The Way of the Roses
Riding from coast to coast through the two Rose counties of England
June 2016
Plotting and planning
After last year's enjoyable cycle touring holiday up the east coast from Newcastle to Edinburgh following the Sustrans Coast and Castles route Helen and I thought long and hard about what to do in 2016 to top that. Sustrans provide a number of touring options through their range of route maps and we spent a few evenings looking at options before plumping for an alternative coast to coast. We rode the original C2C with friends Pete and Sharon back in 2011 and enjoyed the experience, but the great thing about coast to coast routes is that they are almost limitless. Last year, for example, my son Paul and I undertook the Ride to the Sun, an overnight ride from Carlisle to Edinburgh and chose to extend it to turn it into a glorified nocturnal coast to coast by setting out from home on the Cumbrian coast.
The advantage of using a Sustrans route is that much of the planning was already done for us in terms of start, finish and the way between. All we had to do was decide how far we wanted to ride each day and where we would stay overnight. The total distance was just shy of 300 kilometers which divided nicely, although a tough first day steered us toward a slightly shorter start with the second and third days slightly longer. And the choice of direction didn't require much consideration, prevailing winds in the UK almost always favour a west-east direction of travel so that was indeed our choice. We found a specialist company who can provide transport for riders and bikes to return us to the start once we had finished and made the arrangements for the first week in June, hoping that the weather gods would be kind at that time of year.So, come May 31st, we loaded the bikes into the car, packed our travel bags as lightly as we felt possible and headed up the M6 bound for the Lancashire Riviera town of Morecambe and yet another cycling adventure.
Day 1: Morecambe to Cracoe (81km)
We were intrigued to find that our first night's accommodation, The Crown Hotel, was billed as Morecambe's premier boutique hotel. I am still unsure what this actually means. The hotel is situated in the centre of the long promenade and certainly proved to be an interesting experience. We had strolled the up and down the prom the night before, sharing a moment with Eric Morecambe and watching as the sun set over the Lake District hills. Come this first morning of our trip the sun was shining, but a stiff northerly breeze promised a cool day. After a hearty breakfast, our host helpfully pointed me to a handy side street some way away from the town centre where we could safely leave our car for the duration. He assured us it wouldn't attract any trouble (and, to be fair, he proved quite correct). We pulled our bikes out of the overnight lockup, fitted our bags, fired up the trusty Garmin and rolled out.
The first task was to find the official start, which proved to be far from easy. We did wander out to the end of the Bastion which juts out into Morecambe Bay, definitely our most westerly point and as good an alternative start as any. Five minutes later we rolled past the official start with its information board and signpost. Photographs were obligatory. Next stop was Morrisons for a comfort break before, finally, at about 10.30 we were on our way.The first few miles rolled pleasantly along a converted disused railway track upstream to Lancaster where we crossed the River Lune by means of a spectacular and elegant shared use foot and cycle suspension bridge. The route avoids the town centre, probably not a bad thing as the traffic looked heavy. We stayed on the cycle path and headed east, under the noisy bustling M6 motorway and on toward the Crook of Lune, a big looping bend in the river which is a local beauty spot and attracts visitors in their hoards. So far, so flat. Now, however, we faced our first climbing challenge of the day as we joined proper roads for the first time. Views of the Lune below us were scenic, the hill was testing for Helen as she tackled the first real test of the trip.
As is the way with so many Sustrans routes, no sooner up than down again. Dropping back down we arrived in Hornby and, shortly after, the little village of Wray, on the fringes of the Forest of Bowland. Ahead of our trip I had done some detailed research on suitable cafés along the route for timely cake stops, always an important part of any schedule. Wray was one such place, and we called a halt at Bridge House Farm for a welcome brew and some rather fine cake, sitting outside in the shelter of the yard where the sun warmed our backs. So far, so good, 25 kilometers in.
