Day 4: From Nuts to Parallel Parking

Castle Donnington to Thornsett today into the Derbyshire Dales and what I think will be a flavour of what is to come as we go further north including the good (scenic distant views) and the bad (steep long climbs). And the day did not disappoint on both counts.

As an aside a typical Peak Tours day starts with attending to bikes and adjusting Lycra. Lubricants are applied to chains and other parts of the man and women machine interface.

 And so we baid farewell to those glittering spires in the distance. Or so I thought.

 And cycled through scenes that have probably not changed since the industrial revolution.

A museum featuring the exploits of Florence Bagsworth, an early female canal pioneer. This sign shows her, on 28 July 1843, doing the first female parallel park of a 70 ft canal boat. I think the painting speaks for itself of her endeavours that day. Her daughter pioneered the role of women as football lines persons until the off side rule was invented.

A picture of my nuts. I have this little container attached to my handle bars to feed bird like during the day. Trouble is bloody squirrels keep getting in there before me when I look away!

This picture is very much for John, the elder of the two Smith boys, who I had the pleasure of cycling with in France last year.  John was shocked when he stopped to assist me in my distress as I struggled to open my puncture repair kit without breaking my nails. Muttering something about soft southerners he barged me aside and before I could say where's the nearest nail bar he had fixed my puncture. He was horrified that I did not carry a spare inner tube, muttering something about ignorant southerners as he departed up the road at a pace that I imagine I will only reach if I go bungy jumping with My Little Rhino.

This was my favourite lane from today. Other than the earth's curvature it was flat and stretched into the distance. Whats not to like about that when there is no internal combustion engine pushing you along.

On the subject of energy I took this picture which shows two wind turbines, not rotating, next door to a gas powered power station. Hmm need to think more about that.......

And an interesting sign, to me at least, on a bridge that gave wonderful views east towards the gleaming spires of Radcliff on Sour power station and a river teeming with fish just prior to all them being parboiled by the cooling water as it passes the power station. The plaque speaks of a different era when local worthies actually built infrastructure off their own bat.

The East Midlands is a familiar part of the world to me having lived in Nottingham from 1985 till 2003 where I met and married my child bride Rosie. This pub is typical in so many ways, totally genuine (whatever that means) slightly down at heel and called the Vernon arms.

Slimming World is big and growing bigger in this part of the world where 90% of the world's pork scratchings output is consumed.

I have gone large on the picture of the sign for anyone who wants the contact details.

Out into the country where the mix between green and reddy brown brick work continues in a region that has been industrialised for 200 years.

 Yet more variety in the types of church to be seen by the slow moving cyclist.

A lane lined with wild garlic, the aroma was very strong. It clung like wet toilet paper and kept the flies off me for the rest of the day.

Looking back east after two hours cycling and I could still see those bloody glittering towers of Radcliff and Sour power station!

Coniston water.

A sign by the entrance to a caravan park next to the Coniston water with genuine views rather than whatever is not a genuine view?

And the stone walls really started.

A thankful village was one of only 51 in the whole of the UK that sent men to WW1 and got them all back!

 The village we stopped at for lunch.

 A bit of relaxation at the village children and young bikes play area. My Little Rhino had been going up and down dale all morning.

And if that was not enough bull for you, here's some more.

Into parts of Derbyshire rarely visited by people, let alone cyclists. There are reputedly tribes, or is that tribes reputedly, of East Midlanders living in this area yet to be contacted by 21 century man or woman.

So there you have it a part of the world where men are men, sheep look worried and women are... I think I better leave the name of this pub to allude to how that  last sentence could be completed.

I have decided not to make any further comments in connection with this sign as I would like to be able to return home at the end of this trip.

So 64 miles completed today, 5300 ft of climb. More of the same tomorrow. That is it from the Peak Tours Front Line.

Day 3; Mobility Scooter Shame and Cuddly Creatures

Today: St Ives in Cambridgeshire to Castle Donnington in Leicestershire.

The start of a longer day and I think it would be rather untruthful of me to say that I woke up as happy as this statue in the window of the chinese next to the hotel

In fact I woke up more like this image in the hairdressers next door to the fat gold bloke above. I would describe my look as cool and yet somewhat pensive about the days cycling ahead but without the hair.

Shortly afterwards and only a couple of miles into the cycle I was overtaken by this lady charging along a cycle path north of St Ives. She must have been late for her shift at the fire station.

First signs that the North does exist and that we are on track.

The rich countryside of Cambridgeshire stretching into the distance.

Social housing, Cambridgeshire style. I wonder if there is a clue in this picture as to how they will be voting in the upcoming referendum?

It was heartwarming to witness first hand how farmers in Cambridgeshire are keeping traditional age old farming practices alive.

I felt that this road sign bares an uncanny resemblance to how I must look from the rear, or front for that matter, after a long day's cycle.

And on into the uber posh town of Oudle with the super uber posh boarding school, coincidentally also called Oundle. Its alleged by an anonymous alleger that  crumpets are still toasted between the tender buttocks of fags of the school bully and his cohort of fellow bullies.

Into the pretty town centre full of shops selling un-toasted crumpets.

To my relief the spelling on signs in Oundle was a cut above what I had experienced in parts of Kent.

fascade 

The imposing facade of Oundle. Having ridden the better part of 200 miles in 21/2 days I felt a sense of connection to all those young chaps in that building nursing their blistered behinds.

The smile on the pigs face gave this farm sign a rather sinister air with George Clooney's classic book in mind.

And the view from the saddle for hour after hour. The same bloody legs going round and round.

At least this cow recognises a nice pair of knees when she sees them.

And so did her friends.

I basked in this glory for a few minutes before setting off again finally feeling a bit like this chap. Although some in fact many would say the similarity extends beyond just feelings. I think that is the start of a song?.

Leaving Cambridge and into Rutland.

The first sight was the amazing Harringworth Viaduct if you are into gazzillions of bricks laid down in 1878 and still very much an active part of the UK's crumbling infrastructure.

The rolling hills of Rutland where many a spaghetti western has been filmed.

The thought crossed my mind as I wheezed my way passed these sheep that some who read this blog like cuddly creatures. So as this is a blog designed to cater to a diverse range of tastes I took a soft and cuddly picture. Lets face it they will all be dead soon so why not drag a bit more value out of the dumb beasts.

And another bloody viaduct!

And this lovely church hove into view.

Rutland does rather fancy itself. Here we have this grand gate to The Hall. Not A Hall but "The Hall".

Into Leicestershire with picturesque villages in rolling countryside. Its the rolling bit that me and My Little Rhino struggle with. If only these village could be picturesque without that.

Into the distance the first sight of the glittering towers of Radcliff on Sour power station in Nottinghamshire.

Villages dotted with red brick houses like these once owned by the mill, mine and land owners of a bygone time. That's before everything shut down and Coffee Baristas started to buy them all up as the new elite of our era. Its amazing what a person can buy on minimum wage in this part of the world.

I thought I would end todays blog with a barrage of stunning shots from the Radcliffe on Sour area but these are the best I could do. The M1 underpass and a view of the M1.

83 three miles covered today. Tomorrow promises to be stunning as we leave the M1 underpass behind us and cycle into the Derbyshire Dales. That is it for today from the Peak Tours front line.