A classic day. Blue skies with large white clouds, empty rolling roads, light breeze, spring flowers and hedgerows. The latter I examined at close quarters avoiding the only idiot can driver we’ve seen who was hurtling down hill and didn’t care. Made up for by the later artic driver who deliberately shielded us from traffic through road works. Shame we only tend to remember the idiots (and I thought I’d avoided bring Brexiteers into this).

The varying landscape kept our eyes busy and away from the oscillating hills we very cycling on. Our route follows around the outer rim of the National Park with volcanic rugged build on our left and flatter pastures on our right.

Cockermouth proved to be an interesting wee place: lived in and real, not quaint and conserved. It contrasts with the slightly run down feel of Penrith.

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