August 7, 2024
To Grassington
Today is one neither of us is looking forward to. It’s a travel day and we’ve just got another short distance to cover to reach our next two night stay in Grassington. Only seventeen miles, with only one climb that fortunately comes right at the start while we’re still fresh. Unfortunately though that climb is up accursed High Hill Lane that Rachael walked up and down twice and I biked down yesterday. It looked reasonable enough when I planned out this route, but now that we’ve both seen it first-hand it’s hard to sign up for knowing that the day will start with a half-mile push up a 17-20% cliff on a narrow, twisting road with a not insignificant amount of traffic.
So there’s that. And then there’s the weather, which for several days now has promised to be wet and windy all day today. So now the vision is a nightmarish one of pushing up that steep half mile in the rain followed by another uphill mile that’s probably rideable, followed by another dozen or so once we’re well chilled and soaked.
Unappealing, and an obvious time to just take the train - if one existed. Unfortunately there’s no train line to Grassington, a small town tucked up into narrow Wharfedale, a valley that eventually comes to a head in the fells to the north up a route a train line was never blasted through to. And, as Rachael verified by her research, there’s no direct bus between here and there either.
So our plan has been to be calm and wait to see what the morning actually brings. If it looks too bad we’ve got two or three alternatives to fall back on: we could catch the train to Skipton and bike to Grassington from there, which would at least avoid the slog up High Hill Lane; or possibly we could take the train to Skipton and then hopefully get our bikes on the bus to Grassington from there; or as a last resort if it’s too bad, we’ll write off the $230 cost of the prepaid and uncancellable booking in Grassington and just stay in Skipton instead, which is where we’re going next anyway.
Morning comes, and things do look better. It looks like we have about a three hour windy but dryish window to thread through, which is great news. We go back and forth over whether to take the train to Skipton anyway and bike from there to avoid the climb up High Hill Lane, and finally conclude that we’d just as soon push. We pack up and leave right around ten, as soon as it looks like our break in the rain is starting.
As soon as we wheel our bikes out into the back alley it starts raining again. Changed conditions, change of plans. We go across the street to the coffee shop, I order a flat white and a date-apricot crumble to buy us rights to squat at the only free table, and we sit down to watch the weather with the idea that it things don’t improve by noon we’ll head over to the train station.
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Noon comes, and it looks like we’re getting that hoped for break in the weather. We pack up to leave, and as soon as I put on my blue jersey from Andalucia the elderly woman sitting next to us pipes up and asks what my connection with Almeria is. She’s curious because her daughter lives there. So a chat ensues, we give her the background and then moan about High Hill Lane, and she tells us how magical it is up on top in the winter when there’s been a snowfall and of the time they had to leave the car up there because it was too dangerous to drive down in the snow so they walked home instead.
Its an interesting conversation that we break off just in time because as soon as we step outside it’s raining again, harder this time. Fortunately there’s still time to make it to the train station and ticket ourselves for the 12:36 departure to Skipton.
We’re on the platform waiting for our train to arrive when another couple walks up pushing their folding e-bikes. They’re from Skipton off on a weekend getaway and have decided that under the circumstances they’d just as soon take the train also. We have a very enjoyable conversation for about fifteen minutes sheltered under the eaves and crowded into a doorway trying to keep dry while the bikes are outside getting wet, and are piqued by their statement that you can buy an eBike at a Decathalon store and more or less use it as a rental arrangement because they’ll buy it back at the end - something we’ll have to look into a a possibility for the future. When the train pulls in we quickly cut off, say our goodbyes, and dash for the bike cars. Fortunately there are two bike cars so there’s no issue with us all finding space.
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3 months ago
We’re sitting at the opposite ends of the train so we don’t see this couple again, but once we’re standing on the platform in Skipton a half hour later trying to figure out where the bus station is so we can test out that option the guy walks up to us on the platform with an offer we can’t refuse. He has a van. He wants to drive up to Grassington anyway to visit a friend, so why don’t we just pop the bikes in his van and stay dry while we he drives us up there and drops us off at Grassington Lodge which he says serves a quite nice lunch. Just wait here, he’ll meet us in 20 minutes.
Oh, my god. Christmas in August!
We enjoy getting further acquainted with Barry on the drive up to Grassington, hearing him tell of the time he and some buddies took a catered bicycle trip across Namibia. After he drops us off at our restaurant we exchange contact information so we can get in touch, and arrangements are made later to meet up with him and Claire Friday when we’re back in Skipton for the night.
We enjoy a fine lunch at the Grassington Lodge and then two hours later wheel our bikes the two blocks to our digs, the Grassington House. It’s still raining.
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3 months ago
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