A quiet day with a bit of drama at the end…
So we had come to the end of Dere Street. To be honest, we had only touched on Dere Street on a couple of occasions and if we had been treated to that Roman road, then we would not have completed the sea-to-sea challenge on Day 6. However, if we had remained true to Dere Street, then we would have followed its progress all the way up to the Antonine Wall and almost to Glasgow!
We started the day off on busy dual carriageways, until Komoot led us down the most glorious cycle path called the York Solar System Cycle Path. There are sculptures and models all the way down it – a particular favourite of mine was a model of the Voyager 1 space craft, which is the furthest human object from Earth. Perhaps I feel an affinity with it being so far from home?
The path was straight and the surface excellent. Other cyclists and joggers passed us – we passed a man jogging with his young daughter in a push-chair twice – and passed plenty of dogs and dog walkers. In an empty stretch, we also got to use the drone.
After many miles of this glorious yellow brick road, we were back onto busy roads. They were not as challenging as the roads on Day 7 but were still a demanding ride.
On a bridge at Selby, we came across Matthew Adams – a proper wanderer – and chatted to him for some time. Matthew teaches English in Tbilisi in the country of Georgia and, during the summer holidays, takes himself off on his bike and bivouacs. No hotels for Matthew. This time, he had been cycling down to Coventry from Scotland and was such a fascinating bloke to talk to. But the road called.
Passing lots of huge industrial and agricultural buildings, even they were dwarfed by the immense chimneys of distant power stations. Throughout the day, the chimneys of these different power stations seemed to stalk the horizon. We soon found ourselves crossing the vast Yorkshire moors of the West Riding of Yorkshire where the wind seems to flay your skin and a heavy piece of agricultural machinery kicked up dust that sandblasted us. Immense wind turbines stood a little way out of hardy villages that must have some tough months over winter. Throughout the day, the huge chimneys of
This was going to be a day of a shorter distance, just below 80 miles, and we were determined to complete over half of it before lunch. We were hampered in our efforts by the crosswinds and headwinds over the moors and at least one road surface that has to be up there in the top three worst road surfaces I have every encountered.
Malcolm and I both discussed the psychology of being behind. One of us always leads, obviously, and it tends to be Malcolm. However, I always find that I start to lag behind to the point where I can see Malcolm but can only rarely catch him up at certain times. Therefore, I effectively keep pace with him but far behind him. I thought it was just me, however, I noticed whenever I took the front, Malcolm did the same thing. It is certainly harder to avoid potholes if you can’t see them because you are closer, and I suppose you cannot see your destination. I don’t have an explanation about this phenomenon but, certainly whilst I am on the road and have time to dwell on it, I am interested by the psychology behind it.
Just before leaving Yorkshire, I remembered that my mother was born in York. Therefore, this allows me to play cricket for Yorkshire – no call from the selectors yet but that might be because I am rubbish at cricket.
Moving into North Lincolnshire, we stopped for lunch at a local recommendation called The Lemon Tree (it was The Mustard Tree yesterday) at a garden centre. We were one of the last customers of the afternoon and were treated to Carol’s last few moments before retirement
After lunch, the rain drenched us and we huddled beneath trees at the garden centre, gradually backing our way further and further into the foliage to avoid raindrops, looking like a variety of unpopular over-sized stalker garden gnomes.
Malcolm was unable to get his Komoot to work, due to a subscriber issue, I led from the front for a short while and over to our right the clouds were smudging the sky, promising rain. Coats on. Then the sun came out. Coats off. And then we were pelting across the north Lincolnshire flatlands trying to chase the rain… and we lost. Finally, we found some trees and sheltered behind their trunks as the rain whipped up by the wind sliced past us
Riding through and after rain, the spray kicks up, particularly if you are riding behind. It’s tragic how many birds in particular we have seen as roadkill but, after rain, the spray at times can seem like an organic mush as you ride the roads, and that is not a pleasant thought.
Soon we were through Gainsborough and then out into a flat landscape that seems so empty when not framed with hills.
We have what we euphemistically call Gentleman’s Rest Breaks, which sounds like we stop, light up our pipes and discuss topics like the Raj and the British Empire. Malcolm was ahead of me when I needed a Gentleman’s Rest Break and, although I called out to him, he did not hear and did not witness me slew across gravel and crash my bike. I was going very slowly and, for once, both toe-clips came out and I managed to come off the bike and run whilst filming it. Half-way through my Gentleman’s Rest Break, I heard skidding, a crash and the cry of someone. My first thought – Malcolm!
I couldn’t immediately rush to help without exposing myself but, for a few seconds, whilst I got on the bike and headed around the corner, all my thoughts were please let Malcolm be safe. He was. A motorcyclist, like me, had skidded on gravel and come off his bike. Malcolm was trying to help him by stopping traffic and I helped the motorcyclist get his bike across the road. He seemed to have damaged his wrist but quickly got on and rode away for his football match – hope he was a sub.
The last push was along the straightest road through the most immense landscape, and the superlatives seem justified. A hill climb led to a road towards Lincoln along a stunning ridge and, although we could hear its calls, we could not see the bird of prey that was calling out.
Fortunately, Lincoln did not have many climbs for us to reach the hotel. We went out into the streets of Lincoln, which looks like a beautiful city and had something to eat.
I had intended editing more videos that evening but the accumulation of many days’ riding is taking its toll on our bodies.
Thankfully, we have shorter riding days ahead of us but, lord only knows we need them, as the last few miles each day are becoming harder and harder to knock out. Three days to go and they will seem a long three days.
Rogues of the Roman Roads 