Cold again this morning, but a dry forecast unlike yesterday. Rain I can do, cold I can do. But both together and I often wimp. Bob Jackson and me rode away.
Started about fifteen minutes earlier than my recent usual and the amount of traffic surprised me a bit. Soon recovered from that, by the time Oakwood was reached things were fair quiet again. Up the A58 to Red Hall Lane, which is followed by Skeltons Lane. Turn left to go to Thorner, Sandhills is the first bit of downhill for a while. I had intended to leave Thorner on Milner Lane, but a sign at the junction said the road was closed. Don’t recall any pavements along there, ride up Church Hill instead.
Towards Bramham by a slightly shorter route. Turn right, missing most of the village, and just before the traffic lights turn left. Village on the left, allotments on the right. The road bends away to the right and it is a mile and a half or so to the next junction. Turn right for more gently rolling country, straight on at the next crossroads and take the right hand choice at the next junction.
Already passed Red Brick Farm, and the road bends left at Jackdaw Crag Quarry. Neither business had generated any traffic on the road, which descends gently, parallel with the A64 until a bend to the right points the road, and me, at Stutton.
Reach the A162 and yet again turn right. Sherburn in Elmet via Towton and Barkston Ash. This is an odd road, anonymous might be a good word. It has fields and bits of woodland to either side, and a whole encyclopedia of history. But riding along it this morning, it just left an indelible blank on my mind.
Sherburn is better. The B1222 out of there going south west is good. Under the A1 M, a mile of less than good road surface and then the A63. Which these days is quiet. Pass Peckfield Bar and then down Garforth Cliff. Noticing at the top that the garden centre seems to be open.
The Wakefield road through Swillington leads to the bridges across the River Aire and then the Aire and Calder Navigation, and I turn right to ride the towpath on that. Pleasantly busy with walkers, two or three cyclists. The sun had warmed through the clouds. And then I am back in Leeds and the final mile or two out of forty this morning. Almost 1900 feet of upness, and a grin for the sight of my front door. Marvellous!
Scribblings by garthing . . .