Day of the Roses: 231 Sunny ones

Big mile day dreams blossomed though the early days of June as notions of a home - west coast - east coast - home via the dales in a day evolved into a main road dodging route. Having plugged options into Google maps it turned out that my plans were optimistic, there was no way I was going to ride 340 miles on Sunday and be back in a fit state for work in Monday. I was keen to ride the "Way of the Roses" Sustrans route partly because following a way marked route would make navigation much simpler but also because it would be an interesting and picturesque route through the Dales.

Sunday dawn arrived early, the dog was desperate to be let out so I was up earlier than intended at 4.30am, a bucket of muesli and some toast set me up for the first few miles. Unfortunately it was a false start as I had to return home after the first mile when I remembered that I hadn't oiled my chain, there was no way I was riding 200+ miles with a dry squeaky chain.

The start of a big ride is always filled with apprehension, will I puncture? What will break? Do I have enough food? Am I riding too fast? Too slow? What if??? It fades soon enough, and spinning up the Calder Valley at 6am on a Sunday morning all I saw were shift workers, taxis and lost souls in the grey murk.

Bright patches emerged through the the cloud as I descended into Cliviger and by the time I reached the ornate buildings of Padiham town centre I had the sun on my back. I followed familiar roads to Lancaster, this was a popular audaxing route and the miles passed quickly through the scenic Trough of Bowland. Spinning past fresh hedgerows on quiet lanes the gentle whirring of freshly oiled gears was only interrupted by the calls of lambs, skylarks and the occasional curlew.

Zen-ness was shattered as I rode into Lancaster, past the old prison and the Ashton memorial, over the river Lune and out to Morecambe. White van man was alive and full of useful insights on the main road here, apparently roads aren't for bicycles. A useful dose of adrenaline had me speeding towards the end of the road. Morecambe-on-the-mud was passable in the bright sunlight, I reckoned it would be pretty depressing on a damp, grey January day. Bingo, tired cafes, and mobility specialists added to the impression of a seaside town on the wane.

A couple of photos at the sea front and I was off on the Way of the Roses, navigation back in Lancaster was complicated by the number of cycle routes on the riverside path but the quality of the traffic free paths was excellent, a world apart from the paths in Huddersfield.

From Lancaster I rolled alongside the riverside on a tree lined former railway line to the Crook of Lune where several pannier laden touring bikes were leant against a wooden shed from which coffee was being served. A couple of brief climbs on a narrow lane flanked by wide open fields led up the Lune valley to Hornby. From here it was more narrow undulating lanes bypassing Bentham and eventually dropping into Clapham, right to Austwick and Settle where sustenance was sought. I stopped in the centre at Ye Olde Naked Man cafe for freshly made pastries and a sandwich.
The cloudless sky meant it was now 22 degrees C, hardly hot but more than warm enough on the climbs. I sat outside the cafe to eat an egg roll only to be joined by some chain smoking bikers dissecting the morning's overtaking manoeuvres and the latest offerings from the 'big 4' in Japan, it sounded dull but then gear ratios and carbon bling probably had equally minimal appeal to the passer-by and I'd spent plenty of time discussing their minutiae. A sportive was passing through the centre of Settle and watching the stragglers provided some entertainment, their route took them up the steepest hill out of Settle, a hill that I was soon grinding up with a bunch of riders who'd run out of energy. They zig-zagged to and fro up the hill in their granny gears denying the reality of the gradient.  I was rewarded by a croissant from my back pocket on the following descent as I free wheeled down lanes lined with butter cups and cow parsley in bloom.  This was the best of the Dales, bypassing Grassington and through Appletreewick where I stopped to have a chat with Mick Collins who was enjoying a pint in the sun, it wasn't the first time I'd bumped into Mick miles from home, last time it was on the finish line for Battle on the Beach at Pembrey. Tempted as I was to have a pint I was only half way and I wanted to get home before dark so I rode off up the lane towards Stump Cross caverns and climbed to the highest point of the ride at Greenhowe. There were copious warnings about the descent to Pateley Bridge in the route description, yes it was a tad knarly in places but I was paced by a BMW 1200GS motorcycle so speed through the tight, chipping littered bends was limited anyway. I stopped for a coffee in Pateley Bridge, I needed to check the map and fancied sitting in the shade for twenty minutes after the the climbs of the last thirty miles. I was served in the cafe by a guy in his 50's wearing a Saxon T shirt whilst his wife berated him across the courtyard where I was sitting. Too old to Rock n' Roll, too young to die...

From Pateley Bridge I climbed to Brimham rocks which were busy with day trippers, this was the last proper climb of the day and from here it was downhill all the way to Ripon. Nearing Ripon the route turned into fountains Abbey and onto the main road through the estate which was closed to cars. The estate road was absolutely straight passing the various buildings of the estate, all built in their own unique style until the twin towers of Ripon cathedral were in sight straight ahead. The road lined up perfectly with the cathedral several miles away, the gatehouse archway at the end of the drive a frame for the City of Ripon.

From Ripon the route was very flat, quiet lanes to Boroughbridge and York before changing direction out of York and on to the path alongside the A64. This led into Tadcaster where the lack of bridge brought me to a halt whilst I wondered how I was going to get across the river Wharfe. A quick scout about and I found a temporary pedestrian bridge to ride across, on the far side I was told off by a kid on a BMX for not dismounting! From here I was on famaliar ground, Rothwell, Wakefield, Grange Moor, a quick stop to untangle another rider's chain and I was climbing Scar lane back to home. I felt like another 100 miles would be OK so that will need putting to the test soon with a true coast to coast!