It was good to catch up with George, the first time we'd seen him this season,
which is hardly surprising the way it's gone so far.
The small party meant that things could be much more laid-back, so we got under
way after we'd had a proper chance to catch up and look the 'Busa over.
The day was to be pretty gentle, a chance to get a good mix of road types and
paces and purposely less than 100 miles to ensure that we could get back in good
time without having to rush. The run out of Skipton and into the Dales
proper saw us encounter nothing more than grey clouds amounting to no more than
a threat of showers that never came to fruition. It was good to be gliding
down good roads and along sweeping bends amidst such great scenery. A cut
along a side lane let us miss out Grassington and get onto the Pateley Bridge
road with little delay. And so, we swept on and up across the tops as
patches of blue sky revealed themselves, and the crystal clear view opened up
around us.
Pateley Bridge was pretty busy, both with bikes and cars - and throughout the
day we seemed to encounter myriads of cyclists. We parked up in the usual
car park and searched out the cafe up the main street where we had toasted
teacakes and a brew.
This was the ideal occasion to catch up with each other, and in particular to
hear the long and fascinating military history behind George - where in the
world hasn't he been to over the years.
Back to the bikes and we weren't long in mounting up and continuing on to our
lunch stop in Ripon. For a change, instead of taking to the tops and
coming down to Ripon from the west, Clive had devised a cunning route down
Nidderdale through Summerbridge, and then a turn off north through some out of
the way and very picturesque villages to bring us into Ripon from the south,
keeping to the lower ground.
With such a small group we were able to use the town centre car park - and it
was a good job that there weren't that many of us, as half the car park was
occupied by a fairground. It was here that George had planned on leaving
us to return home, given the distance that he'd already covered. So, we
bade him farewell, and a safe ride and set about finding a suitable place for a
spot of lunch.
We set off south from the market square looking for a cafe that Clive & Kit had
used often in the past, however, when it was located it was found to be shut!
Eventually we lighted upon a suitable alternative up a quiet alley (of which
there are many in Ripon) and settled in to a bite to eat.
In this part of Ripon you keep getting glimpses of the Cathedral, which got Kit
and Garf to talking about the history of the place, and in particular the
architecture - Kit's specialist subject :-) Then Kit & Clive realised that it
must have been a hell of a long time since they'd last had a look inside the
cathedral, so we all decided to have another nosey.
Apart from the sheer beauty and age of the place, it was lovely to get in out of
what was becoming a pretty warm day, and enjoy some of that time soaked stone
coolness.
Once more out into the daylight, and it actually felt like summer, which made
for a very pleasant amble back to the market square and the bikes.
The Fateful Section!
We left Ripon heading northwest to pass through some pretty secluded villages on
excellent and fairly pacey biking roads - through Grewelthorpe and skirting
Masham, where Clive's route took in a short distance of single-track lanes in
order to get onto the spectacular Lofthouses road, with its dramatic loop around
the reservoirs and back to Pateley Bridge. The last time Clive used this
minor lane it had been liberally spread with muck from farmer's equipment but
had been sufficiently passable in the dry conditions. On this occasion
there was as much muck on the lane as usual, but unlike the previous time the
conditions weren't quite as dry!
For the most part the two bikes safely negotiated recently dried sections of mud
and cow dung until, Clive leading, a very short section of run-off from a steep
adjoining field entrance had left the road distinctly 'runny'. Thinking
he'd chosen the flattest track through this mire, and only doing a few miles per
hour, Clive & Kit suddenly found themselves darting sideways as the back tyre
lost all grip and skidded rapidly down the camber!
