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Travel StoriesCamping In Hawes 2013
A Novice Rides The Dales
By Ren Withnell
The night was spent in the tent with the material flapping hard against the strong wind. Considering the discomorts of camping I think I've slept fairly well overall. I know I've woken a few times needing to turn over to relieve a dead arm or numb hip but I've managed to return to sleep. The gf reports that she's hardly slept a wink due to the wind and the noise. That's odd as each time I looked she seemed well out of it.
It's far far too early for her to get up, it's only 0545. I decide to take myself off for a shower on this windy and cool morning. Although the water is hot it is otherwise what I may call a "bracing" experience. Of course being a roughty toughty biker and a big man I face this with stoic heroism and a stern brave face. The good thing about a shower is no-one can see you cry.
This small van is in fact a mini camper. Nice Aussie couple sleeping inside.
It's only 0645 by the time I'm dressed and defrosted. Still too early for the gf I reckon so I grab my camera and some pennies and go for a walk.
Gayle is but a mere half mile from the Bainbridge Ings campsite and is as quaint a village as you can find in the Yorkshire dales. Stone cottages, a pretty bridge over a babbling brook, sheep in the fields and country types in 4 by 4 pickup trucks trying to run you over down the narrow lanes. I find a footpath that offers safer passage back to Hawes. The wind flicks the mizzle fills my eyes and they sting.
It's a pretty place is Gayle. You can't see the wind and the mizzle though.
An overgrown church graveyard shows me the names of people long past. I try to imagine their lives but I just end up with period drama images in my head. These were real people like me once, I start to get all morbid. I remember that they're all dead too so I must cheer up and enjoy this day otherwise it's all a waste. I smile as I walk into Hawes. I do love these narrow streets with their higgledy piggledy houses.
Delightful little back streets. Pretty to look at but parking must be a nightmare.
There's a Spar shop and a quirky rather traditional looking grocers so I choose to support a local business. With local produce and fresh veg on offer I select a Twix, a Kit-Kat and some Weetabix to ensure the local farmers are supported. I get some milk too but I've no idea where that is from. The gf will think I'm so nice and kind and considerate. Damn.
There's roadworks in place, the "Tour De France" is coming through here in 2014 so the council is trying to make things look nice. Well we can't have the world's top cyclists riding on ancient potholed Yorkshire roads can we! This is causing havoc with the traffic, both locals and tourists sit in cars looking puzzled. There's a variety of big booted workmen and suited pointer outers but only 3 of them seem to be productively working.
Much to my surprise I find the tent empty. It seems the gf has finally been forced out by the need to wee. She is indeed pleased with me bringing breakfast and we feed our faces and decamp. It's misty enough to make things damp and with the howling wind the day is not looking promising so far. Personally I quite relish the challenge of the weather as we're going home so no matter how bad it gets we can dry out at the end of the day. I'm worried about what the gf will make of it though.
We're ready to roll.
There's several choices as to which route we return by. A small back road from Gayle to Kettlewell looks like it ought to be quiet, so no queue behind us, and it looks fairly straight so no scary corners for the gf. The road is pretty much single track. It starts out by winding it's way up hill and down dale before climbing and climbing higher and higher into the mist that is now rain. Cattle grids, sharp bends, gravel strewn edges, sheep, potholes, the wind and tractors all delight and terrify the gf. I'm beginning to think it might have been less stressful for her on the main roads.
At one point a corner catches her out. Left to right, downhill and tightening, I watch in my mirror as she heads straight to the verge. I'm ready to stop, turn around and pull her out of the ditch when at the last moment she saves it. A few minutes later I lose her, nothing in my mirrors. I panic and turn around to find her stopped in the middle of the lane, cursing her gears and me for not explaining gears and herself for not understanding. Bravely we carry on.
It's actually a beautiful road. After the misty and scary hill we're on a broad valley floor with hints of sunshine and a babbling river. It's still twisty and our speed is right down but I don't care, it's lovely, we're healthy and the day is ours.
Kettlewell comes into view and I know the gf is tired. I spot a cafe and a car park and pull in. We drink expensive tea whilst walkers and the occasional biker comes and goes. I'm pleasantly surprised at the gf. I expected the dangerous, slippery and twisty road to have scared her and put her right off. She was scared enough but she seems to be enjoying it, possibly even relishing it. Back at the bike we're questioned by a Hornet rider about the gf's Chinese bike. He can barely believe how cheap it was considering it looks so good, he also struggles to believe that I get 150 mpg on my CBF 125 if I'm careful. We thrum away smiling happily in the warmth of money well spent and saved.
The gf musters a wry smile having survived the road of terror (and beauty). Brewtime now.
The rest of our journey sees us return to the steady gentle progress along main roads. Occasionally we accidentally reach 50 mph but we've still got our queue behind us all the way to Salmesbury jut outside of Preston. The day is still young and although our speeds are slow we're making perfectly good progress. To me this is living proof that you don't need 1,000cc's to have fun or get somewhere. The gf confirms that she's still fine, happy and not too tired so I divert into Preston and Preston Honda for a rest, a brew and a mooch.
It's been a good weekend. Why? I've enjoyed watching the gf in the first flushes of the joy of riding a bike. It's reminded me of my first rides, my first adventures and my youth. There's been a few moments where I was scared for her but it's all part of learning. The weather has not been perfect but we're not soaked or too cold. I think we're making the most of the last of the British summer. Other than that I can't put my finger on it, I guess I was just in the right mood for this weekend. Sorted.
Hawes For A Novice
Having complete her CBT and a couple of ride outs on her own bike it's about time Sharon made her first journey!
This time she can carry her own blinkin stuff.
A Novice Rides The Dales
I look around Hawes then inadvertently take a novice motorcyclist down a terrifying road.
Aren't I a good boy!
Reader's Comments
Tom McQ said :-
Another great little adventure takes place in the beautiful Dales.
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
Ren - The Ed said :-
It is an almost forgotten place Tom. Because we live fairly close it's easy to become blind to it. There's some great little roads there and some delightful villages.
Not all adventures have to be half way across the planet.
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
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Travel StoriesCamping In Hawes 2013