After Wray the road gets lumpy as we track the northern edge of Bowland, whilst to the north and ahead of us the views of Ingleborough and the Pennine hills unfolded. Our route here passed quite unceremoniously from the red rose of Lancashire into the white rose of Yorkshire, after only a couple of hours. It would seem that Sustrans' Way of the Roses route is decidedly heavily weighted toward Yorkshire. Despite the steep nature of some of these frequent climbs, Helen and I made steady progress before dropping down into the village of Clapham, a pretty spot nestling at the foot of Ingleborough. Here, after 42 kilometers, was the second of our scheduled stops at the Reading Room Café, an intriguing mix of quaint and functional. We enjoyed a pleasant hour here, studying the map and scoffing some lunch before I noticed that my camelback rucksack, containing amongst other things my evening attire, was missing.You may well recognise that awful feeling in the pit of your stomach as realisation dawns, not a pleasant moment. I had, of course, put it down back at our café stop in Wray and both forgetfully and rather inconveniently left it there. Even more strangely I had not given it a moment's thought until now. Calamity. I rang Bridge House Farm and they confirmed that they did indeed have my bag. What to do? After some debate we decided to ride on to Settle, our next stop, and see if I could arrange a taxi ride to retrieve the bag. The short 12 kilometer ride to Settle saw the cloud rolling in as we approached the hillier terrain of the Yorkshire Dales. Some enquiries produced the number of a local taxi driver and I rang her to find that, miraculously, she was just now heading into Settle after a dropping a fare at Manchester Airport. Talk about divine providence.
She was more than happy to take me back to Wray and reunite with my camelback and didn't seem to make any judgement about my absent mindedness. An hour or so later we were back in Settle and I rejoined Helen who had, by now, retired to the Talbot Arms where she had whiled away the afternoon over a couple of coffees, mentally preparing herself for the next stage of our day's ride. This was a real tester, an impossibly steep climb up and over the moors past Malham. Indeed, climbing out of Settle is the steepest, hardest road of the entire route, an unpleasant and brutal 20% gradient but which does offer spectacular views. We walked! The clouds were swirling up on the moors, but the rain held off and soon we were descending again. The last 10 kilometers or so were relentlessly undulating, with short steep drags followed by quick descents until, finally, we rolled into the small village of Cracoe and sought out the Devonshire Arms, our accommodation for the night. What a welcome sight, after an eventful old day. A couple of beers and some fine bar food soon put all that to rights and we retired, tired and emotionally drained but ready for the second day.
Day 2: Cracoe to York (103km)
Day 2 dawned bright and with some promise which, sadly didn't materialise until much later in the day. More to the point, a subtle shift in wind direction and speed meant the favourable tailwind we had anticipated had pretty much deserted us – and would not return!At breakfast we discovered two other parties riding the route, one a couple whom we had crossed paths with a couple of times on Day 1, the other a Dutch man and his son who were tackling the Way of the Roses as part of a grand tour of the UK, on mountain bikes. They were off and away pretty promptly and we never saw them again. Breakfast done, we prepped the bikes and headed off, in the grey of the morning, the north-easterly wind blowing into our faces. The route plan for the day promised to be one of two halves with all the climbing in the first part before diving down to Ripon.
However, we hadn't expected quite such a rude introduction with the first climbing coming inside the first mile as a small moorland road took us over into Wharfedale and the pretty village of Burnsall where we stopped to admire the fine bridge over the River Wharfe. The scenery here was typical Yorkshire Dales, the trademark dry stone walls and field barns, buttercups lighting up the pastures and roadsides, and distant views of the high moors to tickle the palate. It is lovely countryside. But tough!A couple of miles later the day's big climb began, a long haul up onto the high moors and Greenhow Hill, the highest point of the entire Way of the Roses route, topping out at 404m. A steep and unforgiving section early gave way to a long, long drag, into that nagging wind, making it especially tough for Helen, but eventually we arrived at our first stop of the day, Stump Cross Caverns and their well-appointed tearooms. Fortunately they did have excellent cake!
