Ah sunny Whitehaven, the Florence of Cumbria, the Paris of the north Lakes, the....
Whitehaven is rubbish. I can't think of any possible reason anyone would want to come to such a remote, desolate, grim looking place for any other reason than to remind them that life is worth living (because they don't live there).
Yet, here I came, albeit with the sole purpose of immediately leaving. Myself and best mate Craig began the coast to coast here early one sunny morning, aiming to get to Sunderland in just over two days off road biking. With no training, no map, and a randomly generated charity target of 200 quid, we hit the road, weaving through abandoned shopping trolleys and menacing looking estates.
Before long, we were in open countryside, pushing for Penrith. Thus ends my short but I think entirely fair analysis of Whitehaven.
What? So sue me!