C2C #4: Hornsea to Huddersfield (87mi)

Now the official coast to coast route has been completed, all we need to do is get ourselves back home. As per usual we awoke at the crack of dawn and immediately started packing things up ready for the day ahead of us. It seemed to take less time today... are we getting quicker with the routine?

As we were up and away before 08:00, not many establishments were open and serving breakfast - especially on a Sunday. A local pointed us in the direction of Hornsea Mere, and while we did get a couple of nice pictures, the café was still making preparations for their opening at 09:00. It wasn't until 15 miles later where we finally got our breakfast in Beverley.

View over Hornsea Mere

The café we found was really nice, and whilst they too didn't open for another hour, they went the extra mile to accommodate us and our grumbling bellies. We may have squeezed a piece of cake in there somewhere to wash breakfast down, but who's counting? ;-)

Lempicka Café in Beverley

Most of the journey was again on quiet country roads, until we drew nearer to home where we had to resort to main roads. While the terrain was relatively kind, the wind was not. We battled against a relentless westerly headwind all the way home and we arrived back in Huddersfield completely and utterly exhausted.  At least it was dry, but on the flip side I caught the sun and I'm now paying the price. Ouch! On the plus side, though, mission accomplished! And what an awesome experience it has been.

We sprawled in the grass and ate lunch... Cue the hay-fever!

A summary of our trip:
Distance: 367 miles (Average 92 miles per day)
Speed: Average 12.5 mph
Time in the Saddle: 29 hours, 10 minutes (Average 7 hours, 18 minutes per day)
Thanks for reading!

Where we picked our strawberries for a snack

C2C #3: Ripon to Hornsea (117mi)

Sad to leave our new favourite campsite, we had no choice if we wanted to arrive at our destination before sunset. This will be our longest day of the trip, with 117 miles to cover. Fortunately for us, it is also the flattest with very few hills thrown in between Ripon and Hornsea.

A short stint on the bikes had us in the centre of Ripon, where we found a nice café to have us some breakfast. Okay, okay, we each had a full English, but don't judge us. Once we hit the road again, we were soon passing through some really beautiful scenery. Some of the villages were likes nothing I've ever seen before. They were the kind where, if you won the lottery, you'd want to live there. Very nice indeed.

The worst surface we had to ride on, but stunning views

We managed the entire journey with only a couple of drops of rain - quite literally; the rest of the day remained quite pleasant. Once on the other side of Driffield, we knew we only had 20 or so miles to reach the official end point of the Way of the Roses route and boy did those 20 miles drag out. As we approached the coast heading directly east, each peak of each climb had us thinking it would be the last before the final descent down to sea level. How wrong we were. The undulations just kept coming and coming and it honestly felt like we'd never arrive. But of course we did, and it felt awesome. After a well deserved ice cream on the promenade at Bridlington, we made the final 15 miles to our back-garden accommodation for the night. Hoorah - we've done it! Just got to get ourselves back home now.

Om nom nom...

A genuine smile this time!

C2C #2: Morecambe to Ripon (87mi)

We awoke early this morning to relative silence, meaning the rain had at least temporarily ceased. As there's no rest for the wicked, we immediately began our preparations for the day. I make no exaggeration when I say the moment (and I meant the moment!) we began dismantling the tent, the rain returned with a vengeance and consequently everything got wet through. Wonderful. Just wonderful.

Crack a smile, mate...

Morale was low

Breakfast provided temporary shelter from the typically British weather, though we knew we'd have to step back out into it sooner or later. Neither of us were expecting precipitation for the duration of the trip, so we made the decision, as we sat there in our shorts and short-sleeve jerseys, to find the nearest local bike shop and buy some more appropriate attire.

The moment we stepped back out of the shop donning our waterproofs, the rain bloody stopped. You just can't make it up. At least the forecast suggested the misery would soon end and true to its word, that's exactly what happened. As the day advance and we pedalled ourselves closer to our destination for the day (Ripon), the blanket of white above us gradually dissipated to show the lovely ocean of blue, back from a two-day holiday.

