Why I love the A66
As roads in the East go you can be pretty hemmed in by a high hedges and terrible roads, even when fleeing to the North for a better grade of views, the journey itself is often one of a total indifference and frank disappointment for a good majority of the trip. Sitting on the A1M/A1/M1 as constantly changes between various different road designations is frankly one of the most boring activities available and this is duly noted by the frequent reminders of how tiredness and boredom kills.
You can easily see how this would definitely be a factor in the long journey from the south, the cavernous walls of the dual-carriageway are essentially unchanging at whatever junction you enter from and the only real difference can be the occasional distant mountain as it heads slowly north. As the northern stereotypes of vaguely soviet abandoned 'peaker' power stations and desolate roadside cafes begins to evermore regularly appear at the edges you can at last understand the saying: "It's grim up north", now I wasn't expecting Sean Bean eating a pie and drinking a really strong cup of tea (Yorkshire tea, not t'other Tea from over the big hill) but something a tad less depressing would be grand.
At Scotch Corner the journey does at last change in that you can turn off and thread your way across the mountains, through pastoral uplands of gorgeous vistas, sheeps, unpredictably weather and the prevalence of tourist traps waiting to suck you in and sell you over priced Jam at a deliberately styled "Ye olde farmshop".