Yorkshire Dales, May Bank Holiday 2005
I was awaiting the quick weekender to the Dales rather like a small boy
waiting for Christmas Day; the weather forecast had been checked hourly
in the hope rather than expectation that by doing so could somehow
influence the result. When I turned in for the night it looked like I
was going to wake to the warm Spring sunshine and the anticipation of
dry tarmac.
At 5 a.m. I was awoken, not by the twittering of birds heralding a
glorious day, but by the sound of a thunderstorm, followed by torrential
rain, none of which should have been happening according to the BBC.
More decisions; do I go in leathers and take the waterproof all in one,
or the Gore-Tex jacket and attendant gear, all of which would be too
bulky for some “progressive” riding up North.
The clouds seemed to be clearing, so leathers it was. Couldn’t find my
wallet and by the time I did I was late leaving, so keeping Ray waiting
outside his house for some 15 minutes and we were 20 minutes late
meeting Carl at Swaffham.
Ray had chosen a novelty front tyre for the trip. Slick on the right
hand side and slightly grooved on the left, which made for some
interesting handling characteristics when mated to the 164bhp on offer
from the 230kg Blackbird. So, a FireStorm, a Blackbird and a CBR600RR
made their way in a slowly drying ribbon of tarmac towards the Fens.
At King’s Lynn, on the A47 roundabouts, someone had kindly poured a tank
of diesel over the surface for us. How Ray appreciated his choice of
tyre at that moment!
All bikers know the key to a successful
tour. Proper luggage? Maybe. Good map? Possibly. Full English breakfast?
Certainly!. With that in mind we pulled into the Farm Café at Fleet
Hargate for a very good breakfast. Carl and Ray explained to me the next
day, when our ”Yorkshire” breakfast came without beans, that beans were
essential at breakfast and perhaps this gave us the extra energy on the
first day.
We turned off to Spalding, then across the A151 to
Colsterworth. The roads were drying, albeit slowly, so we had to be a bit less
progressive than we would have liked, but nonetheless it was good to be out and
away, looking at the clearing skies.
Through Melton Mowbray and further west, picking up the A50/A6 through Derby and
up to Matlock Bath. I always think this place is disappointing; not as
disappointing for us as for the bikes and cars stopped by the local boys in
blue; there were many of them, but to be honest there was so much traffic that
sometimes even the 50mph limit on the A6 was hard to achieve. One policeman was
pointing to a number plate the size of a playing card on an R6; quite honestly,
if you are going to ride something like that to a place where you know the
police are going to be out in force, you should expect a “tug”.
We stopped for a cup of coffee/tea. Not
sure which it was really. Carl managed to attract the attention of
Waynetta Slob and also an old boy who told him he “used to have a bike
like that” when he used to do dirt-tracking. Hmm. Time to move on!
Buxton to Whaley Bridge A5004 – a great
little bit of road with no 50 limit, the start of spectacular scenery
and sweeping bends. Cross some B roads to try and find the Strines Pass
which had been recommended by Jamie Witham in TWO magazine. My
navigation skills were tested on leaving Castleton when I was
expectantly waiting for the road to open out when it just finished!.
A landslide had closed the road in 1979 and it had
47 layers of tarmac, according to some local old boy, who kept telling us that
we needed a map for £7.50 from the tourist information, and told us that “we
didn’t want to go there” whenever we tried to sort out a route. He didn’t
understand that we wanted the twisty bits, not the long straight ones! He was
wearing sandals, which says it all.
On reaching the A57, Snake Pass, we decided to do that instead of the Strines
Pass as neither Carl nor Ray had ridden it before. I led off and we were soon on
some decent tarmac, although lets say the surface was changeable. Cars weren’t
too much of a problem to blat past, but some of the bikes were. It is at time
like that that you realise how much better a rider the advanced training etc.
has made you. If only some of these bikes would move over rather than wobbling
into a corner, braking, then whacking the throttle wide open on the straight
bits. Anyway, passed a Ninja then next his mate, who I got past between two
hairpins using the FireStorm's torque. Caught up with a Blackbird, who exhibited
the same point and squirt technique. We couldn’t get by him before we got to
Glossop to stop for fuel. The guys we had passed came over and said that the
FireStorm sounded great as it came past and that they could hear me from behind
way before I overtook them. The Blackbird rider hoped he hadn’t held us up too
much, so I felt pretty chuffed!
