The Journey – Reflections from the Saddle in the Lake District
A Ride Through Beauty
Today I found myself riding through the stunning hills of the Lake District, bathed in glorious sunshine. It was one of those rare, perfect days where the air feels clean and the sky seems to stretch endlessly above you. As I pedalled up and down the winding country roads, a song came on my headphones—fittingly titled "The Journey."
As I listened, something clicked. I started reflecting not just on the ride, but on life itself—the parallels between the hills under my wheels and the emotional terrain we all travel.
Kaleidoscopic Ferns |
Noticing the Moments
So often, we focus solely on the destination. We aim to "get there," wherever there may be, without noticing the countless little moments along the way. But today, with that song as my soundtrack, I truly saw the journey. I noticed the ancient stone walls lining the lanes, the bright yellow poppies swaying gently in the breeze, lambs scattered across green fields, and birdsong weaving through the hedgerows.
Yellow poppies along the way |
Hills, Effort, and Momentum
The hills were tough. Some inclines were long, demanding more effort, more breath, more grit. Others were shorter, but steep enough to challenge even the strongest legs. But every summit brought a reward—a brief moment of ease, a downhill glide that reminded me of life’s fleeting reprieves.
If I timed it just right, I could coast halfway up the next hill on the momentum alone. Sometimes, if the incline wasn’t too steep, I could reach the top without pedalling at all. But the longer, seemingly endless hills? They took everything I had. Just like those drawn-out challenges in life, where you think you’ve turned a corner only to find the climb continues.
Bluebell Hill |
The Purpose of the Hills
And yet, those climbs—those relentless, breath-stealing ascents—are what train us. They shape us for the next challenge. You can't become good at hills without actually riding them. It made me wonder: why do we face so many "hills" in life? Do we really need them?
I think we do.
There’s a quiet satisfaction at the top—a sense of accomplishment, even if it’s short-lived. And the descents? They’re not always easy either. Sometimes they’re fast, maybe even a little scary, freewheeling at speed down an unfamiliar lane. It’s not as simple as hills being bad and downhills being good. They’re both just parts of the same journey.
“It's not the destination, it's the glory of the ride.”— Edward Monkton
Present in the Pedal
What matters most is paying attention to the scenery as we ride.
Life is unpredictable—like a country road we’ve never travelled. It bends unexpectedly, climbs sharply, then falls into gentle slopes. And if we’re not present, we miss the beauty along the way. Our ultimate destination is the same for all of us. And the last thing any of us want is to arrive having missed the ride.
Passing by Lake Coniston |
Back to the Bench
Heni's bench |
After my ride, I went to sit on Heni’s bench, overlooking the calm waters of Lake Windermere. I did a bit of DIY—re-attached the “Turning Hearts” medallion that had come loose during our last visit. I secured it, then scanned the little QR code, which took me to Heni’s memorial page.
Seeing it again reminded me of her journey. Of our journey. So many steep hills, some precious short declines, not much rest—but goodness, it was beautiful.
And that’s what I want to remember. That even when the ride is tough, the view can still take your breath away.
Jx