Vantage
Carbon fibre... LMAO!!!
- Location
- Behind everyone else, Bolton
Angry volcanoes! Raging rapids! Glacier peaked mountains! Sun baked deserts!
The Way of the Roses has none of these. What it does have is an abundance of rolling hills, narrow twisty lanes and gorgeous little towns and villages. Although to be fair, I think the climb out from Settle could give the north face of Everest a run for its money.
Back in early January this year I had this stupid idea of asking my dad (Billy) if he fancied doing a tour with me. A man who only ever used his bike to ride to work and that was only when the car was off the road. But he did say to me once that he'd always dreamed of cycle touring.
So I texted him one night and asked if he fancied doing a tour with me.
"I'd be up for that." was his reply.
WTF just happened? Did my dad just agree to tour with me? OMG!
And so I/we started planning.
Covid nearly scuppered those plans and most of the sites I'd already picked were closed or uncertain due to that pandemic. Other sites were hunted down and booked, and newer, better, expensiver clothes and gear were bought. Sorry @HobbesOnTour but mum turned up the trousers! I tried and failed.
A couple weeks before we were due to leave dad informed me of a new (2nd hand) bike he'd bought. Very posh. Handmade frame. Drop bars. 30 gears. Campag throughout. Wait a sec, Campag?
Yep. 52-46-38t chainset and 11-30t cassette. How the bloody hell did he expect to ride those gears on a loaded bike up the hills?
"It's OK, I can push if I need to." was his answer.
22nd August 8.30am and dad pulls up outside my house having driven up from Penmachno in Wales. I notice his green Dawes Karakoram on the rack.
"What happened?"
"Well, I tried the new bike up the mtb track. It needs work."
"Ahhhh."
Bags and bikes loaded, Pam drove us to Woodies cafe in Caton where we'd start. We decided to skip the first 6-7 miles of Morecambe and Lancaster because of the distance dad had already travelled and to make sure we weren't left cycling to the first site too late. It was already 12 noon.
I was busy getting my last bag onto the bike when dad called over and asked me what that reminded me of. I looked round to see him holding his bike upright and staring at it. It was on the tip of my tongue.
"The Beverly Hillbillies right?" asked dad and we both chuckled.
His Carradice Camper Longflap was packed to bursting and strapped to that via bungee cords was his tent, sleeping mat, coat, water bottle and something else. How the hell it stayed in place was a wonder.
" I hope that's secure!" said dad.
I smiled.
Our fuel for the trip was a bacon and sausage barm washed down with a coffee and after riding around around in circles waiting for my GPS to find a stray satellite we were on our merry way.
The taunting started on the first descent.
"Hahaaaa see ya later slow coach!" I shouted as the Wayfarers weight dragged its arse down the hill like a ton of bricks.
Dad chuckled. Given what happened next, it may have been a sinister laugh. As we made our way up the following hill, he passed me without so much as a strained breath. That buggers been training!
It wasn't long before I was reduced to slowly walking up the hill and as I reached the top I could see dad restrapping his gear to the rack.
"It fell off!"
I tried not to laugh. I really did. My lungs couldn't take it and that awesome energy food I had earlier was deposited on the grass by way of my throat. Mmm tasty!
The rest of the day was spent on a seemingly endless ribbon of narrow lanes going up steep hills and me pushing the damn bike up them.
We arrived at our first campsite (more like a bloody holiday resort for morons) around 4pm and were thrown to the lions without mercy. Lead to our patch by a guy on a quad bike we were stuck in between motor homes and big family tents filled with screaming kids and their covid camping families. Loud, obnoxious, messy, clueless. Not the well kept peaceful place it advertised itself as.
The first attempt at cooking my pasta pots didn't go well. Hard and dry. The 2nd wasn't much better but I was hungry.
Our neighbours didn't shut up till way gone 11pm. The sooner these idiots can get back to their alchopop filled Spanish hotel rooms the better. Lots of kids on bikes though which was nice to see.
