It was a glorious 90% chance of rain sunny day as we pedaled over bridges,past churches and through beautiful York neighborhoods.It was 25 minutes before the homes thinned out and the fields expanded gloriously.The SW winds we have had since starting this trip had switched to the NNE, thankfully only about 10 mph, so an nuisance, not hinderance.

Crossroads

and villages were ornamented with flowers and bicycles.  Evidence and obvious pride from hosting the Tour de France Stage 1 was everywhere along our route.Passed the Battle of Marston Moor Monument,the English Civil War (1642- 1646).  Shortly before noon, our crossroads led us to a restaurant brimming with flowers; a cappuccino was in order.  But we learned from the couple sitting outside that we really needed to have the Tuesday pensioner’s (retiree) lunch special……so much for coffee.Way more that we needed for lunch, but it was delicious.

Back out on the country roads, it was obvious that this stretch between York and our destination was quite affluent.   Farms were larger the homes huge and tucked way off the road. Afternoon skies began to darken a bit, as we made our way into Ripon.  A quick swing by the Ripon Cathedral then a mad dash before the skies opened up.It was a short ride today, (33 miles)as we wanted to spend some time with a friend from the Brac; Joan says Hello Bracers!Since we’d already seen the Cathedral and were not going to be biking the Dales, Joan insisted on showing us the area; once again following the exact course of the Tour.  Note to Bracers: Joan will show you an interesting time if she takes you to the Dales!

The ride (in a car) was magnificent and we were both Very thankful we were not doing the 18% grades on our bicycles.  Unfortunately, with the narrow roads and storm rolling in, we have very few photographs but a wonderful memory (and story).  Once back in Ripon we chatted, ate and drank until midnight!  Joan, we will treasure the day, forever.

Cool air (63°), glorious sun and screaming wind greeted us this morning.  Fortified by a wonderful breakfast, we regrettably said our good-byes to Joan (who sounds just like Julie Andrews).Within the first ten minutes, we were climbing a mile long hill.  Granted we are not in hill country (yet), but the grades make it feel like the Alps.  The scenery was once again stellar, but the wind was brutal.  Having just seen the Dales, we thoroughly appreciated the Moors in the distance. Though we missed seeing the homes, we relished the estates with high hedge and tall trees; anything to break the wind, but that was not often.  Half our ride was on country roads, the other half, busy streets…….neither gave us a break from the 20 mph wind.  We ducked into a coffee shop for some relief and sweets.Back on the road, the wind felt as if it had actually gained intensity; never enough turn in the road to offer relief.  Occasionally we lifted our heads, bent hard against the brutal wind, to take in the scenery.  Pretty fields turned into villages, then towns and soon every city melted into the next; it was a maze of towns, traffic and wind.

We continued to push into the wind, thankfully not finding too many more hills.  At the edge of town of Hartlepool, running very low on energy, we stopped for an incredible chocolate milk shake; just enough to make it the extra couple of miles to a hotel.  In a residential neighborhood, the Bistro in our small hotel was exactly what our tired legs had ordered……and the food perfect.

Five hours in the saddle and 54 miles, it was time to get rest.

No sun to warm the morning, so the constant wind made the 57° feel frigid.  Since we had missed the marina last night, we took a quick trip down to see the sights; rather disappointing.  We followed the coastal road, totally exposed to the bruising wind and continuous up and down, down and up roads.  No flowers graced the homes or stores that lined the road; an occasional field softened the ride. Not sure if there was little to see, or our struggle up and down the hills into the onslaught of wind kept us from seeing anything.  Tried to get a shot of a flag straightened by the wind, but this is all we could find. After a couple of hours, we turned slightly inland for a bit of countryside; we gained the sun, but were not able to loose the hills or hide from the wind.  It seemed as if we climbed twice what we went down, but nothing was flator particularly interesting, except the “Angel of the North”.Our approach through the suburbs of  Newcastle offered a couple of churches tightly tucked among the rows of homes (and hills).On the banks of the River Tyne, we dropped down to the waterfront.  Hoping to stay in the city for the evening, we found two college graduations made it impossible.  Managed a few pictures along the waterfront and the Millennium Bridge.As we pedaled away from the city, we were diverted off our path for a “police incident”, further complicating our uncharted course.  Checking the computer, we found a hotel eight miles away.  Halfway into our quest for a shower and a bit confused as how to get there, we were rescued by John, who led us three miles through twists and turns we would have had difficulty finding our way through.  Eleven miles later and 49 miles done, we finally checked in shortly before Happy Hour (5:00 p.m.).  Somewhere north of York the dialect had gotten thick (Geordie) and we are both having difficulty understanding even the simplest of questions/answers.  As our “posh” waitress explained to us over our overflowing bowls of pasta, it was only going to get worse as we headed north….UH OH!

Flat countryside and no wind; not even the crisp 59° and grey skies could dampen our elation.  We sailed along the countryside, through villages and past churchesas if we had a strong wind to our back.  Experience has proven, when we see a grade sign for a downhill, the uphill on the other side is going to be a bugger.  One hour into our ride, our legs were woken up to the scream of a steep 15% climb.  Thankfully, the two climbs were short and we were back out into the countryside.  We passed wind turbines, quietly standing at attention as we passed; it was a wonderful day.Shortly before noon we dropped into Amble for a bite to eat and try to find a room further down the road.  We had a room at a town only eight miles down the road, but as good as we were feeling we wanted to go further.  But nothing was working for us, so we enjoyed the rest of the short ride.  We rolled along our own bike path past more churches, villages pouring into the sea and even a castle.Of course to get to the 12th century Warkworth Castle, we had to pedal up, then down then up againThe eight miles ended up to be 10 and the flat countryside rolled more dramatically,but without any wind, the day could not have been any better…….longer, but not better.  Our pedal into town was once again graced with flowers and a stone gate entry.With an early arrival, after our 40 mile day we stopped in a local pub for some good drink and delightful conversation that we actually understood!  The next few days will be long and hilly; we can only hope for the same weather.

