To Malton

July 9, 2024

We were so lucky yesterday! The weather was unstable the day before and today it’s even worse, leaving us with this short post for a long day. After we check out of our room at 10 we sit in the hotel lobby for the next seven hours, waiting to see if there’ll be a break in the steady rain forecast for the whole day. It’s wet enough that we’ve checked to see if there’s a room available here tonight, thinking we could write off tonight’s room in Malton and double up the next day’s ride to Weaverthorpe.

We don’t need much of a gap for an easy 16 mile ride though, and for a while it looks like a break is coming at around one. That time comes and goes without a letup though so we order ourselves a light lunch and keep biding our time, watching now for the promise of one at around five.

Our post for seven hours. We’ve done lunch and I’m making my pint last, but there are still three or four hours to go.

It’s quiet for the first half of the afternoon. An elderly pair of women are the only other diners, and then it’s just us and the occasional staff member that pops by until things pick up around three thirty. After that it’s lively and social as we at first enjoy a chat with a group at the bar, one that Rachael remembers differently than I do - a guy, his young son, his son’s friend, his wife, his mom, a birthday party and/or school play are involved - it’s complicated, and too hard to recreate because we remember different things. The main thing though was how warm and friendly it all felt, chatting with them while the boys held an animated chat of their own at the bar with the woman we take to be the owner of the place.

Among other things these folks share with us, they have advice on the route we should take to Malton - in particular to avoid one of the two ways of leaving Gillamoor because the other one is flooded out.

They finally collect the boys and move on, and then the proprietor turns to us and another lengthy conversation ensues. She’s older, maybe about Rachael’s age or even mine, and talks lovingly and wistfully of her dad who passed away last year at the age of 92. A WWII veteran, he was also a dedicated biker for most of his life with several extended tours on the continent to his credit. He biked with the local club riders until late in his life, and they all showed up in Lycra to honor his life at the funeral.

She speculates on whether there’s someone in the village with a van she could call to give us a lift to Malton, but there’s no need for that because right about five the weather breaks and we have what looks like a dry two hour window, enough to see us through. We’re on the road as soon as the rains stop, descending out of town on the unflooded route. Everything is bagged for protection from the rain including the phones and cameras, so there are no photos to remind us of the ride - easy, reasonably quiet, and reasonably dry once we make it through a worrisome fog-like mist that dampens us for the first mile or two.

In Malton. Our room is directly across the street from Saint Leonard & Saint Mary church.

We’re not impressed by our lodging, in an annex of the Old Lodge. There’s no heat and no WiFi, but we aren’t here long anyway. As soon as we’ve changed we leave for dinner, heading for an Italian place a few blocks away. It’s jammed when we get there though and we’re told a table won’t be free until about 8:30. It’s the rest day for the other Italian in the neighborhood we’d like to have gone to, another La Trattoria like the one we enjoyed in Helmsley, so that’s out too. (And as an aside, Google Maps let us make a reservation for this place even though they’re closed today). We finally end up in a Mexican restaurant of all places, a place filled with Mexican and Old West kitch - wooden statues of cowboys and injuns and Mayan warriors line the walls, and the ceiling is adorned with an array of sombreros.

Things have changed in the 45 minutes we’re inside - the heavens have cracked open and there’s a river in the street now. It’s four blocks back to our room, and we finally get there after huddling in a few doorways along the way, astonished at the ferocity of the rains coming down. There’s a lot of panicky nervous laughter about our situation, and even on this short distance we miss our turn up our alley - but we wouldn’t have wanted it anyway because it’s narrow, funnel-shaped and steep, and there’s a gusher pouring out of it that we have to wade through.

Why don’t these towns have awnings and overhangs?

Waiting, getting up our nerve for the next dash.

Everything is absolutely soaked by the time we make it back to our room. We hang up coats, shirts, pants, socks and shoes wherever we can, with little hope that they’ll be anywhere near dry in the morning; and then we huddle under the covers because as you’ll recall, there’s no heat.

What four blocks can do to you in the wrong conditions.

Today's ride: 16 miles (26 km)
Total: 2,620 miles (4,216 km)

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