In our new normal, we consult our two weather reporters, Weather.com and YR, to help plan for the day. Both are discouraging, but for a nice change they’re roughly consistent. It’s just drying out now and looks to stay that way until sometime between 11:30 and 12 when rain is due to cut the day in half for about three hours. Then dry again, then raining in the evening.
Breakfast is served between 8 and 9:30, and for some reason it hasn’t occurred to either of us to wake up at 5 like we did in Hawes and get our ride in before breakfast, and now we’ve missed our opportunity for that plan. To bad - that might have been the best idea.
Sensible Rachael decides on a walk, but I think I’ll make a twenty mile dash down to see Lake Ullswater on the eastern perimeter of the Lake District. I’ve been carrying around the vision of how beautiful it was, its surface still and reflective, from when we biked past it seventeen years ago. It’s windy and solidly overcast today so I know it won’t look like that now but still I’d like a second look.
I’d been planning to bike down the west side, the same side we rode along before, but over breakfast our host describes the road down the east - a dead ender that ends with a one-in-four climb up to Martindale, with an amazing view from the top looking back up the length of the lake.
So that’s the plan. I leave the inn at ten, planning to race down to the lake and hopefully have some photography time when I get there before I decide I need to turn around and head for cover. I don’t get far though. Before I’m even a mile from our room I come across a roadside attraction, labeled King Arthur’s Round Table. I decide I can afford a minute or five so I lift the bike over a low fence to get it off the road, walk through the small stile and check out an epic sight.
King Arthur’s Round Table, it’s labeled. But everyone knows better of course. It’s just the fanciful name they’ve given to what remains of this prehistoric place, a large circular earthen formation. Believed to be from one to two thousand BC, and possibly used as a gathering place. Stonehenge it’s not, but interesting.
Maybe not the greatest attraction around, but I was glad I stopped. I lift the bike back over the fence and start off again, getting maybe a quarter mile at most before coming to another show stopper: The Mayburgh Henge. It’s not visible from the road, but the sign describes it as a Massive henge (a new word to me) from between 3000 and 2000 BC, more or less like the one I just left. This one though has a standing stone in the center of it so I decide I’d better look.
It takes awhile to find it - there’s no path, and I have to walk around the circular berm to an opening on the far side before I see it - a large standing stone out in the center of the bowl. It won’t look like anything at all in a photo without a scale object; and since the bikes back on the road that would be me. I don’t carry a tripod, so I walk to the edge of the berm, find a twig that might do and go back to the stone. The camera will just barely balance on it, but it gets the job done more or less. It takes me three tries to get the angle right, and by the final shot it’s started sprinkling.
The sole remaining standing stone of the Mayburgh Henge, and half of Team Anderson. The stone’s on the left.
Those were both such compelling sights that I’m not minding the fact that it’s sprinkling as I bike the next four miles to the north end of the lake. It stops by the time I get there though, and remains more or less dry as I bike down the single track to the south end of the lake and then climb up the steep switchbacks to tiny Martindale.
Heading south. I suspect we’ll be seeing a lot of these gloomy damp road photos in the days ahead. Pretty in their own way.
Scott AndersonTo Keith AdamsInteresting. Doesn’t strike me that way at all, as long as I’m not cold and wet. Must be from all the years in the Pacific Northwest. Reply to this comment 1 year ago
Someone’s nice country getaway. Probably owned by a Russian oligarch. The government should seize it and make it a public property so we can get a proper look around rather than sneaking a peek from between the trees.
Scott AndersonTo Patrick O'HaraThanks. It’s the colors that so amaze me here. I like how the hue of the hay bales complements the yellow in the slope. Reply to this comment 1 year ago
Deer! A delight, but a frustration too. the camera must have gotten damp in the back of my shirt, and the zoom won’t operate at first. By the time it does they’ve disappeared, so it’s a pretty poor shot.
The short climb up to Martindale is steep alright - maybe 20% - but it wears well because I stop at nearly every switchback to look around at the impressive view that gets better with every stop.
The pavement ends at Martindale, but there’s a walking track that picks up there, climbing steeply up the hill. It’s obviously a beloved hiking spot because there are a lot of cars parked at the top and walkers are climbing up and down the path. I lean my bike against the nearest no free range dogs sign and walk up a ways myself to get even better views. An incredible spot really, one that makes me wish I could just keep going and climb over that next rise.
It’s hard to turn back, but I can’t see my unlocked bike any more so that’s a worry, as is the fact that it’s started sprinkling again and I’m ten miles from home. So I carefully walk back down the steep, slick grassy slope, hop on the bike, and head north. Even though it’s a bit damp a few things still bring me to a stop.
The lake ferry. It shuttles up and down the length of the lake, stopping at four or five piers to pick up and drop off folks. This would be a good way to take that hike above Martindale: bike to Pooley Bridge at the head of the lake, carch the boat to Howtown at the start of the climb to Martindale, and hike across the ridge and down the rest of the lake to Glenridding to catch the boat back. Hmm.
When I come to the end of the lake I decide to drop down to Pooley Bridge, the busy, touristy village there, to see if the bridge itself is interesting. It is, but it’s not what I expected - it’s brand new.
The new Pooley Bridge, opened less than two years ago to replace the beautiful double arched 18th century stone bridge that was destroyed in a flood in 2015. Allegedly the first stainless steel bridge in the UK.
Looking at the start of River Eamont, the outlet for Ullswater Lake. I can see far enough uplake to convince myself that it’s worth biking on a bit longer.
Surprisingly, the showers have backed off for the moment; and when I look south (the direction the weather is coming from) along the length of the lake it looks pretty reasonable. I check the latest line on the weather on the phone and see that conditions have improved and I could with luck have a couple more hours of riding. I decide to bike down the west side of the lake, climb up to Greystoke, and bike back from that way. It adds about fifteen miles to the plan, but with luck I’ll get back without getting drenched and feeling like a dope.
Ullswater, from the west side. This is at about the midpoint of the lake. That point is at a fork in the lake, with the road to Martindale continuing south just behind it.
There’s the usual up and down for the next several miles, but by the time I come to Greystoke it’s all downhill the rest of the way. There’s a significant tailwind that’ll speed me along too, and the sky has lightened up a bit so I decide to take my chances and stop in at a pub for a pint a bowl of tomato basil soup. Too soon to tell if I’ll make it home dry after this indiscretion, but I’m glad of the decision as soon as I see that there’s a pull for Black Sheep, a brew I’ve had my eye out for awhile.
Black Sheep, a beer that was recommended to me by a friend. We’ll find out.
So the recommendation was sound, the soup and suds go down well, and I stay dry as I race back to the hotel and beat the rain, arriving upbeat after a much more rewarding ride than I’d hoped for when I set out.
When I arrive I ask Rachael how her walk is, expecting to hear the usual enthusiastic, glowing report. It was just OK though, she said. She walked back to Brougham Castle, taking Google’s advice on the best walking route to get there. Google offered up crappy advice this time though and she reaches the castle after an unpleasant, long walk on the shoulder of a highway.
Once she’s there though she enjoys a fine visit, is happy that she can get inside for a look around and trip to the loo, and gets advice on a much better walking route back to town that even takes her past another highlight, Penrith Castle. And she came back with a larger gallery of photos than usual, so it looks like a pretty nice hike to me. She just needs to quit relying on Google Maps for hiking recommendations.
Brougham Bridge, over the River Eamont. We crossed this on our way into Penrith yesterday. It’s nice to see it from the side.
