Day 15 Acton Bridge to Stone

I woke up early, and despite the dark decided to get cracking. After the usual tea and porridge I was on the towpath by 6.30, cycling carefully by headlight. It was slow going, and by 7am I'd done less than three kilometres. Saltersford tunnel was followed by Barnton Tunnel, where a gate on the path over the top was most bike-unfriendly. I tried rearing Horse up onto his hind wheel but it was too narrow so I took off the panniers and still couldn't get through the 180 turn. Eventually I had to push him up a steep muddy slope, slipping and sliding down the far sideband bending the mudguard stays when we hit the fence at the bottom. The trees and brambles were festooned with small black plastic bags, hanging like scrotums and swaying in the breeze. At least the path was clean.
Not far beyond was the Anderton Boat Lift, though I passed it without noticing and only realised when I saw an info board. Skirting Northwich it was all very industrial, with chemical plants, salt works and scrap metal yards. At the Tata Chemical Plant I had a puncture. With the puncture-resistant tyres I was expecting to have to remove some bygone relic of the industrial age, but it was just a thorn.

 I'd managed just 13km in two-and-a-half hours, and now the towpath was the consistency of my breakfast. An hour later things took a turn for the worse. I tried to avoid a bramble that was lying in wait and the front wheel dropped into a section of bank that had seen better days. In the blink of an eye I was in the canal, and out of it a little more slowly. Luckily it wasn't a particularly deep spot, and it was as if someone had drawn a line straight down the middle of my body with one side completely soaked. Apart from a wrecked camera and notebook everything else was fine, and the weather still mild so I blew dry in a couple of hours.
At Middlewich I had another puncture, then the towpath came good near Kidsgrove, and I pulled off for lunch at the Red Bull. I could have done with a pint but not wanting to risk another dip I settled for a half. Just beyond Kidsgrove was the Harecastle Tunnel, at 3000 yards, one of Britain's longest. Overland through some parkland led back to the Trent and Mersey Canal, and a great towpath through Stoke, and all the the way to Stone, where I stocked up on food for the night, and set up camp in the dark by a set of locks. 

I cooked up a great stir-fry meal, then took stock. I was bruised down one side, had one dry sock left and the camera was comatose. I'd be at my parents' house in Nuneaton the following day, so a couple of days there and I'd be scrubbed up, and I'd buy a new camera. I turned in at 7; I'd been on the go for 11 hours and was done in.


Day stats 71km  328 Metres of ascent
Off road 70km 
A road 0km 
B road  0km 
Unclassified road 1km

Day 14 Adlington to Acton Bridge

Leeds and Liverpool Canal

Up at 6am, no rain. Hung the wet clothes on some bushes in a vain attempt to dry them while I packed, then put wet clothes on. Fortunately the weather was still mild. I was away by first light, and the towpath was great compared to the Lancaster canal, just a 100 metres of quagmire near Red Rocks. I tried unsuccessfully to find a phone box in New Springs to let the girlfriend know I hadn't drowned, and soon reached Top Lock and a big flight of locks down towards Wigan. The towpath had now reached new heights of excellence: it was paved, and carried on like that for miles!

Towpath heaven near Wigan Flashes

Trans Pennine Way

I left the canal at Pennington Flash and spent the next couple of hours hanging around trying to get my phone fixed at a repairer in a nearby newsagents, before leaving them with the phone and cash and heading across country to join up with the Bridgewater Canal. 22km of backroads, B roads and a tiny bit of A road led through Culcheth, Glazebrook and into Lymm, where a bike shop miraculously appeared just as the hematoma on the tyre wall looked ready to burst. I was offered a higher-priced puncture resistant tyre, which looked like a good move with all the towpaths to come.
A short stretch of the Trans Pennine Way took me alongside the canal, where I nipped over a fence to have a look at the towpath. It wasn't too bad.There was an extensive notice listing all the things you couldn’t do on the canal. It would have been more economical to list the things you could do, and just say everything else is banned. Cycling was one of the proscribed activities, or at least on this section of canal. It’s one of the few canals in the country not to have been nationalised and is owned by The Bridgewater Canal Company. There were enough tyre marks in the mud to suggest the bike ban was not widely respected, so I unloaded Horse and threaded him through the wooden fence, loaded up and set off in a westerly direction, skirting Warrington.The

