Shrouded in a damp mist on the last Sunday of October 08, we head out of Doncaster onto the A1 heading north to our playground, known officially as The Yorkshire Dales National Park. We cut through a light drizzle that slowly enveloped us as we rode north, soon to pass the trailer in the field advertising that we should prepare to meet our maker, some wag had put another sign next to it advertising a café and that they offered takes outs also!  This made me smile more than normal at the usual veiled warning to drive with caution as always.  Julie and I wiped our visors, wound our necks in against the wetness and pointed north towards Wetherby.

We passed the usually busy new bridge build at Wetherby with ease this morning, soon indicating a left turn for Knaresborough, the drizzle and mist lay behind us now on the flatlands of South Yorkshire; we picked up signs for Ripley Castle and our meeting point for the day.

We fuelled up before the meeting point and met with Ian and Adrienne as we pulled away from the petrol station, we rode together the last few miles before stopping on the forecourt of The Boars Head public house in Ripley.  Morning greetings were exchanged with our co-riders, both were smothered in huge Day-Glo jackets, Adrienne peeled a tight head scarf away and smiled.  Their 1500 bike looked well travelled and sported various electrical gizmos’ she looked a bit prototype ish with wires and stuff disappearing into dark voids around the bike.  I wondered if he was making the whole bike thermal.  Honda must have given him the idea with the heated seat, only Ian was going the whole hog probably.

Barry appeared minus Tina followed by Nige Corby on the pristine white 1800 and Sir Emmett on the Golden 1500. “Not many wives today” I thought when Tina staggered round the corner all dishevelled and pale, following her was Mrs Corby.  It was Tina’s birthday this weekend and she was out on the tiles last night, vodka had replaced her blood and now she was paying the price!  It’s a good way to celebrate a half century on planet Earth, don’t worry “T” I won’t reveal your age, you will always look like a young woman in my eyes, mwa mwa!  We stood around taking the rise as friends do, somebody tapped the clock and said “Its time we looked for a road to play on” checking the clock again for any latecomers we gave it another five minutes before heading off  into the now milder morning air.

Barry and pale Tina head towards Pateley Bridge followed by Nige and Denise on the white one, followed  by Ian and Ade on the thermal 1500 and closely behind sat Sir Emmett, then last but not least us on the black 1800 with fox tails.  The road conditions were greasy and were nicely covered in golden brown leaves discarded by overhanging trees preparing for the coming winter.  Our five bikes warmed up as the miles began to pass under out tyres.  Down into Pateley Bridge and up the other side we cruised, the damp mist came again as we crossed into the “Honda Dales”.  Just after Greenhow Hill we turned onto a tiny excuse for a road and thread our way through a forest but not before taking in the muddiest road ever, it was inches thick in chocolate brown runny cow “do dah”!  The white wing became a dazzling three tone colour of white then cream then dark brown, it didn’t look very fetching!  Sir Emmett’s 1500 didn’t seem to look any different somehow, except maybe a little duller around the bottom.  In places the track came down to eight feet in diameter.  Where the hell was Barry taking us?  It was a good job we didn’t have trikes today, they would have been too wide for the roads in places!  Thankfully it was quite early in the day so no cars were encountered.  We crossed a rushing watery ford of about half a foot in depth, this served nicely to clean our wheels then round and up we headed over another hill and down again.  Aged trees hung over us and stony grey walls flashed by just feet away, the sky was a little brighter now as a wind began to blow, the bike skipped a little here and there on a combination of discarded leaves, mud, loose gravel and wet tarmac, when we could see it that is!  It was a little taxing but made us all better riders, confidences grew as our bikes made easy work of the conditions.  We were heading to our first tea stop and bacon “buttie”.

