I had, I realised very quickly into the night, camped on a slight incline. Truth be told I knew before I set up my tent but all the better spots were taken and it wasn’t bad enough to warrant moving. The only issue was it meant waking up every now and then, wiggling back up to the top of my tent, and attempting to fall back to sleep while ignoring the slow downward slide of my sleeping bag.
I found it more funny than inconvenient.
A slow start to the morning was rendered even slower by my lack of desire to leave. There was something about the Lake District I found rather alluring. There was a peace to it. Even with all the people making all their noise, all you had to do was look up at the hills or down into the valleys to understand the stillness. It was a peace that emanated from the rocks and from the trees. A quiet louder than the voices of all the tourists.
Anyway, I digress.
I did eventually leave, snaking through the northerly part of the Lakes, seeing the topography change once again. Before I knew it I was on the A7, the road I would stay on until I reached Edinburgh.
I had nothing to complain about. The road was winding and the scenery was just as spectacular as much of what I’d ridden through. I stopped once to take a (not very good) photo of the road ahead and I stopped once at a coffee shop just outside Edinburgh.
That was it. Day Three was finishing.
P.S. There was no camping today. I was staying in a house with other people – a novelty after the last two days of just me and my bike.
