Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunter's Campfire Roots

Day 2... Lake Windemere at Ambleside in the morning...



Heading out that morning I had a chainring malfunction, needed another, these guys were outstanding :coo:



"The Struggle", so identified by road sign, the three-mile shortcut from Ambleside up to Kirkstone Pass, about like climbing a three mile flight of stairs. Hey, walking is my lowest gear....

I dig the Highland cattle.

Use to ride Rist canyon outside of Fort Collins. There were a couple little ranches up there with the shaggy looking beasts. They look prehistoric when the snow is falling on them.

Kirkstone Pass...





..and the obligatory inside-of-a-fifthteenth-century-pub photo....



In Glenridding, a sign that might not fly here...



England ain't very big; twenty-five miles later I ended the day atop Hartside Summit in the Pennines....



That's it fer now, more later.

Birdwatcher

Completely-friggin'-awesome crossing to Ballycastle, Ulster from Campbeltown, Scotland 7:30am to 9:30am. The regular ferry was broken so we took the 34 ft enclosed-cabin powerboat instead Exactly two passengers; me and a local from Ballycastle.

Got pics, will post when I get time.

Meanwhile here in Ballycastle the whole town has public wi-fi (Ballycastle free wifi), how cool is that?

Sitting in a cafe by the harbor figuring my next move while a heavy rain washes the saltwater off of my bicycle.

Birdwatcher

Excellent adventure continues!

Thanks for the pics, and stay safe, Mike!

Mike

Enjoying the photos!

Jeff

I'll fess up.... I myself prefer Ingwe's.

Anyhoo....

Set out in intermittent rain today around noonish after sitting in a very friendly restaurant next to the harbor eating inexpensive food (here they call it the "Big Fry").

Typical Irish weather I guess, somewhat warm when the sun was out, but cold when it rained, at one point I was getting hit with actual friggin' sleet.

I stopped in at a small town and got a haircut. Funny thing happened when I got off the ferry; I seem to have lost the ability to understand spoken English. Anyhoo in conversation with the barber and his friends it came out that there was no camping or even hotels further along my planned route that day.

Ulster ain't Scotland, or even England, and I'm in the Belfast/Loch Neagh orbit - lots of higher dollar country homes. That and the intensively farmed land means there just ain't many places one can quietly setup a tent by the roadside overnight without drawing attention.

The barber quietly called around and found me a hotel room in a classic old hotel here in Maghera (pronounced "Maheraah" with a slight gutteral "g" in that "h" sound).

"The flags will be out in Maghera" today said one of the barber's friends, "lets burn 'em" said another, everybody laughed.

Checking in the hotel I see a number of armed Police standing in an intersection. A bit later I hear fifes and drums, the hotel concierge tries to discourage me from going outside and watching.

It was an Orange Order parade, the Prods. The barber and his buddies were most likely of Catholic roots.

Up the hill in impeccable military precision came the parade; the flags, the fifes, the drums, the rows of guys in suits and bowler hats, children among the band too. All were grim faced and dead serious. two sets of women and kids followed along the sidewalk, waving Union Jacks.

Massive indifference on the part of the townspeople, at least where we were, perhaps this is a Catholic area. Even the drivers being held up reacted neutrally for the most part, like we would if we encountered a slow-moving piece of farm equipment or something.

The parade passed and went off around a corner, a few minutes later the sound of sirens, unknown if they were related to the parade.

A few minutes later along comes another parade unit, equally serious, up that same hill, this one turning right in front of the hotel. A pack of maybe fifteen motorcycles following slowly close behind, a sort of security one assumes. Following them, a police cruiser, lights flashing.

Again, massive indifference on the part of the crowd, tho' two teenagers passed me were quietly cursing the marchers. Then an older guy started loudly heckling the parade, a Cop went and stood by him.

Sad thing was from my perspective; there were kids in that parade, and kids on the sidewalk too.

Anyways, about a 40 mile day today.

Gonna have to plan my route carefully here w/respect to end-of-the-day stops.

Birdwatcher

Day 3: Whupped after the day before, plus the first week of a bike tour is always the hardest.

Early morning on the Pennines, my tent, 40F, blowing mist, I kept expecting Tim the Enchanter to show up.....



