Sleep in another castle, rain and hills in "the Lake District"

I arrive in Oxenholme-Kendal south of Carlisle, at the edge of the Lake District. There are more lakes concentrated in this area of England than any other. I stop at a small store for food, and ask where I might camp. The woman says, "Oh, you'd have to go way out of town....no, wait, you could camp at the castle!" (Does she know me?!) She says, "just take the bike path, turn left, when you see the cemetary, push through it, I guess that's kind of spooky, but go thru the cemetary and push on up the hill to the castle. No one will mind. It's kind o' creepy, what the cemetary and all, but you'll be safe. The castle's perfect." I follow her directions and just before dark make it...to..the ...top...of the hill. I find a young couple of friends, Mark and Amy, who ask You pushed that bike all the way up here?! They ask questions about my trip, and offer to help pitch my tent. I start over next to a wall and he says, Not so close, the guys wee there! We take pictures on her cell phone and my yellow rain coat glows. I settle in for sleep, after thinking, if this were somewhere else, I'd be afraid they would come back and plunder my things in the night. But it is safe, I'm sleeping in the remains of a castle several hundred years old. In the morning, the view is beautiful, the rolling hills and hedgerows all around. I eat breakfast at the Union Jack cafe and find info on touring in the Lake District. I head west towards Windermere, where Mark had said I must visit. On my way up the hill, cyclists coming down looked over at me and pumped their arms in exuberance, a familiar happy greeting.
I stop in Windermere, where the rain is pouring down, and find a map for the Lake District, and head north for Kirkstone Pass. I stop several times to catch my breath, it's 5 miles mostly uphill. At one stop I am next to a tree that is 8 feet across, probably 20' around. It is nestled into a stone wall and I can't measure all around it. I go into the Kirkstone Pass Inn, at 1489' the third highest public house in England, and visit with Rich and Jane, proprietors who are avid cyclists. They feed me and ply me with coffee, give me "proper food" and when I walk outside the mountain is socked in, visibility of 1/4 mile. Hey, it's late July!! Shortly the road drops below cloud cover and the view is incredible- stone walls crawling up and oveer the mountains, a lake, farms in the valley, lovely views all around. I continue north where I hear thunder and the skies pour hard rain for several miles. I pass through Keswick, a Patagonia and Orvis sportsman's town. Ten miles south I come to the Barrowdale youth hostel and hole up for the night. In the morning, it's back to Kendal, after stopping at a stone circle perched high in a field, surrounded by gorgeous views of mountains and clouds. In Kendal, I opt for the youth hostel, not wanting to "camp wild" ever in the same place twice, safety care. I talk with fellow cyclists, and Roger, after asking many questions, says "you remember all this about your trip?! Wow!" Of course- it's the trip of my lifetime!
On Thursday I take a bus south, hoping to tour the Yorkshire Dales. It's not meant to be, I'd have to take a train easst to Leeds, then take a bus up into the Dales. So I retrieve my bike and take the train to Oxford, a vibrant lively University town so full of energy. I find a campground 2 1/2 miles out of town, pitch my tent, and in the morning travel throughout the Cotswalds. Buildings are elbow to elbow and follow the hills down into town, very picturesque, very touristy. Saturday morning it's off to Avebury, where I visit my second World Heritage Site and the largest circle of stones in England. I pass a white horse carved from the chalk hills, visible from a mile away. In Avebury, the swtones cross the road and are in several different fields. There are many visitors, and I discover later there is a meeting that night at 11pm of people desiring to harmonize and raise their voices to heaven for peace and world happiness. Locals call them "stone huggers"! I sleep along a footpath and, after loading my bike in the morning, am greeted by an 80 year old man with his walking stick. He steps aside on the path and grumbles, "that's quite a burden you have there". I cycled to the Divine Cafe in Calne and had, what else!, a full English breakfast with a large cup of steaming hot coffee. A motorcyclist came in and when asked his order, said "I want a good breakfast but not as big as hers!" pointing to mine. Funny! We later visited awhile and he told the owner, "now that's green power, a pushbike!" On to Chittendem, where I took the train as far west as I could, to Penzance. I found the YHA hostel, and awoke at 5:30 to bike west to Land's End, the furthest point west in England. The cliffs did not allow for swimming, so I biked to a nearby beach and down, what else?, a steep hill to the chilly inviting Atlantic Ocean. Back to the hostel and off on the 10am train to London Paddington station. I made my way to my last hostel stop of my trip, Tanner's Hatch, deep in the woods 20 miles south of London and closest hostel to Gatwick airport. The lights went out during the night and I discovered this hostel has a generator. The radiator for it was leaking so it went off when it overheated. Wow, I'm almost home and this place is like being at Flathead Lake, minus the lake! The owner brings me two bike boxes for my bike and gear, and I respond to a kind offer from the mmotorcyclist with the small breakfast. He writes to offer help packing my bike and taking me to the airport. We meet at 5:45am, and a few hours later I'm on my way over the pond to Montana, Ray, Jen, Sam, the babies, home.....I am forever changed by this remarkable time in Europe.