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A merry band of three intrepid cyclists (that's Trevor Calum and Arthur by the way) met at the Solo Cafe just in front of Carlisle railway station. The weather was looking good and after a cup of tea and an excellent bacon roll we set off south on the A6. Now that doesn't sound like a promising road number for a quiet cycle ride, but we were able to turn left on to Cumwhinton Road after only a couple of miles and before we left the relative safety of the thirty mph speed limit.
Now Cumwhinton Road unsurprisingly heads over to Cumwhinton so that's where we went. By this time the sun was out with a vengeance so we planned to head for Lazonby keeping close to the railway line. The thinking here was that the railway must be reasonably level, so the road near it must also be.......WRONG.
We stopped in the pretty village of Armathwaite for a rest and then went to Lazonby for lunch.

In Lazonby there was a handy bench seat near the cemetery near to the railway viaduct and by a lucky coincidence a steam train thundered over us as we sat there in the sunshine. This is the Carlisle to Settle railway which has survived closure over the years by the skin of it's teeth.
After lunch this was where the fun really began. By this time the weather was (to use a favourite phrase of mine) 'stinking hot'. We could see the hills to the east and knew about Hartside Pass, there was nothing else for it but to begin our assault. We got to Kirkoswald and then consulted a map. Now we usually approach the pass from the south and take the main road up but from Kirkoswald there is a shorter route, much quieter and better still, it's steeper.
Well of course we had to take the steeper route, it does join the main road near the summit but it is a splendid climb. This road also forms part of the C2C route and is waymarked by someone with a great sense of humour. As you climb up through a farm at five mph on a 16% there is a road side sign which advises cyclists to SLOW DOWN. I would have laughed but I didn't have any breath to spare at the time.
A welcome cuppa at the Hartside cafe was soon gone and we pedalled down to Alston. Pedalled you say? Yes, there was quite a wind blowing up there at 1900ft. We avoided the Bluebell Inn and then saw the narrow gauge engine in use before heading back up on to the moors. I don't remember this climb being as steep as this before, perhaps I'm getting old. It didn't take long to reach the excellent Youth Hostel at Ninebanks.
Bert came bouncing in at about 8.30 , he had driven up to join us cycling for the next few days.

Calum
Day one was to be a breeze. In fact, so easy that Arthur had suggested that we made the meal that night, because it would be an easy day to carry the provisions. Smart thinking. So off we set. I had my bike loaded up with a carefully planned load. Lightweight toothbrush, extra small bottles of shampoo and shower gel, my lightest selection of clothes, and even a lightweight camping towel. Then I crammed in loads of food and wine. All went well leaving Carlisle, and the pace was nice and gentle. The sun was out and it was a confidence inspiring start to the Holiday.
Then came Hartside Hill, by a new steeper route. I was starting to fear the worst as, very out of breath, and my bike angled in a steep upward direction, I recalled Arthur saying this was to be the easiest day. What could possibly be next? Well a strange downhill section with a headwind it seemed. Designed to tire out weary cyclists. I was so glad to get to the Ninebanks Youth Hostel, and lighten that catering load.
I had never really hostelled before so this was becoming a holiday of firsts. And so that was the night I first met Bertie. What can I say? A very individual personality? Charismatic? A bit bonkers? Loud? Cheerful? Anyway fortunately I'm not someone who judges people quickly, so I spent the next hour or so quietly ticking off a mental list of the things Arthur said Bertie would forget. Full marks to Arthur. After a while I found Bertie to be an amusing, genuine soul and he even told me he was very clever!

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In the morning the weather was a bit misty, slightly damp and the roads were still wet as we set off for the village of Ninebanks. We headed off through Whitfield and I noticed that the villages on the OS 1:250000 map were entirely different to the ones on the signposts, strange.
Trevor had to head back home today as he couldn't get any time off work, so we said our farewells at Lambley. Calum and I headed north to Haltwhistle which now has a bypass. The old road which goes in to the town still exists of course, but they haven't bothered to signpost it.
Our intention was to travel on the 'Military Road' to Chollerford, the quickest way up is the short 20% from Haltwhistle. It winds around the houses on it's way up the hillside. The military road itself is not nearly so much fun, it undulates up and down just enough to slow you down but with no decent climbs to be found. The sun came out as we made our way along to the big hotel at Chollerford. Bert was already waiting, Alan eventually arrived just as we were leaving.
We took the B6320 to Bellingham, this has recently been resurfaced with super smooth tarmac, great cycling road. When we arrived at the Youth Hostel, the warden's husband found out that Bert was an accountant. His view of Bert's profession is coloured by his encounters with the accountants of the YHA.
A very funny hour followed where Bert was forbidden to touch any gas or electric appliances and told he must do all the washing up. It was also best, we were advised, not to allow him to attempt cooking, map reading or anything else which requires more than one brain cell.

