Ravenglass is the only coastal village in the Lake District National Park, a small huddle of whitewashed houses along a single street facing a tidal estuary where three rivers, the Esk, the Irt and the Mite, meet the Irish Sea. At low tide the estuary becomes a vast expanse of mud, sand and channels, with boats lying aslant on the shingle, and at high tide the water laps almost at the cottages' doorsteps. The Romans saw the same harbour and built a fort here, Glannoventa, as a supply base on the Cumbrian coast, linked to the line of coastal forts and towers that extended from Hadrian's Wall down the coast.
The fort itself has largely vanished, but a short walk away stand the remains of its bathhouse, known as Walls Castle, which has some of the tallest surviving Roman walls in the north of England, rising to several metres. It is one of those things that you reach by a short path through a wood and find yourself thinking, oh, that is a surprisingly large chunk of Rome in Cumbria. It is free to visit and there is no visitor centre to count on, so take it as a quiet wander.
For a rider, Ravenglass is a coastal detour from the busy Lake District. The roads along the western edge are flat, quiet and exposed, with a strong wind off the sea, and a mix of farmland and low dunes. From here you can turn inland up Eskdale and climb towards Hardknott Pass, one of the steepest and most demanding roads in England, with gradients that touch thirty percent in places and tight hairpins on a narrow single track, so only attempt it if you are confident, the surface is dry and your bike is not heavily loaded. Wrynose and Hardknott are often closed or dangerous in snow and ice.
Ravenglass is also the terminus of the Ravenglass and Eskdale Railway, a narrow-gauge steam line nicknamed La'al Ratty, which runs up the valley to Dalegarth, and on a sunny day the small steam trains puffing out of the station make a pleasant sight for anyone with a camera.
There is a pub and a couple of cafés in the village, but fuel is thin on the ground in this corner: Seascale is the nearest village with fuel, and Egremont, a larger town about sixteen kilometres away, is the safer bet if you are running low. Eat your fish and chips on the harbour wall with the gulls watching you.