At Sprinkling Tarn we took a breather, Great Cable was in full glory surrounded by a halo of crystal blue skies, it was like the Alps in summer and with the heat too. The odd walker stood and gazed as we picked our way down the trail towards the mountain rescue post. It’s a box with a stretcher in it, just in case I guess, a reminder of our isolated position.

From here to the valley floor it’s more mega terrain, a long pitch of loose singletrack, the odd massive boulder, stream crossings and speed. It was over far too soon…we rolled into Wasdale past the Herdwick sheep. At Wasdale Head it was refreshment time, Loweswater Gold!

A short ride down the shores of Wast Water, England’s deepest lake, we found our accommodation. Bikes were out back in a shed, an old cow shed now just full of junk, a gym and piles of muscle magazines, seemingly Jerome’s favourite read. Now the real sport could begin, but somehow Jones and Spag had the upper hand over the athletes, two or three pints not six, and I was out like a light.

More full English and tea and we hit the road again, destination Eskdale. We soon picked up a few ancient drover’s roads and classic northern dry stone walled lanes and moss covered walls were the only signs that this place is nearly one of the wettest in England…as the sun continued to shine. Shortly before Boot we found a maze of perfect dry stone walls that lead to the Eskdale to Boot railway station. We stopped for coffee and to watch mad Chinese tourists who obviously don’t have miniature railways at home.

A little farther down the road we spotted a field of awesome rocks and huge boulders, like bees to honey the photo hounds were imagining the shot, that elusive ‘ultimate shot’. At that moment I heard loud holler and whistle, it could only be a farmer. The Lakes is full of rugged landscapes and the people who work the land are hardy people, as I walked down the yard I was half expecting a “WHAT DA YA WANT!” Instead I was greeted with “awright LAD”. “Can we go up those rocks on our bikes and ride around whilst my mate takes photo’s?” “Yeah no trouble, just don’t break any fences”. “Grand”, we were there.

We soon left Wha House Farm behind and headed for Hardknott Roman Fort and into the Duddon Valley, the Roman Roads leading us back towards Langdale, and even along the roadside the rock ribbons and giant slabs provided amazing technical rock terrain to test the best rider.

At Blea Tarn we took the cheeky option and found a barely used trail and permissive path with very friendly walkers and stunning reflections on the tarn. Our weary legs found the way and soon we were staring down into Great Langdale and the late afternoon sun drew us closer to The Old Dungeon Ghyll.

As we rolled into the ODG and past the start, a farmer fettled with his tractor in a field, never to miss a shot Jonesey was off and taking shots of topless farmer, meanwhile we got some more beers in!

This was no normal everyday route, and falls into the adventure side of riding, rather than your normal spin, but it has to be done. Get out your comfort zone from time to time and enjoy the wilder side of mountain biking, and you’re sure to find a few gems along the way.