Tour de Yorkshire

WORD OF THE DAY

Brant (adjective) (Yorkshire dialect) steep; generally applied to a hill side or road up a steep hill - as in 'Tis a brant hill, that 'un. I were flaggin' by t'end'. 

Castleton Circular

Feeling more than a little pent up in London (I get an insatiable itch to leave the city for greener pastures every few weeks, an itch that can only be scratched by an adventure-filled outdoorsy weekend) and in dire need of a trip up North, I reached out to my school friend Emily who lives in idyllic Northumberland. She and her boyfriend live a short drive from Bamburgh Castle and the gorgeous beaches that flank it, spoilt for choice with glorious walks in the surrounding area and with miles and miles of quiet roads on their doorstep that are calling out to be explored on two-wheels. To top it off, they have the most gorgeous pup in tow, one I am always tempted to steal whenever I go to visit. 

When I messaged her, the conversation went a little like this “Em (to confuse you all, we both call each other Em) I need to get out of London” “Well come up North then Em!” “Omfg ok, when are you free?” “17-20th of September.” “Perfect. Done deal. Pencil it in. It’s happening.” Five minutes later I had the time booked off as AL.

I packed up for a week (I was popping home to see the rents en route) which (ridiculously) included a suitcase, a holdall, and another bag filled with any kit, equipment and paraphernalia I may need. I used to pride myself on being a light packer but as every trip I now go on seems to revolve around cycling, my pack list now tends to fill half the car. This trip promised to have plenty of cycling, hiking and running involved so the amount of kit I ‘needed’ was hard to keep to a minimum. 

My family has a quaint house-share in Runswick Bay on the North Yorkshire coast – which was recently named as Britain’s best beach (we didn’t even need to bribe the panel!). So, after a few days at home with my family, I headed to the coast to meet Emily. Sadly, she didn’t bring Pippa the pup (in all honesty, when she relayed this bit of information to me, I almost turned my car around). 

I had planned the route the previous week on Komoot, sending her the link via Whatsapp. Her response at the time was: "I can’t see the route because I don’t have an account, but I trust you". Ha ha! Maybe she shouldn’t have… Bearing in mind that this would be Emily’s second longest ride to date and by far the most elevation gain she had ever undertaken in one ride (not that I am out there climbing cols every weekend – it would still be the second largest elevation gain in a single ride for me). After she eventually gained access, the following messages quickly came through: 

My powers of persuasion meant that when the weekend came around Emily wasn’t actually completely against the idea. The Friday we arrived was a helluva windy one, so we decided to go for a clifftop walk, saving the ride for the much stiller day on Saturday. The night before the ride, as we cosied up on the sofa in front of Harry Potter, we both texted our respective boyfriends about the day ahead. Now these blokes, who should believe that we can do anything as their better halves, basically told us to cut down the ride. This had the opposite effect on us. Chests filled with bravado, we turned to one another and declared “f*ck that, we can do it!” “let’s show them!” “yeah! …we can just go really, really… really slowly…” “and stop PLENTY of times” “it’ll be fiiiiiiiine”.

I was confident I could do it, having recently done my trip around Scotland. Emily on the other hand was very nervous. I had put away many more cycling hours and miles than her the year-to-date. She’s the runner – and she promised to take me on a long trail run on Sunday morning, putting me through as much discomfort as I was going to put her through. So, we had a deal.

Waking up early on the Saturday we had ourselves a big feed, and after about 15 nervous wees each we mounted the bikes on the car and headed about 20 miles inland, deeper into the North York Moors National Park to Castleton. Unpacking the bikes and filling our pockets – Emily’s mainly with Haribo – we were off. 

On cold legs, we went straight into three miles of steep inclines and I could feel Emily’s accusing gaze burning into the back of my head. Luckily, we then had a 15-mile spell of gorgeous meandering flat to allow us to settle into the ride and warm our legs up properly. Emily guzzled down her pocket full of Haribo and her mood picked up. We even got so cocky as to say things like “this isn’t that bad – we are like 15-miles in already!” “we are flying” “how fun is this!” So, with the sun on our backs, high on each other’s company and flying around the gorgeous, quiet roads of the North York Moors - you really couldn’t have found two happier girls in the North-East that morning.

At one point we were sailing along, nattering for England (honestly, I came away from the bike ride with a sorer jaw - from speaking at 300 words per minute - than legs) and a peloton of blokes came into sight, heading in the other direction. Without saying a word, me and Emily promptly put our heads down and upped our speed to prove that we were there for a serious ride - believing that, in our matching Mavic kit, we looked like a splinter of a pro team out training. IRL they had probably heard our shrill laughter from half a mile away…

After a tough undulating 20-mile stretch, we passed through the cycler’s paradise of Helmsley with the smell of coffee and cakes wafting out of the glut of quaint coffee shops. Desperate for a bite to eat and a little break, I shouted on to Em “shall we stop in?” She turned and said “nooo we aren’t far off back to Castleton – let’s just crack on and get a bite there”. I didn’t put up much of a fight (I honestly didn’t have the energy) so we were soon out the other side of the small town heading back towards our starting point. Just one little thing… We still had 20 miles to go, 15 of which comprised of one heck of a hill. 

Before starting the long ascent, I stopped off for a quick nature wee and to empty my pockets of any remaining snacks. As we remounted, I glanced over my shoulder to see Emily slowly toppling over. She had managed to clip in but not gain any forward momentum. Taking the brunt of the fall with her elbow and knee (top marks for protecting the bike), she came out of it quite well but rather shaken up, so we took it easy for the next few miles to allow her time to calm her nerves. 

But we couldn’t avoid the hill looming ahead of us. The second part of the ascent rose over 1,100ft, marking Emily’s largest ever climb. So we put our heads down and ploughed on. Once at the top, using waiting for Emily as an excuse, I plonked myself on the verge, lightheaded and shaking from hunger. Emily caught up and shoved a few loose Haribo down my neck and we headed back down a blustery descent to Castleton. Arriving back at the car, we dumped our kit and rampaged into the Co-op, grabbing everything in sight.

Home, showered and warm, we cooked all the food, plonked ourselves in front of a movie and were in bed before 10. The perfect Saturday IMO. 

We never did go running the next day… Next time Emily! 

Thanks for coming exploring with us! 
Have you got time for a little more? Come along for my NC500 Trip - start here!