July 21, 2022
To Kirkby Stephen
It’s startling how abruptly the weather situation has changed. One day we’re surviving a historic heat wave at the end of a full month of exceptionally fair weather; and the very next day the temperature drops 25F, there’s the chance of rain, and the forecast for the next two weeks is for a nearly uniform string of days with maximum temperatures in the mid to high sixties and the chance of showers or rain. Gone for now are days where we can disregard the threat of rain, and we’re back to studying the upcoming forecast and strategizing for the most promising window for fitting in the day’s ride.
Today works out much like yesterday did in this regard. A day out, it looked likely that there was rain on tap off and on throughout yesterday and we weren’t sure we’d be taking that ride to Waldendale at all. In the morning though it looked like rains wouldn’t arrive until midafternoon, so we got an early start and took our chances. And in the end, not only did we stay dry for the ride but what little rain did fall held off until early evening.
Today was essentially the same, with the forecast changing every few hours. When I looked at the forecast at 4AM this morning it predicted showers beginning about 9 and continuing throughout the day. By breakfast though it had completely changed, and in the end showers didn’t arrive until early evening again.
And tomorrow? The forecast this evening once again is for rain and showers, with about a four hour break in the middle of the day. We’ll see though.
Anyway, back to the ride. Since the weather appears favorable we adopt our Plan A for the day: start early, complete the short ride to Kirkby Stephen by 1, dump our gear at our hotel and go out for a walk on the Coast to Coast Trail. We’re down at eight for a filling and excellent full English breakfast (minus the beans, as usual), and are biking out of Hawes before ten. It’s dry, but cool and slightly damp. Refreshing.
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We have a very easy ride ahead of us today: 16 miles, not much climbing, practically a rest day. Which is a Good Thing, as Keith Adams might say, because the senior member of the team is overdue for a breather. I’ve been biking for ten straight days, I say to myself yesterday as I start climbing that steep stretch in Waldendale that tops out at 20%. I start mentally calculating how many miles and feet of elevation I’ve ridden in those 10 days, conclude that they add up to a lot, and decide it’s enough that I’ve earned the right to dismount and push up this little steeply inclined plane.
So it’s lucky that we have a snoozer today, and it’s thanks to Rachael and her newfound passion for studying the profile of our upcoming rides. Otherwise we might have started on the original plan for the day - over Buttertubs Pass, a route I crafted months ago when I’d never heard of it. Instead, we’re following the path of least resistance. It’s less dramatic and has more traffic to contend with, but now that she’s pointed it out it’s the obvious best choice.
And, these being the Yorkshire Dales, it’s knockout beautiful even down low in the dales much of the time and even with overcast skies. We start out by gaining a bit of elevation climbing out the head of Wensleydale as we follow the Ure up toward its source. At the top we cross over into Cumbria and drop into Eden Valley, and then it’s generally downhill the rest of the way to Kirkby Stephens. If it weren’t for the castle we’d have biked into town well before one.
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I think Bruce is right that the top layer of this one is unusually decorative...
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We’re in no rush, just cruising along enjoying the scenery when we come to an attraction we hadn’t spotted on the map: Pendragon Castle. We have time and no one’s around, so we just leave our bikes beside the road and walk through the gate for a quick look. On the way in, the name of the castle rings a bell. Pendragon - didn’t he have something to do with the King Arthur legend, I ask Rachael? It doesn’t sound familiar to her, and her first impression is pretty lukewarm - it’s not a large castle, and a ruin.
As we approach the castle another couple walks out from within its shattered walls. As we pass them on the way out I joke about hoping we’d have the place to ourselves, but we’re finding this crowd here. They beam, say they’ve had their turn and it’s ours now, and instruct us to enjoy ourselves.
And we do. A half hour later we’re still there, checking it out from different vantage points, peeking through windows and staring across its walls at the fabulous countryside. It’s the best thing Rachael thinks she’s seen in our whole time in England, she exclaims as we walk back to the bikes, taking our time to look back again and then take a few last photos.
And about the name. As I’m sure some of you already knew, it’s that Pendragon - Uther Pendragon, the legendary father of King Arthur. It’s the alleged the site his castle, but it’s not this one, which was built in the 1200’s. His was supposedly here 700 years earlier, but no trace of an older castle has ever been found.
For both of us this is the best type of travel experience, stumbling upon something splendid we had no idea would be here. A total surprise, experienced with completely fresh eyes and without preconceptions. A gift.
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Back on the road, we have easy riding for the few remaining miles as we drop to the Eden River and bike up to the Black Bull, our pub hotel for the night. It’s one thirty, and formal checkin isn’t until three so we’re pleased to learn that our room is ready. The bikes go against the wall of the game room below the dart board, and I’m hoping we won’t find punctures in our saddles in the morning.
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Video sound track: Drift Into a Dream, by Fin Moon
We have lunch in our small upstairs room, where it’s surprisingly warm for such a cool day even though the window is open. Rachael sits down on the floor and spreads her lunch fixings before her in an array on the rug, because there’s no table. A half hour later she’s off to check out possible breakfast options in town (the Black Bull doesn’t offer one) and then heads up the Coast to Coast Trail. I’m thinking I’m not going out after all and really am due for a break; but a pint later I reconsider and head out myself. We cross paths briefly as she’s heading back to the room to shower before dinner, and I continue up to the summit of the first ridge. She warns me before parting that there will be sheep ahead, and she’s right. Later, she’ll tell me excitedly that on the way back she saw a red squirrel. I’m jealous.
Kirkby Shelton is an attractive little place - as are all of these smaller market towns, we’re finding. Not too touristy, it’s immediately obvious that it caters to the outdoors crowds - not surprisingly, since it’s square on one of the premier walking routes in England. I imagine it must feel like a real oasis when you wall in.
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Ride stats today: 16 miles,1,200’; for the tour: 1,216 miles, 55,900’
Today's ride: 16 miles (26 km)
Total: 1,216 miles (1,957 km)
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