The sad day arrived and it was time to head back to England. The ferry was 100% full, 99% motorcycles.
Coming into Liverpool the ferry passes a small power station. To think that we kick up such a stink if a wind farm was to be put near us. The noise from the wingers is louder than the windmills.
From Liverpool we headed North to the Lakes District. We called into a small village where Mr and Mrs Potter’s little girl Beatrix wrote stories about rabbits and things.
More wide roads.
Dut dut darrrr, THE STRUGGLE. MOTORCYCLE HEAVEN. The road, 2 way, starts from Ambleside as a main(ish) road. Olga was in 2nd gear for most of the way.
Where the road disappears in the photo, it drops down to Ambleside, STEEP AND NARROW.
What goes up must come down.
We made it to Pooley Bridge, a small village at the North end of the district and had a day on the lake ferries. Not as hard as wrestling Olga.
Further North tomorrow. Heading towards some feral weather.