Friday 27 May 2016

Day 6: I'd Like to see Kate Bush run up these hills!


Gargrave to Penrith (73 miles) If Penrith sounds North that's because it bloody well is.


Finally a shot of a canal with a pretty barge.


The big houses look imposing. Double glazing is for sissies in this part of the world.


The oldest house sign I have seen so far on this trip. There were possibly still one or two flies picking away at King Tut when this was built.


The important thing to note about this picture are the distant clouds and the way the camera is not pointing upwards to catch them. When I am on a bike I like the natural order of things to remain just as they are. Road below me, trees to the side and bloody clouds way over head.


I am virtually looking down on the clouds, not good news for Little Rhino and me who puts in the pedal power to raise us ever higher into the sky.


More sombre architecture.


A furniture superstore Yorkshire Dales style.


My lamb shot of the day, behind bars this time.


If  only I could have the proceeds from one Sheltand Pony sale for every stone wall I cycle passed. I would be able to buy the type of surgery that would give me a body that could leave both the Smith Boys trailing in my dust.



On my return after a natural break I found My Little Rhino in this phone booth plastered with cards with inappropriate telephone numbers and I am not just talking about chain lube jobs. We part each evening after a days hard cycle, me to my Lance Transfusion van, and Little Rhino safely lent up against a wall under cover., or so I thought.


A pretty picture.


More than three hundred miles after the "Give our Ducking Ducks a chance" sign for speeding motorists I finally see the ducks, unfortunately too late.


Hills come steep in these parts.


And streets come cobbled.


Occasionally cyclists get their colours just right and here we have John modelling the latest in cycle wear blending in with nature.



My favourite Mother and Lamb shot, and they were just shortly after this picture was taken.


The road behind John is flat. Note the road ahead, it takes off. They tarmac up cliffs in the Dales, no one has heard about grading.


We have been lucky with the weather, this walls speaks of wetter times.



I just hope the dogs in this area can both read and use a phone.


Grand churches dot the countryside.



Another victim of the internet and google era. This village had to modify its name after the parish secretary, Muriel Spagnum, was forced to barricade herself in her office when thousands of painfully afflicted female cyclists and horse riders descended on the village. A cruel rumour  had spread online about a place where a magical cure to their predicament had been found. The only solution is to ride side saddle. That is why no one has ever seen the Queen's face be other than regal when her horse flinches as those dam cannons fire on her official birthday. One for each year, it's more like the blitz these days, but no discomfort for her.



And after a fascinating ride up high and through scenes of even higher drama we ended up at traditional B&B's in Penrith.  We had an excellent if not rather untraditional  Mexican meal served to us by a a wonderful waitress bizarrely dressed in full flamenco clothes.


Well that its from the Peak Tours Front Line. 

Wednesday 25 May 2016

Day 5: Ernest and The Hot Dogs.


Today 63 Miles and 5500ft of climb from Thornsett to Gargrave 



Empty rolling countryside but a real international industry thrives in these parts


Organic Free Range Shetland Pony farms producing succulent little beasts like Ernest ready for export to fine restaurants across the EU and especially France. Little Ernest is one of twins, his brother Frank isn't quite plumped up enough, but will shortly occupy this pen ready for the LDSPT (Long Distance Shetland Pony Transporter) to whisk him away. If he survives the journey he will grace the tables of affluent members of the EU elite within days of this picture being taken. Sadly this lucrative and growing export business is threatened by the EU election on 23 June. If its a Remain vote then all will be fine and Frank will be able to follow his brother and they will be reunited in the Shetland Pony afterlife.


So think about poor little Ernest when you go to the Polls on 23 June. You don't what him to be lonely in that hairy fairy Shetland Poney Land in the sky.


This community centre is at the cross roads of many cycle routes across the UK and they welcome in those suffering from a very common affliction of the moderately longish distance cyclist. We are able to drop our broadened bottoms in there any time 24/7 for counselling sessions. We sit in admittedly circles of quite some diameter and share what its like to be laughed at from behind. So lots of tears, hugging and then back on those bikes feeling more able to handle the ridicule.


But sadly for some the broad bottomed fate of the longish distance cycle rider is too much and this classic 19th century hexagonal brick built chimney distributes their ashes across the organic Shetland Pony farms of the area, so all is not lost.


Views views views, when ever will they stop on this trip!


Despite Mr Herbert's (yes that really is his surname, please no comments about name/nature stuff) attempt to photo bomb this pic My Little Rhino still wins the day.

Its one thing to stand out if your style is different but somehow right,as the picture of me and My Little Rhino shows , but what is going on for the owner of this monkey puzzle tree house.





As a long term subscriber to Advertising Hoarding Quarterly I find they way people try to communicate their trade interesting. This board below of a pink cow is actually advertising a B&B and not a milking parlour.


I can relate to this form of advertising, I know exactly what I am just about to buy and my hope is this is a 1:1 scale replica minus the legs and arms.


And here I am with My Little Rhino taking in the view and trying not to explode over the men to my side who are edging away having just witnessed me consume a 1m long hot dog including its arms and legs.




Advertising Hoarding Weekly ran a centre spread feature article on the soon to be phased out NKRS35D bill board, which has been found to be unstable when subject to a heavy blow. And here we have it a rare NKRS35D still standing in a rather down at heal town not far from Maccelsfield. Like the plane spotters detained in Greece some years ago it took a bit of explaining to the occupants of a passing Police car exactly why I was spending so much time in the vicinity of this board dressed in body hugging lycra.


In an attempt to redeem myself to the occupants of said, and now slow moving and following police car, I took some pictures of terraced houses with tiny yet beautifully maintained front gardens and even just doors with planted tubs.





Police car gone and still hoping for that religious experience and still just ending up being that middle aged man hugging a fossilised lump of Mammoth dung, but just further North.



Many of the towns in this part of the world seem quite run down but spotted with very grand buildings.


Ever wanted to completely blow your neighbours out the water with what you have parked on your front drive?


More ashes for those lovely little ponies, think hard on the 23 June. Just look at Ernest's little lonely face.






And we cross the border from Rkshire to Cashire which neither of which I saw on the route plan. I may just have discovered some new counties today.


There is even pride in their bus stops in this part of the world. No buses they were phased out in favour of people without cars just staying home and watching Jeremy Kyle while consuming home delivered KFC. Its the quickest way to your first gastric band.


Distant views always north.


My favourite sheep shot of the day, Juicy mother and smaller morsel trying to make a break for it.


A wind turbine actually turning in the wind. What next the phasing out of traditional powers stations as climate change delivers day in day out wind. Hmmmm need to think about that some more.


And image straight from TV. A street set up to look exactly like Coronation street including fly tipped mattress. Filming must have just stopped and the set had not yet been taken down.


Finally I discover a county that has actually been discovered and mapped before.


OK so I just took this pic because it was pretty.


And this one because it could have been pretty if it had not been for the boat in the foreground.


The changing nature of the cottages as we slog our way north. Here rendered sans artex but with heavy slate roofs.


Finally Gargrave in the driving rain!


And to dinner with the Smith Boys who John and I cycled with last year on our weary way from the Channel to the Med. John on left and Richard on right are, shall we say, mature men who have enjoyed full access to bus passes and winter fuel allowances for a number of years. Yet they can cycle at phenomenal rates up very steep hills for hours on end. Knowing this is tough for a southern soft lard arse like me to come to turns with, and they know it. Just look at John's smile it says "I can ride this bald twat in a ridiculous blue dart players shirt into the ground!" And he's right which is why I resort to my comfort food.




Well that is it from the Peak Tours front line.