TPT link Day 6

2012 04 21 Saturday Right, keep it short Peter. Not likely though is it! Hornsea in the early morning, a Saturday in spring, with a trickle of watery sun peeping through the clouds and glinting on the crashing waves? Only joking! I wouldn't know. I was just going to bed after a night's blogging. In truth though, when I did get on the road half an hour later than I intended at 09:30, it was a morning very like the flowery prose. Before setting off proper I rolled down the sea front to photograph the beautiful Hornsea Town station, now converted into homes. The magnificent, squat brick building with its romanesque round arch openings stands at the entrance to the TPT trail, about 200 yards inland of the official start-finish mast, just past the tacky but colorful amusement arcade. This secondary start point is like a mouth swallowing up unsuspecting adventurers Z only it's emblazoned with unmissable signage of the destination towns and distance involved so that no-one can say they weren't warned! A quick visit to the co-op for victuals and I was on my way. I'm learning! The memory-map the children bought me came into its own straight away. It corrected my first mistake before I'd even reached the mere. Great bit of kit kids, a real boy-toy, thanks. Silly boy though even thinking of going uphill when heading for a massive mere and onto Mill Lane at that. All the mills on this windy coast are windmills! Normally, Michael is our tech navigator and the rest of us tag along. We do chip in from time to time and negotiate with our own knowledge, folklore or just to be bloody minded. MJO can't be allowed to be right all the time! Today's trip is in three stages really: the coastal plain, the Wolds and the Vale. The first part was very, very arable. Quite uneventful under a heavy sky. Over breakfast I'd entered the route onto the memory-map from the smartphone Cyclestreets app. and just pedalled and followed. Marvellous! Towards the end of the first section I turned at a junction in the village of Skerne and recognised the road as where we'd been on last year's Way of the Roses. This is where I'd been aiming for. Navigation would be much simpler and I could switch off the gizmo to conserve battery power, the Achilles heel of all tech. From now on I was on familiar territory and it was only a matter of following the WotR waymarks, but in a westerly direction this time. In Hutton Cranswick I debated stopping where we did last year at the garden centre for a coffee but felt I needed to make progress. I would be slowing down on the long climb up the wolds and my uncertainty about getting to Chrissie's tonight in time for the gig we were going to go to drove me on. After the 50 mile days we normally arrived at our evening destination around 18:00 or later but today I was aiming more at 16:00 in York leaving me adequate time to catch a train to Harrogate, scrape off the grime of the day, get changed and eat. Having already rested at a field edge in the weak sunshine and refuelled on a pie and a sandwich I didn't have the luxury of spare time and didn't need to stop again to make me ready for the next leg. It was while lying in the long grass looking at the scene, a ploughed field, a field of yellow oil-seed rape a deciduous woodland backdrop and an ever changing leaden sky that I could see what David Hockney was all about. Back in Yorkshire at Bridlington he "paints" the Wolds landscape on an ipad and today I see how his almost childishly colorful oeuvres are a genuine representation. The woodland is particularly colorful at this time of year with the obvious new greens but also purple tinges for some strange reason. The dream was soon shattered as I began the long climb up the Wolds out of Tibthorpe. It was made much more pernicious by the onset of a long and heavy shower and a gentle westerly breeze, which felt like a gale! I began to get cold and uncomfortable. It's on these occasions that we want to get off the bike and get into the warmth of a cafe but on these hills there aren't any. Huggate near the summit was my goal for the reward of the long descent towards Pocklington, almost four lovely uninterrupted miles. At the bottom of the hill the map reading restarted as my more direct route skimmed round Pocklington. I was aimed at Stamford Bridge for a brew to warm me up. In the event I stopped for 10 minutes on the way and hung my tired bod over a gate to dry in a momentary sunny spell, and eat fruit Michael! The warmth was invaluable and recharged my batteries sufficiently for the four miles yet to come. Now, for there to be no cafe in Stamford Bridge would be incredible, but I couldn't see one and so took refuge in the Swordsman Inn and was glad of it as a another heavy downpour started. It was so tempting to have a pint. Sam Smiths is legendary for being good value but I refrained and hugged the radiator by the pool table on my own as I tweeted to amuse myself. In the background there was a chatter from the bar regulars. I kept tuning in but somehow it seemed impenetrable and I was in no mood to take part. However, having removed my outer things to dry my CLIC Sargent T shirt was on show and drew their attention. By the time I left it had earned its keep pulling in £10 for the cause and brought back memories of Edinburgh on the E2E where something similar happened. These experiences, I find give me a strange feeling of bewildered disbelief mixed with great satisfaction. Either way there are no losers! Last lap now along the old railway viaduct crossing the Derwent valley, scene of puncture action last year, then across the muddy and flooded field tracks to Dunnington, Murton and Osbaldwick on the outskirts of York. Threatening skies did little to suppress my relief that I was nearly at my destination. York is great for cycle routes and I commend the City for what it has achieved. Last time on the WOTR we missed the main east route and lost time because it. Oddly the route was closed this time so I lost out again. The diversion signs were poor but, with the memory-map and an increasing knowledge of the place I got to the station without difficulty, and in one piece in spite of the taxi drivers' attempts to see me off the road. It was dead on 17:00, only an hour later than I'd hoped and all this evening's options were still in tact. The illuminated departures board announced the Harrogate train at 17:20 so I needed to get on with it, and did. Then, at last, that blessed relief that comes with stopping, sitting down in a warm environment and relaxing. I thought I might get some of this blog done in that half hour on the train but it wasn't to be. Entertaining Emily in her paint-spattered joggers arrived with her bike and . . well that's another story. All in all it was good to be back in Harrogate, have a long soak in a bath, eat well and in good company (ah yes we do that already but there was less bike talk tonight!) and go out to the pub for a pint with music, by family at that. Only two more days to go now. Trans Pennine Trail for Rosa Day 6 Route: Hornsea to York Distance: 54miles Height gain: c.1300 Time: c.5:20 hrs Av.speed: c.10mph Weather: showers turning to rain Wind: W 10mph Route features: Hornsea, North Frodingham, Skerne, Hutton, Southburn, Tibthotpe, Huggate, Millington, Yapham, Stamford Bridge, Dunnington, Murton, Osbaldwick, York.