CYCLING STORY AND PHOTOS BY SIMON WILLIS

24 ADVENTURE CYCLIST july 2017 CYCLING YORKSHIRE

ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG 25 WILLISSHIRE - - 2 -

ooly, wriggly bodies blocked but I’d never really explored the national — like a farmhouse sign warning drivers, the verge again, an all too park. “Careful, free-range children.” familiar sight in northern My five-day solo journey began in Soon I glimpsed one of the region’s England. I wrenched the Fremington at the Dales Bike Centre. most iconic structures: the famous Whandlebars and swerved wide. “I doubt For almost a decade, owner Stuart Price Ribblehead Viaduct. For nearly 150 years, had to dodge livestock has welcomed cyclists, fitted rental this railway bridge has carried passenger while racing the 2014 bikes, fixed broken frames, and offered and freight trains between Settle and here,” I muttered as I thrust my bike up encyclopedic knowledge of the area. Carlisle. Sunken between the mountains, the final ascent. Another black-faced His wife Brenda runs the café, serving its 24 stone arches — each 32 meters high sheep appeared, popping its head from homemade cakes and bacon sandwiches. — had attracted quite an audience. Cars behind a limestone rock. It stared at me, After I stayed the night in their B&B, stopped, cyclists laid down their bikes, a piece of grass hanging from its mouth Price loaned me a hybrid machine to and walkers stood holding binoculars. like Clint Eastwood’s signature cigar in a tackle the smooth runs and pebble Had I stumbled onto Sir Richard spaghetti western. paths. He ran his finger along my map, Branson’s Galactic spacecraft launch? My rented hybrid began to glide, citing Tour de France routes and, at my I crunched up a gravel path to the pushed by the chilled breeze swirling insistence, the finest pubs in the region. old stationmaster’s outpost. The solitary around this 1,725-foot-high open From Fremington I headed building underwent refurbishment moorland summit. I rattled over a cattle south, gathering my first taste of the in 2000 and now houses a museum grate. Giant olive-green mountains rose 1,099-square-mile national park — a and information point run solely by before me, dovetailing to create a snaking landscape born through extraordinary volunteers. My nose twitching from valley. My descent into Swaledale would natural events. Around 350 million years the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, I propel me from one of the highest roads ago, the bodies of sea creatures, gazillions hastened past the pamphlets and books in the Yorkshire Dales onto a helter- of the things, sank to the ocean’s bottom, into the kitchen. I requested a cuppa, skelter racetrack. I pulled my helmet compacted to make limestone, and later plus a slice of fruitcake and cheese. strap tight, tested both brakes, and asked rose to the surface. Due to the earth’s The creamy white cheddar mixed with myself, “Do I feel lucky?” moving plates, the land that makes up the piquant raisins reminded me of Sunday In 2014, the finest road cyclists on the national park drifted from where Brazil afternoon tea at my grandma’s house. planet — including Froome — tackled is today. As the last ice age hit around Munching gleefully, I glanced at a this Buttertubs Pass route. Many call 20,000 years ago, immense glaciers poster displaying two chiseled-cheeked Yorkshire’s hosting of the Tour de France carved through the rock, opening up deep actors with bowler hats, long winter coats, the most momentous two days in the valleys and gorges. Huge blocks of ice and gold pocket watches. The image region’s modern history. Two years on, shifted, scraping the land and revealing advertised a TV series dramatizing the with a sunny August forecast, I headed the limestone below. Nowadays, grey building of the viaduct. “Was this Jericho, to God’s Own Country — lying between moon-like pavements sit atop limestone like real life then?” I asked the senior and Scotland — to discover scars that run along the hillside. From volunteer with a name tag that read how the Dales National Park has been afar, these bare cliffs puncturing the land “Susan.” transformed into cycling heaven. resemble giant toad eyes peeking from “I’m supposed to say yes,” Susan said, I should have known already; I am, the seaweed-colored mounds. pulling her hands from her cardigan indeed, a Yorkshireman. However, I’d The first inhabitants settled here in the pockets, “but it really wasn’t. Conditions left England 10 years ago. I’d swapped Neolithic Era, around 5000 BCE, followed back then would have been far worse than warm ale for Mediterranean cocktails, by the Romans, Angles, and Vikings. In in the show. You know, they had to live on and sausage and mash for fresh Balinese modern times, farmers have built over incredibly muddy ground. It was tough. I lobster. I’d set off in search of adventure, 5,000 miles of drystone walls (almost doubt women would’ve flounced around a new life. After moving to Colombia, my enough to stretch from London to San in such elegant dresses. In the show, they passion for cycling had piqued with trips Francisco), dividing up land into emerald are like, da-de-da … ” to the country’s Caribbean coastline, high- and sage-shaded patchworks. They have She raised her arms to either side of altitude Andean mountains, and luxuriant built charming barns, as well as coach her waist and began skipping around landscapes brimming with crimson coffee houses — stop-offs for travelers the tables in her red slippers, dancing beans. Now I wanted to see whether I in horse-drawn carriages, now partly and swooning like a London West End could re-create the same freewheeling modernized hotels, pubs, and restaurants. thespian. She stopped when a customer thrill in my native land. Pedaling along, I began to discover interrupted, asking for the bathroom. Despite growing up 40 minutes this landscape for the first time. I “I think someone from your bus took from the Dales, I had rarely visited as a breathed in the honey-scented purple the key,” Susan said, still holding her child. Instead our family vacationed at heather blossoming across the moorland. imaginary skirt out. amusement parks or wind-swept northern I perched on a moss-enveloped fence “Can I grab it from her then?” the towns like Bridlington or Blackpool. Sure, listening to sheep tear chunks of grass tourist said. we’d driven beside the undulating hills, from around my feet. And I reacquainted “That’s fine. As long as I’m able to pee babbling brooks, and sheep-dotted fields, myself with the Yorkshire sense of humor before I go home.”

