What a ride! I was invited to a family, some of it anyway, meal at York Marina. Which is nearer to Naburn than York but on the same river. Anyway, the restaurant there is pretty good, so it seemed a fair idea to ride along there.
Until you look for a route. There are a couple of closed roads out that way, east of Leeds. OK, detours are possible but almost inevitably longer, and this is already a long ride for me. To start with what is becoming a favourite way out of Leeds, ride the Jacko down river (yes, there is a towpath) to Woodlesford. Quiet on a weekday morning. Around the southern side of Garforth, up the cliff, and stay on the A63 till the junction with the B1222. And that is the navigating done.
Yup, there is a list of places to ride through. Sherburn in Elmet is the first of any size, though there is Newthorpe before that. I wonder if the New Inn was originally the Newthorpe Inn? Cawood, with it’s impressive swing bridge, well I think it is impressive, although it is a long time since I have seen it swung, so to speak.
Stillingfleet next, this place has the closest thing to a hill for a few miles. And an advert for tearooms that are open seven days a week. But I had this appointment to keep. Though Naburn is not very far away, and I was early, searching for tearooms just is not high on my list. Any list. On to the marina entrance, which I reached a surprising number of minutes early. So I rode past, to Fulford, and back again, being overtaken by my sister on the way. She was in her car.
A relaxed and freezing cold refuelling stop and then I can warm up, the quicker I pedal, the sooner I am warm. The cloudscape in front was not the best looking I have seen, and on my return journey it leaked every now and then. And a headwind was expected too, but only rarely happened. Usually on the uphill bits of course. Altogether, the weather decided me to take much the same route back as out. The views were different of course, looking the other way.
Back to the place I started from, many reasons for the smile, sixty four miles of riding is many, and for all it is flat country out that way 2159 feet of up is good enough to smile wider. The legs, well, they lasted fine. Happy cyclist, and as I said at the beginning, ‘What a ride!’
Garthing goodies,