...and an intro to these big fugging slugs which are absolutely all over Northern England and Scotland, besides the slugs themselves worst thing is they leave slimy trails of black slug crap on your tent.





Up top was a cafe (closed when I was there, I got in late and left way early), in front of the cafe was a row of benches looking to the Northwest towards Scotland and the distant sea.

This road is real popular among motorcyclists, and it came as a shock to realize those benches were memorials to people who had died up there, put up by relatives and friends. Most were motorcycle wrecks.

An easy but chill seven mile roll down the east side of the Pennines to breakfast in Alston....



..then turning north towards Northumbria, Haltwhistle, and Hadrian's Wall...



Me on Hadrian's Wall. If it appears sunny note that I am wet. It had just rained and my day would end a short time later in a deluge on a crowded, narrow "A" road seemed like mere inches from passing semis I weren't looking to stay in hotels but when one came along I took it.



As one might expect, Hadrian's Wall, old as it is, exists only in scattered sections today, near Haltwhistle is a pretty good section along a ridge, here looking north towards the savage lands of the blue-painted Picts.

Entered Scotland the morning of Day 4, Gretna...



If they go independent it sure will be a project to put in an functional border.

To get it out of the way, right away, a haggis medley....

Right across the road from the sign, just barely in Scotland, haggis hiding under the beans...



A pop quiz from Crawford; identify these a) a square b) black pudding and c) haggis



Haggis haute cuisine from Balloch; chicken stuffed with haggis, I forget the name, but it has two syllables and ends with the usual gutteral Scottish "och"....



And finally, Cambeltown, going boldly where no haggis has gone before....

Modern American Redneckism and everything cool associated with it comes from the American South.

The American South came from the Scots-Irish.

The Scots Irish came from Ulster.

The Scots Irish in Ulster came from the Scottish Borderlands.

Ergo; ancestral Lowland Scot Redneckism, alive and well.

First off, a historical marker from the village of Ecclefechan, these 19th Century guys sure looked Southern to me....



Shortly thereafer I'm riding along and these little muddy sedans start absolutely screaming up and down the roads every which way, and I could hear 'em getting absolutely flogged up in the dirt on the hillsides above too....





It was a local rally, here was a pit stop or check point of sorts....



I was given to understand that the spectators all stay in their cars along the roadside so that they can roll if the Cops show up.

So there it is; paleolithic Redneckism, the distant roots of mud racing and NASCAR all in one.

Homo richardpettyii



...and they all got Scottish accents.

Ya seen it here first.

"And now for something comepletely different.".....

A little ways further along

I'm passing this parked Land Rover and this nice young couple offer me a cup of tea and snacks, they were all impressed with my travel plans and mode of transport.

Turns out they were a support vehicle for the Tynseside Bicycle Club of Newcastle, out for a one-day TWO HUNDRED TWENTY MILE RIDE to Edinburgh. Followed by an easy one hundred thirty miles the next day.





See? Its all relative.

Thanks for the time and effort you put into these post.

Damn.

220 miles in one day...

I would not have lived through that.

Nice pics! Keep 'em coming! (There are those of us living through you on these trips.)

Quick update for Saturday Day 11:

Tough 55 mile day accross Sperrin Mts,, most of it directly into gusting winds and heavy rains. Hotel in Irvinestown last night, into the Republic today.

Start of Tuesday Day 14: Quick update. Leaving Abbeyknockway, should be at Cliffs of Moher today. The Irish are possibly the friendliest and most hospitable people on Earth, just be prepared to lose your ability to comprehend spoken English if you visit here.

Traveling on a bicycle? Stop at a local pub to find where to put a tent up for the night. Drink a pint or two of Guiness during this process.

Two out of the last three days heavy rains most of the day.

Ennis, Republic of Ireland headed south.

Lost a piece of my Notebook 220/110V transformer, I'm using my iSE as my 'puter.

Trial: The trail along the Cliffs of Moher, Claire, Ireland in the evening, 600ft drop, driving rain, 30+mph winds. Here ya can be arrested for having an old clip of .303 left by your Republican granddad, but they have no problem with the general public taking this 4 mile trail back from the visitor center to Doolin where everybody stays.



Hmm.... can't get it to paste more' n one image at a time.