Two weeks down!  Thanks to ALL that have commented on our blog; we cannot respond to everyone but DO read and enjoy everything…..keep ’em coming.

Warning: there are a LOT of pictures of fields, today.

Loaded our bikes in the morning sun, the cool moist air of the last several days was gone.  We had a wonderful mile long drop out of town, quickly followed by a half mile climb into the fields.  Glanced back to catch a glimpse of the Alnwick Castle (dating from 1096)that we apparently missed while we were in town.  The rolling hills were minor,the soft palette of ripe grains contrasted against the dark pines and farmhouses were stunning.The farm/home estates were once again immense and the stone walls that were so prolific in the Dales once again were present.

We arrived at the coast minutes before the fog.    The low tide is dramatic, as was the fog, just a bit more difficult to photograph.  The southwest breeze that was blowing in the fog caught us appreciative on our backs.

The approach into Bamburgh for coffee was highlighted by the dramatic Castle.Our planned stop after 20 miles was sidetracked by meeting Egbert and Gertrud from Germany.  We had a wonderful conversation, but needed to continue.  Just as we were leaving, Henri (also from Germany) that we’d briefly met yesterday, joined the group.  We left them as they chatted away in their native tongue.  Leaving Bamburgh is when the real hills began; not the ones we have complained about to this point the climbs became longer and the fly-downs fun.  With the ups and downs pretty balanced we had time to recover before the next climb.  In the next town, on one such drop we stopped for lunch, only to climb a big hlll immediately after.  As our course took us closer to the sea, we became confused when the path we were instructed to take had a locked gate across it.  So we unloaded our bikes, lifted the bikes over, packed up and rolled on.  The path turned to a trail, then to a field.  For ten miles we slowly maneuver over the creeks, past the stunning cliffs and through the cows.  Our progress had slowed trememndously.  We rejoiced when we were on pavement again, even though it was climbing.  The coast had been captivating, but we were tired and needed to be there; we did not even care that the clouds were building around us.  The afternoon became a blur. Somtime before 5:00, we touched the Scottish Borders, but our road turned us away and up a hill, so the photo op was missed. Another 15 minute climb and were were at our bed and breakfast in the middle of nowhere.

Thankfully, we had made a dinner reservation when we booked the room, which was excellent since our legs were carrying us no further than the 60 miles we had already traveled.   The scenery today was some of the best we’d experienced but it was not easy.

Louth, England to Eyemouth, Scotland

350 Miles

1 Day with Rain

All night, we listened to the pouring rain on the skylight in our loft room. The rain had stopped by the time we woke, but the ceiling was low and the air very damp.  We wanted to make it to Edinburgh today for a much needed day off, but it was at least 60 miles and with the threat of more rain, wind in our face, plus the hills sure to be awaiting, we were not confident it would happen.

The morning began with a mile long downhill with half as much up and that is when we stopped counting.  For the next ten miles we climbed, some tough grades, some minor, but always continuously up.   The trees on this ridge had managed to adapt to the continuous wind as had technology, the sheep, however, seemed quite indifferent.  At the ridge, before our drop the view was brilliant (English slang for awesome).  Two miles into our wonderful downhill a fork in the road had us pulling hard on our brakes.  The “bike course” pointed right towards the sea (which seemed questionable to us), but after our bike course excursion of yesterday, we had second thoughts.  A chat (included repeating the heavy Scotish brogue instructions three times) with a local advised the right fork “will be hell up, you need to go that way.”We went with his recommendation and choose the left leg of the fork.  Not sure if it was a short cut, but it was paved, the vista fabulous and we made forward progress……perfect!   Once back on the “course” the path led us along the highway and then turned to dirt.  Memories of yesterday returned; thankfully the path did not have dangerous, unseen ruts, just beautiful wildflowers.

Our pavement returned just before Dunbar, where we met Graham and Rose (on a bike holiday from Manchester) over coffee.With only 11 miles to the next town where there were accommodations, we frantically started searching for a place that would take us further.  Everything was booked unless we could make it to Edinburgh.  With less than half the mileage to the city completed by 1:00, we thought it wise to be happy with the last eleven miles.  Managed to slow down a bit, with the shorter day, and enjoy the incredible scenery and classic Scottish golf courses.We passed the Bass Rockpedaled along canals and beside more glorious fields.Our last few miles were not without struggle, with plenty of hills and wind in our face we were happy with our decision of staying in the next town.  The town of Haddington is quaint and very picturesquebut not a sole was around on this Sunday afternoon.  Headed through the village square and directly to our hotel, that just happened to have a tavern downstairs; perfect place to watch the finals of the World Cup.  We partied with the locals, enjoying Scottish pie and Scotch Whiskey; the evening sky was putting on a show as we headed upstairs at 9:30.

Traveln’ may slow down bit, thirs’ scotch to be drunk!