Bridgewater Canal

towpath was a another mixed bag, with some short sections of grass and mud which several times built up in the front mudguard and brought me to a halt. I soon became proficient at scooping it out, always hoping it was mud and not something of canine origin. The path was often narrow, but there was a decent gravel base and I made good progress.It was perfect compacted gravel, and I was flying along, and in what seemed no time at all I was over the footbridge where the Norton Arm branches off, then under the M56 to the Preston Brook Tunnel. 15 k’s of the canal already done and I was now heading south on the Cheshire Ring.I led Horse along the track above the tunnel, and saw The Tunnel Top pub. By now it was past four o’clock, and I’d

Preston Brook Tunnel

need to find a camping spot soon. I could get some water from the pub, and they’d probably have beer there too. Inside there were a couple of chaps at the bar, quietly drinking a pint. They didn’t look as though they wanted to talk, but when I raised my glass and said ‘Cheers’ it was enough to break the ice and we had a good chat. They thought my trip would be a great way to see a cross-section of the country and see the changes in people and places as I headed south. As I was bereft of technology one of the chaps pulled out his phone and checked the weather for me: it didn’t look too bad at all until Friday, giving me three days of possibly dry cycling. This was great news as the daily soakings had been getting on top of me. After another half hour of cycling into the dusk I found a great little posse tucked in a corner formed by a stone bridge over a farm track, and a thick hedge. I ws pleased to have knocked off 74k's despite the couple of lost hours trying to get the phone fixed. I cooked up the last of the dried meals I'd bought in Windermere, and had an early night.

Day 13 Scorton to Adlington

Into deepest Preston

Escape from Preton

I’d seen a weather chart on the TV the night before, and there was a line of windy depressions spread across the Atlantic, all rubbing their hands together in glee. I set off in the rain, following the NCN6 for 10k's before joining the canal at Catterall. The towpath was less than than ideal. It was just grass, and often I'd find the wheels tuning on the spot, like hamster wheels. There would be section  of compacted gravel either side of a settlement, then the towpath would revert back to grass, or even worse, mud. By the time I reached the Whistle Café, on the outskirts of Preston, it was nearly midday, and in well over three hours I’d only done 27k’s. The towpath finally came good, but I had an immediate puncture and an alarming swelling on the tyre wall. Preston turned into a nightmare. First I had to find a bike shop, then I had reach the cycle paths on the south side of the city. In a pattern that repeated itself right down the country, there were good bike signs to the edge of the city, none in the middle, then then they would reappear on the other side. It was frustrating couple of hours in hosing rain. Eventually I connected with the NCN55 and finally escaped Preston's grip just as the rain started to ease.After some more misleading signage I finally made it over to the Leeds and Liverpool Canal in the gathering gloom and renewed rain. I switched the headlamp on and continued, determined to get a few miles

River Lobstock

beyond Preston. After about 8km I spotted a perfect camping spot in a wood next to the canal. I needed some water though, so cycled to a nearby a road where I saw Frederick’s Ice Cream Parlour, so I l went in for a coffee, happy to hang around there until it was fully dark. I went to the loo to fill up my water bag and managed to drop my smartphone, which hit the tiled floor with a resounding crack, skittered away and bounced off the skirting board. Once the tent was up I had a look at the phone; it showed no signs of life. I was gutted; my wee connection with family and friends, and my Strava logging had ground to a halt.


Day stats 61km 324 Metres of ascent

Off road km 

A road km 

B road km  
Unclassified road km

Day 12 Windermere to Scorton

After a relaxing rest day, and some much needed bike maintenance, I was away by 8am, taking a cycle path out of Windermere, then backroads through Stavely and Bowston to Kendal, which was very bike friendly. Then heavy rain started, and the headwind picked up. The NCN6 through Natland to Milnthorpe, then Silverdale. The wind was now blowing uninterrupted across the sea and it was hard going. I stopped in Carnforth for a coffee, and couldn't help noticing a half smile on the lips of the girl that served me. The source of her mirth became apparent when I caught my reflection in a window. I was wearing a yellow rain cover over my helmet, and it looked as though a lemon and meringue pie was sitting on my head. I hastily stuffed it in a pocket.

