Monday 29th August 2022. It’s strange how things work out. In July, Jim asked several of us (in a WhatsApp group) whether we fancied going on a cycling trip to Mallorca. It was around the time that airports were experiencing severe delays and Covid cases were on the rise again, so I declined, as did several others, so the idea was canned. Then a bit later, Dave proposed a weekend at a hostel in Swaledale to which I said yes and I proposed to cycle there and back. Only Jim and Dave had shown any interest, so the three of us started throwing ideas around.
Jim reckons he’s never been to Whitby (how’s this possible?) and so the weekend from a base in Yorkshire developed into a midweek tour to the East Coast and I began route planning. The first and last days required us to cross the Pennines, which, with full panniers, met with little enthusiasm, so we decided to start the trip from York. But then, if we are already where we need to be, why bother touring? Let’s just stay in the region and go out for day rides? I fancied visiting the North York Moors as well as the coast so we planned a few day rides in those areas to try and fit in as many places we each wanted to see. So that’s what we’ve planned – one night in York, three nights in Helmsley and one in Boggle Hole, a tiny cove near Whitby.
Everything was booked when suddenly Dave had to pull out due to an unavoidable house move – but these things happen when they happen and you don’t argue once you’ve got a moving date. So from a dozen people in Mallorca, to eight at a hostel in Yorkshire we’re now down to two of us on the East Coast. But the weather is looking OK and the rides are in new areas for us to explore, so all is good. I’ll provide updates from ‘the other side’ in due course.
Tuesday 30th August. By the time we’d arrived in York and sorted ourselves out, it was 2.15, a bit later than I’d planned, but since the weather was fair and we’d no other events on, we decided to ride the longer of the two routes I’d sketched out for the afternoon. This ride was lifted entirely from the book Lost Lanes North by Jack Thurston. I’d ridden a few other routes from this book and found them very good.
Today’s ride headed Northeast out from York into the Yorkshire Wolds, the only chalk landscape in the North of England. I’d never been here before and found it gorgeous. The steep-sided, dry valleys were spectacular, (any geography buffs know why they are dry? Has the water migrated underground, perhaps?) and the scenery was all the better since we were largely cycling along the valley bottom, not bothering many contour lines. The book did give warning that there would be a couple of sections of rough stuff, but we coped OK.
The wind wasn’t really a problem heading out and was a very welcome bonus coming home although it did cause us to ride a bit quicker than we intended so when we arrived back at the hostel we were overdue a slap up feed, as they say in the Beano. Whilst hostel food is OK, I know a Polish restaurant in town whose Bigos (hunter’s stew) is wonderfully filling – perfect for replenishing those spent calories after a ride. The meal is served in a round loaf the size of your head and despite my hunger, I couldn’t quite finish it all. Jim to the rescue!
All my electronic items are now on charge ready to do it all again tomorrow, but for a longer distance (coupled with an earlier start).
Wednesday 31st August 2022. I had a wonderful night at York YHA. The place has totally changed since I first went there years ago; it is now very large and modern with everything a weary traveller could want. Consequently, after a good sleep and leisurely breakfast, we headed to the YHA at Helmsley about 45 minutes away where we parked the car and loaded our stuff into their fridges and freezers.
At about 10am we started a flat ride out towards the coast with a light headwind. Luckily, this turned into a much stronger wind by the time we were heading home, and by then it was like having an unseen celestial hand gently propelling us homeward. We ran a two-stop strategy today. The first was a necessity for me since I could feel the need for sustenance at about 25 miles and a café attached to a golf club served us well, although our cycling attire attracted some strange looks – and this was from golfers of all people!
The 2nd stop was in Malton which was already a busy town made all the more congested through having roadworks and temporary traffic lights.
Tea was a DIY affair – steak & ale pies with potatoes, carrots and courgettes. A couple of pints in the local brewery finished off the evening. We’ve still to agree on tomorrow’s ride. All we know is that it’ll be hilly.
Thursday 1st September 2022. The North York Moors are big. I mean, really big! I know this because this morning we were climbing a hill for over 7 miles which seemed to take forever. Well at <8 mph, most distances take quite a while. We had a coffee (nearly) at the summit before heading to Stokesley for lunch. No, I’d never heard of it either, and it wasn’t even on our route, but since it was specifically recommended by a fellow cyclist, we called in. It’s a lovely typical North Yorkshire town which, very importantly, sold food.
