Cycling adventures across Yorkshire, Britain and beyond
Cheddar in Cheddar, the Gorge, and rescuing a sheep: an eventful day. I got to the famous cheesy village from Worle, pronounced as in ‘End of the’, which it nearly was on the utterly horrible A371 through Banwell. (The road narrows to singletrack without footpaths, and with impatient commuters barging past each other contraflow –…
Today’s forecast suggested rain at 11am and 3pm; cloudy and dry in between. Spot-on, if you deleted the words ‘cloudy’ and ‘dry’. I got rather wet and spent a lot of time sheltering downpours under trees or in village hall awnings, but it was a very satisfying day of cycling the hills, combes and coast…
I lived in Bath for 13 riotous years, so there’s place in my heart for Somerset; probably a furred-up aorta. Unheralded Bridgwater entices cyclists with easy access to the Mendips, Quantocks, Levels, and even the Solar System, as a scale model strung along the canal towpath to more heralded Taunton. No planets today though. I…
With rain and very strong winds forecast for today, I scaled down my plans for an eighty-mile research ride to, er, eight miles. Instead of heading out to the Jurassic Coast out Lyme Regis way, I’d stay on Portland itself, hopping down to the Bill: the southernmost point of the entire south coast, except for,…
In Thomas Hardy’s novels, Dorset is a miserable, oppressive backwater – something tourism marketing glosses over. But I enjoyed cycling round a few sights that the gloomy old scribbler would have recognised today, and it wasn’t miserable or oppressive at all. Except for Poundbury, maybe. Weymouth’s prom looked inviting in the morning sun, especially as…
‘Norber Erratics’. Jazzband collective? Invitation cricket touring XI? No, another Yorkshire scenic gem: strange rock formations in Three Peaks country, near Ingleborough. Huge sandstone rocks balance precariously on narrow limestone props, as if positioned by some award-winning outdoors sculptor. The sandstone blocks are ‘erratics’: intruders, deposited by glaciers long long ago, before the internet, before…
Today was a breeze. Literally. A huge tailwind westerly propelled me at speed along the Wall as if on an e-bike. I set out from my Carlisle guesthouse at first light, following paths through a park and past the town’s very own Leaning Tower. I somehow ended up following the walker’s path rather than the…
Hadrian’s Cycleway closely follows the very trails that the great Emperor himself never took during his visits to Britain. Hadrian was quite a character: cultured but ruthless, he consolidated the Empire with a largely peaceful tenure. He was also Spanish, adopted, gay, and bearded, which clearly some purists didn’t like – Roman Emperors had never…
I’m on a diet. A Roman-era diet. I’m following Hadrian’s Wall, eating and drinking only things that the construction-loving Emperor himself would have recognised. In short, this means no potatoes, tomatoes, chilli, avocado, pasta or other Age-of-Exploration stuff; but plenty of meat, fish and shellfish, crunchy salads, chunky stews, old-fashioned herbs, olives and fruit. And,…
I’ve always had a soft spot for Berwick-upon-Tweed. Like saddle soreness, perhaps. But today I was happy again to visit the splendidly walled border town at the end of a fabulous sunny day ride visiting another excellent cycle-cafe. The place in question was Lanterne Rouge, a friendly and lively magnet for local riders that often…