didn’t know you had these epistolary talents… promise when you write your book I’ll reserve a copy for the St Gilles library! Now you’re in Scotland, enjoy this magnificent country.. I also take this opportunity to say a big hello to Moum from Moun😊

Sandrine

Incredible! You really keep us on the edge of our seats! I just did 40 km for a drink in La Rochelle: I’m far off! Bravo for all this journey!! And thanks for these magnificent photos which definitely make me want to cross the Channel again!!