September 1 - 3, 2006

The English Sea to Sea Ride

Day 2

Nenthead/Allenheads

The respite didn’t last for long, as we had not left Garrowgill village before the next climb started. This was the haul up and over Dowgang Hush. We didn’t see any gangs, and the weather was too noisy to allow us to notice any kind of hush. Again the group fragmented as people dropped back, but this is to be expected with a large bunch.

 

As usual, no sooner had we crested the rise than the road dropped down again, this time to the village of Nenthead at the bottom of the next valley. The small group I was with (Andy, Ken, and Dave) picked up another passport stamp at the pub, but we didn’t stop to eat or drink as we felt our legs had another climb in them before lunch. And another climb was exactly what we got, starting straight away….

summer. The British weather had other plans, but we could only assume that both the publican and his barbeque cook were men of some resolve as the barbeque went ahead regardless, under a large awning.

The climb from Nenthead over Black Hill to Allenheads takes you over the highest point on the C2C, and to me scenically at least it was also the bleakest. Well above the tree line, the broken moor was devoid of visible life, beyond the sodden moorland turf. In good weather it could no doubt boast of a certain grandeur, but in this weather it was just grim. ‘Brutal country!’ I shouted at Ken through the gale as he pedalled along beside me. ‘Very brutal!’ was his reply.

 

As before, after going over the top the road dropped down into a valley by the village of Allenheads. My legs were just about done at this point, and I was looking forward to something to eat. However, the village wasn’t directly at the bottom of the hill, there was still a (long) mile along the bottom of the valley into the wind before we reached the welcome sight of the village pub.

 

Outside the pub we came across the surreal image of a barbeque smoking heedless of the foul weather. Presumably the publican had expected pleasant weather, this being the first weekend of September and therefore still (technically)

Brutal country, brutal weather

Splashing through the puddles surrounding the damp chef’s domain, we ordered a round of steak sandwiches.

 

The chef said he’d let us know when they would be ready, as he needed to get some more charcoal glowing. We retired inside for a drink. While the locals were friendly, little remained of the open fire beyond a few glowing embers, so we were glad when the hot food was done.

 

While the rest of us relaxed with our drinks to let the food warm us through, Phil (who’d arrived shortly after us) set off straight after eating to give himself a head start on the next climb. We followed 15 minutes later.

Awaiting steak sandwiches