Carnforth to Lancaster

From Carnforth I followed the Lancaster Canal south, on a brilliant tarmac towpath that would have had the South Lanarkshire road repair department looking at the floor in shame.I passed a pike angler about to cast out a deadbait.Anything doing? No mate, I’m the world’s worst fisherman.I never catch anything.A piscatorial version of Marvin the

Lune Aqueduct

Paranoid Android. The route then went over the impressive Lune Aqueduct, which was apparently painted by Turner. He must have had a bloody big tin of paint. Things took an odd near Lancaster, where I passed a drunk tacking his way to windward and slugging beer from a bottle, then there was a totally unselfconscious teenager wearing a leopard suit, padding along the tow path as if this was all perfectly normal behaviour. I briefly considered donning my yellow helmet raincover on the grounds that it would help me blend in with the locals. From Lancaster I'd planned to continue along the canal, but in an absolute deluge I was accosted by four road bikers who led me through the university grounds and onto the backroads to Scorton. It was my first deviation from The Plan, and I was disappointed that I hadn't continued, as I'm sure it would have been a struggle but still doable. However it did mean I got to spend a wonderful night in The Priory at Scorton, where £45 got me a huge room and a bathroom with a bath the size of a small swimming pool. It had great food, good beer and really friendly service. Best accommodation of the trip! 

Day stats 79km 593 Metres of ascent

Off road 24km 
A road 4km 
B road 2km  

Unclassified road 49km

Day 11 Carlisle to Windermere

Calder Cycleway

 I was away by 8.30 and almost immediately missed a sign and ended up lost in Carlisle. A bike shop opened their doors specially to help me (thanks!) and I was soon on the Calder Cycleway, part of NCN7. What a lovely change from the noisy hell of yesterday!

Off road at Bridgend

At Bridgend I followed an off road trail that was just about rideable on the road tourer. A brown cycle sign must mean 'bring a mountain bike!' There were some very confusing signs further on, and I followed another "Off Road" sign over a hill, only to find myself at a farm with no indication of where to go. I went back to the main road, through Raughton Head, where another wild goose chase following an "off road" sign saw me adding an extra kilometre and a bonus climb of 80 metres I could have done without.Confusion reigns! Near Raughton Head The countryside started to have that Lake District look about it, and the distant hills were a grey smudge. Undulations were in fashion, and the headwind became ominously strong. Progress slowed to a 6kph crawl through Greystoke Forest, and by the time I reached the back road to Matterdale it was raining in earnest. At Thornythwaite I turned onto the A road which I'd follow all the way to Windermere. It was downhill to Ullswater, then surprisingly undulating along the lakeside to Glenridding where I stopped

Confusion reigns, Raughton Head

under a large yew tree, adjusted the brakes, and switched on all the lights. It was murky enough in Glenridding; Kirkstone Pass would be grim. In a perverse sort of way I’d been looking forward to this climb, but with the weather now completely dire I was no longer relishing the prospect of toiling through rain and thick cloud on a narrow road. After nearly 900 kilometres of laden cycling and an Everest of climbing under the belt, surely this would be a doddle and I’d do it in one hit?I started off quite well, but fortitude was inversely related to altitude, and as the rain increased in intensity and I entered the grey maw of the cloud, rests became more and more frequent,

Lock up your trikes!

and the handlebars became a temporary pillow. The wind markedly increased at one point, and with mistaken hope I assumed this was the Venturi effect of the wind speed increasing as it funnelled over the pass summit, which must now be surely just around the corner. In fact there was a far less complicated explanation: it was just getting windier, and I was nowhere near the summit. way up in the gloom I saw the faint dots of distant headlights appear, and I sobbed quietly. But all bad things come to an end and after 45 minutes of purgatory the road started to level out, I managed to get out of ‘granny gear’ and was soon in the Kirkstone Pass Inn having a welcome pint. The descent to Windermere was a joy, apart from a couple of unexpected uphills, and a persistent chirping from the back wheel that suggested a budgie had taken up residence. I was soon at friends Pete and Dawn's place in Windermere, for  R & R, and generally being spoilt rotten with food, wine, kit washing and blobbing out.

 Day stats 82km 1206 Metres of ascent
Off road 10km
A road 31km
B road 4km
Unclassified road 37km