A May Day morning is a good time for a bike ride. Other folk sing the sunrise. I have yet to be convinced that there are TWO five o’ clocks in a day, though if someone wants to believe there are . . .
After the gentle pedal around Holbeck I turned left off Water Lane to find the road under the bridge closed. Often called the Dark Arches, this bridge holds a lot of Leeds City Station an incredible height above the road, the real Dark Arches do the same for the rest of the station, but above the river. That really is incredible. A bit of zigging and zagging followed around the quiet streets of early morning Leeds, 7:30 being early to me, and I was back on the way to Cardigan Road.
And the road rises. Headingley, West Park and Lawnswood. I took a right turn to ride through Adel, past the church and dam, and the first fields of the morning. A bit more up after that, a left turn adds elevation as the road goes by the eastern side of Golden Acre Park and eventually reaches the top of Kings Road. A most welcome descent to Bramhope follows, turn right onto the A660 and ride along to the Dyneley Arms. Ah, the video. I had to call it ‘The Squirrel’, one of them is the star of the first few seconds. But I am sure the title belongs to a folk song.
From Pool, up the valley to Otley where I stopped for a second breakfast by the maypoles. The little maypole had been dressed for the day, my phone refused to allow me to take a picture for some reason. It was a bit cold to stand around faffing with recalcitrant technology, and besides I was looking forward to the climb up Leeds Road. Honest! Riding the fixed adds interest both up and down hills, well, maybe effort is a better word than interest.
Stay on the A660, back through Bramhope and along the western side of Golden Acre Park. Back to the suburbs a few hundred yards before reaching the Lawnswood Arms. Scattered suburbs. The older houses are well back from the roadside, there are playing fields on each side before the Ring Road is crossed. And then it is downhill to Headingley, followed by more loss of altitude to Kirkstall.
The boring bike paths to the centre again, complete with a sign telling me Neville Street was closed. It took me at least ten minutes to remember that Neville Street is the road that was closed earlier this morning. Ah well, that was almost thirty miles ago. And when the sight of home brightened the grin on my mug, thirty one miles had been ridden. A good one.
Tangled roads . . .