September 28, 2008
Osmotherly - Doncaster - Sheffield
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I woke up around 8-30am and in spite of the previous night's festivity, felt pretty much alright. I 've noticed before, that cycle-touring has the magical property of banishing the hangover. I had a graze on my forehead, which I was unable to satisfactorily explain. I cooked porridge, made coffee and was ready to leave by about 10-30am [still two hours]. I was about to leave and was finishing packing the bike by the campsite office, when the proprietor asked me where I was going.'Sheffield,' I said.'That's a fair distance,' he said.'It is, but I probably won't make it in the day, I'm carrying too much weight. I might have a go though.'Nothing like a bit of optimism to get you started.
I'd already decided I was going to abandon my usual back road strategy and take the A19 all the way to Doncaster. Sunday traffic wouldn't be too heavy, less HGVs particularly. The A19 connects Tees-side with the outside world; London, Leeds, Manchester, Liverpool, but only as far as Thirsk. After, it's much quieter. There wouldn't be much in the way of hills either. The A19 skirts the western edge of the North York Moors.
At this time of year, the weather is often changeable, brought on by Atlantic depressions battering our western extremities. I could have expected a brisk South-westerly in my face. Not today though, there was no wind.
I wired myself for sound, rode up the hill to the village and down the hill to the main road. There was a shoulder for most of the way to Thirsk and after it was never busy. In Easingwold, I bought some food for lunch, found a roadside bench and took it easy for half an hour. I phoned a friend from London, who'd moved to York and asked him if he would care to make me a cup of tea as I passed through. I took his address and set off again.
In York, I passed through the historic centre, then out again through the old city wall, where I had to ask directions for the road to Hull, close to which, Gordon and Linda live. I sat drinking tea, enjoying their company in their sunny garden, for an hour or more, showing little inclination to move. If I'd wanted to make it to Sheffield before nightfall, I should have been keener to get back on the pedals.
As I left,York was glowing, basking historically in the evening sunshine. The road from York to Doncaster passes through the former Yorkshire coalfield. The principal sights are still the power-stations, visible for miles over the flat farmland, which now use imported coal. The miners strike of 1984-5 saw an end to the Yorkshire pits.
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I reached the outskirts of Doncaster as night was falling. I kept an eye out for a campsite, but there was none to be seen. In the dark, in Doncaster town centre, I decided to stick me and the bike on the train. Within half an hour or so I was in Sheffield city centre. The cycling was not quite all over. My son, Patrick's house is on the west side of the city above the University; not the highest point, but close to. Unlike in York, where cycling is universally popular, here in Sheffield, it's for enthusiasts only: five valleys, seven hills is their mantra. I engaged low gear for the long slog up to Broomhill, where I bought a bottle of wine and then still further up to Crookes where, by now ferociously hungry, I failed to resist yet another take-away doner kebab. I didn't need the tent but Decathlon's version of the Thermarest came in useful. When the time came, I was on the floor for the night and out like a light.
Today's ride: 116 km (72 miles)
Total: 728 km (452 miles)
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