# Strangers in the Night ...



## Arch (19 Sep 2010)

For the YACF thread that inspired it all: 

http://yacf.co.uk/fo...p?topic=36874.0

A few weeks back, User10119 pointed me at the YACF forum, where a couple of night rides to the coast from York were being organised. I missed out on doing the official FNRttC back in June, due to work, so I leapt at the chance... And since I wanted to use the trike, and trikes on trains can be at the whim of the guard, and are officially _verboten_, I'd have to ride back. So, there's my chance to kill 3 birds with one stone - first night ride, first 100 miles on trike, and first 200km on any bike...

We arranged to meet by midnight, at the station. Alas, Aidan, who'd set the whole thing up, knackered his knee on the way over to York, and had to drop out, but enough of us had GPS/maps/a vague idea to be confident of finding our way. I rolled up just after 11pm, to find several folk already there - Hulver I knew already, but the rest were new to me in the flesh - although MrCharley turns out to be the Dad of someone I do know.... While we waited for a quorum, we nattered, and confused the station manager who approached us with a worried expression, clearly wondering how 7 or 8 cyclists were going to get on the remaining 2 trains out... We assured him that we were leaving on our own wheels. We also gave some hostel advice to a chap who had got off a train in York, but apparently needed to be in Scarborough and was under the impression that it wasn't far away. On being told we were riding there, he asked if we had a bike spare...

CrinklyLion arrived on the stroke of midnight, laden with cake, and off we went. Our progress out of town was fine, but not really much different to just cycling home from the pub. Once we got to the ring road, and got on the A166 though, it was a completely new experience for me - blackness, lights floating in my mirrors, cars approaching and passing with bewildered care. I enjoyed the sight of my shadow illuminated by the riders behind - a very odd squat alien egg shape, with wheels and mirrors. The moon was 3/4 full, and low in the sky, and there were more stars than you ever see in town. Indeed, at a brief comfort and layer-shedding stop, we had a chance to play with the i-phone astronomy app, and identify Jupiter.

On the main road we were soon through Stamford Bridge, and onto the back roads - just as dark, but no white lines, or passing traffic at all. Heading to Pocklington we set some farm dogs barking - at least the first couple barked, the rest howled, long after we'd passed. We imagined a bemused farmer coming out with shotgun, scratching his head at what on earth set the dogs off... At Yapham Mill we stopped for User10119 to ring ahead to arrange our food stop - her Mum was housesitting and kindly offered to give us hot drinks and sandwiches. Cake we had with us! It was a most welcome break, as many of us were getting very cold, and my feet were like ice. So tempting to just stay the night.... But no, on we go. After Pocklington we knew that the hills would begin, which would help keep us warm.

And begin they did, just after Nunburnholme with a stiff little climb. In the dark of course, you can't see the hill, and I had the added challenge of not being able to see which gear I was in. A steep hill gave you a clue as to the gradient ahead, as the rear lights ahead rose up, but a lot of it was down to reading the feeling in your legs. But I managed, and we rolled up and down for some time. Traffic was non-existant - the first vehicle we saw for the next hour or so was a milk lorry. After Garton on the Wolds we turned right and percieved that the road was very slightly going up hill. And continued to do so, for over a mile. Not very steep, just relentless. Silence fell, and I could see rear lights ahead, and, in my mirror, front lights, but also retroreflective strips on people's leggings reflecting my multitude of rear lights. It was like red lanterns, bobbing up and down, very serene. I also glanced to the east and was pleased to see a thin strip of lighter sky beneath the clouds. But soft, what light....?

We regrouped at the top (where I totally missed Sir Tatton Sykes' monument in the dark, an enormous stone tower) and then it was through Sledmere and into some nice gentle contours along the valley. By the time we pulled up in Butterwick to have a route conflab, it was to all intents and purposes light. I realised that it was the first time I've watched dawn come up - 41 years it's taken me.

We elected to cut out the Filey arm, as people had trains to catch. I'm sure someone said something about it being all downhill to Scarborough. Except for the massive uphill, that is. Still, the descent of Staxton hill was grand, albeit a little bit illegal, as the road was actually closed for surfacing work. From the bottom of that road, it was A64 into Scarborough - busier than anything so far, but not so bad at 7 in the morning. Annoyingly a lack of signs to the station led to the group riding down to sea level before hauling back up a steep hill to the railway. Once trains had been checked and tickets brought, we retired to the local Wetherspoons for a slap up breakfast, and very welcome it was too!