Now, you see Red Devil, exactly what was meant about 'we've all done that at
some time, and will again', from last week's run. Clive just wished he'd
not had to prove it so soon after. Fortunately for Clive's 'Bird, both he
and Kit cushioned it's fall, and in the process collected quite a large amount
of mud and shit on their leathers. So much so that the bike suffered
hardly any damage at all - just adding a few more scratches to the already
scratched engine casing and exhaust can. Most importantly of all, Kit was
totally unscathed, albeit a little shook-up as you'd expect. However, as
the bike came alarmingly quickly down to the road, Clive felt his left foot
savagely wrenched sideways as the toe of his boot caught the tarmac. It
all happened so quickly that he'd not had time to move his leg out of the way,
only yanking it free in response to the sudden sharp pain from his ankle.
Being a very minor road there was no concern about other traffic, so the bike
was leisurely righted, and both it and the riders checked over. Garf
carefully brought his own bike uneventfully through the muddy section; feet down
ready! A convenient nearby stream and Garf's very kind donation of a rag
helped to remove much of the muck from the leathers and, after a suitable rest
and fag break, we all re-mounted and made our cautious way along the rest of the
treacherous lane.
There were no more runny patches of mire, what little muck having dried in the
now very warm conditions and away from field run-offs, and so the two bikes were
able to make slightly faster progress. Kit's voice came into Clive's ear
through their intercom; "We could do with a ford to clean the tyres.", and like
magic, around the next bend there appeared not just the one ford, but two.
Later on, Garf commented that as Clive snaked along the first clean section of
tarmac before the fords a great sluice of mud arced away from his rear tyre!
The rest of the section proved to be ample reward for the hassle. The road
over the moors to Lofthouse is absolutely sublime, especially in this direction.
However, in future, Clive's avowed to take the longer route around to this road,
and hence miss out that damned muddy lane.
The views as you rise up the mass of the moors are simply jaw-dropping made even
better on such a crystal clear day. And once you've climbed right onto the
ridge above Lofthouse, you're then into the precipitous descent to this
characterful village. From there we took a little more advantage of the
faster bendy sections down the valley, past Gouthwaite Reservoir and on into
Pateley Bridge once more.
Second Pateley Bridge Break
Parked up we retired for the second time that day to the cafe on the main street
(déjà vue, or what?) for a stiff coffee or tea. Clive's ankle was a bit
painful, and he found walking was turning into a bit of a limp, so the thought
of maybe getting stranded miles from home added a bit of haste to the desire to
start for home. As there were only the two bikes, there wasn't any sense
in stopping off in Skipton again so farewells were made there and then and the
two bikes re-traced the route back over the pass past Stump Cross towards
Grassington.
Homeward Bound
It just so happens that this route has always been taken west to east before, so
it was a very pleasant surprise to note that the views encountered east to west
are spectacularly better - something to be kept in mind for future runs.
The bikes finally parted company, amidst hoots and waves, as Clive & Kit turned
off onto the Appletreewick road with it's impish hairpin bends in the bottom of
the valley. Just before Appletreewick they turned off for Barden where
they joined the Skipton road through Bolton Abbey, making a straightforward run
back to the A59 Clitheroe road.
The growing pain in Clive's ankle dictated the fastest route back to Manchester,
so with a stop for fuel at the turn for Earby, then a rest break just before
Colne, it wasn't long before the ankle-easier motorway section was being carved
up returning them to Manchester around half past five. With a bit of
limping, pushing, shoving and limping, Clive was ably assisted by Kit in getting
the 'Bird back into it's shed, on this one occasion unwashed, before he sensibly
retired to a well received hot bath.
Despite everything, it was great to steal another opportunity to get out on the
bikes, in Garf's case after a bit of a long absense from being aboard, so it
seems a bit of a downer to have to add the postscript that on the following
Tuesday (having spent the Monday trying to convince himself that it was only a
bad sprain) Clive returned from his local hospital in plaster and on crutches.
Although not badly, it was all the same broken - a chip to the ankle bone.
And just when it was beginning to look like we may be in for some better weather
opportunities this month! At least he has the wonderful memories of the
day to help him through the next week or so of relative immobility.
Photographs
courtesy of Clive