Trench Foot

Last night, we slept. A lot. It rained a lot too and as we munched through the thoughtfully left muesli and yoghurts, we could hear the rain drumming on the windows. Was it really to be another start in capes? Well, yes.

After a few miles, the rain abated and we divested ourselves of all capagerie which felt good. We then attacked the hills that awaited us with gusto. Every now and again, Kate is accustomed to hearing me shout, "Feet!" We then both unclip from our cleats and raise our knees as high as possible. We don't do this for fun (usually), we do it to ford water which covers the span of the road. It means we avoid wet feet. Up to today, this has been successful on 100% of occasions. I don't know how many times I shouted feet today but there is one occasion today which we will never forget. We rounded a corner to see a torrent of water racing across the road. It was easy to see at a glance that there were no alternative ways across. I shouted feet with perhaps more of a sense of urgency this time. We hit the water and were very soon in water that was so deep that it was above the level of the axles. We very quickly knew that this was not going to end well. And it didn't. Kate put one foot down, screamed and hastily retracted it. I put both feet down as there was nothing else to do. I climbed off and manfully waded through the strong current which was over my knees, pushing the tandem. The water reached above the level of the panniers (thank goodness everything was in plastic bags) and all our feet were completely drenched. As I write this, my socks, shoes and overshoes are drying on the towel rail in our hotel bathroom.
We had decided to press on rather than stopping in Settle for our first coffee of the day so when we arrived in Wray, we were very ready for one. The wonderful coffee shop at Wray was closed. We pressed on to a coffee shop I happen to know about a little further on in a village called Hornby. It was the very coffee shop we stopped at on the 'end to end' and we even ended up on the same table. It felt kind of poetic.
From there, it was a plod along a very long cycle path into Morcombe where we reached 'The Sign Post'. This marks the beginning of our Coast to Coast ride....
We sauntered along the prom. The very best sauntering is only really possibly by bike. Walking is too slow and on a bike you are slightly elevated and hardly have to pedal. We do enjoy a cycle saunter. We sat by the coast for lunch. A man on a bike stopped and asked if he could borrow a pump. I leapt into action, being particularly proud of my travel pump, before realising we had different valves. He wasn't bothered. He enjoyed having someone to speak to more than anything. That can be far more significant than having enough air in your tyres if you are lonely.
I had devised a cunning route out of Morcombe which avoided some hills and a road called the A6... We took a canal tow path. It was very pretty and the sun was out which made it prettier still. It went on for miles. We eventually tired of its prettiness and craved decent tarmac free of the technical demands of navigating a fully loaded tandem over tricky terrain whilst avoiding pedestrians, dogs, canoe carriers, mobility scooters, small children and other cyclists. It doesn't matter how slowly you pass some people, or how profusely you thank them, some will still scowl at you.
Absolutely beautiful countryside lay before us as we took to normal roads once again. When the sun comes out, where is more stunning than the Yorkshire Dales?
We arrived at our destination of Kirkby Lonsdale at 4pm feeling so much better than yesterday.
We are staying at the same hotel we stayed in for the end to end. What's more, we have been given the same room. More poetry. We have eaten, showered and we are having breakfast at the hotel in the morning.
Really, if we are able to find Midsomer Murders on the telly this evening then I reckon this is as good as it gets.