26 ADVENTURE CYCLIST july 2017 Susan transported me back to 1870 when 2,000 people had arrived here from all over the country. They built shanty towns boasting wooden houses, churches, pubs, and even, Susan leaned in to whisper, “houses of ill repute.” Male laborers, known as “navies,” used tools like wooden cranes, ladders, pickaxes, and gunpowder to construct the viaduct. With law and order scarce, many have labeled these five years a “British Wild West.” Indeed, these perilous conditions claimed the lives of around 200 men, women, and children. After thanking Susan, I hopped back onto my saddle. With the help of Welcome to Yorkshire, I was looping the Dales, overnighting in Austwick, Malham, Litton, and Hawes. I’d end with Buttertubs Pass, part of the King of the Mountains stage of the Tour de France. When Yorkshire hosted cycling’s premier road race for the first time, its residents collectively rolled up their sleeves. Locals hung lines of polka-dot bunting from lampposts, painted yellow jerseys and bikes onto shop windows, and tied flags — French, British, and the iconic white rose of Yorkshire — to doors. Volunteers arrived by the thousands, roads were fixed and cobblestones polished. Even the Swaledale sheep got involved – they were sprayed yellow. The Tour’s first two days (the third ran from to London) attracted a remarkable 2.5 million spectators and brought in £102 million ($128m) to Yorkshire’s economy. And the enthusiasm Top: Quiet roads weaving through pastures and alongside stone walls are the regular riding isn’t flagging: Sport England has recorded conditions in the Yorkshire Dales. 18,000 more cyclists in Yorkshire Bottom: Stopping for a local brew and a bite to eat at English pubs is practically mandatory when compared to 2014. It also says the county riding through the region, if only for the names! has the second highest percentage of

ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG 27 residents cycling at least once a week (it came in seventh in 2014). Little wonder the region will host the UCI Road World Championships in 2019. As for Le Tour, general director said, “It’s a question of when, not if, the event will return to Yorkshire.” Throughout my trip, I began to feel it had somehow never left. Folks in coffee shops told me stories of “the time I saw .” Cyclists rode by wearing “Tour on t’moor” jerseys. One bartender showed me a video of the event, watching the screen like a father reliving his daughter’s wedding. I hadn’t witnessed Yorkshire’s big day, but with every push of my pedal, I felt pride for the revolution we had created. The biggest draw for international cyclists lies in racing along the Tour routes. I, however, rode somewhat recreationally. Rather than munching gel and energy bars, I refueled in cafés and fish and chip shops. I lounged in traditional pubs, glugging delicious locally brewed ales like Black Sheep and Theakston. I didn’t sprint, I meandered. I hadn’t planned it this way, it’s just that, well, I longed to extend the feelings of home — the soft, cushioned seats in a pub, the scent of vinegar swirling from a proper “chippy,” and the chestnut brown gravy cascading into a crispy Yorkshire pudding. Every “ay up” (hello) made me smile. Every mention of the “fine weather we’re ’avin” made me want to stay. My daily average of 16 miles allowed for new experiences. I explored beneath the limestone at White Scar Cave and practiced archery inside 14th-century Bolton Castle. In the Wensleydale Creamery (a favorite of claymation superstars Wallace and Gromit), I shoveled in free samples of cheese infused with cranberries, apricots, ginger, and orange. Such diversions occasionally took me off route and, with phone data limited in many places, I had to request the help of locals. Searching for Malham, I pulled beside a grey-bearded chap walking his spaniel. “Well,” the man started. “You need to cross the bridge, take a left, then head 134 meters up the 13-degree-incline road. Say hello to Mrs. Smith who takes little Rover for his walk about now, then carry on until you get to a T-junction. There’s no sign because it was taken down in December

28 ADVENTURE CYCLIST july 2017 NUTS & BOLTS Yorkshire 0 100 200 mi

0 100 200 300 km My five-day trip was hostels are plentiful in GETTING THERE self-guided with the help the Dales. The following Manchester airport is the of Welcome to Yorkshire all boast bike facilities closest international airport Area (yorkshire.com). My route and knowledgeable staff: with direct connections from Enlarged p e S r o C u began in Fremington at Park Bottom (parkbottom. many U.S. cities. Airlines O E T A L f r the Dales Bike Centre co.uk), Spring Bank House include British Airways, A i c N a (dalesbikecentre.co.uk) (springbankhousehawes. Delta, United, and American D where I rented a hybrid co.uk), The Traddock Airlines. There are many Edinburgh N bike. I stayed over in Hawes, (thetraddock.co.uk), YHA domestic flights in the UK. o r t Austwick, Malham, and (yha.org.uk/hostel/Malham). Trains are reliable and easy Glasgow h

Litton. The Sherpa Van to use (thetrainline.com). S e (sherpavan.com) collected BEST TIME TO VISIT Potential train stations Yorkshire Dales a and delivered my bags on June to August is summer accessing the Yorkshire National Park Fremington a Hawes time every day. and has the finest riding Dales include Settle, Ilkley, e Bridlington S

D Swaledale h conditions. Each season and Skipton. s Malham N i r ACCOMMODATION offers different landscapes A I Blackpool L E

E N Hotels, B&Bs, and and challenges. Liverpool G R L I A N W D A L E Birmingham 1989, but take a left here, head down the system on earth, Yorkshire wouldn’t even S 3.34-mile winding road that brings you notice. Cardiff London into the center.” He tugged his sniffing The two-mile ride into Malham a e S dog away from my shoe. “I’m terribly proved the most enjoyable of the trip.

