3 months since the impromptu flying lesson – the ribs are healed (generally), but the collar bone is still a little squiffy – it was time to see if I can do more than just short trips.
Turns out that meant a wee jaunt to the Lake district over the course of an incredible day. Oh yes.
The day started by blasting down the side of the M74, using the A roads to Ecclefechan, then through Gretna (Chris and Graham wanted to stop and do something involving an anvil, but we were on a schedule) and further south still to the Greggs in Cockermouth.
One we had refuelled in Cockermouth, we header further South, deeper into the English ‘wilderness’ until we wound up beside Scafell Pike in Wasdale. As much as I take the piss, there’s no better architect than nature, and her best work is clearly Glen Coe, or the Grey Mare’s tail, or some other spot in Scotland, but Wasdale is a close 8th or 9th. The stunning day helped too, no doubt.
Once we had stopped looking around, we went west to the coast in Whitehaven – indirectly, of course, as every road in Cumbria seemed to be a diversion to somewhere else. The road signs were optional on this day and didn’t mean a damned thing.
Once we had taken in the sea air, we began the labourious journey back up North, via Carlisle and up past the Sam Ye Ling centre, where we discovered Bentpath kirk – a picturesque wee spot in the borders. After a stretch of the legs there we continued up through Peebles, all the midges in Christendom, and back home.
If you get the chance to go to see Scafell Pike in the sun do it – the Greggs in Cockermouth is pretty decent. Turns out you can get there and back with a dodgy bone.