This took the form of a white 40 foot truck trailer, you wouldn’t think it was a trailer once inside mind, it’s fitted out really well, they even have a toilet attachment. The owners are into bikes and the café interior reflects this with posters and magazines the lucky so and so has several classy bikes tucked away here and at their second home in Poland, they are both full of smiles and friendliness. Call in and say hello if your in the area. The sizzling food is very tasty and of large sized portions

 Tina still looked a bit worse for wear, hopefully a few more bumps and the salty bacon would soon set things in motion if you get my drift?  Then hopefully she can start to enjoy the day properly.  We said goodbye to the café folk turning now to face down the hill, we pulled away swiftly onto the A59 and head towards the Skipton bypass towards Settle.  Cars dutifully pulled over a few feet and let us pass until we came up behind the slowest “old boy” ever, he must have been cruising at a paltry 30 mph.  I thought we had a combined harvester somewhere at the front, but no it was this “old boy” in an old Austin All-agro.  Hmmmm…………perhaps he was a combined harvester driver minus the combined harvester?  Some oik in a Japanese 4×4 pulled out and performed a risky pass such was the ever so slow pace.  We turned off before Gargrave before something stupid was about to happen…… probably!  Malham was our next port of call through beautiful villages and ever so quaint but narrow roads, we paused at the vast rock formation at Malham Cove to take a few pictures and marvel at the sight. The wind was picking up now as we climbed up and round the cove, we were soon running along a ridge line as the wind blew across our bows.

What a sight it was from up here, I was smiling to myself at our beautiful English countryside.  Unfortunately I was being led into a false sense of security because laying in wait up ahead on a dodgy bend was a little dog, this was no ordinary dog it was a little black terrier with pointy ears and little four inch “go like fukc” legs supporting the biggest gnashes this side of Lord of the Rings country, Yes folks it was a Romanian attack dog, the very cousin of the ones that singled me out throughout Romania on last years tour!  There are those of you out from the 07 tour who witnessed this, so please tell folk it’s all true!  Just like all the other times it let Barry and the group through with little more than a passing glance, but as soon as I appeared it looked long and hard at me recognising me from descriptions given by its Romanian cousins before setting off in hot pursuit.  Barking and slavering, baying for blood, MY blood! Julie shrieked and burst out laughing.  I was negotiating a climbing right hand turn on the tiniest of roads and the little bugger was gaining on us.  “Barry! Barry!” I cried “I’m being attacked by a Romanian attack dog AGAIN!”  Lucky for me the little barstuard ran out of puff as it closed in barking and slavering.

The wind really got up now as it howled along the tops, whipping us fiercely; it was all so breathtaking up here and well worth the beating.  A few miles along we turned and twisted downward out of the winds and into the village of Arncliffe, pausing briefly at the front of the pub for photographs and to catch our breath, this pub was first used in the Yorkshire TV series EMERDALE FARM, I believe the series is using its third pub now?

After combing our hair and stubbing out the smokes, we pushed on to Kettlewell, the scene of much merriment when Neil brought a large group of us here a few weeks ago, only this time we paused for a snack, filling the café with jackets and bellies with jammy yummy creamy scones and tea, today’s sweet feast was provided by Barry.  A round of applause for that man!  We retired outside for another smoke break and general chit chat around the bikes.  Whilst we had been eating our creamy scones Sunday walkers took the opportunity to come have a look at the bikes, it’s probably the closest some folk get to Honda Goldwing motorbikes.

It was time to push on again, we wrapped up, mounted up and pushed off up along the long hillside through Starbotton and Buckden through the beautiful Langstrothdale Chase, dropping into Hawes riding on out the other side and on to Aysgarth stopping at the bridge by the falls.  The waters here were brown and peaty looking and roared in full flow, it looked quite superb as we took more photos.  Tina by now had some colour and had perked up greatly, so much so that she bought armfuls of bread “for later”. 

We now head toward Leyburn on the A684 passing Nigels famed freefall through the brewery roof! We turned right onto the super A6108 for a fast ride into Ripon, not too fast mind because the roads were still greasy and leafy in spite of the windy conditions.  The sun came out and washed over us for the last thirty minutes of the day’s ride, it topped off the day nicely really.  Finally we split at Ripon to head off in different directions home. The others turned west whilst I lead Sir Emmett to the A1 southbound, stopping at the brand new (and expensive) service station on the southbound A1 at Wetherby. We parted company here with a “thumbs up” and head for Doncaster less than an hour away.  We battled with the winds all the way and were quite happy on this occasion to get the bike tucked up and me into the customary Autumn hot bath.  It had been a great day out in the countryside and I was now feeling refreshed to take on this weeks troubles at work.

            
Tilateronthen.
                            The Wanderers Scribe