To Appleby-in-Westmorland

July 28, 2024

Over Hartside pass

Note: this is long post with a lot of content. If you’re short on time today you could just head straight to the first video, watch that, and capture the best of the day. Or you could read through in the normal order. Or, if you’re especially fond of descents you could watch that video first, come back and start from the top, and watch it again when you come to it. We’ve each watched it several times ourselves already.

This is one of those rides there’s been quite a bit of discussion over because a pass is involved, and Team Anderson tends to avoid passes any more - especially on traveling days when we’re carrying our panniers. There was some squealing about a week ago when I pointed out that we’d be climbing over Hartside Pass on today’s ride, and was encouraged by the forecast. In a traverse of the North Pennines we really hope for fair conditions, both for the views, and because who wants to cross over one of the highest passes in the UK in the rain?

For context, here’s a list of the highest passes in the U.K. Hartside is the 12th highest pass in the U.K. And the 9th in England, but note that it’s only about two hundred feet shy of the highest of all, up in Scotland. The U.K. Is fairly low profile, and all the highest roads top out somewhere around 2,000’. This one is higher than Gospel Pass in Wales that we crossed two summers ago, so this will be the highest we’ve ever been in Britain - if we make it, that is.

Also, note that we’re in the heart of that high ground. Except for three passes in Scotland, 13 of the top 16 are here in the North Pennines or just to the south in the Yorkshire Dales.

You’re probably wondering about the Haydon Hundred too, and why five of the highest passes in England are highlighted. It’s a one day organized bike ride, and the century version crosses all of the ones highlighted. It’s a shame we’re a month too late this year or we’d be right on it.

So there’s some back and forth about that of course. I point out that since we’re starting from the highest market town in England we’re halfway up already and biking the much easier side, and that our reliable friend RideWithGPS shows it as not being difficult at all except for an initial half mile stretch that hits around 9%. She’s well experienced by now with the unreliability of RideWithGPS, which somehow fails to mention many of the 15-20% grades that keep showing up unannounced; and with my descriptions, which in spite of my best intentions often tend to be rosy scenarios.

So we end up that we’ll be flexible. If the weather looks good we’ll give it a go, and if not we’ll check in on that bus option.

The weather looks fantastic. We’re giving it a go.

An important stop on the C2C, Alston sees its share of bike travelers.

The ride starts up gently, rising something like fifty feet as we follow the South Tyne South.

Starting out easy, giving us a chance to warm up.

Very pleasant. Couldn’t we just keep going along this way, it’s asked hopefully? Nope, our lodging’s on the other side of these mountains. Only one way through.

The easy life changes when we come to Leadgate, leave the river, and start climbing. It’s steadily up for the next four miles, but as promised only the first half mile is steep - at most 10% - and beyond that it’s really quite gradual - even Rachael agrees with this assessment later when I catch up with her at the summit, which of course she reached well before me because she doesn’t stop for camera breaks.

Climbing away from the river, it doesn’t take long before the views start becoming impressive.

We’re past the hardest part now, and the next three miles are a relaxed, steady climb with steadily finer views.

It’s gently up like this for the next three miles.

About a mile into the climb we merge back onto the A686. It carries some traffic including many like these, but everyone’s respectful and gives plenty of room. They’ll be our companions until we bottom out on the other side.

At the summit. Same guy that passed me a mile back, but coincidentally Rachael caught a shot of him when he arrived.

It’s a phenomenon at the top, with a panorama that won’t quit. Were so luck and are here on such an outstanding day to enjoy the views at their best. It’s a phenomenon in another sense too though as it looks like an event scene - maybe an organized motorcycle ride, as there are thirty or forty bikes at the summit and more on their way up. We ask one of them, and they say it’s nearly always like this here on a decent weekend day.

Fantastic. This shot down into the Eden Valley reminds me of ones I took from Steptoe Butte back in the Palouse.

The descent is both exhilarating and a little unnerving, with motorcycles regularly blasting past at great speed, or cars zipping past in the other lane, followed by bikes overtaking them and zipping past on the far right of the road; or coming at us from around a blind curve, leaning into it and hugging the center line. I’m not sure they’re all heeding the warning sign at the top stating that there had been eight serious injury accidents on this slope in the last three years.

Video sound track: News from Blueport, by Gerry Mulligan

So, totally awesome; and a climb I’d do again, but maybe not on the weekend next time. It’s a relief when we leave the A686 and all its traffic at the bottom, and the last 17 miles are a very pleasant, peaceful ride up the Eden Valley. It’s such a different experience that it’s like we had two different rides today. The surprise is that there’s more climbing through here than in crossing the pass itself: 1,000’ climbing over the summit, and 1,700’ in low rollers afterwards.

There must be a reason they named this place Eden Valley.

I really was surprised by how contoured these miles are, because compared to the pass they look nearly flat on the ride profile.

We’re following the western front of the North Pennines. I think that must be Cross Fell up there. If so, the map says the source of the River Tees is just on the other side.

Pretty distinctive profile. Must be Murton Pike.

We arrive at our hotel an half mile outside of Appleby at around two - too early for our room, but in time for lunch. We grab an outside table with just enough shade from its parasol and nurse our beverages while we wait for something more substantial to appear.

A satisfying offering from over in the nearby Lake District.

Afterwards we’re shown to our room. After we’ve reached the top of the first flight our guide starts pointing out all of the hazards the rest of the way up, and in the room itself. We’re under the rafters, in a strong candidate for the most hazardous room we’ve ever slept in. Impossibly low beams everywhere, and even some of the flattish ceiling requires me to stoop a bit. We both feel like hunchbacks when we leave the room and can straighten up again.

Appleby-in-Westmorland looks like a typical but attractive enough market town when we bike through it, but as I mentioned before we aren’t staying there. We’re in the Royal Oak Inn, about a half mile south of town. After we’ve loafed around in our aerie for a couple of hours (me mostly lying on my back on the bed where I can’t hurt myself) we both go out for a walk in the late afternoon. We could walk back toward the village, but it looks better to drop down to the Eden River that’s right below us.

I get out first, and quickly get stopped by the attractive red sandstone Saint Michael’s Church where I stop for a few shots. While I do, Rachael catches up with me, we exchange a few pleasantries and she continues on.

The Royal Oak Inn. Our room is the farthest deathtrap sticking out from the roofline.

This is the third of these gateways I’ve seen in the past week - often enough that I remember the name for them without having to look it up again this time. I’ll bet you do too.

I don’t go very far. I cross the Eden, wisely taking the footbridge than the flooded road, and then poke along the riverside trail a short ways before turning back.

A sign on the other side warns drivers to heed the depth gauges before proceeding. It doesn’t seem like many would want to try their luck today.

The Eden River. A nearby sign says that the ford here was an important river crossing dating back to the time of the Vikings.

Bongate Mill. An operating flour mill as recently as the mid-twentieth century, it has medieval origins and was originally owned by the castle on the rise on the opposite bank.

A gate through the wall surrounding the castle grounds. The castle isn’t visible from below, and from its description it didn’t seem worth climbing up to explore.

I was surprised when I zoomed in on the leaves of this giant to see that it’s a lime tree. I didn’t know they’d grow so tall and erect.

It didn’t take me long to decide I’d like to see what the soup of the day is this evening and turned back. on the way I stopped in again at the churchyard to stare at the headstones and when I came out I was surprised to see Rachael fifty yards ahead of me, walking energetically back to the hotel. There was just time to zoom in on her before she disappeared from sight. It won’t surprise you to know that she got in a longer walk than me while I was lazily puttering around, taking an out and back along the riverside path. She brought back some nice photos, and some not so nice mosquito bites.