3 Peaks Pish up…Yorkshire with the UKGSers

Setting off late on Friday to make the 60 mile trip to the venue (yes that seems close, but it’s a world away), meant that I had a dash up the motorway system. Dull but efficient and thankfully lightly trafficked, the turn off came fairly quickly. It was like dropping off the side of a swimming pool into the water, a completely different element. Gone was the straight and hello bends, hedges and stone walls. Hello villages and towns. Welcome back countryside and welcome back England of the storybooks and biscuit tin lids.

Still without a job or income, with no news on the divorce since April (no communications with Karen, she was posting the papers in February), no home and no real prospects, it’s only scenery like this and riding, that brings even the remotest inspiration, everything else is just turgid, treading water in uncertainty and continual disappointment, in what seems an increasingly ugly world, where the only option available is to just carry on and hope. So it’s always a pleasant relief when your soul is uplifted by simple road layouts and countryside.

The late afternoon was drying out nicely, despite having set off in waterproofs. 10 miles from the motorway and North Lancashire’s panorama of open fields, mellow hills, a castle silhouetted by the lowering Sun cresting the nearest of them, plus, a GPS reading the route that I just placed all of my trust in. It was relaxed.

I had all my camping gear stowed and a visit to the supermarket had produced a few bits and bobs which, when thrown on a portable BBQ would produce a charcoal offering, barely edible and certainly not as good as the fish and chips I could smell as I rolled into Main Street, Bentham.

There stood a chippie of yore, a living monument to the people’s cuisine, a ‘sit in and eat’ chippie. It closed the seated area at 7.30 and it was 7.28 as I walked in. “Sure we’ll keep it open, as the take out side is still going strong”. How refreshing. Not the all too familiar and brusque, “sorry we are about to close”, which actually means you are still open, but just can’t be bothered.

Tea came in a china pot. Bread had butter, not margarine and the fish, chips and mushy peas were the best I’ve ever had. Honest to goodness, simple and sublime. A family business and you could tell. The conversation was friendly, the service was just right and the food had everything that a family tradition of being bothered and proud of what they serve, can imbue upon it. Unchained and homely and as right as it should be.

The Fish Inn, 22 Main Street Bentham, Lancaster.
(For other unchained venues like this, or to add your own, click here to go to unchainedworld. Thanks. Recommendations only.

The site was only a few miles away and I was able to arrive, set up my tent and not worry about supper, although a bottle of Magners was very welcomed.

Having suffered at the hands, or rather noses of a snorers in Ullapool, I’d taken a precautionary tour of the camp area, then decided to set up in an open area. Mistake. A bunch of gits from W. Yorkshire had set up camp a reasonable distance away…reasonable for reasonable people that is. These were far from reasonable, considering the campsite to be their personal arena. NO BALL GAMES! obviously didn’t relate to them, neither did having music blasting into the early hours. At 23:10 a ball came within inches of my tent for the umpteenth time, “F**kin’ Can’t see a F**ckin thing it’s so f**ckin dark” said one of the two girls who had decided it would be a good idea to start kicking a ball about, a ball that in daylight had been hitting other people’s cars, bikes and tents. One small group in a site with a hundred or so campers, decided to ruin the night for as many people as they could, screaming kids, swearing, music blasting…scum, scum, scum.

I bet if people had complained-I did the next day- “We are just having fun, so f**k off” would have been the reply. That their fun was at the expense of other people sleep and property, didn’t even cross their arrogant, selfish minds. So if you ever see a white transit from West Yorkshire from a Volvo dealership, please feel free to give them a scornful look and also if that’s the way they behave when representing their company, perhaps their company should be given a miss too.

Anyway, back to happier times. The next day’s ride out was special. I’ll be posting a movie of clips in the near future. But suffice to say that it was superb. Scenic, challenging, everything you could want from a day ride. It was like a sampler plate of all the finest ingredients an area could offer up. the weather was even in the mood to join in with the fun and games, keeping dry roads beneath us and dry skies above.

On one pass I had a mini freak out. A Saab took the downhill hairpin so slowly that I ran passed my turn in point. This left me looking straight over the edge and with my bike facing that way too. I was in the process of a three hundred point turn when the vertigo kicked in and I needed to find my comfortable place. The tail end guy did help, “look up at my eyes” he said, having positioned himself in a position just behind me, effectively dragging my view from the edge and the dropping road. Big thanks for that.

The rest of the day ran smoothly and splendidly.

As I was roughing it and had a pannier with meat and a portable BBQ in, I set up my kitchen and proceeded to burn flesh, while the majority went for the set meal. It was as the knife was in my hand and the BBQ was flaring that the ball came over again. Temptation to stab it and then cook it was tempered and I asked, “How many times do you have to kick that close, before you get the idea to go somewhere else?”

I didn’t understand the grunts that came back. Perhaps that’s a good thing.

All the Magners had gone the night before and a home-made scrumpy was on offer. It was enough.

The heavens opened, which was a blessing as the rhythmic rain spatterings on canvas kept the gits quiet and their football unemployed.

Sunday was a damp day to start with and the water proofs were on as all was packed away.

A few conversations over a breakfast cuppa and then all headed off on their ways, as is the nature of such meet ups.