Suitably refreshed, and having ridden over the high point of the route (although exactly where was hard to pinpoint as there was no sign celebrating the occasion) we were now in Nidderdale. Next up we faced the plummeting 16% descent into Pateley Bridge, a plethora of signs warning us of the steep gradients causing Helen some consternation. The hill is indeed pretty damn steep, plunging, twisting and turning sharply down into the village. Brake blocks working overtime, she eased her way down into the village centre and over the River Nidd by the splendid bridge which gives the town its name. In true Sustrans style immediately it was back up hill again, through the narrow village streets and out through woods towards Brimham Rocks, the intriguing rock formations which are scattered across Brimham Moor to the east. After yet another steep climb we encountered bluebell woods and winding roads that took us through the heart of this amazing landscape. Next up (or should that be down) was the majestic country house that is Fountains Abbey, on the banks of the River Skell, a place of some poignance as it was here that my brother got married back in 2007 on the day the Tour de France came to Britain. It really is a splendid house and well worth a visit.
Yet more climbing took us finally up to the grounds of Studley Royal, a fine estate with private road that heads directly down towards Ripon and our lunch, after 50 rather lumpy kilometers. Ripon also marks the end of the first half of the Way of the Roses, and the end of the big hills. Ahead lay only flat for the rest of the day. And it was here in Ripon that we found our way to the Sun Parlour Café in the Spa Gardens, a gem of a spot, and a chance to relax for a wee while over lunch and a welcome brew. It had been a tough morning.The ride from Ripon to York is in direct contrast to what had gone before, without a single hill that you could classify to break the journey. It follows a mix of country lanes through pretty villages, roughly following the River Ouse on its journey to York. At one point the route took us over the old wooden toll bridge at Aldwark, a gem of a crossing where cyclists are required to stop, but are then given free passage. At Linton Lock we detoured down to the river and found a fine little café next to the lock there, and supped coffee with views of an intriguing archimedes screw working away on the far side of the river.
With just 12 miles to go we were now in the home stretch and, after a pleasant detour through the estate of Beningborough House we picked up the cyclepath which follows the river into the very heart of York itself. This winds through the meadows alongside the river, clearly a favourite spot for dog walkers and runners alike who were flocking to the path after a hard day in the office. By now finally, and after such a grey morning, the sun was shining and York looked a picture, the minster glowing in the evening sunlight. We stepped up from the river into the heart of a busy city, bustling and frantic. What a contrast to our relatively calm and peaceful trek through the Yorkshire countryside. Ah well, if you can't beat 'em join 'em. So, after a shower, we did just that, wandering into the city for a welcome beer (or two) and some food as well as a spot of sightseeing. A nice end to a tough day on the bikes.
Day 3: York to Bridlington (108km)
Day 3 was another grey day, overcast and with little promise of much improvement this morning. We had definitely been unlucky with the weather, especially as today that nagging north-easterly was at its worst – all day! Our final day of riding was also the longest and we needed an early start. This failed to happen, but then, we're on holiday. Breakfast out of the way, we retrieved our bikes from the garden shed of our hotel, saddled up and rolled out into the York City traffic, the first task being to find the Way of the Roses route through the city, not that easy as it turned out. We rolled by the impressive Minster, a majestic building whatever your persuasion, and eventually found a Roses signpost on the bypass pointing east, and we set off for Bridlington with renewed heart.