Alan had been having some trouble with his new bike, these was a rubbing from the rear wheel. Further investigation showed that the rack had been incorrectly fitted. It would only have taken an extra two minutes to fit it correctly at the shop. Fortunately we had the tools to fix it.

Calum
Day 2 was said to be the worst day, when all your aches ache most, and from then on things would get easier. They certainly got easier for Trevor as he was on his way home. Here was a man, who had climbed Hartside Pass, and it was his first time on a bike in five years, and he had wanted to carry on for the rest of the tour. Cycling helmets raised to Trevor. After our separation, we needed to meet Bertie and Alan at the other end of the Roman "Military Road."
Another first arrived for me as we peddled by Hadrian’s Wall, which I'd never seen before. A fine Roman achievement. Unlike their roads. I mean didn't they use bikes back then? I was cursing them going up every undulation, Which implies a lot of cursing. We later met Bertie, and eventually Alan, and headed off for Bellingham, which I childishly insisted on pronouncing Bell-ing-ham. Another fine Hostel, apparently of the old style. It looked like a Scout Hut to me.

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We awoke to see the sky overcast with occasional drizzle, by the time we reached the shops in Bellingham we had our waterproofs on. There is a row of about five shops all together in the village with both a butcher and a baker. When you're on the hunt for a pie this presents a classic problem. On this occasion it was solved by visiting both establishments. I found that each of them sold very different but excellent pies. What a bonus to find two top quality pie sellers on one row, (must make a mental note to go back).
By the time the shopping was done the rain had eased a little and we set off up the south side of the River North Tyne. The valley was wide and near level as we made our way up to the Keilder Dam, we stopped to examine it. When we were satisfied it was not going to collapse we carried on up to Keilder Castle. The weather was reasonably warm by now and it was dry so we were pleased to see some picnic benches, strangely they were all deserted. After about two minutes we realised why, the midgies descended in a thick cloud and gorged on our warm blood. In a mad dash we ran in to the tea room and ordered lunch. They were doing a brisk trade in there, no one else could stand to stay outside either. the following week I read an article in a newspaper which described an American product which can clear an acre of midgies in a month, if any place needed one of these it's Kielder.
After lunch we set off along the Forest Drive, this is marked as a road on the map and it does start off as a reasonable tarmac track. After a couple of miles however, it deteriorates in to a stony track suitable only for mountain bikes.

As two of our group were on tourers we were none too impressed but there was no alternative. On the steeper slopes our rear wheels kept spinning and stones flew behind us, we had to separate to avoid any injuries. After we passed the summit at 1500ft we were able to go a little faster down the other side, at one point I reached 8mph!

As we neared the end of the track Alan had a puncture. At first we weren't too worried by this and we set about putting in a spare tube. The annoying thing here was that the tube had been trapped under the tyre when it was fitted, this is another thing which could be avoided if more care was taken when the bike shop assembled the machine.
After one and a half minutes the midgies found us, another minute later and we were on our way again with the angry swarm right behind us. It is amazing how quickly you can change a tube when you really have to.
From the end of the Forest Drive it was a short hop along the A68 to the Youth Hostel at Byrness.
When we arrived at Byrness we met Hazel, a girl who was walking the Pennine Way. We had met her the previous night at Bellingham. While Calum and I were unloading our bikes we heard Bert’s voice drifting from the girls dorm. He's still a fast worker after all these years!

We went to the local hotel that night for a drink and found that a favourite topic of conversation among the locals was the midgies. It must be a terrible place to live!

Calum
Mountain biking. Well my wheels for the tour were a Ridgeback mountain bike, (kitted out for touring,) which was fortunate as today we were off roading. We headed for Byrness, around the Keilder reservoir (another first - once saw pictures in a geography lesson at school) and over the badly named forest drive. It was fine for a Land Rover, but too rocky for road bikes. I actually quite enjoyed this bit and I was really impressed with how my bike handled it. Plenty of grip and stability. Oh, except when Bertie accidentally ran me into a ditch! rotter. Having previously being a road bike rider, I was getting converted to the "mountain bike" way. The only down side so far is that the posture can give you sore hands. I suffered from pins and needles a bit. Anyway we were soon at Byrness, home of the uber midge, as documented elsewhere. Conversation in the pub later revolved around the midge solution and possible effects on the ecology (of using Napalm?)