Richmond to Otley
DAY 13: Richmond to Otley (20 June 2021)
Ascent: 1,140 m
Legs: Despite it being the first day my legs were tired by the end of the day which was not a good sign
After a hearty breakfast with family (that's what I came for after all) it felt strange to be heading out on the return leg. Despite it being a different route meeting people on the way it still felt slightly surreal as if I was climbing into a home-built space rocket and naively departing for the moon. With the late start my strategy as usual was to go steady and keep moving.
Travelling along the eastern edge of Nidderdale (AONB) with a total ascent equivalent to cycling to the top of Scafell Pike from sea level meant I was either grinding uphill in bottom gear, or freewheeling downhill and braking to keep control. The elevation profile provided by my navigation app showed a steep "V" (a sharp descent followed by a sharp ascent) and I didn't think to avoid it. When I hit the "V" it was indeed steep and meant lots of hard braking before the tarmac gave way to gravel and rocks where walking was the only feasible way down, though still with hands on the brakes to control the descent. At the bottom I am immediately faced with a wide and rocky ford across a large stream (small river). Luckily I find a 1.5 meter wide stone bridge crossing and get to pause, admire the views and regain my breath before attempting the ascent which I 'chose' to walk.
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| Dales |
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| An old style bus stop |
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| Dales |
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| The reward after a steep descent; followed by a steeper ascent |
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| Campsite companions up on the moorland |
The campsite, when I arrive, is heaven. It is about five miles south west of Otley and closer to Hawksworth. Maybe its the altitude that makes it feel like heaven. As I stand regaining my breath and composure, Sharon, the owner, comes out with two baby bottles, apologises as I have interrupted goat kid feeding and deals with me. I share the open site with a camper van and two fellow cycle tourists overlooking moorland.
There are picnic benches in a small 'barn' which also houses the toilets and showers. I join my fellow cyclists who seem keen for conversation. Damian and Lilly have been cycle touring for a month and are doing the organised British Cycling Quest created by Cycling UK (formerly known as the Cycle Touring Club or CTC). The quest provides clues at set locations in each county and thereby provides a goal for people to travel the country as and when they wish using whatever route they wish. They base themselves in one location for a few days while they engage in the quest without their heavy loads. I though I had packed heavy but they have brought their own chairs as their luxury item. There is no prize for the quest as it is a purely personal adventure, though you can submit answers and buy a medal. They are experienced cycle tourists though they seem ready for a rest day or three. We exchange stories of life on the road and they seem relieved to find someone who understands the appeal of journeying on two wheels (three in my case) living under canvas or the modern ripstop nylon equivalent.
Our mini 'barn', toilets and showers are new and the site's setting is idyllic so today it is easier to see the appeal. Damian shares some of his cycling horror stories which slowly turn into a kind of therapy session as he talks about all the times he has been cut up or abused by motorists before confessing to a recent event where be blew up at a motorist after the red mist fell on him. He seemed somewhat put out when I failed to come up with any bad cycling experiences and maybe that's something I can work on, perhaps drawing on my years cycle commuting in London.
I recall an encounter that day to make up for my lack of disasters. I had pulled up by the side of a road along a ridge under the pretense of checking directions whilst taking a sneaky breather. As my breathing and its death rattle subsided I could hear voices coming from the other side of the hedge about ten meters ahead. It was like a scene from the UK sitcom "Last of the Summer Wine" where you get to hear the voices but don't actually see the people so you fill in the details yourself. The accents reminded me of the comedian Victoria Wood and her voice double, and the tone also mirrored Victoria's light mood, "... ooooh and she said ... and so I said well I never ... and she said it was true because Tracey had said it was true and would you believe it...".
Lilly briefs me - through her thick drooling - on the local takeaways that usually deliver to the campsite, though it is Father's day and no one is delivering today. Maybe its the thought of Chicken Jalfrezi that makes her curl up her lip at Damian's "couscous surprise". For me it is chicken and mushroom quick pasta from a packet with spicy mackerel fillets from a tin and some general purpose (if a little too salty) spicy seasoning.
I layer up for what promises to be a chilly night up here on the moor and make use of the new long sleeve mid-layer top I picked up in Richmond.
Day 14: Otley to Penistone
