The Caledonian road

Having been given licence by the estimable Dufton youth hostel to raid a pair of rusting bikes for parts, we were able to patch up Tom's 'new' bike and keep the pedal in place without detouring via Penrith where the nearest bike shop was.

We cycled to Langwathby, in order to say goodbye to Tom S., who had seamlessly become part of the team already. The train station there was the  location for Brief Encounter, and they've preserved the tea room beautifully.

We hadn't quite seen the last of Tom though. He cycled after us when he found Martin's forgotten helmet...

And so to Carlisle, self-proclaimed border city.  Tom's bike, which wheezes and squeaks away like a chronic asthmatic, needed some professional care. Our trips to bike shops have progressed from habitual to something pathological; an almost tourettic compulsion. In this case, a really great guy sorted out the brakes and pedal, but we still bought a pedal fixing tool as a lucky charm.

So then, 571 miles from Land's End, we crossed the border, stopping for the obligatory cheesy pictures by the Scotland Welcomes You sign. The Scottish heritage industry wheels into action with alacrity. At least three places in Gretna shamelessly take the credit for being the definitive, original and most famous shotgun wedding destination. And then it's Robert the Bruce's cave (who's to say otherwise?) and Carlyle's birthplace in quick succession.

We were heading to a more notorious destination from recent history - Lockerbie, which turns out to be a nondescript town. However, our B&B, well outside Lockerbie, is an old shooting lodge of rich character and historical interest, run by a couple who have lived there for 51 years.