Orrel passed, as did Charnock Richard and passing through Eccleston, I saw the T-Shirt Slogan of the Week "My other body is a temple". How true. Shortly after this we were the subject of great merriment as we were overtaken by a couple of frantically pedalling schoolboys, and formed up a motley peloton with the rest of their mates. We could have retaken when the hill ran out, but didn't want to spoil their day, particularly as they soon turned off toward another day of education at my expense.
With Travelodges not providing breakfast, rumbling stomachs brought us to a halt at 8:50 in Earnshaw Bridge where a splendid bakery breakfast was consumed. Unfortunately, also consumed was the willingness of our legs to pedal and the next section proved very difficult. I suspect now that this was the onset of Day3-itis, a pernicious ailment which causes cyclists to feel their worst on day 3 of a multi-day ride, usually before the training effect kicks in on Day 4.
This was not helped by the next section going through Preston. Whilst we negotiated the one way system, using the bus lanes sometimes marked as cycleways, and sometimes not (often within 50 yards) fairly easily, I swear we hit EVERY red light out of town on the A6. There are a LOT of traffic lights on the A6 out of Preston and 5km took almost half an hour. Once out of town we kicked on quite nicely and made Garstang at 10:30, though this was almost 3 hours down on what we had planned. Sainsburys butties and orange juice obliged, and by now Ray was coming to understand the power of freshly squeezed OJ, and refuelled we set off for Kendal on the last flattish stage of the day.
The traffic on this stage was quieter, especially since we had deliberately steered closer to the sea and we made decent time, though the heat was again making itself felt. One more set of road works, another de-routing one-way system, and we eventually rolled into Morrisons at Kendal at 13:48 (now over 3 hours behind) and collapsed into the shade at the side of the shop. How hot was it? Well, I had bought a Cadburys Whole Nut Bar at Garstang in case of Bonk-style emergency and put it into the top of the (black) Carradice. When I got it out at Kendal it was doing a more than passable impersonation of an energy gel (with lumpy nuts in) and was totally liquid. I can confirm that liquid chocolate is great!
After 45 minutes at Kendal, there was no avoiding Shap Summit any longer, and we set off on the 15km drag to the top.
Surprisingly we were there in just over an hour, and the next 27km to Penrith was knocked off in just 75 minutes. A brief stop at the temporary Morrisons in Penrith (apparent the real one burnt down) and we were off on the undulating road to Carlisle, rolling into the railway station there at 18:10, still 3 hours behind. It was at this point that we again realised the folly of railway stations as a source of proofs of passage. There is no problem getting receipts, but there is invariably a train going somewhere near home. In this case, directly to Tamworth in just 25 minutes time. We could be home and in bed by midnight, or carry on with the days remaining 142km into the wee small hours of the next morning. Soooooo tempting!Some 15 minutes before the train was due to depart, we were back on the A7 heading north. The tailwind was back and we made good time to Longtown, the last town of any size before Scotland. At 19:24, some 61 hours and 12 minutes from Lands End, we entered our third and final country. Shortly after this the hollow rumble of a disc wheel could be heard approaching from behind and a time-trialler in GB kit shot past, pursued minutes later by a Sky-emblazoned second rider. Had we been on the downhill, with the weight of both myself and the Carradice behind me, I reckon I might have given them a run for their money. As it was, we were going uphill, so all we saw of them was the approaching blur once they had reached their turn point. We did find out later, that the riders both 'deserved ' their respective kits, so I no longer feel too bad.
Once in Scotland, villages and towns become much further apart, and you have to plan controls carefully, hence we stopped in Langholm for a receipt, in case we couldn't find anything at Eskdalemuir. This was the same route at this point as last years LEL, but we'd come further, and there was no gale force tailwind this year. Nonetheless, my time over most of the next section was faster than last year. The benefit, I think, just of using the faster bike. As expected, Eskdalemuir was shut, even the Samye Ling Tibetan Centre (no, really!) was quiet, though we did find someone to sign and validate the route card. By now dusk was falling and lights were needed.
As we set off, it became apparent that last year's LEL, whilst incredibly windy, had saved its riders from a worse fate than the weather. As we rode toward Ettrick, the ubiquitous Scottish Midge was out in force. The ride uphill on the moorland was not too bad, but the descent between the trees next to the river was awful. They didn't so much land on us, as hit us and stick at the 45kmh speed we were constantly descending. Before the bottom we both had to stop, clean spectacles and towel down. I don't think I've ever felt quite so riffy in my life.
This section was long, and seemingly never ending in the dark and uninhabited bit of the Borders. Peebles finally came, but was dead quiet, and the road to Edinburgh never seemed to get there. Nonetheless, we did eventually arrive, in drizzly rain, at 2:20 on the Thursday morning, about 2 and a half hours behind schedule. At this point the two midge-magnets were badly in need of the showers. Unsurprisingly, we were both unconscious by 3 a.m.
Day 3 - 322km with 3861 metres of climbing in 19 hours and 5 minutes. Average moving overall speed since Lands End still 21.8kmh
Probably the worst day in terms of feeling tired.
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