20 miles today. 1400ft climbing.
The Way of the Roses has none of these. What it does have is an abundance of rolling hills, narrow twisty lanes and gorgeous little towns and villages. Although to be fair, I think the climb out from Settle could give the north face of Everest a run for its money.
Back in early January this year I had this stupid idea of asking my dad (Billy) if he fancied doing a tour with me. A man who only ever used his bike to ride to work and that was only when the car was off the road. But he did say to me once that he'd always dreamed of cycle touring.
So I texted him one night and asked if he fancied doing a tour with me.
"I'd be up for that." was his reply.
WTF just happened? Did my dad just agree to tour with me? OMG!
And so I/we started planning.Covid nearly scuppered those plans and most of the sites I'd already picked were closed or uncertain due to that pandemic. Other sites were hunted down and booked, and newer, better, expensiver clothes and gear were bought. Sorry @HobbesOnTour but mum turned up the trousers! I tried and failed.
A couple weeks before we were due to leave dad informed me of a new (2nd hand) bike he'd bought. Very posh. Handmade frame. Drop bars. 30 gears. Campag throughout. Wait a sec, Campag?
Yep. 52-46-38t chainset and 11-30t cassette. How the bloody hell did he expect to ride those gears on a loaded bike up the hills?"It's OK, I can push if I need to." was his answer.
22nd August 8.30am and dad pulls up outside my house having driven up from Penmachno in Wales. I notice his green Dawes Karakoram on the rack.
"What happened?"
"Well, I tried the new bike up the mtb track. It needs work."
"Ahhhh."
Bags and bikes loaded, Pam drove us to Woodies cafe in Caton where we'd start. We decided to skip the first 6-7 miles of Morecambe and Lancaster because of the distance dad had already travelled and to make sure we weren't left cycling to the first site too late. It was already 12 noon.
I was busy getting my last bag onto the bike when dad called over and asked me what that reminded me of. I looked round to see him holding his bike upright and staring at it. It was on the tip of my tongue.
"The Beverly Hillbillies right?" asked dad and we both chuckled.
His Carradice Camper Longflap was packed to bursting and strapped to that via bungee cords was his tent, sleeping mat, coat, water bottle and something else. How the hell it stayed in place was a wonder.
" I hope that's secure!" said dad.
I smiled.
Our fuel for the trip was a bacon and sausage barm washed down with a coffee and after riding around around in circles waiting for my GPS to find a stray satellite we were on our merry way.
The taunting started on the first descent.
"Hahaaaa see ya later slow coach!" I shouted as the Wayfarers weight dragged its arse down the hill like a ton of bricks.
Dad chuckled. Given what happened next, it may have been a sinister laugh. As we made our way up the following hill, he passed me without so much as a strained breath. That buggers been training!
It wasn't long before I was reduced to slowly walking up the hill and as I reached the top I could see dad restrapping his gear to the rack.
"It fell off!"
I tried not to laugh. I really did. My lungs couldn't take it and that awesome energy food I had earlier was deposited on the grass by way of my throat. Mmm tasty!
The rest of the day was spent on a seemingly endless ribbon of narrow lanes going up steep hills and me pushing the damn bike up them.
We arrived at our first campsite (more like a bloody holiday resort for morons) around 4pm and were thrown to the lions without mercy. Lead to our patch by a guy on a quad bike we were stuck in between motor homes and big family tents filled with screaming kids and their covid camping families. Loud, obnoxious, messy, clueless. Not the well kept peaceful place it advertised itself as.
The first attempt at cooking my pasta pots didn't go well. Hard and dry. The 2nd wasn't much better but I was hungry.
Our neighbours didn't shut up till way gone 11pm. The sooner these idiots can get back to their alchopop filled Spanish hotel rooms the better. Lots of kids on bikes though which was nice to see.
20 miles today. 1400ft climbing.
, especially after a full English 
. It ought to be one of 'The Rulez' of the WoTR.
.
