Q: What links – River Severn; Elizabeth II; M6; Sykehouse? A: England’s longest – river; reign; motorway; village. Yes, Sykehouse, excitingly positioned between Doncaster and Goole in south Yorkshire, is the longest village in the country. And to prove it I rode through the place on this, the shortest day of the year.
There are various claimants to the ‘most extended non-town settlement’ title. A quick glance at the map discounts rivals such as Mark, Somerset (under four miles) and Brinkworth, Wilts (ditto) though.
The two likeliest candidates are Sykehouse and Meopham, in Kent (pronounced either ‘Meppam’ or ‘Meepam’, depending on who you ask). But finding a credible source for the length is not straightforward – in other words, don’t believe Wikipedia (which is good general advice anyway).
Meopham’s Wikipedia page claims a length of 7 miles; Sykehouse’s alleges 8. But neither is supported by simple measurement of road length, using online tools (eg cycle.travel) in conjunction with maps showing parish boundaries.
My research suggests the actual on-road lengths are too close to call: both villages stretch 5.1 miles between parish boundaries, and 4.7 miles between village signs. A tie, then; and my casting vote goes to Sykehouse, making it the longest village in the country in my book. When I get round to writing the book.
So, on this briefest day of the year, I rode through the entire village, from Wormley Hill in the southeast to West End in the, well, west end. My bikeometer showed 4.77 miles between the SYKEHOUSE 2000 signs at the village limits, supporting my online figurations.
Sykehouse has other claims to fame. It’s home to an annual agricultural show, held every August at the ground just on the edge of the village. Not particularly close to the village, then.
It’s also the home of the Sykehouse Russet Apple, an excellent eater that originated here (‘completely covered in a brown russet coat… juicy, sweet and flavourful… ploidism: self-sterile’, says pomiferous.com). It was thought lost until rediscovered in 1999–2000, in Oxfordshire and in Whitby.
To scholars of apple husbandry this must have been like tracking down Sibelius’s Eighth, Vermeer’s The Concert, or Shakespeare’s Cardenio. And you can’t make a pie from any of those.
My lunch was slightly less fruity: a fine pint of Timothy Taylor Mild in the excellent Old George, the village pub. It’s not just a cosy, welcoming hostelry with a real fire and good range of cask ales, but also a biker/ cyclist cafe, small village shop, and campsite with all the usual mod cons of hot tubs, yurts and glamping ranches. (It also claims to be the biggest beer garden in Yorkshire. Another record for Sykehouse! Yay!)
The owner John – originally from Middlesbrough – bought it in lockdown, much to his own surprise, and he and Rosie are making a fantastic go of it. Country pubs are closing, as we know, and their survival depends on enterprise and diversification. I take my hat off to John and Rosie for their hard work and cheerful positivity. (Except I didn’t, as it was too cold, with a bitter westerly.)
When I completed my east-west traverse of the village at the SYKEHOUSE 2000 sign my bike computer showed 4.77 miles between that and the one at the other side of the village, so I’m taking that as proof that Sykehouse beats 4.7-mile-Meopham as Britain’s longest village. Yorkshire is tops again!
So big is Sykehouse that it took me almost all day to cycle through it. But then it is the winter solstice today. Anyway, I was now heading to Britain’s largest village (maybe): Cottingham, over Hull way, to my east.
I headed up the Trans Pennine Trail, NCN62, on a rather ropey towpath alongside the canal, back through Sykehouse territory. It’s all flat round here, and there’s not a great deal to see apart from the horizon, and a couple of very Dutch-looking lift bridges over the canal.
From there – at one point manœuvring through and over some inexplicable ROAD CLOSED barriers blocking off precisely no roadworks at all – I followed the just-OK recent gravel bike path along the Dutch River/ Aire & Calder Navigation.
I came this way on my Rivers Rides series a few years ago when this was all just bumpy mud. At the end of the navigation is another Yorkshire claim to fame: Britain’s largest inland port, the town of Goole, a whopping 45 miles from the sea.
There’s not a lot to see at Goole. For many, it is a destination known only online, as a mistyping of ‘Google’.
Once I’d passed the marina and a few mammoth muddy puddles, I was keen on heading through town towards Howden, where I’d get a train home and resume Cottinghamwards in a couple of days.
I did have a couple of hours to spare in Howden before my departure for York, and invested it wisely sightseeing, if as ‘sights’ you include the Wellington Pub.
I had a good pint of Old Mill Ruby there, from the local brewery in Snaith up the road (which I passed the other day in my ‘least used to most used station’ ride).
But I also admired Howden’s trim Victorian alleys and town houses, and its fine church right next to the old Abbey ruins.
With boutique shops, pubs, eateries and cafes – and mainline railway station – this is a liveable place, which is why the Press Association moved here in 2006. Start spreading the news…