The ride this morning had quite gentle, although very long, hills but after lunch, the terrain changed dramatically. Gone were the gentle 6% climbs that went on for miles: suddenly we had steep descents and 25% climbs out of the valleys! Not good. But it was perhaps good practice for tomorrow when we plan (maybe) to tackle the infamous Rosedale Chimney. In case you’re not familiar with this cycling icon, this road shares the title (along with the Hardknott Pass) as being the steepest road in England. I’ve cycled down it before but never up. Tune in tomorrow to see what happened.
Dave, who’d previously cried off this trip, has discovered that he can join us tonight after all, so there were three of us for tea. When we arranged the trip, we each decided to prepare a meal one night. I do hope that Dave he didn’t feel as though he HAD to come just to meet his catering commitments. Although to be honest, we fully expected him to deliver on his promises. His Lancashire Hotpot went down a treat, especially since we were feeling a bit homesick for the county. Finally, another visit to the brewery rounded off another good day.
Upon inspecting the route on Veloviewer after the ride, I realised why I’d planned to go north of Stokesley and miss it out. It seems I’d cycled that road previously in 2012 and by going north I would have bagged some more tiles. Following lunch advice on the fly has cost me about 8 new tiles!
Friday 2nd September 2022. I knew the rides this week would be hilly, but I perhaps didn’t appreciate just how hilly. For each of the past two days, I’ve climbed over a mile of vertical ascent in a fairly short horizontal distance. And sitting in the pub just now, my legs certainly know about it. They’re not grumbling too much, but I reckon that they might start tomorrow. In the morning we leave Helmsley to head towards the coast so we’re expecting fewer hills, but who knows?
Today I managed to climb the Rosedale Chimney (Fred Dibnah would’ve been proud of me!) with not too much drama. I didn’t manage to climb it without stopping however – I had to pause for a minute to catch my breath – but I made it all the way up on two wheels. One issue that was worrying me was that the climb appeared after about 50 hilly miles but if I’d reversed the route, we’d have been going down Rosedale Chimney, and Simon Warren wouldn’t have approved. We did in fact cycle down one of the ‘100 climbs’ but that was entirely due to a clerical error by me when I was planning the ride a month ago. But I’m glad of the mistake since it was very steep – another 33% monster. I’ll probably need new brake pads after this week.
One feature of this part of the country are the sheep. They’re everywhere and they consider the Queen’s highway as their own territory and motorists and cyclists have to manoeuvre around them. Jim found this out when he tried to play ‘chicken’ with a sheep. No animals were hurt in this encounter, but let’s just say, Jim blinked first.
(No-one came up with an answer to my geography question on Tuesday about the dry valleys in the Wolds, so let’s try a general knowledge question. If things cow-like are bovine, things horse-like are equine, what word describes things sheep-like? No prizes (of course) but the honour should be sufficient.)
We encountered many fords today, but most were dry. (Question from Jim: is a ford still called a ford if there’s no water in it?). One ford that wasn’t dry had a slimy, cobbled surface, so I took to the bridge, which wasn’t much easier to navigate.
Once we were showered and refreshed, we headed out for a meal rather than cooking ourselves. It was just a local pub, but they did serve excellent lasagne, so now I’m replete and contemplating tomorrow’s adventures.
Saturday 3rd September 2022. Dave and I enjoyed a relatively flat ride today, although I’m not sure about Jim; he may have wanted more climbing. He’s just signed up to a September cycle-climbing challenge, and before today he was the top of the table with 3200+ metres already claimed. The further 850 or so metres today will certainly keep him on top, but the challenge lasts a month…
We left Helmsley soon after nine and drove to a convenient layby where we left the car and jumped on the bikes for a trip to the seaside. The scenery was completely different today; no desolate moors dotted with pretty villages but instead, we visited the towns of Bridlington and Filey who respond to an entirely different clientele.
