UP AND OVER AND THE FULL MONTY (on a shoestring)

During my young school years in the 1950's I had a hero, who I discovered on the front cover of my dad's box of matches. There stood Capt. Webb with the white cliffs of Dover in the background, having completed his English channel swim, I remembered thinking what an exciting quest he'd set for himself. My old hero came back to mind when the idea of the coast-to-coast on the Trans Pennine Trail struck me as an ideal way to mark my fifth year of being free of cigarettes (gave them up at 50-ish years old) and the excitement mixed with apprehension began to build. I'd enjoyed cycling the 16 miles round trip to work when weather permitted, for a number of years, but this was to be serious cycling.

Family and friends gave a mixed response to the news of plan, but were generally supportive - the initial response usually being a strange look followed by a head scratch. But out of the blue, my son Steve (30) said, “That sounds like a brill adventure Pa, I wouldn't mind some of that myself”. From then, maps of the Trail, two man tent and sleeping bags from the local supermarket's cheap summer fun range, first aid kit, tools, puncture outfit etc., etc. were accumulated. 

The general plan for eats was to fuel up on energy (non alcohol) drinks, Mars bars and fruit, grabbing hot food where we found it and crashing out for the night wherever and whenever we felt suitable. Steve had a 35 litre rucksack (brave man) while I opted for rack and pannier bags. Surprising how the weight of kit builds up even when trying to travel light.

We took a train from Mexborough/Doncaster to Hull on Monday of the first week of my works holidays and then biked on up to Hornsea by road before dark.  We rose in time to see the early dog walkers and joggers on the beach. After locating the start point and taking a couple of snapshots for the album, we found ourselves not far from the earliest available stamp point, The Old Bridge stores at about 8am Tuesday morning. A most pleasant ride along old rail track bed, the Hornsea Rail Trail down to Hull, where we visited The Deep, then created a mystery tour of our very own until we reached the A1105 south of Anlaby. I'm thinking now that we probably missed signage by giving plenty of attention to the traffic. A number of pleasant villages en route to Howden were a real pleasure to encounter.

Wednesday, day two, saw us on the trail at 7:30am and soon to be breakfasting in the Abbey cafe in Selby among the first of Brian's customers that day, (clean with good food and a cheery proprietor) and then on down the Selby canal to Brayton where we took to the country lanes, across Burn airfield, missed the signage in Gowdall village and lost the trail. Just when you're plodding along in mid head-scratch, you know which law says your back tyre is going to blow out.  No, not a common or garden puncture, the tyre wall failed. Strange that we were walking for a while at the time, but to be fair, the tyre had covered in excess of two thousand miles of tarmac and track in its lifetime. Four miles out of Snaith, not far, no problem. But Snaith, we were to find, doesn't have a cycle shop. It used to have sales of cycle spares at Jubb's who are now electrical retailers, who fortunately still had two tyres left (now there's just the one). The replacement, a knobbly mountain bike tyre, would be changed for a kevlar lined semi-slick the very next day to cut the 'drag'.

After then backtracking and finding the route, we progressed along seemingly endless miles of idyllic country lanes, which took us on to Sykehouse where we joined the New Junction Canal to Braithwaite. Alternate quiet lanes and tracks over fields and along hedgerows, through woodland and over rough trails brought us onto our home stretch where the Don Gorge was still closed due to flood damage. We reached the homestead before dark for a welcome home bath and good grub. Thursday was declared a resting day and Steve set about borrowing a lightweight bike sans suspension before setting out for the second half. His own machine's heavy steel frame and full suspension had been soaking up a great percentage of his pedalling effort. The improvement in performance on the western half was to show that to be true, with the bonus of less puffing and grunting as a backing track to the ride.

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