Day 9 ‘Falling apart at the seams’

Route – Windermere (or rather Trout beck YHA) to Carlisle

Distance: 43 miles

Time: Unaccountable

We started the day with spring in our step with a mere forty miles to cycle it was going to be the easiest day yet – mmm, what is it they say about the best laid plans. After the usual struggle to get Camillo from horizontal to vertical we hit the road, bikes intact, sun shining, bodies pumped, minds engaged and maps in pockets, or so we thought. It was a steep climb up into the Kirkstone pass, and whilst Katy stopped to admire and capture the picturesque views of the Lake District valleys, the boys powered on. Resultantly it took Katy even longer than normal to reach the summit of the pass, where Joss was waiting patiently. Camillo meanwhile has sped on down the hill and was relaxing at a café none the wiser to the drama that was about to unfold. With the wind at their backs and a panoramic view down into the stunning Lake District countryside Joss and Katy began our decline, Joss speeding ahead whilst Katy tootled down at a more leisurely pace – brakes firmly applied. About 30 metres into the LeJog version of Alton Tower’s Oblivion Katy came across flashing headlights, frantic waving, a joss less bike in the middle of the road and poor winded Joss recovering beside an amiable sheep. The many worried sight seer’s informed Katy that Joss had taken a rather nasty fall due to wet tarmac and a rogue piece of sheep poo which had attached itself to his back wheel. No broken bones luckily, just a nasty graze on his right hip bone and a bit of a shakeup. Luckily the sight seer’s of the lake district came up trumps and we were offered a more impressive set of fully stocked first aids kits than I have seen in any of the hospitals visited in my 23 years. Where was our trainee doctor in this hour of need! Never fear, the white van man was, for the first time, near and over the hill appeared the shiny white beacon of hope that is the Jerry and his Europcar van. Spokes were retightened, sugary cups of tea offer (and rapidly declined as a result of the lingering memories of the last mineral water brew) and we were back on the road, taking it very slowly this time. The bike ride had proved, if nothing else, that the Beharrells and down hills are not the best of friends and in fact meetings of the two should be avoided at all costs. So the next issue was locating the now AWOL Camillo, a task made more difficult by the lack of mobile signal and patience on behalf of the roaming Italian. We hit the flat of the valley and cycled through village after village, expecting to come across the Camillo, his yellow pannier and 5 day old t shirt lounging on some park bench (or perhaps, more likely, pub bench). What followed in the next hour, however, was many terse conversations in which the three tried to reconvene – not helped again by the somewhat unreliable mobile signal. To add insult to injury, it turned out Joss’s mobile was still chilling on the stone wall at the top of the Kirkstone Pass and needed rescued by the White Van Man. We were one phone and one team member down. Katy’s stress levels had peaked somewhat by this point and were not diminished when it emerged Camillo was a good five miles away on a different route sans map. We decided it was best to cut and run at this point for fear of a total team melt down. Joss and Katy would plod onto Penrith and Carlisle up the A Roads whilst Camillo settled down for a nice pub lunch of duck terrine in a quaint village before navigating his way, Bear Grylls style, to Carlisle through the back roads. With twenty miles to go the morning’s cycle had contained more stress, more aggravation and more pain (on Joss’s behalf) than the rest of the 600 miles endured so far. The afternoon proved less eventful thankfully and Katy’s heart rate/ blood pressure dropped to a more reasonable level as we hit the A6 into Carlisle with the thought of mini Eccles arriving and a night in the plush Travel Lodge spurring us on.  Carlisle proved rather the useful night time pit stop; Joss got his bike fixed, Camillo picked up some new clothes, Jerry sampled the delights of Nando’s and Lucy secured some padded shorts for the ride ahead. Not so good in the Senior Eccles camp, as a rather nasty painful bulge has appeared on my right ankle and walking has become somewhat of an issue. A cocktail of ice, deep heat, ibruprofen and hot chocolate was consumed to remedy the matter. Ever the economist, Jerry managed to sneak a blow up bed and sleeping bag into the room at the Travel lodge so Lucy was treated to a fantastic night of sleep with the much acclaimed and highly relaxing melodies of Jerry’s nocturnal nasal passage. To Scotland we go….