We were now following Sustrans Route 66, perhaps not quite so iconic as the American roadtrip route, but still celebrated in these parts. After some 10 miles or so, including some off-road meanderings through farmland, we rolled onto a disused railway track and past the now defunct station platform of Stamford Bridge. The village is perhaps most famous for the battle, in 1066, which marked the end of the Viking period in Britain. And it was here that our first scheduled café stop of the day was located at the wonderfully named Temptations Coffee and Ice Cream Parlour. And a fine stop too, with another excellent piece of cake which we enjoyed whilst chatting with an Australian couple who were doing their own grand bike tour of the UK – must be the week for it! From Stamford Bridge the route now headed roughly south for some miles, and we welcomed the tailwind after so many miles with that persistent cool north-easterly hindering our progress. Country lanes rolled through the Vale of York but on the horizon the Wolds loomed and as we cruised into the market town of Pocklington we knew our easy riding in the flatlands was coming to an end.
Having navigated our way through Pocklington we headed east out and into the gentle undulations of the Wolds to the pretty village of Millington. From here, the road east took us up into the very heart of Yorkshire Wolds country and the delightful Millington Dale, a splendid valley which winds through the hills, first one way, then another, gently rising all the time, never too steeply. And so quiet too, hardly any traffic to disturb the peace and tranquillity. This was cycling at its very best. Just to add to the pleasure, the sun was trying to break through by now as well. Naturally enough, the camera was getting some exercise too as I revelled in the scenery. The dale did have a sting in the tail, much to Helen's consternation, with a final kick up to some 12% as the road finally broke out onto the top of the Wolds before starting what proved to be a long gentle descent. After a mile or so we cruised into the village of Huggate and spied a pub, the Wolds Inn. Food and beer seemed highly appropriate at this juncture, so we did, sitting outside in the warmth as the sun shone down. Perfect. This is what cycle touring is all about.
From Huggate we now enjoyed some 10km downhill to Tibthorpe, following what must have been a Roman road heading due east, the wind to our flank, neither hindering or helping. We passed a few cyclists labouring up the gentle slopes and waved a cheery greeting. From Tibthorpe the route takes a few right angle turns snaking through the gentle Wolds countryside before finally we rolled into Hutton Cranswick and spied TJs, the next of our scheduled café stops. This proved a wonderful place to spend half an hour recharging with cake and coffee, hopefully to keep us going now to the finish, still 24 miles away. A large Way of the Roses map on the wall above our table gave us the chance to reflect on what we had achieved so far and showed us just how close to the end we now were.Next it was north to Driffield, capital of the Wolds, and we now began an interesting relationship with the Bridlington railway line which we proceeded to cross and recross several times over the next 15 miles or so. By now the cloud had returned and the temperature was decidedly cooling, and now our direction lay predominantly north, once more into that nagging wind. On top of all this we had a last draggy climb from Burton Agnes which, for Helen, really was a draggy climb too far. At the top it was just 7 miles to go and tempting to think it was all downhill – it wasn't, of course, this being a Sustrans route! As we entered the village of Old Bridlington where they filmed much of the recent Dad's Army remake we really thought we were there. Nearly, but not quite, still a couple of miles to go. Now it really was downhill to the finish!
Bridlington itself was swathed in a sea mist and was cold and unwelcoming as we rode down onto the prom toward the designated finish, a Way of the Roses information board which at least proved easier to find than the start had been. A gaggle of cyclists were already there, celebrating their completion of the ride. Strangely we hadn't seen them all day, so quite where they had come from was a mystery. Anyway, they were happy to take our photo, punching the air at our achievement. It had been quite a journey. And it wasn't quite over yet, our hotel for the night was about 5 miles back aways in Carnaby and it was with tired legs that we finally rolled into the car park and looked very much forward to a slap up meal and a couple of very cheeky beers to celebrate.It had been quite a journey, 280km in total over the 3 days. Some spectacular scenery and some savage hills (just ask Helen) as well as some fine cake stops and some friendly banter with fellow Way of the Roses riders. Amazingly, and despite weather which really hadn't done us any favours, we managed to complete the entire ride without a drop of rain, nor indeed did we suffer any mechanical problems, no punctures and no mishaps. What more could we ask. A ride to remember for a long time to come. Would we do it again? You know, I think we probably would!