Our suffering had paid off

After being rather underwhelmed by the campsite in Morecambe, we had completely the opposite reaction in Ripon. The sun was out to say hello. The campsite was situated in the middle of the countryside down a quiet country lane, away from any traffic noise and to top it all off, bunnies were hopping around the entrance to the site. The staff were pleasant and the facilities well maintained. Imagine the smiles on our faces as we pitched the tent next to the river Ure. The day couldn't have ended on a better note.

The campsite: Sleningford Watermill

C2C #1: Huddersfield to Morecambe (76mi)

Tent, check. Sleeping bags, check. Oh hello. I did tell you we were planning on cycling from coast to coast? I didn't? Oh, well, now you know, let's get started! Our journey began on the Thursday morning after only a small number of hours of sleep. Not to be dissuaded, we awoke at 06:00 sharp and began our final preparations. For me this involved not one, not two, but three breakfasts. In my defence I anticipated a tough day ahead pulling our bike trailer (nicknamed Bob) on a route with a fair few hills thrown in for good measure. For our coast to coast journey, we made the decision to cycle to the start point (Morecambe) and back from the end point (Bridlington) rather than to take public transport.

The journey was not without some excitement...

Despite the weather being overcast, seemingly verging on the point of precipitation, the morning remained warm, dry and generally pleasant with the exception of some strong winds o'er on't moors. As we rolled into Gargrave, it was about time to find somewhere to refuel - and not a moment too soon. We'd encountered one climb in particular that had me straining with all my might in my lowest gear, but it was a futile attempt. As I could propel the bike forward no further and once I'd managed to unclip my shoe from the pedal to ground myself (that was a hairy moment indeed that almost had me flat on my face), I realised just how heavy the bike trailer was. It was an effort just to maintain a stationary position on the incline and to prevent Bob from rolling, myself and my steed included, backwards down the hill.

The rain started to fall as we found somewhere suitable to have our lunch. And it didn't stop. The second half of our journey from Gargrave to Morecambe was utterly and completely dreadful. Atrocious. Ghastly. Abominable. No word can accurately portray the suffering we endured. As we weren't expecting any adverse weather conditions, we were both dressed in clothing suitable for summer - short sleeve jerseys and shorts. Rain coats had been left at home where we thought they wouldn't be needed. Oh how wrong we were.

The highlight of our pain came as the predetermined route has us turn down a narrow farm track (Craven Ridge Lane, Settle). The lane was unsurfaced, uneven, wet and slippery and in places steep. It was both mentally and physically draining to stay upright. And then the inevitable happened. The bike slipped from under me and threw me down to the ground. I saw the trailer on its side and expected the worst; a bent frame or a damaged hitch point. Luckily it was neither. Onwards and upwards, as they say.

Certainly not 5* accommodation, but good enough for us

We arrived at the (expensive and unimpressive) campsite in Morecambe not a moment too soon. Saturated from the rain and drained of energy it had been a tough day. With more rain expected over the following 24 hours, morale was low. Would we have to suffer as much on day #2?

On Yer Doorstep

The Yorkshire Dales. The coast. A foreign country. Often when I squeeze my eyes shut and try to conjure images of beautiful scenery or rolling landscapes, I think of anywhere but home. I need to remind myself this doesn't have to be the case. Recently I decided to try a new cycling route and was surprised by what I could  find on my doorstep. The following image is just a stone's throw from home; not 5 miles away.

Moorside Edge transmitting station in the distance

The weather really has been spectacular recently and is set to continue for at least the next couple of weeks. The birds are singing and Yorkshire is in bloom. I love it! The picture below is taken from Buckstones car park. Just off the beaten track is a cracking location for an afternoon picnic... Watch this space!

Jwan taking in the views over March Haigh reservoir

Geography may not be one of my stronger subjects, but that doesn't mean I don't want to learn about how this landscape came to be. I'm sure an understanding will only add to the appreciation for such a place.

Awesome landscape in Buckstones, near Marsden

These two beauties will be transporting us around the french countryside this summer and will be returning with a fair number of miles on them. An interesting point as stated by Wikipedia,

The bicycle is extraordinarily efficient in both biological and mechanical terms.

One of the best modes of transport. Ever.