It had been a thoroughly enjoyable ride, in excellent company. I've always seen the attraction of the FNRttC, but now I really understand the joy of riding in a group at night. The disembodied lights, the silence except for ticking freewheels and tyre hum, the lack of traffic, the stars, the first hint of dawn. A lot of things I recognised from Arallsopp's book, of course, but so nice to actually experience them myself.

The next one is arranged for the end of October, to Whitby. I'm a strong 'probably' for that.

Now, of course, for most of the group, the story ends. But remember, there was the ride back...


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## Arch (19 Sep 2010)

Originally posted over on YACF on the Ride thread. Reproduced here to save me more typing!

As for the return leg...

I think I might have looked worse than I felt, if MrCharley was concerned. I actually felt ok. Tired, of course, but determination took over. If Hulver had really not felt like it, I'd have gone for it - my biggest worry was finding my way back to the route via a different way. Having Hulver's GPS made that pretty simple, although in retrospect we could have cut out the dip down into Filey (and back up again, oh, and the huge cobbled bit!)

We stopped at the station for Hulver to buy some water, and I was accosted by a chap on a tourer, who'd just done a coast to coast (I think with mates, although when he referred to 'we' it might have been him and the bike), who asked if we were getting on a train. "No", sez I, "we're riding back to York, we came over last night". After telling me about what he'd done, he said "So, did you stay in Scarborough last night?" "No, we rode overnight...." He looked suitably impressed, and a little scared of this pair of nutters.

Onwards, and inevitably upwards, we saw donkeys being walked to work in Scarborough, and more on the beach in Filey - lovely looking beach too. We both took a few 'prove it!' snaps of the sea before heading back up and out of Filey - past an arcade of shops I was amused to see was decorated with a big sign saying 'SHOPS' - no fancy marketing nonsense in Filey. We turned off the main road to Hunmanby (my map showed a way through, the GPS didn't - logic told us that if the sign said we could get there, we could, and we did) and then right at the sign for Wold Newton, to be faced with an immediately horrible hill. I cranked up in bottom-not-noisy gear (I never did resort to the noisy one - caused by the chain rubbing on the mudguard. Must get it sorted), and Hulver walked. From there we undulated down to Wold Newton and sat on a bench in the sun for a break - and I remembered that Thermos of tea! We got two small cups each, not hot exactly, but not cold, and jaffa cakes, and soaked up the sun, which was quite hot by then. A couple of laden cycle tourists passed, making it look easier than it should have been into the wind - still, I don't suppose they'd already ridden 77 miles. At that point, I'd broken my previous trike distance record. Eventually we dragged ourselves on, and the wind became more and more tiresome, with our speed rarely in double figures - even gentle downhills gave us little benefit. Once across the road to Foxholes we were at least back on 'familiar' territory. The cycle tourists had stopped to take a layer off, and the more laden one asked as I passed "Is that easy?" "Not after 80 miles!" I replied, perhaps keener than I should have been to make a point!

We stopped at the left turn just after Helperthorpe (where we also spotted a sign on a farm gateway that said "SLOW" and to which someone had added, in proper print, underneath 'Worms'. Eh?), and Hulver mixed himself some of his magic white powder (he told me it was energy drink, yeah, right....) into water, and I had more raisins and jaffa cakes. By now it was getting on for 2ish I think, and it certainly felt as if we'd been cycling all day (Well, we had!), but we weren't even at Sledmere.... At times like that, autopilot and bloodymindedness take over, and at least the change in direction took some edge off the headwind. The valley road to Sledmere was mostly flattish, albeit with a bit of a sting in the tail, and then we were turning past the House entrance. A few more undulations and then.... Good god! How in the name of heaven did I miss the monumental tower that is Sir Tatton Sykes' Monument! I know it was dark, but... Thinking about it, that was where we stopped to regroup after the long slog up that hill, but it shows how focussed one can be that I totally missed (Ok, it was dark) an enormous random obelisk. We stopped again, and the trike made a bid for freedom in the wind, but I tamed it. And then, perhaps the best bit of the entire return journey - back down that everlasting hill. Well, a mile or so, but the joy!