We chose not to eat at Bridlington – burger bars and chip shops didn’t really appeal to me – so we continued towards Flamborough Head where we stumbled across a small café in a country park where we bought… chip and sausage butties! But it was in a fine setting and so it was justified. The café sold buckets and spades as well as food, so I deduced that there must be a beach close by. I was right: it was just 1/4 mile away, but about 60 feet down a steep track through a wood. No big deal, perhaps, but walking down in cycling gear did tend to attract attention. Although we couldn’t hear, we could certainly sense people questioning why those blokes wearing lycra and tap shoes were picking their way carefully down to the sea.
After lunch (or was it brunch?), we continued to see the lighthouse at Flamborough and then on to Filey. On the way, we passed a sign to the RSPB reserve at Bempton Cliffs, so we veered off to have a nosey. We only planned to spend half an hour or so there and so the £6 entry fee seemed rather excessive, so we continued on our way. Dave consoled us by explaining that it wasn’t a good time to visit after all.
Jim found an American diner just outside Filey which offered food in an unusual setting. Although we had eaten already, Jim fancied a milkshake (it was that sort of place) so we went in. A stretched limo parked outside set the scene, and a full-sized lwb Jaguar was amongst hundreds of items of American memorabilia.
The food may had been American (I’ve no measure), but their flat white coffee was decidedly weak, although the apple pie was delicious. The place was very strange. It was huge and yet on a Saturday afternoon in holiday season, we were the only clients until another couple came in. I’m sure it was just a front for a money laundering business.
We hadn’t really noticed the headwind coming out, but on the way home, the tailwind was wonderful ensuring that we were back at the car by 4pm, in plenty of time to drive the 40 minutes to Boggle Hole.
The YHA wrote to me earlier in the week to welcome me to Boggle Hole on Saturday night. I didn’t read it, assuming that it was the same email I’d received from York and Helmsley. But it was different. Firstly, it explained that cars could not get within 500 yards of the hostel which was at the end of a very steep path. So we carried all our bags down the hill before we realised that we could have left much of it in the car! The place is surprisingly large, despite being very remote. It also has a pirate theme throughout – great for the kids.
Jim provided ample chilli and rice for tea and we had some cheese and biscuits left over from yesterday, so once installed at a table, we never moved all evening. No firm plans for tomorrow yet, but we have plenty of time to decide.
Sunday 4th September 2022. Today’s ride had a dual purpose. The main one was to visit Robin Hood’s Bay and Whitby. (I still can’t get over the fact that Jim has got to his extremely late 20s and never seen it!) The secondary purpose (mainly for me) was to tackle two of the climbs in Yorkshire, both starting from around a mile from our digs, one in Robin Hood’s Bay and one to the South. Since we were heading back home today, the ride was necessarily shorter than previous, but still relatively hilly. We rode down into Robin Hood’s Bay before the crowds began to arrive, so the ride up the ferociously steep hill from the sea was generally free from pedestrians which helped.
The hill continued up onto the moors and then down through the delightfully named village of Ugglebarnby before the software I’d used to plan the ride played one of its tricks, sending us down a path alongside a river. The gates used to stop horse and motorcycle riders also almost served to stop cyclists. If it wasn’t for our supreme athleticism in being able to hoist the bikes over a four-foot gate, we’d have been snookered. After this, however, the ride into Whitby was uneventful. When we arrived, the swing bridge across the river had just been opened, so we walked across with the rest of the tourists towards the 199 steps of Church Lane. I suppose I could have tried to ride up, but with clipped-in pedals, a 30%+ gradient on cobbles alongside crowds of people, the chances of embarrassment were too high for me to risk it. So instead I walked up the steps carrying the bike.
We returned to the YHA at Boggle Hole for their special deal of a coffee and cake for £3.95, but since Dave had to leave earlier than us, he headed home at this point. Thus refreshed, Jim and I set off to tackle the second climb of the day up Stoupe Brow. Unfortunately, this necessitated initially riding down the hill to reach the start, which is a bit disheartening, but it’s all part of the experience. But now that’s another one in the bag, meaning that I’ve ridden just 6 of the 21 East Yorkshire climbs. It looks like I might have to return to this beautiful region.
Overall, the three of us rode 880 miles experiencing no punctures nor mechanicals, although my bottom bracket began making ominous creaking noises on day two and will probably need replacing. The map showing the routes I’ve followed has now been augmented, so the region looks less empty.
