Coast to coast cycle ride

[lethargic_man]

On Sunday last week, Sam Borin and I cycled coast to coast to raise money for charity. Despite scrutinising maps beforehand, we ended up partially working out a route on the fly:

Much of this involved Hadrian's Cycleway, which I'd been dubious about if I didn't have the koach to climb back up to the level of Hadrian's Wall after crossing the River North Tyne. Turns out Hadrian's Cycleway doesn't do that, but descends too into the valley of the Tyne, so it's not very well named.

Jane the rabbit had stood proxy for my girlfriend when I went earlier this year to South Africa; it looks like I might have accidentally set a precedent there, as aviva_m expected her to come with me on the cycling trip too. Fortunately, Jane was all for it, and got into her cycling gear several days beforehand in anticipation:

Sadly, despite my attempt to tie it in place, Jane's helmet blew off about ten miles into our ride, and that was the last I saw of it. Oh well, of the two of us, I needed one more!

Our day started at 8:30, when we left my parents' house to catch the 9:10 train to Carlisle:

By quarter to eleven we were at Carlisle, and ready to head in the wrong direction, to get to the starting point. (I did consider just doing Carlisle to Newcastle, but came to the conclusion I'd be so annoyed at not doing the full distance I'd have to go back again and do it properly the following year.)

I've never actually been to Carlisle before; I now think I should go there and see it properly.

At 11:34 we came within sight of the Solway Firth, partway between Burgh-on-Sands and Bowness-on-Solway, though the tide being out, it was largely mudflats we saw. (We'd passed ominous signs on crossing a stream a little earlier saying things like "Water one foot deep here when road tidally flooded".) Sam suggested going further to get within sight of open water, but I argued the ride was going to be long enough as it was (and, indeed, it took me an hour longer than I was expecting, due to slowing down as I ran out of oomph later on); my intention had always been to start at the easternmost point that I could plausibly claim to be on the west coast.

Across the Solway Firth lay Scotland. I pointed out Gretna to Sam across the firth's head; Gretna Green was where people refused permission to marry used to elope, to take advantage of the looser Scottish marriage laws, it being the southernmost point on the Scottish-English border and hence the easiest to reach. "Shall we get married?" said Sam.

After retracing our route and passing through Carlisle again, we headed along the B6264 to Brampton. Unfortunately, my father's Ordnance Survey map turned out to be out of date, and the B6264 turned into the A689, which was a little too trafficacious to be a truly pleasant ride. Here's some photos Sam took of our lunch at Brampton.

Two o'clock found us near Lanercost. Out in the countryside, other cyclists would say hello as we passed each other, and we actually got into extended conversation with another cyclist at this point.

By quarter past, we'd encountered our first Roman ruins: A milecastle on Hadrian's Wall, east of Banks:

By half past, we'd reached the fort and stretch of wall at Birdoswald:

At Gilsland we crossed the River Irthing and entered Northumberland:

From here there was a very steep climb to the watershed; both of us had to dismount for a bit. Fortunately, our route took us through a gap in the Pennine range, as the above satellite view makes clear; we didn't have to go above 228m above sea-level (which we obviously started at). However, though we didn't have to, we chose to continue along the Military Road alongside Hadrian's Wall, which runs along the Whin Sill quite a long way above the valley of the South Tyne. Here we are contemplating the onward distance to Chollerford, at quarter past three:

Along this stretch of the road, we passed a B&B (no photos: we didn't stop) called the Old Repeater Station: obviously with a telegraphic past.

(The following is reposted from the ride Facebook group:) In the late Roman Empire, the cult of the Persian god Mithras was very prevalent. Mithras originated in Zoroastrianism; and you can see the name in the Bible, in the name of a Persian official Mithredath in the Book of Ezra-Nehemiah. (Mithredath means "Mithras has given"; the second half is cognate both to the English word "do" and to Hebrew דָת, meaning (originally) "law".) However, the Mithraic cult of the Roman Empire had become quite separate from its Iranian origins.

If you're ever in Ostia (the ancient port of Rome), on a sunny day, you have to visit the underground Mithraeum there; it's the most numinous place I've ever encountered. You go down to it, your eyes dazzled from the daylight outside, initially unable to see anything, and then you see directly ahead a marble statue of Mithras slaying the bull (the focal point of the religion) lit dazzlingly white by a shaft of sunlight through the skylight. (I'm not linking to a photograph of it here as no photo I have seen has done the experience justice.)

Anyhow, if you go along Hadrian's Wall, you can see a Mithraeum there at a place called Brocolitia or Procolita. The decorated altar stones are casts of the originals (now in a museum in Newcastle), and the wooden roof posts are obviously new, but as the area was boggy, the original wooden posts were still in place when the site was excavated.

When I first went there, there were two 10p coins in the hollow at the top of the central altar-stone. Are there Mithras-worshipers again here today? This time, there was no money, but an offering of wildflowers. Sam thought Mithras was hard-done by.

You probably can't see at the resolution of this close-up, but there's two 10p coins in the hollow at the top of the central altar-stone. Are there still Mithras-worshipers here today?

I'm not posting all of the things we saw along this part of the route again now; if you haven't already seen them on Facebook, you can see my previous pictures here.

Sam had no appetite for struggling up out of the valley of the North Tyne after we'd descended to cross it, so we struck south a little west of the wonderfully named Chollerford, leaving the wild upland landscape of Hadrian's Wall, and resumed our journey in the much tamer landscape alongside the River Tyne. Here we are crossing the South Tyne just upstream of its confluence with the North Tyne at half past five:

Sam wanted to be photographed in front of another archway at quarter past six. Google Maps tells me this one's called Beaufront Castle, and is located on Corchester lane between Hexham and Corbridge.

