It has been a long time.
As a child I took it for granted that days out or ‘a run in the car’ were the norm and visits to the Lakes, the Trough of Bowland and the Yorkshire moors were commonplace along with egg and cress sandwiches, soggy tomato and sliced tinned ham sandwiches and the inevitable Primus stove upon which a brew was made. Often, it was water from a beck that was used, always white bubbly water fast flowing over rocks but in reality acidic peaty water. Anyway, after I had dropped Mrs O off in her paradise on earth – YarnDale in the Skipton livestock market on Sunday I shot off in the Aero to explore some quintessentially Yorkshire countryside well away from A&B roads. At times I wondered if the Swedish monster would get down the narrow C class roads especially when locals came hurtling around blind bends.
In order to get to the C class roads I did need to negotiate some B roads and it seemed that all of Yorkshire was on two wheels on Sunday. Tour fever is still running rife methinks but this was a peaky type challenge and as surprised as I always have been that I was upon the Ribblehead viaduct before I knew it. It just appears out of nowhere seemingly just planted like some alien structure in a landscape that looks at odds with it. At this point I got a tad charred off as all motorised traffic was stopped by marshals whilst masochistic push biking types splattered with brown steaks- presumably mud- up their nether regions came hurtling sporadically across the main road from the direction of the viaduct. Support teams were on hand to dish out nosebag and spare wheels. I was there that long I turned the engine off but then I was off again hurtling towards Hawes on a road made for and frequented by big motorcycles. It is many years since I thew a motorbike down this road but it was equally as fun in the Aero. A real driving road. I suspect Mrs O might have come across a tad nauseous had she been in the car but then I doubt I would have straightened most of the bends out at national limits either. One thing there was not on this road was the the proliferation of flat cap type Sunday afternoon drivers. Something I was grateful of but the most grateful thing was that Mrs O had obtained a bar of dark chocolate and a Fat Rascal for me. These I had with me as my carry-out and as much as the driving was great, I happened upon derelict buildings and and these are like magnets for photographers so I pulled up, gobbled the Fat Rascal and chocolate and set about shooting with the Fuji GW670III. I do rather like Fat Rascals and Curd Tarts. I’d eaten the curd tart the night before though.
There was no natural wind but i was using a monopod and cable release as I often do with this camera. Just as well really that these big bikes heralded their arrival with a banshee wail as the turbulence cased by their passing was quite considerable. the odd male menopausal machine went by but the ‘potato, potato potato ‘ rumble was quite genteel with just a rumble of a breeze. I don’t know how people can ride in the position – feet out front etc. but they seem to get on OK.
On the way back with an equally exhilarating drive I was upon the viaduct before I knew it but most of the support crew and cyclists had all but gone so a compulsory photograph was called for.
It took another hour to drop down to Skipton to collect an exhausted but chattery Mrs O plus yards of yarns and ferry her back to Harrogate.
A grand day out.
