Today is the big one: we will be crossing the Kirkstone pass. The Lake District hills are clearly visible across Morecambe bay where we start the day, and they look dauntingly big. I’ve cycled over the Kirkstone pass three times, a couple of times with luggage, but never with a load this heavy. The others have never ridden it.
It’s not the usual route for a LEJOG, but the alternative is the pass at Shap and I’ve ridden that before too, but rejected it in favour of Kirkstone. Kirkstone is steeper but it’s much more enjoyable: a winding road, beautiful scenery, varied gradients and a fabulous view from the top over the Lakes. It’s a hell of a descent, and it’s a climb Tim loved. So this is the way we will go. We’ve been building up to this pass for days, and now it’s today.
The day starts gently enough, in the towns around Morecambe bay, then we leave the level path and head into the hills. Cumbria makes its presence felt with a slew of hills, each one a warm up for the pass. Kendal is perfectly placed for lunch (and climb-fuelling Kendal Mint Cake), then at Windermere we have a final pit stop before the climb, where we are surprised to hear someone yelling encouragement from the side of the road. It’s one of our online followers (another Andy) who took a punt on us being somewhere on this road, and has driven out to support our climb.
Soon we see the turning for Kirkstone and set out onto the pass. It’s steeper than I remember. I feel bad – I had made out that it wasn’t as hard as all that, but I find myself standing up in the pedals on a particularly brutal stretch just a few miles in. We pass a road sign: Kirkstone pass, five miles. Five miles of nonstop effort.
The scenery is spectacular: vertiginous hills on one side as the road twists and turns upwards. Eventually it crosses the ridge and now the vertiginous hills are on the other side, leading down towards the silver smear of Windermere. The traffic isn’t too busy, and it tends to collect behind one vehicle, so you get long stretches of nothing then a few in a row, so it’s easy enough to pull over to let it all pass. Once we’ve settled into the climb it’s not so bad. There are steep stretches, and steeper stretches, and not so steep stretches, and sometimes even a moment to freewheel.
The gradient starts tailing off near the top, and then there’s the iconic white building that indicates you are pretty much there: the Kirkstone Inn. I’m first to reach it, then Lorenzo and Andy, then Mark. I had promised the others a half pint there, but there’s a sign attached to the door: closed. Apparently it’s been closed for the past couple of years. Andy had the foresight to bring us a bottle to toast the top, and we pour a glass for Tim too.
Everyone is smiling. Despite it being really hard, we loved it. I think there’s a metaphor in there for life: we tend to dread the hills, thinking only of the pain and how impossible they appear. Then you get there and cycle up them. It doesn’t matter if it takes an hour, or all day. If you keep going, eventually you will get there. It’s the fear of something or the anticipation of hardship that prevents us from doing things. In reality, it’s often not as hard as you think – or at least that fear shouldn’t stop you trying.
The descent on the other side is just as epic as I remember, and the others are away, much more daring descenders than me. Tim was the same, leaving me standing. We flow down towards Ullswater, and through the farmland to the lake where we’ll camp. We’ve done it: a Lake District pass fully loaded, on a sunny day, in memory of a friend who loved riding through the mountains. We’re all buzzing.
Stats for the day: 75km riding, 939m climbing
Accommodation: Side Farm camping. A difficult night’s sleep given that the campsite is on a steep hill, so it’s hard to find something level to sleep on! I put all of my clothes under one side of my sleeping mat so I had something vaguely level, which really helped.
Ride for Tim 
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