Clapham to Bolton on Bowland

August 5, 2025

Today did not go according to plan - as it turned out, that was okay.

Last night we mused about the continued similarity of British hotels throughout our trip; they are decent, but old and with an aura of relentless shabbiness - and that described the New Inn, which was not new…. Dave thinks all these rural places are struggling, just barely hanging on, and it’s got something to do with the UK’s declining economy.

The room was adequate and comfortable . . .

. . . while the bathroom's motif was early junior high gymnasium; note the cold water tap (only) on the sink.

We had a new twist on budget bathrooms: there was no hot water tap on the sink, which made shaving less than fun for Dave. We also think it's a rough life for the staff: we always see the same people working the dinner shift and then they are back in the morning for breakfast. I feel for them.

Our innkeeper, Carl, was very hospitable; he was Welsh and tried to brief us on correct pronunciations of various Welsh names - pretty much to no avail with us. We will be in Wales in a week so it’s on our mind.

The forecast was for no rain, and when we started out indeed there was no rain, but things got crazy fast. The wind was terrible again and today there was no sheltering cover as there had been in places yesterday. This is because we were leaving the Yorkshire Dales and entering the poorly described Forest of Bowland AONB (remember: area of outstanding beauty?) I say “poorly described” because there was nary a tree in sight for most of the ride through this AONB; it should have been called the Grasses of Bowland! Later, after some research we found out that “forest” was a term used in medieval times to describe royal hunting rights, and was NOT descriptive of the land itself. We learn something new everyday when we are touring.

In any event, here is a final sheep shot of the local Yorkshire Dales variety, the Swalesdale, with their distinctive black faces, before we leave Yorkshire:

We bid adieu to the Dales; trust me, their faces were black.

It was blowing like crazy as we departed and then it also started to rain. We endured on and off rain for the entire day to go with the wind. We had a significant climb through the heart of the Forest of Bowland on a great road, with almost no traffic. Had conditions been better it would be a signature ride. The climbing started about km point 8 and we reached the peak at 17 km after some very stiff final ascending.

I was stressed from the challenge of holding myself upright on the bike and not getting blown over. We didn’t do much to celebrate at the top because we suspected the downhill in the wind would be just as treacherous; fortunately the wind shifted a bit so we had a tail wind, which was easier to manage.

A long and wonderful descent; okay, there is one tree on the right side.

At some point we crossed over into Lancashire and wound up on the Lancashire cycle route.

Lancashire, deep in the heart of the forest.

We reached Slaidburn, a cute village but with no place to eat lunch, and then hit another climb with a 13 percent gradient: you will have to take my word for it that there was a sign saying “13 percent.” I was concentrating too hard to stop and take a shot. It started to rain pretty steadily then but to compensate the wind fell off to a dull roar, which made for downright civilized riding.

We had picked out a place for lunch in the village of Bolton on Bowland. The town’s tea shop, our usual choice, was closed on Tuesdays so I told Dave I had identified the local pub, the Coach and Horses, as our only open option. We parked our bikes and walked in, wet and exhausted, and instantly the pub spoke to us. It was a charming English pub but it wasn’t shabby, in fact it was recently remodeled and was warm and most inviting! We met the puppy at the next table, Monty, said hello to a few other customers and ordered a pint (Dave) and a glass of wine (Jill) and suddenly all was right with the world. We ordered a steak and ale pie to split and as we waited Dave and I were looking about and I saw they had a few rooms. I was thinking that it was too bad I hadn’t seen this place when I booked our night in Forest of Bowland. The manager walked by and I impulsively asked if they had any rooms available. He looked taken aback but motioned me upstairs and Dave, who was now laughing, said I had his full permission to make any decision I wanted. The issue was that if we stayed here tonight we would be blowing off a room we had booked and paid for in Worston, 9 km down the road.

Simon, the manager, lead me upstairs and showed me the “Henry;” he had me at “hello” because there was a big bathtub under the window when we walked in. All thoughts of frugality were not quite lost. I asked how much the room was and he said he would have to check but then showed me a much smaller room across the hall with no tub (which didn't speak to me in quite the same way but both were quite nice and probably way better than what I had reserved for the night). When we came back downstairs I was relieved when he said the room was 175 pounds (honestly, I thought he might say 400 pounds, the room was that nice). 175 pounds was in a range we could stomach. Being fiscally responsible is greatly overrated! I asked if the restaurant could feed us that evening and he assured us it could. So, we settled back down to a steak and ale pie, knowing we would not have to ride in the wind and rain anymore that afternoon, and a warm bath was in my immediate future.

Gosh, I can't imagine why this room appealed to Jill at first glance.

We got our moneys’ worth out of the tub that afternoon and had a wonderful dinner in the restaurant. It was the first place since the Cliff House Hotel (which was in Ireland the second week of June) that had a real wine list so Dave enjoyed ordering a bottle of White Rioja (which is kind of rare) to go with our trout. The restaurant was busy and we suspect they have a local following.

Everything we had at their restaurant was top quality, especially this perfectly prepared trout which we shared.

Before diner we strolled around the village - Bolton by Bowland. It’s cute and well-tended. We even put 3 pounds in the offering plate after we checked out the local church, which in the modern era actually meant Dave made a three pound donation with a quick tap of his watch at the church donation table!

The interior of Saint Peter and Saint Paul Church.

We will pay for our impulsiveness tomorrow and not only in extra expense: our shortened journey today adds an extra 9 km onto tomorrow’s ride to the Preston Holiday Inn Express for laundry day - back to the real world!

Today's ride: 36 km (22 miles)
Total: 3,294 km (2,046 miles)

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Scott AndersonIt's too bad about the weather, but other than that this looks like an excellent ride nd one we'll have to consider ourselves. Like you, I was surprised that you can't see the forest for the lack of trees. It looks like Yorkshire, but with less severe terrain.
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