We took the B6105 road to the Woodhead Pass A 628. We were due to turn left to
onto the A6024 to Holmfirth but the road was closed, so we stayed on the A628.
Wide open moorland scenery and wide open throttle – fantastic.
We stopped for lunch at a little pub on the A616 and Carl had a baguette, Ray
and I just a packet of nuts. Carl put his extra calorie requirement down to the
fact that he was having to do more physical work changing gear more often on the
600. The remainder of the route to Keighley can only be described as the most
boring soul destroying succession of 40mph limits ever and never to be repeated.
Fine for viewing Victorian mill conversions, but that’s all.
The B6160 across the Dales towards Aysgarth was pretty narrow, but also good and
technical. If the police had been there it wouldn’t have mattered as the riding
wasn’t about going over the national speed limit as you couldn’t really, but
about positioning and “flick flacks” between bends, which of course have an
extra dimension up there than here – hills, crests and drops. Lots of walkers to
look out for too.
The Rose & Crown Hotel at Bainbridge was a
welcome sight at nearly 6pm – a shower and a meal were in our minds. The
bikes were put in the adjacent barn and locked for the night. Carl and
Ray took the twin room as apparently they have done that sort of thing
before; I took the single room as I hadn’t and didn’t want to start now.
The view across the village green from my bedroom window was like
something out of All Creatures Great and Small.
At dinner Ray and I polished off a steak and
kidney pie apiece, Carl electing to have a local delicacy called Thai Green
Chicken curry; another good reason for my grabbing the single room.
After commandeering the residents lounge to watch the MotoGP on Eurosport at 8
o’clock, I felt the power of gravity on my eyelids, helped I suppose by the
bottle of wine I had purchased with the meal, so I turned in and slept a good
sleep until 7 am. The first look from the window was a bit mixed, some cloud,
some blue sky.
After a strange breakfast, served by a waiter who made very strange noises and
looked as if he might have webbed feet, we paid the bill; the owner used to work
for Bristows and knew Yarmouth and this area very well.
We took the road to Hawes, where the
petrol station still had attended service. Everywhere there were bikes,
on the road, at the petrol stations, at roadside cafes. We found the
Buttertubs Pass which took us right over the hills and, although very
narrow, twisty and wet in places, offered amazing views of the Dales.
The blind summits made sure that any residue of sleep was quickly
removed. Stopping for a few photo opportunities, we eventually turned
left onto the B6255, Hawes to Ingleton, which was wider and a proper
bikers' road.
Testament to this was the number of bike casualty
signs in evidence and also the “Think Bike” signs. The police up there use
unmarked Subarus and we saw one bike stopped by them just before Settle, where
we stopped for some comfort and a drink
The Dales scenery had been incredible, we even saw the “Harry Potter” bridge,
although not on purpose.
It was, however, time to think about heading east and make tracks for home. A65,
A59 Harrogate/York – a lot of Bank Holiday traffic but certainly bright enough
for the dark visor. We headed for the Humber Bridge and stopped for lunch at
carvery just before it, sitting outside looking at witchitty grubs (you had to
be there to appreciate that one).
Over the Humber and into Lincolnshire for some of the Wolds Roads, which never
disappoint. We caught up with a pair of FireBlades – one a brand new Repsol
replica, rider resplendent in Crowtree leathers. Away from the lights they went,
only to be despatched one by one by Carl on the 600, Ray with the Blackbird and
the topbox, and my 7 year old FireStorm. I took particular delight in
outgrunting the Repsol between hairpins and once past them both we flew on south
– they were behind us a little way but never caught up or threatened.
A bit of messing about for pictures on a
left/right bend on the way into Horncastle, where we stopped for fuel
and eyed the blackening sky. A few miles out the heavens opened and we
put on our boil in the bag suits. Couldn’t see much at all, except that
the road was virtually flooded out in places – the lightning was
spectacular mind you.
Into Boston the roads were drying as the rain stopped and by the time we got to that exciting road, the A17 on a Bank Holiday Monday, I think we were all just looking forward to a nice long bath, so the remainder of the journey was just getting home as steadily as we could. Carl peeled off at Swaffham and Ray and I continued into Norwich. We had done 624 miles since we set off at 7.45 the previous morning and had a great time; if anyone else has suggestions for a similar trip, please let us know, the more the merrier.
The pictures from the trip can be seen in the Dales album, found from the album page