By now we were at least back on the 'home' map. although we still had most of it to travserse. Yet more up and down, and some main road, and shortly before North Dalton Hulver said surely we'd done 100 by now. Computer said '98'. Grimly, he said he'd get the 100 and then have to bail - his shoulders were seizing up badly. We crawled through North Dalton, me watching the computer like a hawk, and just after the village, up it came. We promptly stopped, and said our farewells, and Hulver turned back to wait for his lift in the village. I carried on, I'm sure even slower than I had been, and without the comforting sight of a pair of legs grinding in my mirror. We'd said things like "Well, it's mostly downhill from North Dalton to Warter", but it isn't. It might be, overall, but there were some buggers of climbs, or at least buggers in my state. When I got to Burnby, about 4.15, I stopped for another break, and gave myself a talking to - at 4mph, I wouldn't be home before midnight. So I forced the cadence up, and kept to 10mph into Pocklington, where I stopped at the Coop to buy a sandwich, realising that I hadn't had lunch really. As I sat in the trike outside, and opened the packet, a figure loomed over me, and I wearily prepared for the usual "is that dangerous how do you steer how far have you come how far!" conversation. But looking up, I saw my friend Eva, who lives in Pock (and knits too). She said "How are you?" and I said "I've cycled 110 miles since midnight, and I'm shattered!" and she promptly gathered me up and led me about 5 doors down to her flat, where we managed to store the trike on the stairs while I had a cuppa and ate my sarnies. It was so tempting to just sit there and chat, but after about half an hour I forced myself on, with about 20 miles to get home. I did contemplate moving to Pocklington as the easier option.

The rest did me some good, and I kept the 10mph or more rule up almost to Stamford Bridge, and for large parts of the trip after that - not up Warthill, but certainly down it! (In the absence of my MP3 player, I sang songs to myself - when I rang out of Flanders and Swann, and pop, I started on Christmas carols) I decided that the trike would have to come home with me instead of going back to the lockup and swapping for the upright - I wasn't sure I could even stay upright on two wheels. So, at 7.45, and miraculously not having a headwind through Stockon-on-the-Forest (there always is one, sometimes in both directions at once), I was through the door. The stairs were almost too much for my knees, but I made it.

127 miles in all. I haven't checked the computer yet for average speeds and so on, but I suspect it's low - that wind really didn't help. At the time, the ride back seemed interminable at times, and I was glad to have company - even if it's just someone to swear about the wind at. Many thanks to Hulver for his support, and I hope the shoulders have eased up.

Something that surprised me was that I never felt sleepy, for the whole ride. Phsically tired yes, and aching by the end, but never in danger of dropping off. I guess the chocolate helped, but also the good company, and sheer mental stimulation of what we were doing. 

I was in bed by 9, but I woke at 6 this morning and knew I wasn't going to be going back to sleep. My knees ache a lot - it'll be a while before I can sit down without using my arms to lower myself down. My thighs seem to be solid muscle at the moment. And my left foot is a bit pins-and-needlesy - I assume the result of having my feet up for 22 hours. 22 hours!

Some of you know, that this is all part of my training for the next London-Edinburgh-London in 2013, inspired by Arallsopp's book of his entry last year. There were many times when I recognised moments from his account - navigating in the dark, the ethereal nature of bike lights in the blackness, the sheer pedal turning doggedness. The best introduction I could have had to night riding. Thank you all!

Some stats: 
Distance: 127.92. (If I'd realised, could I have done the extra to bring it up to 128? I doubt it.)

Ave speed: astonishingly, 9.2. Must have done well on the way out to make up for the crawl home.

Riding Time: My computer says 3:52:44. I'm sure it was longer than that.... yes, of course, it's 13:52:44, presumably my computer only goes up to 10...

Thinking about it, that's a lot of non-riding time. An hour at the station, 30 mins in Pocklington outbound, 45 coming back, couple of hours over breakfast, all the little stops along the way... It all adds up!


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## Shaun (14 Mar 2012)

Copied here from the original blog entry - and bumped because it's a great tale.

Well done for the *128* miles Arch and thanks for sharing the story ...


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## Bluenite (14 Mar 2012)

Hero


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## Globalti (14 Mar 2012)

Great story! I share your joy of night riding; used to go out every Wednesday night MTBing in the dark, loved the quiet and the sense of adventure.


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