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'This doesn't seem right, Ben,' I said, a few minutes later.
'You hate it when I'm in charge don't you?'
'Well, yes. Especially when I'm the one with the directions and your sense of direction
has been proven to be shit.'
'That's not true. I've got a great sense of direction.'
'Yeah, you're like a homing pigeon,' I said sarcastically.
'Well you're like a homo pigeon.'
I studied the route.
'You know that road that you said was someone's driveway?'
'Yep.'
'Well according to this, that's the road we wanted.'
We trudged back up the hill in silence and then took the correct road.
Our route book warned us about a hill after Underbarrow that would 'probably require
dismounting'. Well, not for two finely tuned athletes like us. We cruised up without even
breaking sweat.
Actually, Ben had said that there was 'no way The Falcon was going to make it up the
hill,' which made it the most important challenge I had ever faced. Ben was then forced
to respond by powering The Horse up, too. We collapsed in a heap at the top, sweaty and
exhausted.
ThenextthreemileswerealldownhillintothetownofBowness-on-Windermere,which
sits, unsurprisingly, on the banks of Lake Windermere - England's largest lake.
After15milescyclingthroughthequaintcountrylanes,Windermere wasabigshockto
thesystem.Itlookedpretty-fromadistance-butwasfairlyhorrible.Thepavementswere
crawlingwithcoachpartiesvisitingtheoverpricedshops,buyingoverpricedtat,andfilling
their faces with overpriced food. The roads were congested with through-traffic, tourists
and coaches.
We found a spot of grass near to a tacky kiosk selling ice-creams and souvenirs. Ben
spotted an outside tap by the kiosk and went to fill up our water bottles.
'UH, EXCUSE ME! You can't use that tap. It's for customers only,' shouted a voice
through the kiosk's hatch.
'Oh, sorry. We're just filling up a couple of drinking bottles. Is that ok?'
'No. They're for customers only. Are you planning on buying anything?'
'Sorry, we don't have any money.'
'No tap then,' he said.
SoonafterleavingWindermerewesawasignwarningusofsomethingthatwehadbeen
dreading since getting hold of our route book: Kirkstone Pass.
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