Stand-Off

I've enjoyed a fabulous day. I made a conscious decision not to be bound by time, or any other circumscription, and let events unfold. And unfold they did in the most wonderful way.

The rain thankfully held off until this evening and although there was a lot more cloud about than there has been all week it was still hot and essentially perfect for a long cycle ride. I do thoroughly love cycling in hot weather (which was extreme enough today for the tarmac to be melting in places), possibly because it transports me in time and place to my best (and hardest) experiences on the bike, climbing mountain passes in the Alps and the Pyrenees under blistering sunshine. No mountains today but I did contrive to take in perhaps the three toughest climbs in the Dales. Not quite sure how that happened.

Despite a distinct lack of energy when I set off from home, the legs warmed to the task and I kept making decisions which committed to me a longer and longer ride (certainly a hundred miles plus). I encountered the fine fellow pictured here at the top of Park Rash, barring my way down Coverdale. He was in no hurry to move over and I was in no real hurry to squeeze past - not before taking a picture anyway. I got so carried away with the descent that I overshot my usual turn-offs and ended up in Middleham, where I got a panic call from Roam. "Could I play for the second team this afternoon?", he pleads. His team had suffered a number of last minute casualties. I would have done, of course, except that the game started in half an hour and I was about two and a half hours away. I could only say sorry.

Another decision then had to be made: to head down Wensleydale or climb over to Swaledale. The latter option appealed most and I turned towards Leyburn en route to Reeth. On reaching the centre of town I was immediately thrown back in time. I was already aware that this part of the country is a little out of touch with modernity, but virtually everyone around looked like they had walked straight out of a World War Two film set. As it turned out, that wasn't too far off the mark. I soon found out that Leyburn hosts a 1940s weekend, which is growing in popularity every year.

The effort everyone had made was tremendous. The women in particular looked so stylish. With period music being performed it was amazing how you became transported in time. I've never been one for dressing up but I could really get a sense of the appeal and becoming part of what felt like a large scale public performance. I was somewhat out of place in my lycra!

I could have lingered longer but I was aware of being a long way from home so it was up an over and in to Reeth, then a short ride up Swaledale before taking the long climb over the fell into Askrigg, one of the very quietest and remote little roads in all the Dales, as well as being one of the highest. It's definitely one of my favourite climbs, providing some beautiful vistas. On arriving in Hawes I was seduced my an ice-cream van selling cornets made from local produce. Another cyclist arrived at just the same time and with the same idea. They had a vaguely familiar face. In a few moments I'd worked it out. It was John, with whom I rode the Pyreneean Raid with some five years ago. His son Ian was on that trip also and he turned up shortly afterwards. It was great to catch up with these two great geordie lads. Ian was not the greatest climber but he was incredibly strong on the flat and loved being on the front. I spent many hours on the back of his wheel along the valley bottoms between the big cols of the Pyrenees. Top guy.

I left them to the event they were doing, riding 250 miles all around the north of England in a 400K AUDAX. While I was heading home for a good night's sleep they'd be riding right through the night and into tomorrow morning. They were trying to persuade me that these ultra distance events would be right up my street. I'm not so sure. I'm growing to like my bed!

It was then just the small matter of hauling myself up over Fleet Moss (with a stop for a walk to take a shot of this favourite barn) before a quite rapid last 30 miles home down Wharfedale. I was pleased with how well the legs held up. I got down the cricket club to see Roam's second team lose but also witness the first team arrive back home from their game with a win. The guys were so happy to have broken a very sorry run. Hopefully they've now turned a corner.