C2C #2: Morecambe to Ripon (87mi)

We awoke early this morning to relative silence, meaning the rain had at least temporarily ceased. As there's no rest for the wicked, we immediately began our preparations for the day. I make no exaggeration when I say the moment (and I meant the moment!) we began dismantling the tent, the rain returned with a vengeance and consequently everything got wet through. Wonderful. Just wonderful.

Crack a smile, mate...

Morale was low

Breakfast provided temporary shelter from the typically British weather, though we knew we'd have to step back out into it sooner or later. Neither of us were expecting precipitation for the duration of the trip, so we made the decision, as we sat there in our shorts and short-sleeve jerseys, to find the nearest local bike shop and buy some more appropriate attire.

The moment we stepped back out of the shop donning our waterproofs, the rain bloody stopped. You just can't make it up. At least the forecast suggested the misery would soon end and true to its word, that's exactly what happened. As the day advance and we pedalled ourselves closer to our destination for the day (Ripon), the blanket of white above us gradually dissipated to show the lovely ocean of blue, back from a two-day holiday.

Our suffering had paid off

After being rather underwhelmed by the campsite in Morecambe, we had completely the opposite reaction in Ripon. The sun was out to say hello. The campsite was situated in the middle of the countryside down a quiet country lane, away from any traffic noise and to top it all off, bunnies were hopping around the entrance to the site. The staff were pleasant and the facilities well maintained. Imagine the smiles on our faces as we pitched the tent next to the river Ure. The day couldn't have ended on a better note.

The campsite: Sleningford Watermill

C2C #1: Huddersfield to Morecambe (76mi)

Tent, check. Sleeping bags, check. Oh hello. I did tell you we were planning on cycling from coast to coast? I didn't? Oh, well, now you know, let's get started! Our journey began on the Thursday morning after only a small number of hours of sleep. Not to be dissuaded, we awoke at 06:00 sharp and began our final preparations. For me this involved not one, not two, but three breakfasts. In my defence I anticipated a tough day ahead pulling our bike trailer (nicknamed Bob) on a route with a fair few hills thrown in for good measure. For our coast to coast journey, we made the decision to cycle to the start point (Morecambe) and back from the end point (Bridlington) rather than to take public transport.

The journey was not without some excitement...

Despite the weather being overcast, seemingly verging on the point of precipitation, the morning remained warm, dry and generally pleasant with the exception of some strong winds o'er on't moors. As we rolled into Gargrave, it was about time to find somewhere to refuel - and not a moment too soon. We'd encountered one climb in particular that had me straining with all my might in my lowest gear, but it was a futile attempt. As I could propel the bike forward no further and once I'd managed to unclip my shoe from the pedal to ground myself (that was a hairy moment indeed that almost had me flat on my face), I realised just how heavy the bike trailer was. It was an effort just to maintain a stationary position on the incline and to prevent Bob from rolling, myself and my steed included, backwards down the hill.

The rain started to fall as we found somewhere suitable to have our lunch. And it didn't stop. The second half of our journey from Gargrave to Morecambe was utterly and completely dreadful. Atrocious. Ghastly. Abominable. No word can accurately portray the suffering we endured. As we weren't expecting any adverse weather conditions, we were both dressed in clothing suitable for summer - short sleeve jerseys and shorts. Rain coats had been left at home where we thought they wouldn't be needed. Oh how wrong we were.

The highlight of our pain came as the predetermined route has us turn down a narrow farm track (Craven Ridge Lane, Settle). The lane was unsurfaced, uneven, wet and slippery and in places steep. It was both mentally and physically draining to stay upright. And then the inevitable happened. The bike slipped from under me and threw me down to the ground. I saw the trailer on its side and expected the worst; a bent frame or a damaged hitch point. Luckily it was neither. Onwards and upwards, as they say.

Certainly not 5* accommodation, but good enough for us

We arrived at the (expensive and unimpressive) campsite in Morecambe not a moment too soon. Saturated from the rain and drained of energy it had been a tough day. With more rain expected over the following 24 hours, morale was low. Would we have to suffer as much on day #2?