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.