At Bywell just short of seven, deciding which way to go.

Previously I've gone along the south bank of the Tyne from Hexham as far as the Scotswood Bridge in Newcastle; this time we followed the cycle route, ignoring the map, along the north bank, and hence didn't cross and go through Stocksfield, but over a rickety single-lane bridge at Prudhoe that looked like it really oughtn't to have had cars on it at all. Here's the view we saw, and here's the view I'm almost glad we didn't see!

It was a very pleasant country ride from Hexham to Prudhoe; beyond Prudhoe the signs for the cycle way vanished, and, except for the mile after Prudhoe, it was all built up, so we didn't take any photos. It had become apparent by now that we were simply not going to get the ride complete in time for Sam to catch the last train back to York, so reluctantly we had to part company in Newcastle. Here we are saying goodbye at twenty past eight, with an overexposed Newcastle Cathedral in the background:

On the road again, by myself, to cover the last nine miles:

There's no longer any remains of Hadrian's Wall further east than Denton, in the west of Newcastle, but the Wall originally terminated at Wallsend, which I reached at ten to nine, where the Metro station today is signposted bilingually in English and Latin:

Here's the eastern terminus of Hadrian's Cycleway:

Finally, at 9:26, I trundled, tired but happy, up to Tynemouth Priory on a headland above...

...the North Sea, proving I'd reached the other coast!

It had taken me eleven hours since we left Boustead Hill on the Solway Firth, and I had cycled 92½ miles (making it the longest ride I've ever done by 17½ miles), including about twelve miles just to get to the starting line. My total mileage in the Monday to Sunday week (not the way I normally measure it, which uses Shabbos as the divider) was 145 miles.

In total it took thirteen hours from when Sam and I left the house to catch the train to Carlisle, and as you can see from the photos below I was beginning to run out of daylight by the end. And more importantly, perhaps, I had raised £1067 (or £1275 including Gift Aid) for three worthy charities. (Indeed, I still have a couple of promised donations to come in, so the final total will be a bit higher.)

I'd described this as being the longest and hardest cycle I'd ever done; surprisingly, it was the first of these but not the latter. In the run-up to my ride I'd been drinking protein shakes immediately after cycling home from work (to take advantage of the "protein window" that closes about three quarters of an hour after exercise). At the time I hadn't felt these were doing me any good, but, maybe due to these, maybe due to the energy bars I took with me on the ride, I didn't "hit the wall" as I had done on my Berwick to Newcastle ride. Although going uphill became difficult after I'd reached Prudhoe, there was no point at which I had to stop and collapse and hope my energy came back after.

Moreover, probably as a result of the protein shake (my last) I had immediately after completing the ride, it didn't take me as long to recover from the ride as it had after my Berwick ride. Monday I needed to recover (but in any case, wouldn't have been cycling as I was returning to London); Tuesday I didn't cycle to work, because I was fasting (it was Tisha BeAv), but I was able to do the three mile round trip to shul, including climbing three hills, that evening; and on Wednesday I was back cycling to work (though the ascent of Hampstead hill did seem harder than normal).

One last thing that needs saying is the need to pay credit to Sam, who, after my waterbottles fell out of my saddle bag ten miles in (my saddlebag doesn't close properly, and needed to be mounted at a funny angle to fit on my father's bike without hitting the wheel or the brakes), gallantly offered to take my stuff in his pannier, so I didn't have to do the whole ride sweating into a bag on my back, which would have been horrible. When I said that this would increase the weight he would have to carry, he pointed out that he was thirteen years younger than me, and fitter, and if it slowed him down, then it was fair as we'd end up going at roughly the same pace (though in actuality, he still ended up leading me most of the way). Sam, you're a star, and thank you very much for doing this.

Which only leaves now the question of how I can top this? Edinburgh to Newcastle perhaps? Well, not until next summer, at any rate, and I'm not going to even think about it in the meantime!

[FWIW, there are higher resolution versions of all the photos viewable on Facebook.]

Comments

[khiemtran.livejournal.com]

That looks and sounds amazing! Well done to all three of you!

[(Anonymous)]

Dear Michael,

I'm Sam's aunt in Holland.
I admire your braveness! And I loved your description, especially the etymological explanation of Midrash. It reminds me of 14 year old Mozarts opera Mitridate, re di Ponto. Ponto was a place near Rome. Why had its king a Persian name?
I enjoyed your compliment on Sam's kindness. He will tell us his stories when he visits us, end of this month. I will give him some money for your charity.

Kind regards, and thank you again.
Sabine

[lethargic_man]

Dear Sabine,

Thank you for your comment, and your future contribution. (If you want to donate directly, you can do so here, but I understand if you prefer to go via Sam to avoid currency conversion charges.)

According to Wikipedia, the opera (which I'd never heard of before) is about Mithridates VI Eupator, king, not of Ponto near Rome but Pontus on the Black Sea, who claimed descent from the Achaemenid Persian emperors.

So we've both learned something from this. :o)

[curious_reader]

I did not know I share the first name with Sam's aunt. I am impressed by your big effort and I found it very interesting to read and see the pictures. I was very amused by the rabbit pictures.

[green_knight]

Thanks for sharing - that was a truly epic ride, and I draw my helmet.