Gone in a Flash

We arrive in Yorkshire on Friday night and attempt to pitch our tents in a strong wind. As soon as they are up the rain starts and continues through ought the night. We are a party of 8; 5 from Liverpool, including Joe and Steve who are good cyclists, and my son Tom who has come up from London with two of his friends. It is an unusual campsite. High on the moor, and the main business of the farm is as a kennels and chattery. On Saturday, as if by magic, the sun begins to shine not long after we set out for the route. The terrain is decidedly hilly, and we have a puncture but still arrive in good time to enjoy the festive occasion before the riders flash by.