Plymouth l c e sorry I can’t be more help; it’s been a I zipped, curved, and cavorted around i n t a n l C h while since I went.” I swear, if satellite e i s h CONTINUED ON PAGE 48 E n g l failure destroyed every map and GPS C MAP: JAMIE ROBERTSON JAMIE MAP:

ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG 29 CONTINUED FROM PAGE 29 Couples perched on benches crunching events on the horizon, the number of WILLIS: YORKSHIRE crisps (potato chips). Children sprinted riders pedaling these moorland roads and corners lined with head-high drystone towards the Farmhouse Ice Cream truck. ascending chest-pounding climbs will walls. Their gray surfaces transformed On the cashmere-soft grass, a bulldog increase. For me, however, the trip meant into a blur as if I were racing through a sniffed its owner — a man lying on the much more. tunnel in Monte Carlo. Pulling my brakes ground, T-shirt sleeves rolled up over I connected to a land that I had never only when I truly panicked, I whizzed his shoulders, sweater covering his face. really known. My journey around the past walkers, blowing their maps in the Although the weather in this part of the Yorkshire Dales not only compensated for air as I passed. I overtook convertibles world can be unpredictable and nasty, over three decades of neglect, it rekindled and catapulted over the last dip with my there’s nowhere I’d rather spend a sunny a desire to explore more of my home nose grazing my handlebars. I would have summer afternoon than in northern country. As I freewheeled down the final zoomed into the village, arms aloft like a England. descent, I wondered how long, if ever, it yellow jersey winner were it not for the Two days later, I rode Buttertubs Pass. would take before I sought out foreign fear of disturbing such a scene of bliss. I climbed its challenging incline and shores again. Chugging to my left, a stream sparkled. hurtled down the hairpins just like the The Lister Arms pub, vines enveloping racing greats had done. It capped off my Simon Willis is a travel journalist specializing in its exterior, teemed with families. Glasses discovery of a place finally beginning Latin America. His last story for Adventure Cyclist clinked and clanked as smartly dressed to fulfill its potential as a world-class was in February 2016 covering a tour in Colombia. For more, visit simonwillistravels.wordpress.com. waiters carried out trays of drinks. cycling destination. And with more elite

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 41 my night stranded in the desert had been Lee doesn’t kid himself that their ages D’AMBROSIO: BOB LEE more than worth it. I awoke later with the aren’t also increasing along with their sunrise and finished the remainder of my mileage. “I awoke just after midnight trek to Blythe.” “We’re wondering where those lines in a restless sleep, thinking in my Bob Lee couldn’t be happier for his are going to cross,” he said. “Some place semiconscious state that someone was young mentee. those lines are going to cross, but we outside my tent,” he wrote. “I went “Jan is hitting it at a great age,” Lee haven’t missed a month yet.” outside and saw something far better than said. “He has the rest of his life to think Neither is Lee finished as an an intruder. In the middle of nowhere, about this journey. The rest of his life is inspiration and mentor. miles from any sources of light polluting a lot longer than the rest of mine. I’m “I’d just encourage people, if they read the night sky, was one of the most glad he’s doing it and experiencing the this article, to put a dream in the back beautiful things I have ever witnessed: the goodness of people.” of your head and work towards it,” he North Star shone so large and bright I at Lee doesn’t have any more fundraising said. “If you dream it, you can achieve it. first mistook it for the moon. rides planned right now, but he and his You got a family to support, kids to get “After some focus, I saw the quick wife Anne are keeping up an ambitious through college, whatever, but there’s flashes of shooting stars and the more agenda of exercise, walking 52 miles a time to get on a bike and do this if it’s consistent movement of satellites. All of month together in recognition of the something you want to do.” this was surrounded by the other stars number of years they’ve been married. and constellations in a brilliant tapestry of They began the regimen on their 50th Dan D’Ambrosio is a contributing writer for light. Although the sharp rocks on which anniversary and hope to keep upping Adventure Cyclist magazine. I slept hadn’t allowed for very much rest, their mileage with each passing year.

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