May 25 2012
Bridlington to York
Looked up the weather and saw that a strong east wind would be blowing all weekend and the sun would be shining. A great time to do the coast to coast ride from East to West. Took the train to Bridlington arriving at lunchtime. And went down to the harbour. Fierce and greedy seagulls scavenging chips from your very paper, I was too afraid of them to put my empties in the bin, as they sit on top of them and peck at you when you go near. Old ladies. Peculiar men. All crammed onto the filthy pavement looking out to the murky brown waters and the 30 foot drop to the ponging mud. Jim went down to touch the bracing sea while I dallied with the bikes wanting heartily to leave Bridlington behind for ever. Soon we did. And the roads got gradually cleaner and brighter and greener. Large flat fields covered in pungent rape glow fluorescent yellow in brilliant sun. A gradual undulation indicates that  we are now in the Wolds. We stop for ice cream on a large village green with a pond  The cycling is easy with the speeding easterly at our backs.
 We roll through the Wolds on a pungent luminous wave of rape flowers. Thread through fields on paths delightfully only just rideable. The way is very well marked and chosen on lovely roads and ways. We are carrying camping gear but somehow can’t find a campsite, After all the lovely places we have hurried through we now find ourselves trying to camp in Stamford Bridge which seems to be full of burnt brawn leering at us over the rims of pints. We scurry on, aware of the fading light, and end up in York. Unwittingly we have chosen the weekend of the York Races, so there is nowhere to stay until finally Jim tracks down a Marriot Hotel right in the historic centre, where the staff very kindly allow the bikes inside. We sheepishly carry our small Carradice bags into the hotel and try to look smart in cycling gear for evening drinks.
not at home 